When your place of residence changes too frequently you learn to define "home" solely by the intangible spaces you create in yourself and in between the people you love. No address or physical place will do, for you cannot take those nooks and crannies with you when you go.
It is simply one lesson I have learned as a military wife.
We remain in one spot for a fleeting breath of a moment it seems- often only three years or less. It is long enough to attempt to settle in a house always owned and decorated by someone else. By the time our belongings are sufficiently scattered from corner to corner, the packing season has rolled back around. Everything finally organized on our assorted-colored shelves or in our mismatched furniture must carefully be rewrapped, repacked, and rearranged in relabeled boxes. Even now, our time here on Sandusky Court is up, and we are once again a family awaiting orders.
I'd say "patiently awaiting," however, patience has never been a forte of mine.
I'm a planner; living in limbo makes me crazy. Truly insane. But insanity must be tolerated, as this is our chosen life. Fall homeschool registration, extracurricular activities, plane tickets and summer travel plans... even our small business future precariously rest upon our next move; every one of these tasks in need of being settled very soon. Luckily, February is the promised month for receiving orders, and we know it is only a short time before the setting of our next chapter is written.
Try though I might, leaving always bears a substantial weight on my every thought as the days tick by. It is not, however, the unresolved details that are the most taxing effects of our transfers, but the heartbreak that comes of the distance enforced in each cherished relationship built in these transient years. They are, of course, our greatest blessings- chosen family always is- and so, it is a heartbreak worth enduring, with promises made for visits whenever circumstances allow.
Connections such as these are never broken. They are the very filling of my invisible nooks and crannies affectionately carried from town to town, and that by which I create this, my unconventional definition of "home."
Showing posts with label military life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label military life. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Wait. Quietly.
This is no small thing I seek.
And so I will simply do as I’m told.
Wait.
Quietly.
It was in the stillness of an evening a few nights back that these words came to me, reverberating in the deafening silence as a critical answer to a question I’ve been forced to ask.
Waiting isn’t foreign to me. I am a military wife. We are forever and always waiting on something. In fact, I’m fairly certain “hurry up and wait” is the unofficial motto every military family has displayed in fridge-magnet form or cross-stitched neatly on a pillow. If not, we should. And though I’m typically not so keen to just wait, and certainly not patiently, this particular time, the words echoed through my body with the soothing warmth only peace can offer- a sensation these restless bones haven’t known for far too long.
Still, I questioned.
No, it wasn’t the “wait,” but the “quietly” that tripped me up. So, what did I do? I went straight to the online dictionary for the cliché writer’s definition search...
quietly- adv. 1. Making no noise or sound, especially no disturbing sound. 2. Free, or comparatively free, from noise.
Quietly. Not still. Not patiently. Not even silently.
Wait quietly.
Ok. My mission, should I choose to accept it… free from expressive noises of great excitement or grievance, I will move through my days in productive pursuit of the tasks at hand and tackle each one with a content heart. I will live and love each moment… and I will wait. I will wait faithful that in its time, this seemingly non-answer answer will work itself out. I will allow that initial peace to fill me and replace the sneaky doubt that creeps in with the passing of time.
I have my work cut out for me.
Wait.
Quietly.
Mission accepted.Wait.
Quietly.
It was in the stillness of an evening a few nights back that these words came to me, reverberating in the deafening silence as a critical answer to a question I’ve been forced to ask.
Waiting isn’t foreign to me. I am a military wife. We are forever and always waiting on something. In fact, I’m fairly certain “hurry up and wait” is the unofficial motto every military family has displayed in fridge-magnet form or cross-stitched neatly on a pillow. If not, we should. And though I’m typically not so keen to just wait, and certainly not patiently, this particular time, the words echoed through my body with the soothing warmth only peace can offer- a sensation these restless bones haven’t known for far too long.
Still, I questioned.
