I've said this before and I'll say it again and again -- no matter how many Bible studies I complete, how much time I devote to God in the early morning hours, or how many Sundays I sit in a pew, the biggest faith lessons often come from my kids. Last night was a good example.
On this move, with the expectation of the new baby, G gave up his toddler bed to P, who in turn gave up her crib to R. This left G with what was previously our guest bed -- a queen. So, John being John, last night he taught G how to run and do a somersault onto the bed. While it's fun to have a dad like John that teaches little boys to do things that will inevitably lead to an ER visit, his timing wasn't the best because it was right before bed and it was a bit tough to get G to settle down enough for his bedtime routine. Eventually he got settled down enough to read and pray. When it was his turn to pray he started off normally "Thank you for this day, thank you for this family, thank you for everything"...and then suddenly his eyes popped open and he said "God, watch this", after which he promptly jumped up, ran to the other side of the room and somersaulted onto the bed before calmly sitting back down and saying "and Jesus' people said, Amen".
G was so excited about what he had learned to do that he actively invited God to watch him do it, and then he was confident that God indeed had his eyes on him, giving him His full attention while he demonstrated.
I'm pretty sure there is a lesson for me to learn there...
"And He said "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven" - Matthew 18:3
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Short Notice
When John went to Iraq during the initial invasion we got 12 hours notice that he would be leaving. Literally. He called me at work the minute I walked in the door and I dropped him in the gym parking lot at 9 o'clock that night. The American military (some of them our dear friends from the 173rd Airborne, which we had just left four months earlier) had been on the ground in Iraq for less than two weeks, so we had no idea what the communication would be like, much less when John would be back.
When he went to Afghanistan in 2009 we got three weeks notice. We had been at Fort Carson for about six months when John came home one day and told me that he was leaving for Afghanistan within in the month, and truer words had never been spoken. He was gone in three weeks.
As bad as that may sound to be taken by surprise by a deployment, I've come to learn that short notice can be a good thing. In fact, short notice may earn the title of "my new best friend".
When we found out that we were coming to Fort Wainwright last November we implored a friend of ours to make a few phone calls and find out what the deployment scheduled looked like for the units here, so that we would know what were headed into. We found out that a deployment loomed in the April/May timeframe. Six months removed from that deployment I thought "okay, I can deal with that", because really, what other choice do I have? Exactly. None.
So, now here we are, settling in to life in Alaska. A full week into March. Deployment is definitely looming large.
If John were to leave May 1st, he would only have been home for 11 months between deployments. This isn't unheard of in the Army, as many of my friends know and have experienced, but it's not fun. He will miss G's birthday two years in a row, a whole new round of other birthdays and celebrations and milestones. Oh, and the birth of our child. I know that this sounds like I am complaining, but I hope that you will hear my heart and know that I am not complaining about these things that are inherent to CHOOSING the Army life (because let no one lie to you, everyone in the military today has volunteered to serve during a time of war). Really, I am lamenting about the six months that I was given to think about all of those things. The extended period of time that I have been given in which to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality this big pink elephant named Deployment is following me from room to room.
I'm not sure that I like the long notice. Twelve months is long enough to dwell over the possibilities, the damages, the distance. Who needs these extra months?
When he went to Afghanistan in 2009 we got three weeks notice. We had been at Fort Carson for about six months when John came home one day and told me that he was leaving for Afghanistan within in the month, and truer words had never been spoken. He was gone in three weeks.
As bad as that may sound to be taken by surprise by a deployment, I've come to learn that short notice can be a good thing. In fact, short notice may earn the title of "my new best friend".
When we found out that we were coming to Fort Wainwright last November we implored a friend of ours to make a few phone calls and find out what the deployment scheduled looked like for the units here, so that we would know what were headed into. We found out that a deployment loomed in the April/May timeframe. Six months removed from that deployment I thought "okay, I can deal with that", because really, what other choice do I have? Exactly. None.
So, now here we are, settling in to life in Alaska. A full week into March. Deployment is definitely looming large.
If John were to leave May 1st, he would only have been home for 11 months between deployments. This isn't unheard of in the Army, as many of my friends know and have experienced, but it's not fun. He will miss G's birthday two years in a row, a whole new round of other birthdays and celebrations and milestones. Oh, and the birth of our child. I know that this sounds like I am complaining, but I hope that you will hear my heart and know that I am not complaining about these things that are inherent to CHOOSING the Army life (because let no one lie to you, everyone in the military today has volunteered to serve during a time of war). Really, I am lamenting about the six months that I was given to think about all of those things. The extended period of time that I have been given in which to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality this big pink elephant named Deployment is following me from room to room.
