Lessons Learned from Moving

My husband and I got married between our junior and senior years of college. On graduation day he was commissioned into the military and is coming up on 19 years of active duty service this spring. It's not the life either of us expected to be living, but it is the life God had planned for us! Life in the military involves lots of moving. If I counted right, we have moved cross country 10 times, living in 14 different houses in 9 different states from Alaska to Tennessee and many places in between. I've learned a few things along the way, and I thought it would be fun to reflect on them for a bit and share them with you today.

1. God always provides.

No matter where we have lived, God has always provided us with a house to live in, friends to enjoy life with, and a church family to worship and serve with. This has looked different each time. Sometimes the house part of our move was secured well ahead of time with minimal effort, other times we drove into our new town without a place lined up and lived in a hotel for a while as we searched. Sometimes the provided house had everything and more of what we were looking for, and other times we had to keep reminding ourselves to look on the bright side as we dealt with problems and messes. But always, God provided.

The same was true for friends and a church home. Sometimes we found friends right away that we felt like we had known forever. Other times it took a while to find our people. Some of the friends God provided were only with us for a short time; others have entwined themselves in our lives, and we haven't let go even though many miles now separate us. Likewise, over the years we have worshiped with several different denominations and many different worship and ministry styles, but God has always provided a place for us to meet with Him in community, learn more about Him, and practice our faith. 

This is me in November 2006 somewhere in British Columbia en route to
a new home in Alaska!

2. People are the same everywhere.

People everywhere long for connection, a purpose, and a chance to share the joys and struggles of life with one another.

People everywhere feed one another when something really bad or really good happens.

People everywhere long for spring to come and rejoice when it arrives. It doesn't seem to matter how long or hard winters are in a given location, people still celebrate spring's arrival.

3. People are different everywhere.

The similarities mentioned above don't mean that everything is the same. I've been amazed at the different accents, worship styles, and perspectives I've encountered in my moves. I've benefited from being pushed outside of my comfort zone and from learning to value different ways of seeing things.

4. No need to compare; it all counts.

Our longest stay was 3 1/2 years, although during that time my husband deployed for a year, Oliver was born, and I got pregnant with our daughter, so it was hardly a time of stability! Our shortest stay was a temporary four month assignment, but we all count it as one of our moves, remembering the small town, recreational opportunities, and church friends we made fondly.

A few pictures from our short stay in North Dakota.

5. When in Rome! Cease the day! Bloom where you are planted. Stay in the present moment.

Or as my daughter said when I asked her what she has learned from moving, "Do things." No matter what cliche you use, my family and I have always been at our happiest when we are out and about enjoying the opportunities that are around us in a given location.

Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper. Jeremiah 29:5-7

We lived 15 minutes from the zoo in Omaha and visited at least once a month.

Watching the combines during a bike ride in Nebraska.

6. Husbands and wives might have different perspectives on what is a priority. Neither is right or wrong. This is true about more than moving.

I want to unpack the kitchen, find the library and grocery store, hang the curtains and picture frames, and go for a local hike. My husband's list of priorities upon arrival looks very different than that. Moving has highlighted for me neither of us is right or wrong about what is most important, and if we can work as a team and support one another, we reach our real goals.

7. Nothing is more frustrating than not knowing which way your kitchen cabinet opens or where the start button is on your microwave.

Seriously. Moving is stressful. Change and the unknown make for a potent combination. Instead of feeling guilty for being stressed or trying to push away my stress, I have found it to be more helpful to accept it is going to be stressful and then try to find healthy ways of dealing with my stress.

Taken during a local move in 2019. 

8. A person only has so much energy for relationships.

The worst part of moving is definitely saying good-bye to the people we have come to love. I want to put forth the energy to stay in touch with everyone and keep our relationships as close as they always were despite the distance. However, I only have so much energy to devote to relationships. New relationships at our new location take a lot of energy too, and ultimately I have to choose between clinging to my old relationships with everything I have, or being open to new relationships. It hurts for these old relationships to have to change, but they don't have to end, and the change opens up a path for growth and beauty. 

A flower for each of the beautiful people
who have entered my life for a season
as we moved around the country.

I am definitely looking forward to not moving this summer after moving the past two summers, but I hope I keep these lessons with me, as they apply to a lot more of life than just changing locations. May the God who provides make His presence known to each of us as we face changes and unknowns.

Reflections on Grief

One thing I wanted to know when I started out on my grief journey was: "What is this going to look like years later?" I couldn't picture myself or my family happy and functioning again, but I also couldn't imagine staying in the state of pain we were in forever. Obviously it is going to be different for everyone, but here's an update (5 1/2 years later) for anyone wondering the same thing and for myself to look back on some day.

This week, my breath caught and my stomach clenched when I was passed by a Subaru Ascent on the road, a mid size SUV my husband and I were looking at purchasing before my son passed away. I was driving the RAV4 we purchased instead, a compact SUV that has plenty of room for the three of us. I have no idea why the Ascent has stuck in my mind as a representation of what my family could have looked like and what it does look like, but it gets me almost every time I notice one. 

This week, I made some plans for the summer and dreamed about where some furniture will go in our house in the UP when we move up there permanently. I researched homeschool curriculum for next year and guided my daughter through the homeschool curriculum we are doing right now. 

A sketch my daughter made of a picture
I shared on here last week.

I taught a couple of writing classes, belly laughed with my family, held hands with my husband, walked the dog, exercised, played some card games, and read for pleasure. I had a hard time waking up because it is still so dark in the mornings. I caught a case of the Febuarys and was a little grumpy.

This week's Bible study was about suffering. I still would rather avoid the topic. The loss of Oliver eclipses all the other suffering I have experienced in my life and makes it hard to complete the study questions without becoming repetitive. I also resist attempts to explain the reasons why we suffer. An answer that the human mind can come up with and understand never feels sufficient for the loss of a child. My grief was stirred again, and although I know that stirred grief is a good thing, I resist.

Despite my resistance, I took some time to reflect. The final question of the week's study asked: "How has God transformed your life and faith in Him through suffering?" I took a deep breath, prayed, thought about what I had discovered through that week's homework and wrote:

He has drawn me closer to Him, given me confidence in Him and His promises, set my focus on heaven, and made me dependent on Him and aware of my weaknesses and His strength, which has broken through my perfectionism in a way nothing else has, allowing me to praise Him as Savior in humble obedience and rely on Him to provide the patient endurance and sharing of my testimony He calls me to.

I ran across these pictures of my sister and Oliver while looking for 
something else.

I enjoyed good food. I stayed inside after an ice storm and was unbothered by, and even relished, the change in plans. I enjoyed an evening alone while my daughter was at youth group and my husband was out of town for work.

While hanging out with friends, the conversation around the dinner table turned to grown-up boys and legos. I still don't want to talk about legos. I can hear the sound of them being played in my house every time it comes up in conversation, and it still makes me feel so sad.

The reality is, I still miss Oliver and deal with grief, but most of my days and weeks look and feel pretty normal. A normal I never would have thought possible five and a half years ago when every breath hurt, participating in everyday activities was challenging, and the most basic things like eating, sleeping, talking, and dreaming of the future had taken a back seat to enduring the next ten minutes. A normal I never would have thought possible three years ago when I was dealing with a lot of fear, a few good grief days in a row just meant I was due for a bad day, and I didn't like being alone. I thank God for patiently leading me, for the healing I have experienced, and the healing still to come.