No, it wasn’t the “wait,” but the “quietly” that tripped me up. So, what did I do? I went straight to the online dictionary for the cliché writer’s definition search...
quietly- adv. 1. Making no noise or sound, especially no disturbing sound. 2. Free, or comparatively free, from noise.
Quietly. Not still. Not patiently. Not even silently.
Wait quietly.
Ok. My mission, should I choose to accept it… free from expressive noises of great excitement or grievance, I will move through my days in productive pursuit of the tasks at hand and tackle each one with a content heart. I will live and love each moment… and I will wait. I will wait faithful that in its time, this seemingly non-answer answer will work itself out. I will allow that initial peace to fill me and replace the sneaky doubt that creeps in with the passing of time.
I have my work cut out for me.
Wait.
Quietly.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Cold Feet
Another whirlwind vacation of traveling five major interstates spanning eight southern states in a minivan with two exhausted adults, three restless children, two chihuahua half-breeds, a squeaky gerbil, and all the baggage that comes with each, emotional or otherwise. The whole trip- for two weeks of an unusually warm winter- my poor ten toes have been ice cold!
Virginia to Alabama. A short visit with good friends, where my toesies were unhappily reminded that all thermostats are not set to my ambient winter temperature of "toasty."
Alabama to Texas. An 80 degree Christmas, the warmest in recent Houston history, where two new pairs of shoes were purchased; one for running and one for church to match the more temperature-appropriate new Christmas dress. Neither provided the warmth my little piggies seemed to crave.
Texas to Georgia. The much cooler New Year holiday spent snuggled in borrowed UGA slippers and my husband's dress socks in a home with poor engineerical planning for the FROG... or was it the industrial sized freezer our bed was made in? I'm not sure!
And now Georgia back home to Virginia. My forever-frozen footsies still desperately seeking heat as we make our way further north. Today's attempts include huddling together in the warmth of the dash board vent and the recently-elusive dazzling rays of sunshine.
Still cold.
But they will be tucked in the cozy comfort of their own bed soon. They are happy, happy feet after all for all the miles traveled. As am I, still filled with the magic of every warm embrace given by loved ones seen far too infrequently.
Virginia to Alabama. A short visit with good friends, where my toesies were unhappily reminded that all thermostats are not set to my ambient winter temperature of "toasty."
Alabama to Texas. An 80 degree Christmas, the warmest in recent Houston history, where two new pairs of shoes were purchased; one for running and one for church to match the more temperature-appropriate new Christmas dress. Neither provided the warmth my little piggies seemed to crave.
Texas to Georgia. The much cooler New Year holiday spent snuggled in borrowed UGA slippers and my husband's dress socks in a home with poor engineerical planning for the FROG... or was it the industrial sized freezer our bed was made in? I'm not sure!
And now Georgia back home to Virginia. My forever-frozen footsies still desperately seeking heat as we make our way further north. Today's attempts include huddling together in the warmth of the dash board vent and the recently-elusive dazzling rays of sunshine.
Still cold.
But they will be tucked in the cozy comfort of their own bed soon. They are happy, happy feet after all for all the miles traveled. As am I, still filled with the magic of every warm embrace given by loved ones seen far too infrequently.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Hiding in Fredericksburg
All the schools and offices in the area have called for a "snow day" today, so I'm giving my kids a break from homeschool, too. We're a week ahead anyway and snow sounds like a good excuse to take a day off! So, I have a little time and thought I'd take a second shot at writing this blog entry. I started a week ago, but just couldn't get my thoughts together in the right words. Not sure I can today either, but it's clearly something that is still weighing on my heart and on my mind.
As I've said before, I am nomadic by nature, so being a military wife has worked well for me. I like change and I have always enjoyed moving (not the packing part, just to be clear). It's a chance to start over; to reinvent or build on who we are. It's not that I pretend to be something I'm not in a new place. On the contrary- I am always true to and real about who I am. Settling in new towns has simply given me the opportunity to nurture certain parts of who I am (people are multi-faceted after all) and to have a clean break with the things I should or want to leave behind. I am a very social person and have been known to overly involve myself and my family in activities outside of our home. This is an easy pool for a stay-at-home mother to drown in, though I'm not sure I could explain that to you if you don't understand what I mean. It is, however, always a balancing act between my family's needs and my own, and it is one of those things I will always have to work at. In any case, moving every few years helps these seasons of life begin and end neatly and naturally.
