In searching for a computer cable that I was sure I still had somewhere, I came across a small box of keepsakes. An unfamiliar eye would chalk it up to some old photos and torn ticket stubs, but after combing through it for half an hour, I realized that it sums up the last decade of my life rather well, and it was a nice trip down memory lane.
Sometimes, I think we focus so much on the most recent or most common struggle that we are facing and forget to step back and survey our life as a whole. That is of course, how we live it, one moment to the next, but if we never stop to sit and take a look back, we miss out on the opportunity to relive those wonderful (and sometimes painful) moments that brought us to where we are today.
I definitely recommend sitting down with a box of 'stuff' or those photos you always meant to get organized, and relive the past for a couple of minutes. I guarantee, it'll lift your spirits and give you a little kick to make some new memories that you can look back on years from now.
January 24, 2012
January 20, 2012
and the world keeps moving on...
The murmurs have begun about another move in our near future. This one would most likely keep us in Europe but move us out of Germany and with each potential move, I have to rethink... regroup and mentally prepare for the change.
It's amazing how much I have changed over these last five years. I came into all this as someone who was a planner, who always had an emergency bag packed and an understanding of where I would be in the next year and what I would be doing. That person was, in some ways, more grounded, but also more easily toppled. She was someone who was so busy dealing with the day to day that she often forgot to step back and see the big picture.
The person I am today smiles at the challenge that moving to another country brings. This person is still practical, and she'll have houses picked out and the area scouted before her family steps foot on that foreign soil, but she is more open to the process than ever before. She will watch as the movers pack and unpack photos of her family and friends, she will put the dishes in her new kitchen and find the market and stores to stock the fridge with unfamiliar food. She will set up a home in a place that she never imagined she would be and watch in amazement as the culture presents itself.
I am not in as much of a hurry as I once was. I realize that in my early years as a military spouse, I was trying to fit a round peg in a square hole and I struggled so much as a result. At some point in the last three years, I came to realize that if I stepped out of the box entirely, I could get a view of things as a whole and better navigate the terrain. A part of me wishes I could go back to those first two years. Wishes I could step into that role again with the knowledge I have now and just enjoy the moments. Watch C. transform from a soldier to my husband at the end of each day, accept the tears that came with deployment, feel the hot, dry heat of an El Paso summer on my skin, and embrace my outsider status.
But we don't get to go back, we can only live forward. I railed against those first two years. I tried to pretend that my husband's chosen career didn't have to affect my life, didn't have to change everything... but it did. It does. It has given me a unique perspective, one that I never imagined. It has opened my eyes to things I didn't necessarily want to see or know, but for which I am richer for understanding.
So there may be another move. Another country, another city, another home, another adventure. I will not live in my country of birth for a long time to come, if ever again. I will see more than I ever imagined, but be far from those I love. And my address will change again and again. The story will get longer and more complex with sharp twists and turns, but here is the thing I did not understand in the beginning... here is the part that it took be five years to really see:
I am never alone in this. That there are two people navigating those twists and turns. That I can lean on him and him on me and we can take turns loving and struggling with this life. That I don't need to carve out my place here because there has always been a place for me, even when I was looking too closely to see it.
It looks different than I had imagined. I do not have all the things in line that I thought I would by this point in my life, but if I had followed the path I'd set out on, I would have missed out on everything that followed.
I've hiked in North Korea, been covered in mud at a festival in South Korea, wandered through bookstores in Mexico, talked politics with a restaurant owner in Amsterdam, shopped the farmer's markets of Germany and Spain, stood on the Great Wall in China, ate sushi in Japan, explored the streets of Venice with my parents, been caught up in protests in Bangkok, slept on an uninhabited island in the South of Thailand, and eaten the best food of my life in Paris. At times, I feel more fortunate than I deserve... and I need to keep that in mind.
