A Fresh Start

Oh friends, what a whirlwind these last few months have been. A good whirlwind, with fun and adventure, but a challenging whirlwind all the same.

We left everything we knew, from the Army greens, to our church family, to our beautiful home in the South. And moved West… to the mountains, to a new job… to a new beginning.

I’ve always loved a fresh start. I’ve loved jumping into the newness like putting on a new coat. I love embracing its feel and shape, getting used to its length and the fabric. The trimness. The smoothness. The great beauty and joy of something fresh. Yes, I love it. I love a fresh start. The possibilities… the adventures… the people… I love it.

But oh, oh I hate it too. I hate taking off the old and setting it aside. I hate saying goodbye and leaving. I hate the emotional pull to live in the past, instead of the present… to wonder and worry what is going on in the life behind me. I find I want to hold on to my safe and comfortable home, with all its familiar creaks and drips and groans; its strong friendship and warm conversation instead of plunging into this world of coldness and unfamiliarity.

And since early December, this has been my challenge.

This has been my beautiful mess.

This place we now call home is bright and lovely. The mountains beckon us, with their snowcapped beauty and unexplored wilderness. This busy little town, with new shops and new streets, it calls to me, it whispers my name. I’m filled with longing to explore, to taste and see. The new faces, the new perspectives, the new personalities… they are exciting too. I find myself wanting to jump in, converse, and soak.

But I also want to shrink and hide. At times, I’m overtaken with the newness. And instead of being wonderful, its scary. Its lonely. The mountains, the cowboy boots, and the frigid temperatures…it is different. And it is not home. I struggle to be the new person. The awkward person. The sore thumb. The one who desperately wants to be a part, but struggles to put herself out there, to be vulnerable, to let her own awkwardness show.

Its humbling. And hard.

The kids feel it too. “Mom, they ask, will we make new friends?”  “Will there be any kids there?” “Will I have anyone to invite to my birthday party?”

And so together, we dive in. Heartstrings suitably pulled, we press on, as a family with a united front. Not just for ourselves, but this time for the children also.

We join a weekly Classical Conversations group and a Wednesday evening children’s group. We enroll in Upward Basketball. We get library cards and meet the story time ladies. We go to church, Sunday School and evening prayer meetings. We bring Christmas cookies to our neighbors. We walk to the park and chat with locals. We bring dinner to Mr. Milton. We stop and talk with people at the grocery store and at Starbucks. We host meals and play dates. We push. We pull. We work.

And slowly we’re getting there.

But even still I must remember--in my quest to belong and feel part of this new place-- that this world is not my home. I am a stranger. A pilgrim. A sojourner.

And while I may long for that comfortable coziness of home… I must remember that this side of glory nothing will ever fill that need. I’ll never be home. And the reality must yet again hit me: our old home? It wasn’t home either. The home before that. Nope, not it.

Never. Never on this earth have I been home. And never will my need and desire be filled. 

But even still, I need to keep pushing, and plunging, and pressing. I need to keep serving, keep stretching, keep meeting, keep putting myself out there. But not for me. No. Not for my kids either.

But for Him.

To be His instrument. To be His messenger. To be His servant. To bring the hope of Christ, the joy of salvation, the beauty and newness of life that comes from walking in and with God alone.

That’s my purpose. And that’s the beauty of this fresh start—its a chance to share that joy and bring that hope to others.

Safe and Sound

He’s home!!

My husband, that is.

As a military family, lengthy separations are part of life. Training, classes, field exercises, deployments— anything from 2 days to 15 months, it’s all part of the job description. It’s common and even expected.

But the one thing it’s not?

It’s not easy.

It might only have been two weeks, but because we couldn’t call or email, it felt like twice as long.

But you know what? After two weeks apart, that felt twice as long… I’m certain I love him twice as much.

If that makes any sense.

In fact, he arrived back on base in the early afternoon, but with all the equipment inventory and recovery that occurs when you arrive home from living in tents for 2 weeks, he needed to stay at work till the late hours of the evening directing traffic and getting things cleaned up.

So do you know what this silly school girl did? She just couldn’t wait until the o’dark thirty hour when he’d be home-home. So she woke her sons up from their naps, packed a picnic lunch, made a “welcome home” sign and drove onto base to see her soldier for a few brief moments before he got back to work.

I know, I’m such a silly school girl.

 But I really couldn’t resist; knowing that he was back, that I could see, hear, and touch him... I couldn’t wait a few more hours. And neither could the boys.