I'm not sure that I like the long notice. Twelve months is long enough to dwell over the possibilities, the damages, the distance. Who needs these extra months?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Here Is What 30 Looks Like
Wow! Did you see that fly by? Yep, there go my 20's. Ten years ago I thought they would never come to an end, and now I'm sort of sad to see them go.
I got a lot done in the last decade, though. In the last ten years I've married the man hand made for me, had two beautiful children, finished two degrees, seen parts of the world that I never thought possible, and made some of the best friends to ever walk God's green Earth. I've been so blessed that I can't even fathom what the next ten years will hold for me, but I'm making some plans. The first of those plans, of course, is to eat the gigantic slice of cake John just put in front of me.
My Kids Are Funny
The other day we were talking about seasons. I asked G what his favorite season was and he said "hunting season".
Later that day P came over, pulled up my shirt and started rubbing my stomach. When I asked her what she was doing she said "I'm just giving Baby Rogue a backrub".
The duo is always refusing to answer to names other than Buzz and Woody for the time being.
Never a dull moment.
Later that day P came over, pulled up my shirt and started rubbing my stomach. When I asked her what she was doing she said "I'm just giving Baby Rogue a backrub".
The duo is always refusing to answer to names other than Buzz and Woody for the time being.
Never a dull moment.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Name Praise
It's probably no surprise to hear that we take a lot of flack for our name choices, but today we got the highest compliment ever. G met a new little boy at playgroup. When the boy heard that his name was Gunnar he said "Wow! That's his real name? I wish my name could be Gunnar". It was a good moment for G and Mama.
In other name news, P has named her hairbrush Arnold. I fear for her children.
In other name news, P has named her hairbrush Arnold. I fear for her children.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Twenty-Seven Below
We arrived in Fairbanks during a warm spell. It was 20 degrees the day we got here and settled at around 12 degrees in the following days. The warm spell is over. We woke up this morning to a whopping temperature of -27 degrees. I, for one, had never been in such cold weather before, so I wanted to share a few things that happen when it is -27.
1. The sun comes out. It really has no choice, clouds would insulate and make it warmer, so if it's going to be that cold, it's nice that the sun is shining.
2. Your nose does not run. You can literally feel the mucus freezing in your nose.
3. The McDonald's with the gigantic play place becomes the hopping place to have lunch and you cannot find a parking spot at the movie theatre.
4. Seat heaters are pointless.
5. There is an excessive number of people standing in the foyer of the PX watching your two year old scream "I'm ready to shop".
6. You become excessively worried about the possibility of your children licking something metal.
7. The warning to "dry it up" becomes more of a lifesaving measure than just a discipline tactic.
8. You start to seriously consider the purchase of a snowblower, because I will not be shoveling any snow in this cold and the kids and I would simply end up living in an igloo next winter while John is gone.
9. You wish that you could beam people in just to say "I told you it gets that cold here".
10. You can buy ice cream, leave it in the back of your car for two hours while you shop and the worst thing that will happen is that it will get freezer burn.
I am actually welcoming the cold, clear weather and hoping that it will bring a spectacular view of the Northern Lights this evening. I'll keep you posted.
1. The sun comes out. It really has no choice, clouds would insulate and make it warmer, so if it's going to be that cold, it's nice that the sun is shining.
2. Your nose does not run. You can literally feel the mucus freezing in your nose.
3. The McDonald's with the gigantic play place becomes the hopping place to have lunch and you cannot find a parking spot at the movie theatre.
4. Seat heaters are pointless.
5. There is an excessive number of people standing in the foyer of the PX watching your two year old scream "I'm ready to shop".
6. You become excessively worried about the possibility of your children licking something metal.
7. The warning to "dry it up" becomes more of a lifesaving measure than just a discipline tactic.
8. You start to seriously consider the purchase of a snowblower, because I will not be shoveling any snow in this cold and the kids and I would simply end up living in an igloo next winter while John is gone.
9. You wish that you could beam people in just to say "I told you it gets that cold here".
10. You can buy ice cream, leave it in the back of your car for two hours while you shop and the worst thing that will happen is that it will get freezer burn.
