Banana Pudding Diplomacy by Mia Aldred

Coming to Washington, D.C. from Indian Trail, NC was a bigger adjustment than I expected. Here's how I found my footing, and why it ended with a casserole dish. From the very first day, the Fellows Program at The Falls Church Anglican has been a blessing. Everyone I've met has been delightful, helpful, and inspiring. I've been amazed by the generosity of the staff, the other Fellows, my wonderful host family, the Malms, and the many other hands that lift this program up. Then I rode the Metro to work. It felt like a foreign country. Everyone was moving a hundred miles an hour, I was completely lost, and nobody wanted to chat. I told a man in a suit to have a blessed day, and he looked at me like I'd asked for his Social Security number. I was a little offended! Where I'm from, you talk to the person next to you (especially if you are my Papa). A couple of weeks later, a few other Fellows and I went to see live country music. When the band started playing "Neon Moon," a wave of homesickness hit me. My ears were hearing something so familiar, but everything around me was different. I felt completely in my element and totally out of place at the same time. I left frustrated, wondering if I'd made the right decision moving here. The next morning at church, the very first words spoken were from Psalm 119:105: "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." That verse has shown up for me again and again as a reminder that God is with me. (It's a longer story, and I'd love to tell it if you ever ask!) Hearing it that morning confirmed what I needed to know. This new life was challenging me, but I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Two other things shifted my perspective. First, our professor at Reformed Theological Seminary pointed out that cultural preferences aren't the same as biblical essentials. Missing the South and my family was real, but I needed to open my eyes to the ways God is working right here in D.C. Second, I keep coming back to JFK's line, "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." My version: ask not what this program and this city can do for you; ask what you can do for this community. Where you're from matters. So does appreciating people whose backgrounds look nothing like yours. This past week I focused on seeing the beauty in all the different people around me. Then I decided to share a little of my own roots. I cooked dinner for the Fellows: chicken pot pie casserole, green beans, mashed potatoes, and Nana's banana pudding, all family recipes. Glenn, a fellow Southerner from South Carolina, told me he hadn't had green beans like that since his grandma passed. That one comment was worth every dish I washed. I still haven't won over the Metro. But I've learned that home isn't something you find on the train. It's something you bring with you and set on the table for other people. So here's my rule of thumb. If you're ever homesick, make something that fills your tummy and reminds you of home. Bonus points if it's a family recipe!