Home, sweet Seattle.

God bless America.

When I stepped off the plane into SeaTac airport on Tuesday afternoon, greeted by glorious gray drizzle, one of my travel companions turned to me and said, "Can you smell it, Megan? That's the smell of freedom and indoor plumbing."

Freedom smells good.

But it also smells intimidating. Unfamiliar. Advanced. Different than I remember.

I came home prepared for a fierce battle with reverse culture shock and re-entry struggles. I anticipate days when I sadness and anxiety will leave me crippled on the couch with no ability to function normally for that day. I am prepared to deal with difficult situations where the changes that God has made in my life come head to head with American culture and consumerism.

However, I have been unprepared for the most simple of things that I face everyday that are both intimidating and frustrating.

Things like the shower. It's strange, but I have to admit that the shower in my childhood bathroom is a bit scary! There is one knob, and trying to remember how to use it to make the warm water come out, and to come out of the shower head not the faucet, was a bit trickier than I thought it would be. And goodness, does that water come out fast! And it's everywhere. Once you're in the shower, there is no where to go to escape the fierce water pressure. The practice of continual spitting throughout showering won't be easily eradicated, either! My brain tells me the water is safe here, but my body acts otherwise.

And light switches. They are the opposite in America as they are in Nepal. My brain is trained to flip down to turn the lights on, and the many seconds it takes my brain to remind itself to try an upward motion with my hand can be embarrassing!

Driving is a whole different beast here than it is in Nepal. For the last year I have been living with few to no street rules. You bob and weave when and where you'd like, following the chaotic ebb and flow of traffic. You honk at anyone and everyone, and you have the choice of driving on the left or right side of the road, though technically the left side is the correct side. But here there are wide streets with dotted white lines that are more than suggestions, stop lights and stop signs that must be obeyed, and speeds that, in my mind, border on insane.

I am looking forward to experiencing more "America-isms" that will present themselves with time.

Readjustments will be made, however slowly, and my old normal with eventually become my new normal once again. And throughout this whole process, I can't ask enough times, in enough different ways for your prayers and patience. I will need your help to fully re-enter my passport country and it's now foreign culture.