I am actually welcoming the cold, clear weather and hoping that it will bring a spectacular view of the Northern Lights this evening. I'll keep you posted.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Oh, Where to Start...
What a crazy few weeks it has been. I don't even know where to start...
I guess we'll start with the boat, and the fact that I hate boats. And carnival rides. And windy roads. And really, anything that has the potential to make me vomit from motion sickness, especially while I'm pregnant, so it was not the greatest experience of my life, but the sights were beautiful -- there are no pictures, taken by me or anyone else, that do justice to Alaska. Gods hand is blantantly evident.
For some reason, and I have no idea why, it never occurred to me how many military families there would be traveling on the ferry. There were tons, so Monday afternoon we all drove off the boat in Haines, AK and started heading north. We ended up being the fourth car in a quasi-convoy headed for the border between AK and BC. We had been on the road for about 20 minutes when there was nearly a 20 car pile up because the guy in the lead slammed on his breaks at the sight of 6 bald eagles sitting in the same tree. I can't recall seeing six bald eagles in my entire life, so to see six of them just hanging out in the most popular tree in Haines was amazing. Things went smoothly until we actually reached the border. 20 car loads of Americans pulling up to the gate at the same time was a little overwhelming for the lone Canadian border patrol guy, so thankfully he was kind enough to call in some backup, though we still ended up waiting an hour (by this point we were about car 10) since every other car or so was carrying either some type of contraband that had to be surrendered or a rifle, which required additional paperwork and $25 American for Her Majesty the Queen to put toward Canadian gun control. Just into BC the scenery is beautiful, but as you get closer to the Yukon you notice a few things starting to change -- 1) the scenery is a little less than pleasant 2) the roads get SUPER crappy and 3) the people just keep getting weirder.
If you know me, you probably know how much I like to use the phrase "this is like the beginning of a scary movie". Never have I used that phrase more than I did while we were driving across the Yukon. The motel where we stayed was super creepy and the place that we ate felt like a scene straight out of Sweeney Todd. If you haven't been to the Yukon, you may think that I am exaggerating, since I am fluent in the hearty language of sarcasm, but trust me -- these are very solemn statements. I was elated to cross the border back into Alaska.
So we crossed the border and stayed in the tiny town of Tok and then drove the last four hours to Fairbanks on the last day of our journey. I had to stifle a laugh because everyone that I had spoken to about Fairbanks had told me that there would be no shopping and nowhere to eat. In the same parking lot as the Holiday Inn where we stayed there was Walmart, Chili's, Barnes and Noble, Sportsmens Warehouse, and (much to my hearts delight) Old Navy, among a number of other giant stores.
At this point we've been at Fort Wainwright for four days and so far we really like it. The scenery just can't be beat, even if you can't see anything until the sun comes up at nine. The post offers ridiculous stuff, like both indoor and outdoor ice skating rinks that each have lessons, an on-post skiing/snowboarding/tubing hill, and the #1 rated golf course in Alaska (though the green is currently under about 5 feet of snow). So far John is happy with his unit, and that is really the most important thing.
One of the most intimidating things for me in this move was housing, especially on the tail end of the horrific experience that we had with Balfour Beatty at Fort Carson, where we literally PCS'd without ever being offered a house (privatized Army housing is one of the biggest DOD failures, just fyi). I had nothing to be worried about. Let me preface this whole next section by saying that I made John call the housing office on the first and the person that answered the phone told him that we were first on the list and that there should be a house ready for us by the end of the month. I was elated, only to call the day before we got here and have a different lady (neither of these ladies was the actual lady that monitors the list we were on, btw) tell him that someone had bumped us and she didn't know when we would have a house. My panic button started to flash a little. The next day we went into the housing office, sat down with the person who actually handles our stuff and found out that there are actually 16 E-6/7 four bedroom homes that have been vacated, gutted, and totally renovated and that we would get the first offer. That afternoon she called John and told him that we could move into an end unit (John's special request) on March 1st. This is Divine timing, because the 28th of this month is the last day that the Army will pay us TLA to stay in Army Lodging, and if we had gone beyond that day then we would have had to find an off-post rental, which we were vehemently dedicated to not doing. I'm going to think of it as a special birthday present from God.
