August - October 2007
The silver lining in the dark cloud that has been our recent professional life is summed up in a phrase: home leave. For those of you who are unfamiliar with government service abroad, home leave is time off after an overseas tour which Foreign Service families use to “re-Americanize” themselves. We’re not quite sure that means, but we had no trouble heading straight for Utah and Idaho to visit our families for several weeks. While we stayed in Utah, we took the kids to a fire house, toured Cream o’ Weber Dairy, and caught up on the American version of hit British series (with which we were already very familiar) “The Office.” In Idaho, we had garden fresh corn on the cob for dinner most nights, visited a local farmers’ market, and saw one of the three best museum exhibits I’ve ever come across: “Ink & Blood: Dead Sea Scrolls to Gutenburg.” (Check out http://inkandblood.com/.) All in all, it was amazing to be able to spend so much time away from work and so much time with our families. Christian and Henry very much reconnected with grandparents, aunts & uncles, and cousins. Christian even asked if he could get his hair cut like Grandpa’s: “really short on top and puffy on the sides.”
While Dubai is quite Western, there were some things that did take some getting used to. For one, it was so refreshing to hear political debate, especially in the context of next year’s presidential election. In the United Arab Emirates, there is little of this since it’s a monarchy (and not a very enlightened one at that). Like most of its neighbors, the principles of Islam guide social, economic and political policies. More often, however, the principles of economic growth guide policymaking. This isn’t to say that the king isn’t a benevolent leader: one could easily argue that the king makes a serious and sincere effort at bettering the lives of his subjects, and indeed there are a lot of freedoms that other middle eastern countries do not enjoy. It’s just that it’s all so one-sided, and I have very much enjoyed hearing my fellow Americans debate politics and policies.
On the job hunt front, we were recently informed that the job in Portland is a no-go, so for now we’re back in northern Virginia, getting set to put out another round of resumes. It’s tough times in a way, but we are deeply grateful to a loving God who has provided every needful thing. As Amy often says, it is His tender mercies, the little details, that are subtle and difficult to detect but perhaps the greater evidence of His divine involvement in our lives. For instance, the fact that I am not obliged to look for another job and that I do have a job is one such “tender mercy.” My respect for people who have to live off of savings while they look for something else is immense.
Another blessing is that we survived the cross-country drive from Idaho Falls to northern Virginia, a tad bit under 2200 miles. We found a great deal on a car in Las Vegas and convinced ourselves it would “be an adventure” to trade in our plane tickets for cup holders and cram all five of ourselves into a car for three days. Well, it did turn out to be an adventure, and the kids were amazingly well behaved. Christian was an utter gem; Henry only had one ten-minute melt down; and Cyrus cried his way into naps but was otherwise quite content in his one-position car seat. It helped that we had a full 24-plus hours break halfway. It was a lot of fun to visit Amy’s brother who had just moved his family to Jacksonville, Illinois and a needed rest, too. On this trip Henry learned to tell people who’ve upset him, “You’re not my friend,” a phrase we heard time after time, and even after we had instituted the “you want it, you get it” junkfood policy for the trip home. So with his mouth full of “hot chips” (Henry’s designation for any chip: potato or tortilla, flavored or plain) and a “lolly” (lollipop) in hand, Henry would ask for a root beer to wash it all down. We’d explain that he would have to wait till the next rest stop and he’d frown and say, “You’re not my friend, daddy.” As much as it hurt, I’d know that I could bribe him with a frost A&W 100 miles from then . . . . Henry was also very often distracted with watching “big trucks,” his title for a B-class children’s documentary about everything from the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile to industrial snow blowers. After the fifth time watching it, Henry loved it five times as much as when he picked it out in the store and Amy and I loathed it five times as much as when he picked it out. But, hey, it kept him entertained for several hundred miles.
We stayed in Leesburg, Virginia, for just about a week, put up by some very generous friends, the Palmers, who have their own little bundle of joy: reason enough to close the door to our family of five (six, if you include Henry’s evil alterego). It was here that Cyrus learned to say “goggie” for doggie (pretty close!), and I have to say it was thrilling watching him make several attempts before getting it right! His bark is more like the hoot of an owl, but not bad for a 13 month old. He is so easy-going and cheerful (except when he’s not) and we couldn’t be happier to have his personality in our family. We had fun running into some of our friends from Sterling, but were really quite overwhelmed with the stress of finding a place of our own. We had had a bead on a townhouse, but at the signing, we discovered that the contract was not what had been advertised, so we backed out. Amy diligently spent an entire Saturday with our realtor and found a place even closer to DC and still in the Falls Church Ward, the first church group we were in after we were married. Now we’re in our new place, but it took several weeks to hook up internet service. (Apologies to any and all of you with whom we have missed contact—we hope to be up to speed in a few more weeks.) Overall, we have few complaints: we’re mostly tired from unpacking, moving furniture, and trying to be at least half attentive parents in the small spaces not covered by a cardboard box. But we are so happy to be back in Arlington; our Iranian friends would say Arlington has “shahriati,” or “town-ness” for lack of a better translation: a place with easy access to culture, facilities, transportation--decidedly not suburban. So, the price we pay is in space: the bedrooms are more the size of closets and Amy pointed out that the Kashmiri carpet that used to be in our entry way in Dubai covers almost the entire area of our living room! But it’s a price we’re glad to pay if it means being close to the Metro subway train and within walking distance of a few parks and a public library. And of course it won’t hurt if we are near the Apple Store. ☺