Well... Crap. For the past couple of weeks, I've had a blog post rolling around inside of my brain. Strings of sentences, insights causing me to stop at times and think "Wow, that's good! i've got to remember to write that down!" and other times, where I would stop and think "Ok, Sal, lets get off the crazy train and refocus here..." All real thoughts. All true emotions. Trying to sum up this past year... the roller coaster it has been, and continues to be. But now, as I sit in front of the screen... no children around, no husband around, just the hum of the dishwasher and soft David Nevue piano music in the background... I can't remember a single word... so here i am... God, speak...
I've been identifying quite a bit with how I felt 14 years ago, when we first entered into the Air Force. We were stationed in Columbus, Mississippi. During that first year, I felt like a fish out of water. Nothing was familiar - not our job (hello, acronyms anyone?), not the culture - military, living in the south, etc - the lifestyle, everything was foreign.. Nothing was the same... I didn't know who I was, what being a military spouse meant, seeing my husband struggle through the uncertainties and pressures of pilot training, the excruciating growing pains as we adjusted to this new world we were in... and through it all, I felt like I couldn't complain, because this was a path we had chosen. We left a solid community, family, friends, and a steady job in Arizona, for this new adventure called the military. And yet, I felt like I was walking around, silently screaming for someone, anyone, to truly see me and tell me that things would be ok. People kept saying "This isn't the real Air Force, don't worry"... well, that didn't mean anything to me. So what if training isn't the "real" Air Force? I was screaming on the inside, so scared, so alone... all I knew was that I didn't know where I fit into this military life, I didn't recognize any of the food on the southern menus, and even living on base was foreign to me (what do you mean, I'm going to get fined if we don't weed-eat the grass in between the cracks of the sidewalk?), and I saw my husband retreating more and more into himself, as he does when he is under intense stress and pressure. And I felt alone. It was a long time before I realized that God had set me aside in that time, placed me in His Egypt, so that I could hear Him and trust Him like never before... Yes, I was angry. Angry at God. And that was Ok... I clung to Isaiah 43:18-20 "Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not see it? I am making a way in the desert, and streams in the wasteland" The birth of our daughter was the blessing we received for staying faithful, for making it through that year... for holding on, even when we weren't sure we knew how to.
It has been the same this year. We left the solid community, friends, and security of the military after 13 years... and left it all for a new job in southern California. Where nothing is familiar. Not the fast paced culture (what, your kids aren't in music lessons, sports, scouts, science camps, sports clinics, and private coaching?), the material expectations ($100 yoga pants anyone?), the new business my husband started up, waiting for the IRS to give the non-profit status he so desperately needs to move forward... and through it all, I felt like I couldn't complain, because this was the path we had chosen. But one day I realized, that's like being a parent of a newborn, exhausted, achey, feeling out of sorts, and if you complain being told "Well then you shouldn't have had sex! What did you expect?" Now granted, there are only a couple of people in my life who actually say such things to me... "Well, this is the path you chose, you can't complain!" The rest is all in my head... but I will say, that this time around - because of our time in Mississippi - I can hold onto that hope, and know that this rocky time will NOT last forever. We WILL be able to look back on it and see how God has stretched us and grown us during this time. But boy, do those growing pains hurt sometimes.
There are still moments when I want to weep and wail and rage against God for not doing what I want. (And yes, I just laughed at myself and rolled my eyes as I typed that sentence...) I don't know what lessons we still have to learn, I just trust that God will bring it full circle some day. If it takes another year for the IRS to give us the non-profit status we need to move the company forward... if my biopsy doesn't come out the way I hope it does... if... if.... if...
No matter what "ifs" come our way... I'm clinging to the new verse God gave me at the start of this new journey Isaiah 42:16 "I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do' I will not forsake them." I used to think that verse was only about my husband's business... but I see now that it was just as much for me, for our family, for our marriage... God will make the rough places smooth - but just like the weathering of a rock, it does not happen overnight. It takes time... sometimes gentle rains, sometimes brutal storms... to make those rough places smooth.
I have come to understand what it truly means to bring a sacrifice of praise. I've never known how giving praise could be a sacrifice... but then I started thinking about what a sacrifice is... and a sacrifice is to give up something precious to you, something you wouldn't want to give under normal circumstances. And I'll admit, during this journey, I haven't wanted to praise. I've been busy painting pictures of Egypt, remembering how "great" things were in our former military life, how secure... I haven't remembered the pain of separation, the distant relationships our kids had with their dad, the unstable work hours... I haven't wanted to praise. But I do anyway. I force myself... to praise, even when I don't want to... and God listens. He rewards. He lifts the clouds and turns the darkness into light. And that's what I cling to.
