I am going back through a lot of my old blogs and located this one.  It was dated September 2008.  I thought I had not gotten involved with refugees until 2009, but maybe it was earlier.  (I am terrible with dates.)  This blog shared a cultural happening that is rather comical to me still today.  I felt a re-post here on our Asha’s Refuge blog  would be good.

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I just ate some Chex cereal. I like Chex cereal. I visited with some refugees a couple of weeks back and took them to our local grocery store. They were mesmerized by the cereal aisle. One complete aisle, both sides, totally dedicated to cereal. The refugees I was with were from Bhutan – somewhere outside of Nepal I think. They had never heard of pouring milk into a bowl of wheat crisp. Breakfast, a bowl full of milk and wheat! They sort of giggled at the idea. I didn’t think it was odd and never had in the past, but I suddenly felt strange trying to express to my new friends that cereal was the way of the American life. The cereal aisle began to overwhelm me. As I peered over at some of my family’s favorites: Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes and Honey Nut Cheerios.  It was then that I noticed all the silly cartoon characters and funny logos. The multitude of brightly colored cereal boxes suddenly looked senseless and strange to me too. What have I been eating all these days? Have I allowed the American breakfast culture to suck me in?

I hesitated to commercialize the various boxes of my favorite sugary sweet cereals to them. But I did it anyways. Kellogg’s would have been proud of my ploy to advertise Frosted Flakes to this group of non-American, non-English speaking people, “They’re Great!”

I thought about confessing to the refugees that sometimes my family could be found indulging in a gigantic bowl of this stuff for dinner too. I decided not to tell them. I figured I had already shocked them enough for one day. Instead, I just shrugged my shoulders, placed a crooked smile on my face, and earnestly said, “Just try it, it’s good.” They couldn’t speak English so I don’t think they caught on to my suggestions. They giggled again and walked off with their arms still full of the instant corn muffin boxes I had sold them on prior to our adventure in the cereal aisle.

Just when we think we are “normal” we are awakened by the “normal”. Who is to say what “normal” is. Certainly to God we are each running around captured by our different cultures and look awfully silly sometimes. But He loves us each just the same. After all, we were created for Him and by Him.