When our new orders came this past summer to move just a few hours north, I decided it was time to slow down. I am the woman who was not just a parent of a child involved in certain activities; I was the mother leading and participating. A mere year ago, I was in charge of childcare for MOPS with plans to coordinate the group the following year, leading Julian's Cub Scout Tiger Den, an active Senior Consultant in Thirty One, and a helper with our church's childrens choir in addition to many other less regular activities. Many of our week nights and weekends were spent running to extra curricular interests, mostly in opposite directions, and our family was no longer benefiting from these activities, but rather drifting apart. I rarely felt like we spent any time together, even in places where we were all present. A relocation was the perfect opportunity to refocus. And so I made a promise to Carlos and the boys- I wouldn't jump into anything right away when we settled in Fredericksburg.
Needless to say and quite uncharacteristically of me, I have found it far too easy to keep this promise. I'm beginning to see maybe I've even taken it too far in the other direction. After six months of living here, we have joined only our homeschool group and the local y, and I have limited our involvement even in these organizations. My problem isn't in being involved in only a few things. No, the problem comes when I admit I haven't truly invested in the lives of the people we have met, nor have I allowed them close enough to invest in us. We are, of course, friendly at school and I chat with the other mothers as the boys work and play, but it is only small talk. Beyond the doors of the church we meet at and the y, we keep to ourselves where these families are concerned. You see, I have found the process of making new friends to be exhausting this time around. I don't like the isolation I have created. In fact, the urge to get out is just as nagging as ever, but I just don't have the energy or the attitude to actively pursue new relationships. I'm afraid the social butterfly in me has flown away. Believe me, I know how dumb this sounds.
Our only saving grace from my anti-social antics has been old friends that happen to live in Fredericksburg; a family that already knows us well. They are one of the many reasons we chose to live here instead of closer to my husband's job in DC, second only to the cost of living. When we need a little fun, we call on them. It is not healthy to not have a bigger local support system though, and it certainly isn't fair to these family friends for us to become their burden and responsibility. I know they don't feel this way, but I'm worried it won't be long before they do.
So, what do I do?
Well, I have no immediate desire to crawl out of this isolated cave I've stumbled into. I wish I could tell you why. I'm not really looking for advice, but owning up to my depression (let's be honest and call a spade a spade here) seems to be the best place to start. Sharing this is far harder than you will ever know. No one likes to admit their faults and imperfections, especially not on the world wide web, but I'm clearly getting desperate for motivation to move on. I want better for my children, for my family, and for myself. My only hope is found in the will I still possess to make it better. For now, taking one day at a time is all I can promise and I hope in my next post I can share a more inspirational and encouraging side of myself.
P.S. If you see me on the streets of Fredericksburg, don't let me get away with small talk.
As I've said before, I am nomadic by nature, so being a military wife has worked well for me. I like change and I have always enjoyed moving (not the packing part, just to be clear). It's a chance to start over; to reinvent or build on who we are. It's not that I pretend to be something I'm not in a new place. On the contrary- I am always true to and real about who I am. Settling in new towns has simply given me the opportunity to nurture certain parts of who I am (people are multi-faceted after all) and to have a clean break with the things I should or want to leave behind. I am a very social person and have been known to overly involve myself and my family in activities outside of our home. This is an easy pool for a stay-at-home mother to drown in, though I'm not sure I could explain that to you if you don't understand what I mean. It is, however, always a balancing act between my family's needs and my own, and it is one of those things I will always have to work at. In any case, moving every few years helps these seasons of life begin and end neatly and naturally.
