Rolling stones

The word is official. Orders are in hand. We will be moving again at the end of the school year. Our three-year orders to Guam are being cut short a year because my husband has been picked up for a command job, an honor but also an obligation.

When we first found out we were moving out here, I wished and hoped and prayed it would be for only two years. I dreaded the distance, the expenses, the remoteness. When we first arrived, I was depressed by the black mold everywhere, massage parlors everywhere, tattoos everywhere. I was disappointed in the schools. I grew tired of rain and heat. I was homesick.

But in between discovering the coral reef, learning to dive, meeting new people and making friends on base and off, finding a place at the chapel, joining the community of runners and triathletes, getting a job at the community college, and becoming familiar with the different Mobil stations in each community which are essential to understanding driving directions because road signs are uncommon, I began to feel at home. And I’ve got a garden going at last. Six fresh okra pods and 2 Japanese eggplants are simmering in my gumbo pot right now.

Picked these red zinnias a couple weeks ago in the back yard. Note the Thai peppers are drying up because they are just too darn hot.

The island now is familiar – like family. I’ve begun to love the place. I love having no traffic. I love the lack of materialism. I love the importance of families and celebrations.  I love our friends. I love only having one wardrobe all year round: island casual. I love flip-flops. I love island time. I’m never late any more!

The mold no longer catches my attention; the sky, the sunsets, the palms, the waves provide distractions.

But woe to those who get too comfortable! You will be handed moving orders! Were I to be miserable and bereft, we would probably get an extension.  Now we will have to say goodbye just as we were beginning to fit in.  Even though our move is still a little over 7 months away, already I feel myself pulling back from taking on responsibilities.

As I’ve observed before – it takes about 6 months to get everything that’s going to be unpacked put away and to figure out your way around a place. Then it takes about 6 months to plan a move (although often it happens faster because orders change or are delayed).  So we have about a year to enjoy life for every year’s worth of transition time.  Troublesome.

It would help if I had no hesitations about our destination.  On the one hand, most people are thrilled to go to Southern California. We lived there for a few months 12 years ago, and had a great time, but we lived in a furnished condo on the beach – a small perk of temporary duty. The weather will be beautiful. Our flipflops will still be our main footwear. We’ll still be close to the ocean, although the water won’t be nearly as warm or the sealife as colorful.  I’ll have to get a wetsuit. The national parks and museums and places to go will be wonderful. We’ll be living in the same day as the people we love – instead of 15 hours in the future.

But I kind of like NOT having any place to go that takes more than 15 minutes. I’ll have to face the traffic!  Dread. The consumerism! Dread. The gargantuan schools! Dread. And to visit family will take, not 24 hours of flying, but 24 hours of driving, at least.

I could continue to least my anxieties and concern, but since the year of faith is officially underway, I will make an act of faith and believe that we will love our California experience just as much as we have loved every other duty station.  Who knew that I would find myself, a Midwestern girl who never saw the ocean until she was a junior in high school, loving island life?

God has made the world a beautiful place, full of beautiful people everywhere.  Is there a bad place to live? Is there a place where you couldn’t find a friend? Surely not, as long as your heart is disposed to love.

A baby bittern disturbed by the mower and photographed by our middle son.

So my goal for the year of faith, which promises to be another year of change: be grateful for this life that isn’t what I expected, but is more. Be grateful for the many interesting people, with so many different stories, who are all willing to be a friend, even if just briefly. Be grateful for the universal church that provides instant community, instant belonging, wherever we go.  Be grateful for the confirmation of God’s existence in the love that we’ve been shown as strangers, a love that converts loneliness into friendship. My prayer for the year is that God will help me mirror that love to others, and help me forget my discomforts, my inconveniences, my selfishness. 

I think I've posted this one before, but I still can't get over the view from our front yard.