To God be the glory.
I've been identifying quite a bit with how I felt 14 years ago, when we first entered into the Air Force. We were stationed in Columbus, Mississippi. During that first year, I felt like a fish out of water. Nothing was familiar - not our job (hello, acronyms anyone?), not the culture - military, living in the south, etc - the lifestyle, everything was foreign.. Nothing was the same... I didn't know who I was, what being a military spouse meant, seeing my husband struggle through the uncertainties and pressures of pilot training, the excruciating growing pains as we adjusted to this new world we were in... and through it all, I felt like I couldn't complain, because this was a path we had chosen. We left a solid community, family, friends, and a steady job in Arizona, for this new adventure called the military. And yet, I felt like I was walking around, silently screaming for someone, anyone, to truly see me and tell me that things would be ok. People kept saying "This isn't the real Air Force, don't worry"... well, that didn't mean anything to me. So what if training isn't the "real" Air Force? I was screaming on the inside, so scared, so alone... all I knew was that I didn't know where I fit into this military life, I didn't recognize any of the food on the southern menus, and even living on base was foreign to me (what do you mean, I'm going to get fined if we don't weed-eat the grass in between the cracks of the sidewalk?), and I saw my husband retreating more and more into himself, as he does when he is under intense stress and pressure. And I felt alone. It was a long time before I realized that God had set me aside in that time, placed me in His Egypt, so that I could hear Him and trust Him like never before... Yes, I was angry. Angry at God. And that was Ok... I clung to Isaiah 43:18-20 "Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not see it? I am making a way in the desert, and streams in the wasteland" The birth of our daughter was the blessing we received for staying faithful, for making it through that year... for holding on, even when we weren't sure we knew how to.
It has been the same this year. We left the solid community, friends, and security of the military after 13 years... and left it all for a new job in southern California. Where nothing is familiar. Not the fast paced culture (what, your kids aren't in music lessons, sports, scouts, science camps, sports clinics, and private coaching?), the material expectations ($100 yoga pants anyone?), the new business my husband started up, waiting for the IRS to give the non-profit status he so desperately needs to move forward... and through it all, I felt like I couldn't complain, because this was the path we had chosen. But one day I realized, that's like being a parent of a newborn, exhausted, achey, feeling out of sorts, and if you complain being told "Well then you shouldn't have had sex! What did you expect?" Now granted, there are only a couple of people in my life who actually say such things to me... "Well, this is the path you chose, you can't complain!" The rest is all in my head... but I will say, that this time around - because of our time in Mississippi - I can hold onto that hope, and know that this rocky time will NOT last forever. We WILL be able to look back on it and see how God has stretched us and grown us during this time. But boy, do those growing pains hurt sometimes.
There are still moments when I want to weep and wail and rage against God for not doing what I want. (And yes, I just laughed at myself and rolled my eyes as I typed that sentence...) I don't know what lessons we still have to learn, I just trust that God will bring it full circle some day. If it takes another year for the IRS to give us the non-profit status we need to move the company forward... if my biopsy doesn't come out the way I hope it does... if... if.... if...
No matter what "ifs" come our way... I'm clinging to the new verse God gave me at the start of this new journey Isaiah 42:16 "I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do' I will not forsake them." I used to think that verse was only about my husband's business... but I see now that it was just as much for me, for our family, for our marriage... God will make the rough places smooth - but just like the weathering of a rock, it does not happen overnight. It takes time... sometimes gentle rains, sometimes brutal storms... to make those rough places smooth.
I have come to understand what it truly means to bring a sacrifice of praise. I've never known how giving praise could be a sacrifice... but then I started thinking about what a sacrifice is... and a sacrifice is to give up something precious to you, something you wouldn't want to give under normal circumstances. And I'll admit, during this journey, I haven't wanted to praise. I've been busy painting pictures of Egypt, remembering how "great" things were in our former military life, how secure... I haven't remembered the pain of separation, the distant relationships our kids had with their dad, the unstable work hours... I haven't wanted to praise. But I do anyway. I force myself... to praise, even when I don't want to... and God listens. He rewards. He lifts the clouds and turns the darkness into light. And that's what I cling to.
To God be the glory.
