For the first time in a long time, I had ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard for my lunches this weekend.

The above sentence may very well qualify as one of the most boring, mundane, ridiculous opening lines for a blog post ever.  And let's be honest:  for the average blog browser, it may very well serve as a ridiculously boring opening sentence for a ridiculously boring post... But then again maybe not.

I think my ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard are actually kind of significant, in a way.  For me personally, I think they may serve as a sign of acceptance, perspective, and coming-to-terms with the past five years of my life.  You see, when I first moved to Amsterdam, in January 2003, I probably ate ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard for my lunch four or five times a week.  Partly because they were very tasty -- made with fresh, crusty, European bread, topped with salty ham and finely aged Dutch cheese, and accented with sharp, zingy, French mustard -- and partly because they were one of the very few things that I knew to prepare as I learned a new system for grocery stores, kitchen utensils, and daily routines.  For the first month that I lived in Amsterdam -- in an apartment on the Leidsekade just below the old Zolder -- ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard were a staple of my diet.

But then, as I moved out from the Leidsekade apartment and into the city, and as I grew tired of the same old food every day for lunch -- to the point that I was willing to overcome my inhibitions for trying new things and acclimating to the culture around me -- I moved away from the ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard.  I fell back to the old American classic, peanut-butter-and-jelly.  Or I had roast beef.  Or I made pasta.  Or I ate at one of the cafes in the city.  And for whatever reason, I never came back to the ham-and-cheese sandwich with mustard again.

Oh, sure, I probably had a ham-and-cheese sandwich with mustard every now and then -- most likely if someone else had prepared the lunch for me... But I found myself very deliberately avoiding ham-and-cheese with mustard.  I would sooner eat just ham.  Or just cheese.  Or maybe ham-and-cheese with no mustard.  But however it happened, I developed a subtle aversion to a ham-and-cheese with mustard because it reminded me, quite viscerally, of a very awkward and painful period of my life.  It left, in a very literal way, a bad taste in my mouth.  Those early days in Amsterdam have a certain nostalgia and "glory days" feel to them, on one level -- but really, when I think back on those days, even now I get a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach.  Of course that was a necessary period of my life, to get me to where I am today (living and functioning in daily life in Amsterdam), but those early days were a very uncomfortable period of my life -- feeling ignorant and useless and powerless and lonely most of the time.  And although I'm glad that I went through the whole process, and I feel confident that God directed through that season of life, I would never relish the idea of going back to that time.  And for whatever reason, without really giving it much thought, a ham-and-cheese sandwich with mustard came to symbolize this to me.

So I actually think it's kind of significant that I made a specific and deliberate choice to enjoy a few ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard this weekend (even though there were other options at my disposal).  Laugh at me, if you want (it is kind of silly).  Congratulate me, if you want.  But I'm glad to be eating ham-and-cheese sandwiches with mustard again.  Though I wouldn't want to do it every day.