Analyzing Anxiety

Being treated like the highest-level security threat at Tel Aviv; sprinting through the concourses in Frankfurt to watch the plane pull away from the gate without us; being rerouted to DC and receiving news we no longer had tickets to Denver—all contributed to our 50-hour traveling adventure of getting home for the holidays. God answered dozens of prayers along the way, and we finally arrived last Wednesday, just in time for Christmas and before all the truffles and peanut butter balls Nick's mom traditionally makes had been consumed by his family.

We've enjoyed re-experiencing familiar things that are not part of our life in Jerusalem: snowy walks, hearing English spoken as the norm, eating bacon, sausage, and pork in general, Chipotle, Christmas decorations, impressive light displays, and Sunday afternoon football.

As soon as I got here I started anticipating the day when we'd be going back. Before we left in August, many people asked me what my concerns or fears about moving overseas were. I wasn't sure what to say. I simply didn't know what to expect or even be concerned about. But this time, preparing to return in January, I feel anxious at times—about real, concrete feelings and situations: some small—having no idea what I'm buying at the grocery store because it's written in another language; some a little bit bigger—wishing I could speed up the relationship-building process and have close friends again; and some that are pretty pressing—will the passport control staff let us back in the country? We obeyed the instructions given to us by the Ministry of Interior, but what if the agent we see disregards everything we say?

I was lying awake in bed really early in the morning thinking about all of this when the image of one of my students popped into my head. The brief picture of Omar laughing was the calming answer I needed to the bombarding thoughts and concerns. It reminded me that there are at least 20 reasons to be excited about going back.

Anticipating change has always been difficult for me, but I find that once I get to that next point, something surprising happens: life gets underway, and everything new becomes normal. Right now, in Denver, this feels normal, and the thought of leaving it so soon makes me want to hold onto everything really tightly and slow the moments down. Perhaps by the time we actually leave here, I'll feel ready. Most likely, though, I won't. It may not be until we step back into living and teaching in Jerusalem that I'll shift into gear and realize this is where my life is right now—and it's actually really good.