I never dreamed I'd be a military spouse. Ever. The thought never crossed my mind, and even as I fell head over heels for Sandman, who was an ROTC cadet at the time, I had no concept of what it might mean to marry a military man.
In my opinion, moving is one of the hardest parts about being a military family. Other things complicate life...lack of a predictable weekly schedule, countless out of town trips, healthcare red tape, not to mention deployments...but uprooting our lives every few years sits at the top of my list of least favorite things. After all, moving, even by choice, is chaotic and inconvenient, but we often have no say in the timing or location. I guess that's not always bad, and I'll admit that I'm nervous about when we have to make those decisions for ourselves like normal adults. And of course, there's something exciting about new experiences, so I'm grateful to be able to navigate them along the way.
But the actual move is the pits. We've had dreams of planning a fun road trip while moving from base to base, camping, visiting new states, enjoying our transition, but that hasn't worked out yet. I basically can't stand packing, cleaning, caravaning, unpacking, and becoming reestablished all over again each time we move. And this move brought us a new wrinkle in that the dandelion boys are school aged with real memories of the home and community we loved in New Mexico.
So, it's time to addresses the Strong and Courageous Life side of the move. All I can say is that God is good, and he has been taking care of us every step of the way. Now, the "way" is NOT what we'd imagined in our wildest (or most ridiculous) dreams. It's been a battle, both emotionally and physically, and a number of situations have popped up beyond our control. Even reluctantly at times, Sandman and I have actively decided to choose JOY in these circumstances. I haven't been perfect, and I've fussed, complained, and cried. I've asked God to give me grace, mercy, and a lot of forgiveness.
We've faced movers coming days early, broken air conditioning, living in at least six different places (hotels, base lodging, relatives' homes, etc.,) Sandman's big promotion (which included a lovely ceremony,) multiple goodbye events with friends, a baby shower the same day our belongings were loaded onto the moving truck, Uhaul not installing stuff when it was scheduled, Uhaul not having the trailer we'd ordered, four days of driving, sleeping on air mattresses for days, and just feeling displaced and uncomfortable. At 30 weeks pregnant. And our goods being delivered almost a week late because the shipping company insists we never told them when to deliver. Eyeroll. Facepalm. And I won't get into the details of the delivery. As we unpack, we're recognizing that the packing crew in New Mexico definitely used interesting methods, and the delivery crew made a number of questionable decisions. Let's just leave it at that.
By far, this has been the Most Ridiculous Move. I keep thinking our life over the last few weeks would make such great storylines for a sitcom. Or horror movie. Kidding. Mostly. In all seriousness, it's been tough. But I can always see God's goodness, provision, and plan, despite my attempts to wallow in my own pity.
My precious boys have made a few friends on our street. Their families seem friendly and normal. They have been generous to us in the form of casual conversation, baked goods, and accepting my dandelions.
Our house will eventually feel like home. We're blown away by how beautiful it is and the way it fits us like a glove. The square footage is not that much larger than our last home, but the way we can access and use this space is near perfection. I think Joanna Gains would only need to bust out one or two walls and add some shiplap...we already have French doors! The yard is gorgeous, and living around tall, shady trees and soft grass again reminds me of how much I've missed it.
We will find a new church family and friends. It may take time. That's one of my biggest lessons learned in New Mexico. I struggled to find friendships, and in the end, leaving was incredibly difficult because we felt as though we were saying goodbye to family. We visited a church this past Sunday, and while it looked and felt nothing like our last church, it might be where God wants us.
We took a chance and chose to live father from the base, but the sense of community here is off the charts. Longer drive times will take some adjustments from us, but this area is worth it.
Beyond a few little ideas and correlations I've come to on my own, I may never fully understand why we've had to suffer (there, I said it,) through this move. So much of it was unfair and unpredictable. It's been physically painful and exhausting, and at times, my emotions were fried. And through those times, I've been prompted to seek joy. To choose it. To choose the alternative was to pile on to my heartache and frustration.
Moving will always always always be hard. Even if I organized, planned, and could follow though with a long list of preparations, there's no guarantee things will ever go smoothly. I just have to choose to see the silver linings and keep things going until another PCS rolls around.
