Stuck

We are stuck on I-40 West just east of Little Rock. The plan was to arrive earlier and get a swim in before dinner. Now we'll be fortunate to eat dinner before the kids' bedtime.

Today was a unique trip. We travelled west on I-20 to a state road North through Alabama, nudged Tennessee through Memphis on I-40, then arrived in Arkansas.

This is definitely the mid-South. Lots of rolling green hills, the air is cool (for now) and one rest stop had a beautiful flower garden. This should be the standard for public rest areas. Rel, Cris and I identified a few plants we haven't seen in awhile, including coneflower.

I listened to more radio today. I enjoyed an NPR show about Doc Watson, who died yesterday at the age of 89. I had never heard of him, but I love folk music. I am now a fan. I adore the banjo.

Can you tell I'm stuck in traffic?

See you later, Alligator

On Thursday we said "see you later, alligator" to South Florida. We left amidst tears and laughter, drenched by a morning rainstorm and surrounded by friendship. Here we are singing the Doxology. This was when I lost my cool and started crying... but you can see there was lots of joy there too.

Try not to cry while singing.

"No, don't go!"

This picture breaks my heart. C doesn't know what to do but R does!

We had beautiful driving weather. What can I say, it's Florida people. We even took a pitstop to our favorite rest area near the Skyline Bridge in Tampa Bay. Enjoying this beautiful spot was therapeutic after the stressful push of the morning.

Now that's what I call a rest area!

I'm absolutely thrilled that I figured out how to link the map of our general route to my blog! Yay, a small blogging victory!

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 Today we will be taking our second leg of the journey a little later than planned because we needed to replace the alternator and battery in our good ol' Nissan. According to this route we will encounter two more states, Georgia and Alabama.




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Panicking at the Elevator

This week held the most change thus far in our family adventure across the continent.

We packed our "stuff" to keep with us for the summer, crammed the luggage and tubs and assorted whatnot into a few corners of our house, then watched as the professional packers sucked the rest into corrugated boxes to be shipped ahead and stored until our arrival.

It's a mess of a process, even in the best of circumstances.
No matter how well you plan, something usually is packed that you realize you need.

For us this time, it was Aurelia's riding boots. No boots for the summer!
Also, in a random act of silliness, the packer in the garage packed up our city recycling bins. I'm still trying to figure out how he didn't see the RECYCLE symbol on the sides of the bins. But I digress.

By the time we had dragged our tired and emotionally exhausted (me) patooties to the hotel, I was realizing that this process of moving is just crappy, no matter how many times you've done it or whatever the circumstances.

Evidence to support this has been the anxiety of our dog, Joe. As in, Cup of.  Joe is our chocolate lab who we adopted over a year ago. Somewhere along the way this week I realized that my "Trusty Sidekick Chocolate Bar" was displaying signs of anxiety. He was eating only sporadically and constantly looking at me with Those. Eyes.

Well, I would venture to say that my internal anxiety was manifesting in my dog.
When we arrived at the hotel and proceeded to the elevator with exhausted kids, heavy suitcases, and one chocolate lab the anxiety reached its culmination in Joe.

The elevator door opened.

Joe took one sniff at the strange closet-looking thing with the magic sliding door and made a decision. No elevators for him. The claws grabbed onto low pile carpet and the legs splayed wide in an attempt to back track away from the scary box. Our coaxing and calling did no good. No matter that we were all on the elevator without him. Only the determined yanking of the "gentle leader" collar by his stubborn Master would convince Joe that he must enter.


And enter he did. Where we go, he must go. It was in his best interest to follow us even though he didn't understand. There was no other alternative, though he may fearfully protest. Though he may not comprehend the vehicle, the dog had to ride. He was clawing the tile floor of the elevator all four floors up.

The object lesson was pretty complete for me right there. The kids were amused, Eric and I were annoyed, and Joe was resigned. But later as I chuckled about it, I realized that all week I had pretty much been doing the same thing. I just didn't show it on the outside.

Internally, I was balking. I didn't want my stuff packed. I didn't want to go. I hate this process. (Why do we have to do this again?) YIKES.

The hand of my Master is guiding me. He gently helps me to see that He has something new ahead for us. I don't know how it will all end up, I don't know what it will look like. I don't know what day we will arrive at our destination. But we have a Faithful God who does. And I'm going to follow Him.

Reaping: or, Why Love is Always Worth Giving

The beautiful mango tree in our backyard this morning. I will miss this view.

This is when we reap what we sow.

Every time we move, which is every few years, it hurts. We uproot the comforts of our home, we say goodbye to friends we have invested in, and we "take our show on the road."