Our reunion was happy and filled with “Hi Daddy’s” and “Look how big I am’s.” (See! the boys felt like it was longer than 2 weeks too) and many many “I love you’s.”

This military life may not be easy, but boy oh boy, the homecoming’s are always so sweet.

Home

I've been away for the last 3 weeks; traveling and vacationing to the best of my ability.

It's been great.

We headed cross country to the West Coast and enjoyed every minute of our much needed break. We saw grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and every other relative you can think of. We saw old friends, new friends, college friends, and church friends. We saw the sights. We saw the Pacific Ocean. We saw (and felt) rain, cooler weather, and a thermometer reading that was less than 70.

It was wonderful.

But I'm so very glad to be home.

From the very moment we walked in the front door, all the weight of saying goodbye and leaving loved ones, all the challenges of living in someone elses house or hotel, all the stress of travel and lack of sleep-- it lifted. It disappated. It was gone. We were home.

We relaxed. We let our hair down. We sighed long deep sighs of... well... of home.

The boys, while they loved every doting minute with our relatives, sighed long deep sighs too. They ran around collecting favorite toys and books that they had missed. Isaiah hugged his pillow. Joshua climbed in bed and sucked his thumb. Noah smooshed his little face into his bed sheets. And they all just smiled. And sighed. Wonderful deep sighs of home.

There's nothing quite like home.

While we breathed deep and took in our humble abode, I prayed that we would remember the reason home feels so good. It's not about our stuff. It's not about our beds or pillows, or about toys or swing sets... or even about having a spare set of clothes when everything you packed is dirty.

It's about the life that is lived here. About the memories that are made here. About family. About friendship. About love. And most importantly, about God and His love towards us. We love our home because our home is filled with His love.

Our beds are not just the places we sleep, they are the places we pray and give thanks to God for another day. The living room couch is not just a comfy place to sit, it's the spot where sweet little boys snuggle up for a story. The dinner table is not just where we eat, it's where we meet with God as a family, where we read, pray and sing to our Savior.

Home is where we really live. Where we are our real selves. Where, by God's grace, we can share our true emotions, where we can laugh and cry, display joy and sorry...where we can repent and forgive. Home is where we learn and grow. Where we train, discipline, nuture, and build relationships.

Home is not about the house, about the stuff, about the leather living room set I've been dreaming about, it's about God and His work in our family.

Thank you, Lord, for our home.

Detox

I spent the last week detoxing.

Truly. I did.

My computer caught a virus and landed itself in the repair shop. So this past week entailed: no email, no blogging, no Facebook, no local or national news, no Microsoft Office, no nothing.

At first the withdrawal symptoms hit me quite hard, but once they had calmed, the computer detox was so cleansing.

Without my number one time user (dare, I say time waster?) in the house, I really think I was a better mom, a better wife, a better housekeeper...  not to mention a better phone caller, mail sorter, exerciser, discipliner, errand runner, and perhaps even a more diligent follower of Christ.

Sigh.

But, come on! Can the computer really be that bad?  Could its flashing blue light and peaceful hum really be so sinful?

Well, let me tell you, this week was way more convicting than that. Once I realized how much I could get done in a day without the distraction of the computer, the Holy Spirit further revealed the crux of the matter. It's not the computer. Really. It's not the computers fault. It's mine.

Don't we so often blame modern technology? Or our cars, commutes, or other people? Our circumstances? For sucking away all our free time? When really, it's not the computer that uses/wastes my time. It's me. KATHRYN. I'm the one that wastes my time. I'm the one that chooses to use spare moments for a quick Swagbucks search. Or a browse through Google Reader. Or a few moments on Facebook Scrabble. I do it. I choose it.

While none of those things are inherently wrong, (and I apologize to all those who sent emails, asked about upcoming Army events, or were waiting for information while my computer was being repaired), boy, part of me thinks my computer could have used a whole extra month in the repair shop. Without it, my days have been so much better. So much brighter. Even so much happier. My spare moments were used for things that really matter, like consistent discipline, a quiet prayer, a snuggle, not to mention a whole ton of little projects that I'd been putting off because "I just didn't have time."

Sigh.

This is not a farewell message to all my Internet colleagues. My home computer is a needed device. It is not only my connection with the outside world,  but also my means for driving directions, banking, news, weather, cooking tips, email, and maintaining friendships far and wide. But as I said, it's not really about the computer. It's about me. It's about being a good steward of my time and living each moment to the fullest, and living each one for Christ.