Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Last night, I was kicked back, knitting, and we were watching old episodes of Alias from Netflix. As a spy, Sidney has so many different looks and is fluent in so many languages. Sure hope I'm never called into service as a double agent....I'm just too old for all of that action. There was a time (a whole lifetime ago, it seems like) when I dyed my hair. One time my boss introduced me to someone new at the clinic, adding "THIS week, she's a telling next week..." Now , here I am with grey streaks stubbornly intent on pushing their way into my life, and I can't dye my hair anymore. Ever since I had chemo and did the whole Sinead O'Connor look, my scalp is severely allergic to hair colorings.
The whole language and culture thing is another story altogether! When we had been married about a year and a half, we went from California to Atlanta, GA for Christmas. With me being from the Northwest, Jim's step-father called me "the furener". Their Christmas dinner was very different than I was used to. At home, potato salad and iced tea were summer-time fare. I didn't know what salt pork was, and had thought Jim was joking when he said there was such a thing as BOILED peanuts. A year later, we were living in Savannah, GA, and the people were so warm and welcoming. We started going to a local church and became family with everyone there. I picked up quite a little Southern drawl, and so did Sarah, since she started talking there. She and I flew home to Oregon for Jen's wedding. Visiting in the car on the way home from the airport, my sister and mom, laughed their heads off at my inflections. I was baffled... "whats so funny?" I wasn't putting had just become a part of me, but now here I was back in the NW, and I was "a furener"!
On post at Ft. Stewart, GA., we had neighbor wives from many different countries. One of my friends I did the most with was Turkish. She had a little girl Sarah's age and a baby boy. One week, the little guy was sick in the hospital, so the little girl came to stay with us. When Tasha's husband came to pick up Nuray, he had started back home with her, when I remembered something I wanted to ask him. I hollered across the cul-de-sac at him, "Schatzi!" He didn't turn around, so I yelled it again. He turned around and came back and I asked him the question. When Tasha came over the next day, she was cracking up. She was laughing sooo hard and called Jim "Honey"! What? How was I supposed to know Schatzi meant Sweetheart in German? That's all she had ever called him in front of me! I thought it was his name! When we went to Germany...I now knew that term...but made plenty other faux pas. Soooooo, You probably don't foresee the CIA calling me to join their ranks anytime soon. What you don't realize is "This Me" you see, is really a disguise......I'm actually smart, young, beautiful and skinny. Seriously, Schatzi.
Actually, the real truth is....that I really am not what I appear. To God, I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and I can do all things through Christ. I'm thankful to have been called into His service. May I be a loyal agent, and always follow His plans.


Melissa said...

Cute and fun stories with a wonderful point at the end.

kate said...

Wonderful mom. Actually got goosebumps at the end. May we all be loyal agents, with no SECRET about it!

Sarah said...

Great post, Mom.


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