When our new orders came this past summer to move just a few hours north, I decided it was time to slow down. I am the woman who was not just a parent of a child involved in certain activities; I was the mother leading and participating. A mere year ago, I was in charge of childcare for MOPS with plans to coordinate the group the following year, leading Julian's Cub Scout Tiger Den, an active Senior Consultant in Thirty One, and a helper with our church's childrens choir in addition to many other less regular activities. Many of our week nights and weekends were spent running to extra curricular interests, mostly in opposite directions, and our family was no longer benefiting from these activities, but rather drifting apart. I rarely felt like we spent any time together, even in places where we were all present. A relocation was the perfect opportunity to refocus. And so I made a promise to Carlos and the boys- I wouldn't jump into anything right away when we settled in Fredericksburg.
Needless to say and quite uncharacteristically of me, I have found it far too easy to keep this promise. I'm beginning to see maybe I've even taken it too far in the other direction. After six months of living here, we have joined only our homeschool group and the local y, and I have limited our involvement even in these organizations. My problem isn't in being involved in only a few things. No, the problem comes when I admit I haven't truly invested in the lives of the people we have met, nor have I allowed them close enough to invest in us. We are, of course, friendly at school and I chat with the other mothers as the boys work and play, but it is only small talk. Beyond the doors of the church we meet at and the y, we keep to ourselves where these families are concerned. You see, I have found the process of making new friends to be exhausting this time around. I don't like the isolation I have created. In fact, the urge to get out is just as nagging as ever, but I just don't have the energy or the attitude to actively pursue new relationships. I'm afraid the social butterfly in me has flown away. Believe me, I know how dumb this sounds.
Our only saving grace from my anti-social antics has been old friends that happen to live in Fredericksburg; a family that already knows us well. They are one of the many reasons we chose to live here instead of closer to my husband's job in DC, second only to the cost of living. When we need a little fun, we call on them. It is not healthy to not have a bigger local support system though, and it certainly isn't fair to these family friends for us to become their burden and responsibility. I know they don't feel this way, but I'm worried it won't be long before they do.
So, what do I do?
Well, I have no immediate desire to crawl out of this isolated cave I've stumbled into. I wish I could tell you why. I'm not really looking for advice, but owning up to my depression (let's be honest and call a spade a spade here) seems to be the best place to start. Sharing this is far harder than you will ever know. No one likes to admit their faults and imperfections, especially not on the world wide web, but I'm clearly getting desperate for motivation to move on. I want better for my children, for my family, and for myself. My only hope is found in the will I still possess to make it better. For now, taking one day at a time is all I can promise and I hope in my next post I can share a more inspirational and encouraging side of myself.
P.S. If you see me on the streets of Fredericksburg, don't let me get away with small talk.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Caspian the Giant Saves Christmas
I'll admit it. I never thought I'd participate in anything as silly as the Elf on the Shelf tradition. Like ever. A little Christmas elf that magically moves every night and reports back to Santa? Really? The last thing I need is to add one more "to do" to my list, especially this time of year. And compete with Super Mom for the most creative elf appearance? Sounds like a fabulous way for me to ruin the Christmas spirit altogether by forgetting to move said elf and breaking my sons' little hearts. I mean, let's be honest- ain't nobody got time for that!
I've seen a few anti-elf posts on Facebook already this year. People sharing their thoughts on how obnoxious it all is, all sounding quite familiar to my previous feelings on the subject, although I was more worried about being able to keep up with it daily rather than being annoyed by someone else's decision to partake in this tradition.
Here's the thing. Last year, I was in a very different place, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why I'm always amazed at how life's circumstances can give you a very different perspective of everything, but so it is.
