Welcome kit.
Welcome Kit kitchen box contents:
4 tall glasses, 2 short glasses
8 each Corelle bowls, large and small plates, coffee mugs
6 each spoons, knives, forks
1 each butcher knife, paring knife
1 small cutting board
1 set Sterilite nesting all-purpose bowls and lids
1 strainer/colander
1 can opener
1 each small saucepan + lid, medium saucepan + lid, frying pan + lid
1 glass loaf pan
1 toaster
1 coffee maker
2 potholders + 1 dishtowel
***
Today marks two months in Santo Domingo. The first 3 weeks of that time spent in a hotel with nothing but our suitcases and our patience wearing thinner by the day. The last 5 weeks in a temporary apartment with our suitcases, a couple hundred pounds of ill-packed air freight, and the welcome kit — a small collection of the most basic necessities one might need until one’s household goods arrive anywhere from 1 - 6 months (or even longer) after one arrives at post. (And usually, but not always, of quality so poor as to be the subject of many Foreign Service “if you know, you know,” jokes and anecdotes.)
And I’ve been grumpy about it. About not being able to get settled, about not having any of our stuff, about trying to function with pay-as-you-go data hotspots off my phone that keep running out just when I need them the most, about trying to figure out meals when nothing feels right in my kitchen from the ok-ish but not great pan to the groceries that aren’t exactly what I wanted…
In short: I have been ungrateful.
And it took last week’s events to make me realize it.
It started with a text. Did you feel the earthquake? Joe, Nicolas and I had been at the housing compound’s playground while Haiti shook a couple hundred miles to our west. We hadn’t even felt a thing. As the weekend wore on and we hunkered down inside safe from Grace’s rains and winds, I couldn’t help but think of the other side of the island whenever our lights flickered momentarily before the generator kicked in.
Sitting inside most of Sunday and Monday (a Dominican holiday for which the embassy was closed), there wasn’t much else to do other than refresh our phones and watch the news come in from Afghanistan.
I usually try really hard not to get sucked into the drama of the news cycles but this one has been hard to escape. Maybe it’s because I’m an American and, perhaps like most of America, I’ve been feeling bewilderment and sadness over the seemingly sudden end of a twenty year war. Maybe it’s because I’m a Foreign Service spouse now and Afghanistan has moved from being an abstract place on the map to a country where friends and friends’ spouses have served (and are still serving). Or maybe it’s because I’m human and the stories and images coming our way have been utterly and totally heartbreaking.
I have found myself praying every time I reach into our pantry and grab one of the bowls from the damn welcome kit.
Prayers of gratitude for what I have. Prayers for strength and resilience for the helpers on the ground (including State Department and other agency folks all over the world). Prayers for the safety of those trying to escape and those who will stay and try to rebuild.
Prayers that I will be able to keep some of this perspective.
And prayers that my actions may follow my thoughts.
