An evening with the parents of a German friend, I’m learning what it’s like to interact with older people from my newly adopted culture. We make small talk in the car while we’re waiting, and I rack my brain as I try to remember how to form a sentence with Konjunktive II in Vergangenheit, because I need to explain how something should have been different. The words just don’t come as quickly as I’d like, but I still puke out a string of verbs and hope that it somehow made sense.

—

It’s been fifteen minutes, but the yeast hasn’t done anything. It’s dead.

There’s nothing to be done. Throw it out, try again. Warm water, a bit of sugar, and another couple of packets of hope. Maybe today’s just not going to be the day.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can really do to change this process. The yeast will either proof or it won’t. It’s out of your hands.

Why is it that I get so angry? I don’t really understand that yet.

I sit through another Sermon. I can get the gist of what he’s saying, but when I listen closer I find that there’s words, idioms, and constructions that still evade me. I try as much as I can, but I can only grab the sense of his Jesus-thoughts, not the specifics. My heart wishes badly that it could have a few more specifics.

Like how do you deal with it when it seems like everyone around you wants you to take a negative view in life? And what do you when you realize that the local saying, “nothing said is enough praise,” is really the way of life for many around you? What do you do when you feel like you’re going to crack if you hear another “Leider,” “Shade,” or “Scheißer”?

Will I ever find my step in the rhythm of this world around me?

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