Don't mind me...

Coffee & Donuts (Photo credit: Jeremy Brooks)

…I’m just a missionary on furlough (almost).

We leave in two weeks for our first furlough. I don’t know if this happens to every missionary family but as our departure time creeps closer, we’ve begun to notice some strange mental shifts. Nothing scary or creepy, just little things that by themselves mean nothing but collectively make us a little bizarre.

We see photos on the internet of our friends, and after a cursory glance at the people our eyes are drawn to things in the photos that we never would have noticed a few years ago. Carpet. Door knobs that are not five feet above the floor. Sidewalks. Starbucks. Donuts. And we sort of go into a trance and drool. It’s disgusting.

We talk about things we used to take for granted like peace and quiet and fresh strawberries, peaches and blueberries and we sound like Sam and Frodo at Mordor when they realize they can’t remember the taste of strawberries or the sound of the trees. Pathetic.

English: Wal-Mart location in Moncton (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve heard stories of expats returning to the states and crying the first time they went back to Wal-Mart and thought to myself, "no way, not me, Wal-Mart and I are old friends and I CANNOT WAIT to go back." Lately though I am not so sure of myself. Since we've never had a furlough this is all pure speculation but I might cry after all. I might feel overwhelmed. I might be just as likely to cry tears of joy. “Look, Honey! They have EVERYTHING on our list right here in ONE store! And it all has a price tag on it! And none of it is expired! And the labels are in ENGLISH!”

I might do a happy dance.

I might take forty minutes to drive the twelve miles to the store because driving in excess of 35mph feels terrifyingly fast.

I might try to order my meat by the kilo instead of by the pound.

I might try to give a tip to any pedestrian within six feet of my car and thank them for keeping an eye on it for me.

I might hand my merchandise to the cashier and after he/she scans it, ask, possibly in French, “Is that your BEST price?”

If I am going to behave strangely, Wal-mart might just be the safest place to do it. Still, maybe I will make a t-shirt for furlough that says “Don’t mind me, I’m just a missionary on furlough,” just in case someone wonders about me. It might prevent an awkward moment or two.