No, I haven't "gotten used to it." A few years back, the husband of one of my dear friends asked her, "Doesn't Liz just get used to moving? I mean, she's a military wife." I think he said this because said friend was sharing how very, very hard it was to say "goodbye." This friend and I were like two peas in a pod in Virginia and I think said husband might have been a little sick of hearing about our departure. But life goes on, and we are still close friends from afar.

Here's the deal on that: I don't think I want to "get used to it." Because to me, getting over it would mean closing off my heart. Over time, a hard heart dies.

Don't think that I'm not tempted to do just that. Believe me, I am. Every time we move, I'm tempted to decide, "I'm not doing this again! No more deep friendships, no more looking for fellowship, no more reaching out. We'll just do our thing as a family, and I don't need anybody." As if that would guarantee that I wouldn't feel pain. On the contrary, I would be trading in the pain of goodbye for the pain of wasted time, loneliness, and hardness of heart.

Now, there is a little bit of that hardness that gets in there. I can feel it even now. It's the part of me reluctant to shed tears, even when a friend does. Even though I want to "mourn with those who mourn.

Also, I'm just so danged busy I can barely breathe, let alone get all mushy and sentimental and cry all day.

Especially, though, I just hate it! I hate goodbyes. They are like death. I'd rather not think about it.

I would like to think that I am so sure of the truth. I prayed with the girls last night, "teach us to know that You have a more Real reality waiting for us in the next life, like Narnia was just a picture of what lay beyond." (My kids are really into Narnia right now so I try to use references whenever I can.) This is what I was referring to in my prayer:

It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed and then cried:

"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"

He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop...

(The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis)

 Meaning, we will get to see these dear ones again, if not in this life, in the next!

But I haven't experienced that yet, so I don't really Know. I have to have Faith.


I think it will be worth it. Here's why: "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers." 1John 3:16 (Cool reference, huh?) We keep growing in this and into this. We must lay down our lives in love, because that's what our Lord Jesus did for us.

And as we leave, that is what our friends do for us. We reap what we sow, when we receive dozens of offers for help to pack our stuff, when we are given a heart stoppingly large going away party by our friends from church, when we are hugged and blessed and kissed and prayed for as we do all this "goodbye-ing." We are given this and much more, love to overflowing.

Another sight I will miss, our honey locust tree

We may be uprooting, but we are uprooting a tree that is "planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season." The fruit is the love born of a life of love, rooted by Everlasting streams coming from our Heavenly Daddy. We are being sent out in love, so that when we are replanted we will be able to invest. There will be a time of sowing again.

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:12-14

Come further up, come further in!

VIA Oklahoma

E and I have often agreed that we would be happy to return to any of the places we've lived before, just enjoy a familiar place. Seven moves in 14 years of marriage kinda do that to ya.

Two of those seven moves were to a state we hold dear for having the friendliest neighbors.

OKLAHOMA!

Return from deployment, 2003

We lived in Oklahoma after our last stint in Alaska. I have to admit, my attitude was bad moving from the grandeur of the Chugach mountains

 in my backyard to the mediocrity of the Great Plains.

Oklahoma? It's just PLAIN FLAT.

However, when you are an Air Force wife, "Home is where the Air Force sends you."

Also, I learned from the Lord in that season not to despise any place He had created.

"The earth is the Lords, and everything in it..."

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future...

you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

You see, the Lord gave us some of the most precious brothers and sisters in Oklahoma, and he gave us moms and dads and grandparents... a whole family around us during Eric's last deployments. Also, God plunked us down in a church family that loved to seek His presence.

I was greatly comforted and healed by God's presence in Oklahoma. We made some beautiful memories there.

Aurelia on String, her first ride, 2005

We are so happy that we can "plunk down in" this beloved state again before our big move north. Boo and EGG need to make some Oklahoma memories! 

The Journey Continues

View from Hope, Alaska, July 2000

We are moving back to Alaska.

Anchorage, Alaska, to be exact. We've dreamed of returning ever since we left there almost ten years ago, soon after Boo was born. Elmendorf AFB was our first three-year assignment in the USAF.

Our family of four on the Alaska Marine Highway, 2002

We never imagined the opportunity would be given to us... we feel kind of like we've won the lottery. After moving several times, each move farther from the Northwest, and each job for E being less and less related to the cockpit, we just didn't think it would happen. But it has.

Here we are now, a family of five, in Southern Florida. That's right, I said Southern Florida!

Wow, we've enjoyed the sunshine, beautiful beaches, and all the flora and fauna Florida has to offer. (More on that later.) Beginning now, we are planning a trek across this great North American continent via the USAF.

From Florida to Alaska!

We hope you join us on the journey.