2013 has been a very big year for our family, the biggest event being the blessing of becoming an officer family in the U.S. Coast Guard. We were, of course, so excited and honored by my husband's promotion. It is a wonderful thing for our family, and he has worked so hard for this. The trouble is, with a promotion like this also comes the probability of an early move, often considered a curse of the military life. I don't typically mind a move. In fact, I was born for this nomadic lifestyle and I'm usually thrilled to find adventure in the change of scenery. But this time was different, and I'm not sure I've discovered why just yet. Really, we didn't move far, but the changes have affected me much more than I'm happy to admit. As a result, the joy I normally find in this time of year has been rather elusive. There is no Christmas music blaring in my home, as is the custom from early November through the first of January. Though I have purchased and wrapped most of our gifts for family and friends, I have done so with a grinch-like countenance. We carelessly disposed of our little Charlie Brown tree in our move this summer with no intention of replacing it. Our Nativity is still tucked away in its box. I have not even glanced at the super long list of Pinterest holiday ideas and crafts pinned just after Christmas last year to my "Must Do Holiday" board. I'm just not feeling it this year... and that's no way to celebrate the birth of our Savior.
Now, let me pause here to explain another military family truth. Many, if not all of our holidays and vacations are spent traveling to visit family. If the husband has time off and the kids have no school (though this aspect has changed since we began our homeschool journey), we squeeze in time with as many loved ones as we can possibly manage. The more we move, the more people we adopt as family, and the more we want to visit. It is a wonderful thing to have family and friends spread all over the country, (and please don't misunderstand- I wouldn't change this) but it is also a sacrifice. My children have only spent one Christmas Eve in their own beds, waking up Christmas morning in their own living room. We don't have those cool family traditions for December 24th and 25th (or the two weeks surrounding) because we never know where we will be. And don't get me started on what a logistical nightmare Santa can be! For the first time, this year our children have expressed a desire to be home for Christmas and questioned why we always had to be somewhere else. I didn't know what to say to them. I did, however, have an idea of how to make the season a little fun and to step out of this funk I seem to have led my family into.
I have a very talented friend who owns a little shop called the Burbs. She sells toys and collectibles, all made with her own two hands and lots of heart. One of her seasonal items is a quirky little elf. I followed her family's elf, Monroe and his crazy shenanigans last year, and thought one of these little guys could really bring some special memories to my boys. And so Caspian the Giant was created!
It is only the second week of December, and already Caspian has helped our family find Christmas. It was so sweet to see the expressions on the faces of my three boys when they awoke to find a beautiful 6-foot pre-lit Christmas tree awaiting the ornaments Caspian had dug out of the dark basement on only his second day with us. Some of these ornaments hadn't seen a tree in 10 years! The boys giggled when they read his note expressing slight irritation in our delay of decorating. Caspian even surprised our visiting friends with poppers and silly string in celebration of reaching the half-way mark in their daddy's deployment. He brought Christian balloons and a little gift on his birthday (because having a December birthday is always tough). With every little act of Christmas fun, the bah-humbugs are replaced with holiday bliss.
His gestures are not always a big to do and they can be rather mischievous sometimes, but I don't mind giving Caspian credit for the deeds he has done. Having him around has truly been more fun than I could've imagined an elf being. It's been the best addition to our Christmas traditions this year; one we can easily do here at home, or on the road visiting friends and family. I'm creating memories for my children- happy, joy-filled fun, and what in life is better than that?
I'm certainly not saying that having an elf is necessary for every family or that our elf antics supercede the real meaning of Christmas. I simply wanted to offer another perspective to those who see the Christmas Elf as an annoyance or as a competition.
Here are some pictures of Caspian's adventures so far in the Ortiz house:
I've seen a few anti-elf posts on Facebook already this year. People sharing their thoughts on how obnoxious it all is, all sounding quite familiar to my previous feelings on the subject, although I was more worried about being able to keep up with it daily rather than being annoyed by someone else's decision to partake in this tradition.
Here's the thing. Last year, I was in a very different place, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why I'm always amazed at how life's circumstances can give you a very different perspective of everything, but so it is.
