When I was at the grocery store as a child, I regularly rearranged canned good displays so all the labels faced out. I also avoided stepping on sidewalk cracks, and meticulously lined up every item in my school desk. While (thankfully) I have outgrown many of these compulsive tendencies, I've remained quite particular (read: difficult) into adulthood. And then we moved to Africa, sight unseen. I am still difficult to live with, but God is slowly unraveling my perfectionism here. We've trained several cooks in our kitchen over the past year, which has resulted in countless items being broken. Most African cooking equipment is indestructible (cast iron, aluminum, wood), so working with "white man" plastic and silicone presents a steep learning curve. I would regularly repeat the following mantra aloud: "It's just stuff. Stuff can be replaced. People cannot." A few months ago, I noticed our spoon pile looked shorter. I lined up all the flatware. We move
Two physicians and their little explorers sharing the love of Christ through medicine.