So we're generally settled into a suite at the post hotel, trying to get the kids back on schedule, and seeing what Fort Wainwright has to offer. I'll post some pictures soon.
Oh, and by the way, we're open for visitors after the first week in March.
I guess we'll start with the boat, and the fact that I hate boats. And carnival rides. And windy roads. And really, anything that has the potential to make me vomit from motion sickness, especially while I'm pregnant, so it was not the greatest experience of my life, but the sights were beautiful -- there are no pictures, taken by me or anyone else, that do justice to Alaska. Gods hand is blantantly evident.
For some reason, and I have no idea why, it never occurred to me how many military families there would be traveling on the ferry. There were tons, so Monday afternoon we all drove off the boat in Haines, AK and started heading north. We ended up being the fourth car in a quasi-convoy headed for the border between AK and BC. We had been on the road for about 20 minutes when there was nearly a 20 car pile up because the guy in the lead slammed on his breaks at the sight of 6 bald eagles sitting in the same tree. I can't recall seeing six bald eagles in my entire life, so to see six of them just hanging out in the most popular tree in Haines was amazing. Things went smoothly until we actually reached the border. 20 car loads of Americans pulling up to the gate at the same time was a little overwhelming for the lone Canadian border patrol guy, so thankfully he was kind enough to call in some backup, though we still ended up waiting an hour (by this point we were about car 10) since every other car or so was carrying either some type of contraband that had to be surrendered or a rifle, which required additional paperwork and $25 American for Her Majesty the Queen to put toward Canadian gun control. Just into BC the scenery is beautiful, but as you get closer to the Yukon you notice a few things starting to change -- 1) the scenery is a little less than pleasant 2) the roads get SUPER crappy and 3) the people just keep getting weirder.
If you know me, you probably know how much I like to use the phrase "this is like the beginning of a scary movie". Never have I used that phrase more than I did while we were driving across the Yukon. The motel where we stayed was super creepy and the place that we ate felt like a scene straight out of Sweeney Todd. If you haven't been to the Yukon, you may think that I am exaggerating, since I am fluent in the hearty language of sarcasm, but trust me -- these are very solemn statements. I was elated to cross the border back into Alaska.
So we crossed the border and stayed in the tiny town of Tok and then drove the last four hours to Fairbanks on the last day of our journey. I had to stifle a laugh because everyone that I had spoken to about Fairbanks had told me that there would be no shopping and nowhere to eat. In the same parking lot as the Holiday Inn where we stayed there was Walmart, Chili's, Barnes and Noble, Sportsmens Warehouse, and (much to my hearts delight) Old Navy, among a number of other giant stores.
At this point we've been at Fort Wainwright for four days and so far we really like it. The scenery just can't be beat, even if you can't see anything until the sun comes up at nine. The post offers ridiculous stuff, like both indoor and outdoor ice skating rinks that each have lessons, an on-post skiing/snowboarding/tubing hill, and the #1 rated golf course in Alaska (though the green is currently under about 5 feet of snow). So far John is happy with his unit, and that is really the most important thing.
One of the most intimidating things for me in this move was housing, especially on the tail end of the horrific experience that we had with Balfour Beatty at Fort Carson, where we literally PCS'd without ever being offered a house (privatized Army housing is one of the biggest DOD failures, just fyi). I had nothing to be worried about. Let me preface this whole next section by saying that I made John call the housing office on the first and the person that answered the phone told him that we were first on the list and that there should be a house ready for us by the end of the month. I was elated, only to call the day before we got here and have a different lady (neither of these ladies was the actual lady that monitors the list we were on, btw) tell him that someone had bumped us and she didn't know when we would have a house. My panic button started to flash a little. The next day we went into the housing office, sat down with the person who actually handles our stuff and found out that there are actually 16 E-6/7 four bedroom homes that have been vacated, gutted, and totally renovated and that we would get the first offer. That afternoon she called John and told him that we could move into an end unit (John's special request) on March 1st. This is Divine timing, because the 28th of this month is the last day that the Army will pay us TLA to stay in Army Lodging, and if we had gone beyond that day then we would have had to find an off-post rental, which we were vehemently dedicated to not doing. I'm going to think of it as a special birthday present from God.
So we're generally settled into a suite at the post hotel, trying to get the kids back on schedule, and seeing what Fort Wainwright has to offer. I'll post some pictures soon.
Oh, and by the way, we're open for visitors after the first week in March.
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