2013 has been a very big year for our family, the biggest event being the blessing of becoming an officer family in the U.S. Coast Guard. We were, of course, so excited and honored by my husband's promotion. It is a wonderful thing for our family, and he has worked so hard for this. The trouble is, with a promotion like this also comes the probability of an early move, often considered a curse of the military life. I don't typically mind a move. In fact, I was born for this nomadic lifestyle and I'm usually thrilled to find adventure in the change of scenery. But this time was different, and I'm not sure I've discovered why just yet. Really, we didn't move far, but the changes have affected me much more than I'm happy to admit. As a result, the joy I normally find in this time of year has been rather elusive. There is no Christmas music blaring in my home, as is the custom from early November through the first of January. Though I have purchased and wrapped most of our gifts for family and friends, I have done so with a grinch-like countenance. We carelessly disposed of our little Charlie Brown tree in our move this summer with no intention of replacing it. Our Nativity is still tucked away in its box. I have not even glanced at the super long list of Pinterest holiday ideas and crafts pinned just after Christmas last year to my "Must Do Holiday" board. I'm just not feeling it this year... and that's no way to celebrate the birth of our Savior.
Now, let me pause here to explain another military family truth. Many, if not all of our holidays and vacations are spent traveling to visit family. If the husband has time off and the kids have no school (though this aspect has changed since we began our homeschool journey), we squeeze in time with as many loved ones as we can possibly manage. The more we move, the more people we adopt as family, and the more we want to visit. It is a wonderful thing to have family and friends spread all over the country, (and please don't misunderstand- I wouldn't change this) but it is also a sacrifice. My children have only spent one Christmas Eve in their own beds, waking up Christmas morning in their own living room. We don't have those cool family traditions for December 24th and 25th (or the two weeks surrounding) because we never know where we will be. And don't get me started on what a logistical nightmare Santa can be! For the first time, this year our children have expressed a desire to be home for Christmas and questioned why we always had to be somewhere else. I didn't know what to say to them. I did, however, have an idea of how to make the season a little fun and to step out of this funk I seem to have led my family into.
I have a very talented friend who owns a little shop called the Burbs. She sells toys and collectibles, all made with her own two hands and lots of heart. One of her seasonal items is a quirky little elf. I followed her family's elf, Monroe and his crazy shenanigans last year, and thought one of these little guys could really bring some special memories to my boys. And so Caspian the Giant was created!
It is only the second week of December, and already Caspian has helped our family find Christmas. It was so sweet to see the expressions on the faces of my three boys when they awoke to find a beautiful 6-foot pre-lit Christmas tree awaiting the ornaments Caspian had dug out of the dark basement on only his second day with us. Some of these ornaments hadn't seen a tree in 10 years! The boys giggled when they read his note expressing slight irritation in our delay of decorating. Caspian even surprised our visiting friends with poppers and silly string in celebration of reaching the half-way mark in their daddy's deployment. He brought Christian balloons and a little gift on his birthday (because having a December birthday is always tough). With every little act of Christmas fun, the bah-humbugs are replaced with holiday bliss.
His gestures are not always a big to do and they can be rather mischievous sometimes, but I don't mind giving Caspian credit for the deeds he has done. Having him around has truly been more fun than I could've imagined an elf being. It's been the best addition to our Christmas traditions this year; one we can easily do here at home, or on the road visiting friends and family. I'm creating memories for my children- happy, joy-filled fun, and what in life is better than that?
I'm certainly not saying that having an elf is necessary for every family or that our elf antics supercede the real meaning of Christmas. I simply wanted to offer another perspective to those who see the Christmas Elf as an annoyance or as a competition.
Here are some pictures of Caspian's adventures so far in the Ortiz house:
Caspian needed a bit of sugar to get him going and he got into the candy bowl on the first night.
Caspian was a little irritated that we hadn't decorated yet, and actually provided us with a tree!
A reunion with all his friends from the Burbs.
A friendly game of Five Card Spud.
Attempting to decorate a bit more.
A celebration for half-way through friends' deployment.
A snowball fight with the Cat.
Happy birthday, Christian!
Christmas Hangman with the Christmas Little People
Caught him watching Despicable Me 2, a gift he brought for the boys.
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