There’s a book inside my head. But I can’t seem to get it onto paper, or on the screen…
Things have changed so much since my writing slowed, and I’m struggling with when and how and why to share…
I’m here in this weird place, trying to force a life from a life I didn’t plan for. This wasn’t my plan.
And while I know His plan is great and mighty and so good, it doesn’t mean I’ve easily let go of my plans.
If you were to scroll through my dashboard in this space, all you’d see is Draft, page after page of drafts.
I’ve been here; you’ve just not seen me. I’ve tried to write here, but I get a few sentences in and something pulls me away, or the words aren’t right, and I just click the little Save rectangle up there and leave it be.
The words are there- deep in my heart- rooted, but struggling to grow.
I’d like to tell you about how when we flew into Chicago from Germany that very last time, I hated O’Hare. You try hopping onto a train with your life shoved into a few suitcases and two little boys. A kind soul offered to help and as he loaded one of our duffel bags, the doors closed and I watched as the train pulled off with all our clothes. We caught up with the bag on the next stop, another kind soul waited for us and asked if he could help get us to where we were going. The strong, proud Army wife in me declined, saying “I do this all the time. We’re fine.” when truly, all I wanted to do was collapse in a heap and cry right there in front of him.
He wandered off with the rest of the crowd, and I gathered our things… I hollered at the boys to stop climbing the benches, don’t jump off of that, feet on the floor… And we settled in front of the elevator, willing it to come. I looked up and there it was- red, white, and blue… The American flag.
Do you know what I did?
Not because we were home. But because we had, just 12 hours earlier, left our home and we’d never go back…
You see, for 5 years, if I saw an American flag, there was usually a German flag right next to it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of our country and the men and women who give their all to defend our freedoms… But it just wasn’t a reminder I wanted on that particular day and I had no idea what would come of the weeks, and months ahead…
I’ve wanted to tell you about baseball and about how crazy our weeks are with both boys playing. But how much I’ve needed the sunshine, and the excuse to get out of the house. How proud I am of my boys jumping out there and learning something new.
I really want to tell you how difficult it is to transition from the military (especially when stationed overseas for so long) back into civilian life. How lonely and alienating it can be. How angry I get becasue I’ll go days, weeks even before a coworker or friend mentions ANYTHING military related.
Do you know I read the names of the fallen almost daily? I pray for their families, I pray for the soldiers they left behind on the the battlefield. The disconnect is heartbreaking to me.
I’d love to share pictures of our house, our own space. It has a large fenced in backyard and room for a playroom. The laundry room is outside and it only has one bathroom, but after living four floors up, I can deal with a few quirks.
It’s April and even though it’s been rather rainy and we’ve yet to see really warm weather, I have tan lines on my arms. I’ve not seen tan lines in April in over 5 years.
I want to ease back into this space, I want to share our lives with you again…
There are things I wish I could change, but I know I can’t. There’s no sense in trying to fight it. It’s time to start trusting Him.
I’m right here, and it’s time I start writing again…