I need to keep it in my mind when I'm so homesick, when the skies are grey for weeks, when the move results in broken treasures, and I miss out on another family dinner or milestone. I need to remember it as little nephews are growing so quickly, and cultural differences make the smallest task difficult. When I am stuck in airports and government offices, near tears because the weight of the deployment is washing over me and I can't find the words to explain what it's like. I must remember... we are fortunate. Nothing is promised to us. And no matter where it takes us, it's guaranteed to be one hell of a ride. ;o)
It's amazing how much I have changed over these last five years. I came into all this as someone who was a planner, who always had an emergency bag packed and an understanding of where I would be in the next year and what I would be doing. That person was, in some ways, more grounded, but also more easily toppled. She was someone who was so busy dealing with the day to day that she often forgot to step back and see the big picture.
The person I am today smiles at the challenge that moving to another country brings. This person is still practical, and she'll have houses picked out and the area scouted before her family steps foot on that foreign soil, but she is more open to the process than ever before. She will watch as the movers pack and unpack photos of her family and friends, she will put the dishes in her new kitchen and find the market and stores to stock the fridge with unfamiliar food. She will set up a home in a place that she never imagined she would be and watch in amazement as the culture presents itself.
I am not in as much of a hurry as I once was. I realize that in my early years as a military spouse, I was trying to fit a round peg in a square hole and I struggled so much as a result. At some point in the last three years, I came to realize that if I stepped out of the box entirely, I could get a view of things as a whole and better navigate the terrain. A part of me wishes I could go back to those first two years. Wishes I could step into that role again with the knowledge I have now and just enjoy the moments. Watch C. transform from a soldier to my husband at the end of each day, accept the tears that came with deployment, feel the hot, dry heat of an El Paso summer on my skin, and embrace my outsider status.
But we don't get to go back, we can only live forward. I railed against those first two years. I tried to pretend that my husband's chosen career didn't have to affect my life, didn't have to change everything... but it did. It does. It has given me a unique perspective, one that I never imagined. It has opened my eyes to things I didn't necessarily want to see or know, but for which I am richer for understanding.
So there may be another move. Another country, another city, another home, another adventure. I will not live in my country of birth for a long time to come, if ever again. I will see more than I ever imagined, but be far from those I love. And my address will change again and again. The story will get longer and more complex with sharp twists and turns, but here is the thing I did not understand in the beginning... here is the part that it took be five years to really see:
I am never alone in this. That there are two people navigating those twists and turns. That I can lean on him and him on me and we can take turns loving and struggling with this life. That I don't need to carve out my place here because there has always been a place for me, even when I was looking too closely to see it.
It looks different than I had imagined. I do not have all the things in line that I thought I would by this point in my life, but if I had followed the path I'd set out on, I would have missed out on everything that followed.
I've hiked in North Korea, been covered in mud at a festival in South Korea, wandered through bookstores in Mexico, talked politics with a restaurant owner in Amsterdam, shopped the farmer's markets of Germany and Spain, stood on the Great Wall in China, ate sushi in Japan, explored the streets of Venice with my parents, been caught up in protests in Bangkok, slept on an uninhabited island in the South of Thailand, and eaten the best food of my life in Paris. At times, I feel more fortunate than I deserve... and I need to keep that in mind.
I need to keep it in my mind when I'm so homesick, when the skies are grey for weeks, when the move results in broken treasures, and I miss out on another family dinner or milestone. I need to remember it as little nephews are growing so quickly, and cultural differences make the smallest task difficult. When I am stuck in airports and government offices, near tears because the weight of the deployment is washing over me and I can't find the words to explain what it's like. I must remember... we are fortunate. Nothing is promised to us. And no matter where it takes us, it's guaranteed to be one hell of a ride. ;o)
January 19, 2012
Germany... why do you rain on me so?
It's been a year and half now that we've been living in Germany and I can't say that I wasn't warned about the weather. The cloud cover and rain is getting to me. Although it hasn't been especially cold yet, I honestly would trade a few major snowstorms and much chillier temperatures for these weeks upon weeks of grey skies.
Just before we were moved to Germany, C. and I took a three week trip to Thailand and met several Germans on an island in the South. They were about our age and younger and they were completely giddy. Not 'on vacation' giddy, but 'I've-never-been-this-happy-in-my-life-and-I-may-never-be-again' giddy. At the time, I wrote it off as being a result of it being their first exposure to Thailand, a place I love and that also makes me supremely happy... but it was more than that... and now I understand. It was late February, and they had not seen the sun come out in Germany since at least November. They were sun-starved and it showed on their glee-filled, sunburned faces.
