I have learned a lot in the past week or so.

Lesson 1: The Wild West wasn't that long ago.
I went to visit one of our older neighbors with Dad. He is German; his wife is a short, very independent lady who joined the service so she could buy a house with the help of the GI bill. :-) They said they moved into our neighborhood in 1985. As she scrapbooked pictures of the construction on the addition to their house, the lady told us about how life was in those days. "No water for nine years."
"No water?" I queried, unable to imagine such a circumstance. "Then how did you do laundry?"
"I put it all in a pot and stirred it with a stick. Depending how tired I was and how slowly I moved that stick, that was how long the laundry took." Then she remembered a funny story and her face lit up. "One time we had a party. A bunch of people were over and we were having a great time. Then this guy asked if he could use our restroom. I lit him a candle, handed him a box of matches, opened the outside door for him and told him to follow the rope. He just looked at me -- that wasn't what he expected." Apparently I didn't look as she expected, either, because she explained, "Lots of people had outhouses in those days."
Those days -- not much more than ten years ago. Crazy. Back then, people used to leave their cars out on the little highway and ski in to their houses with their supplies. I skiied the roads yesterday. And I imagined carrying all my groceries in that way. It would be fun -- if I wasn't working a full-time job at the same time. :-)
This means that I am learning something about the crustiness of the people here. They have to be hard in order to survive a harsh land. And they have to be soft inside in order to love this land. A hard crust over a soft exterior -- that's a pretty apt description. And the funny thing is, if you want to love them, you pretty much have to love their land too. Which brings me to the second lesson.

Lesson 2: Obedience is hard.
I enjoy being here with my family, but I really want a job. Or else I just want to be lazy all day, every day, and read books and eat chocolate and feel sorry for myself because I'm so far from friends and nobody has offered me a job yet. So I dangle a book in front of my nose and tell myself I mayn't read it until 3:00. I also have to stipulate for my lazy self that I must be filling out applications during that time. Otherwise I would indubitably find other ways to putter away the hours. But I am beginning to learn something, I think.

God doesn't like crabby obedience. It lets Him know that I love myself more than I love Him. You see, I obey because I have learned that nothing else brings pleasure and that often, the something else I desire actually brings pain. But this grumpy obedience is not bringing me joy either. I keep thinking that once I get the job, once something is decided about where I will live for the next while, THEN I will be content and happy and able to settle down.

This afternoon I had a long grumpy talk (or listen, maybe would be a better word, because I was not feeling particularly communicative) with Mom. She brought up very reasonable doubts regarding the job I've been wishing would come through from New Mexico. And she reminded me that I oughtn't tell God the way He should take care of me. I should let Him decide, and be willing to follow. This started me praying -- hooray for moms who are willing to say hard things to their grumpy daughters. :-)

The discovery of the day was that I need to stop looking at my desired outcome and start glorying in the process of this transition time. That means I should thank God for each time I can fill out an application, for the reminders of good times in the jobs I have previously held, for good friends and employers who I can trustingly offer as references, for the chance to answer questions that will help me to flesh out my educational philosophy and personal goals. I should thank Him for each day without a job, for the time I can spend with my family, for the views of the beautiful outdoors, and for the opportunity to trust Him for provision.

And, once again, I need to learn the lesson that was so hard when I was a freshman at college. I kept wishing for something else than Iowa, and God said "Trust in the LORD and do good; DWELL in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:3,4) I pride myself on my ability to survive almost anywhere. But dwelling implies loving a place, deciding to enjoy it, learning to appreciate the people and the surroundings and the culture. Dwelling is not something I am particularly good at, because it requires more love than I have. It means I have to depend on God, every minute, for His eyeglasses through which to see the land and people that He loves. It means I am not good enough by myself, but that He gives me all the worth I could possibly imagine and more. I want to DWELL in the center of His will.