Hot Water and Electricity

When we first moved to Jordan, one of the first big differences we had to get used to was the electricity and water outages. Some nights the electricity would just shut off. Not Amman. Not our street. Just our building. That's just what happens. Other people have it too, and when the electricity goes out you can count on being left in the dark for awhile.

We light candles and get out our flashlights and settle down with books or Legos. I surround myself with pillows and settle in next to the fireplace which we fill with candles. We wait. Then in an hour, or maybe even three hours, the electricity comes back on.

Other times we run out of water. It's only for a day or two, but life on limited water isn't fun. No showers. Little cooking. And milk to drink. Then with a call to the embassy, we get a new tank of water brought over.

And then there's those rare times when the gas runs out. No hot water. No cooking with a stove. Have you ever taken a shower with freezing water? I have. It lasted about two minutes and left me shivering for quite a while. Cold showers are not fun. They're not fun at all. I feel bad for people that have only ever known cold showers.

Some people that live just a few miles away from me have no showers at all. They live on a bucket of water a day. They don't have heating for their houses. They don't have houses. Some are nomads that live with their herds of animals, bringing them straight through the city, traveling through Jordan. Some people can't have a house. Some people here live on one JD (which is equivalent to $1.40)  a day.

And then here I am with a house, with water and heat and electricity. Sure, it goes out sometimes. A lot more than desired it goes out without warning. But I have no right to complan about it, because I've seen people that have it so much worse. People that would love to live in this house, with all it's differnet and unusual quirks from what I'm used to.

Life in Jordan has taught me so much that I can't learn from living in America. Besides teaching me how to do a radio check and read Arabic, it's taught me about how the things that I take for granted, complain about even, are everything compared to what others have.

I still complain. I still wish that things in Jordan were just like they were in America, but I'm learning to let go of that. I'm learning that the almost invisible things in my life that I take for granted are so valuble and so important.

I'm learning to treasure the things that I have, not wish for the things I don't.

My Fear of Wasps

I’ve been stung by a wasp exactly three times. It’s not much, and a teeny tiny wasp sting isn’t enough to scar me for life, but I am absolutely terrified of them.

I have no idea why. I fall down and hurt myself daily. You could call me a klutz for the number of times that I’ve walked into walls or managed to bump into someone in a huge hallway. Surely a small sting on the arm should be nothing, right? But to me it’s like having ice water dumped on my head and then being set on fire. I hate stings. Either wasp or bee, I hate them.

It’s not just because they’re bugs either. I’ll see a spider crawling by on the sidewalk, or ants marching through my kitchen and I’ll think nothing of it. It’s just these little wasps.

A couple months ago, my family was eating dinner at our friends’ house when outside the window we saw a man putting a ladder up to a tree. We all ventured out to the living room to see what he was doing. There was a giant wasps’ nest on one of the trees outside, and the family we were visiting was relieved that they seemed to be doing something about it.

At first there didn’t seem to be a reason to watch him. Sure, he was putting a giant ladder against a thin and very tall tree trunk, but everyone had their own ways of dong things. Our boredom was short-lived though. Because instead of, I don’t know, spraying the wasps’ nest with Wasp Killer, he had a white canvas bag in his hands; he was trying to bag the nest.

Someone down below the tree was poking the branch with a long pole, as if trying to push the nest closer to the man. He had a saw in his hands too, and while trying to get the bag around the nest, he was also trying to saw the nest off of the branch. We must’ve watched him for thirty minutes; the whole scene was so hilarious.

He had to of been stung a hundred times while getting that nest down, there were wasps everywhere. In a big haze around him, buzzing in circles around the nest, flying away from the tree, they were everywhere. But yet he continued pulling down the nest and

trying to saw it off.

We felt kind of bad for him, out there and getting stung. It couldn’t of been very fun. But why couldn’t he just spray the nest and then collect it later? I’d never seen anything like it, and neither had anyone else that was elbowing their way into a better spot of the window.

A long time later, I don’t even remember how long, he finally got that nest out of the tree and into a bag. We all gave him a standing ovation. I mean, come on, although it probably wasn’t the smartest way to get rid of the wasps, he had guts.

It took a while for the wasps to clear out of their yard though. When we left, I remember running down the pavement and jumping into the car. No way was I getting stung too. He’d probably taken enough stings to take care of all of us for a good couple of years. At least that’s what I hoped.

I’m not sure if watching that nest go down weakened by fear or strengthened it. Those wasps were pretty determined to get him out of the tree. And next time I see a wasp nest, I’ll be sure to steer clear of it.

One thing that I did learn, crazy enough, is that a human can always overpower a giant wasp nest. So really there should be no reason to be scared of them. Stings heal.

No matter how many times I think that though, I’m still terrified when I see one near me.

As stupid as it may sound, I’m pretty sure I have a fear of wasps.

Great. There are probably tons of them in Colorado.