Despite what you may think you know about Canada, with the exception of the coasts, we are a sunny nation. In the dead of winter, it is so cold on the prairies precisely because it is so sunny. There is no cloud cover to keep things warm. Just clear blue skies, bright sun, and blood-curdling temperatures. Although you run through the street to your car, bundled up and swearing less quietly than you should, once inside, you can sit back by the fire or with a warm cup of coffee and let the sunlight spill through the windows.
Summers on the prairies get quite warm and when the rare clouds do blow in, it is usually to take part in a fantastic thunderstorm, before rolling right on.
I can dress for the cold, I can dress for the warmth, but I have not yet figured out how to get out and about during the rain and the drizzle. I love the sound of a rainstorm on the windows and skylights, but day after day and night after night is a bit ridiculous, and I'm definitely starting to crack. Everyone seems a little less cheery, a little less smiley and bright as these days wear on. We slouch a little more, bow our heads on our walks, and even our canine companions seem more apt to laying in front of the fireplace than romping in the fields.
So what to do? Short of moving to Hawaii (which is high on the future wishlist... bring on the sunshine baby!!), it's the end of January and with at least another two months of this, I have to figure out how to get it together. We have another deployment on the horizon and many changes in the near future, but I can't very well hide out for the next two months... so what to do?
To be continued... ;o)
January 16, 2012
Back to beginnings...
This Christmas was amazing. Having my husband, family, and friends in the same place at the same time makes me absolutely giddy. Often, when I return to my hometown, it's to find comfort and support during the long months of the deployments, but when I get to take that trip with husband in hand, I am reminded of everything I have to be grateful for.
There were moments during our three weeks back in North America where I simply felt overwelmed with emotion. I would close my eyes and listen to the voices of the people I love, the inevitable noise and bustle of a full house. It's easy, when you have your family and friends within reachable distance, to forget how important they are to you. To take for granted the dinners and lunches, and small talk over tea. I have the unique perspective, after living away from my home for almost seven years now, to see what a blessing it is to have everyone in one place. To see them laughing and talking. To sit back and take it all in, precisely because it is not something I get all that often.
I did not, of course, have everyone I wanted together at once. They are in different places, on different continents, spending time with their own families. I know that I may never have everyone in the same place at the same time, but I am so grateful when I get a few together and have C. with me.
When we got back to Germany, it hit us both quite hard. Although we have met some incredible people here, and have had some amazing adventures in our first year and a half, it does not come without it's cost. Three little nephews are growing and changing so rapidly now. We are missing out on the day to day in the lives of those we love. And although the distance has not affected the most important relationships in our lives (we seem to pick up precisely where we left off, no matter how much time has passed), it does make the quiet of our home seem to speak so much more loudly than before.
There were moments during our three weeks back in North America where I simply felt overwelmed with emotion. I would close my eyes and listen to the voices of the people I love, the inevitable noise and bustle of a full house. It's easy, when you have your family and friends within reachable distance, to forget how important they are to you. To take for granted the dinners and lunches, and small talk over tea. I have the unique perspective, after living away from my home for almost seven years now, to see what a blessing it is to have everyone in one place. To see them laughing and talking. To sit back and take it all in, precisely because it is not something I get all that often.
I did not, of course, have everyone I wanted together at once. They are in different places, on different continents, spending time with their own families. I know that I may never have everyone in the same place at the same time, but I am so grateful when I get a few together and have C. with me.
When we got back to Germany, it hit us both quite hard. Although we have met some incredible people here, and have had some amazing adventures in our first year and a half, it does not come without it's cost. Three little nephews are growing and changing so rapidly now. We are missing out on the day to day in the lives of those we love. And although the distance has not affected the most important relationships in our lives (we seem to pick up precisely where we left off, no matter how much time has passed), it does make the quiet of our home seem to speak so much more loudly than before.
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