Starry Nights

So it's Christmas time. This has always been my favorite holiday. When I was little, we had a Christmas Eve tradition that I am sure many people share; my mom would drive us (my sister, twin bro, and me) around town and out of town to look at all the lights and decorations. The last house of the night we looked at was the same every year, kind of the grand finale. I forgot where that house is, but it was this huge mansion (or perhaps just grand according to my small perspective) embellished and practically hidden within soft golden lights. There was a carefully placed nativity scene amidst the trees and a transparent Santa, waving hello, with his reindeer and sleigh on the roof. And this wasn't just a flimsy plastic decoration glued to the shingles, they were made entirely out of lights. It must have cost a fortune to set up, let alone to pay the resulting electricity bill; but I am so very thankful to the residents for making their home such a spectacle. It was faithfully beautiful, each year. Afterwards, we would come home, lay our tiny bodies under the tree and look up at the twinkling lights through the branches. We'd rattle gifts while our mom put on Christmas music. And I remember distinctively, one Christmas I definitely heard bells outside my window in the middle of the night. Until this day, I can't quite explain it. And of course, we'd wake up whispering "Happy Birthday" to Jesus and thanking him for giving us all his gifts, haha.

I do love Christmas time. Last year was one of the best Christmases I've ever had. Eddie was back from training and we had a cabin for a few days in Big Bear. I love the mountain towns during winter. The skies are so clear and the stars are so condensed and sugary and seem to just blend with the white Christmas lights and bright powdery snow that extends straight down from the sky, along the lean bodies of the trees and to the ground. Everything is just so starry and dreamy. And then it rains every so often and just seems to melt things together even more. That was last Christmas for us. But this year, I'm not feeling it so much. I can't help but feel utterly distracted from the cheer and excitement and starriness. For obvious reasons. Well, I wonder what traditions Eddie and I will establish in our marriage and for our future family. I kind of like the cabin thing, haha. So, when you read this, please note that I think we should get up to the mountains for a few days every Christmas. :) But as for this Christmas, I just can't wait until it's over; just another month closer to Eddie's homecoming. This Christmas won't be quite as white as it will be pale. Ha, jk. But I'm not a total scrooge. I did bake Christmas cookies today. They don't look that scrumptious though; maybe it's because of that misplaced cheer and excitement and starriness..

Can Someone Please Open A Vent?

So today wasn't particularly the best day. The past few days were amazing...but today, not quite as amazing. That is another thing about deployment. One moment, you are soaring through clear skies and the next you are flying through turbulence. 

Life turns into a countdown, a ticking clock with bipolar tendencies. 

One moment you're happily driving 75mph on the freeway and your GPS is telling you you'll be at your destination 15 minutes early. And the very next moment you are sitting bumper to bumper at 2mph while your GPS adds 50 minutes to the prior estimation.. 

Am I abusing figurative language here? And mixing in mathematical equations? My apologies. You can see how hectic my brain is right now. I'll try to be more direct.

Most of the time, I can talk to him daily. Twice daily, even. Multiple times even. But then there are other times...There are times when I am given an estimated time that he will call (when 7pm-ish turns to 3am-ish). Then there are times when I can't hear his voice for a while. Then there are times when I can only talk to him for 2 mins a day. And those times often turn into times like tonight: I will never get used to having the phone call I’ve waited so long for turn into a dropped call, almost immediately, due to lack of minutes. I remember the first overseas phone he used; in the middle of our already brief conversation, we’d be interrupted by the tragically intruding, robotic voice: “You have 30 seconds left before your call is obliterated.” I'm just kidding, the voice actually said "disconnected", not "obliterated". (But the call does feel like it was completely obliterated.) And then the call ends. Then there are the three minutes after the dropped call where you’re simultaneously:

     1. Waiting for the call back (in case it wasn’t due to loss of minutes)   

                                   and                                                                                                    

     2. Giving yourself a small block of moments to recollect yourself after the frustration of, yet, another disappointment. 

Then, if no call immediately ensues and you are done silently venting, you get up and continue on with your day with a nice, paper mache, peel-away smile plastered over your face. The other difficult thing is planning your entire day around an anticipated Skype call. You are advised not to, but really, how can you not? He does whatever he possibly can to call at least once a day and so I am determined to be there when he does; I remember how he'd stuff himself in lockers during boot camp just to sneak a call to me :). The most difficult thing is the type of bump in the road, or traffic during a trip, or turbulence in the air (you get the picture) where you can't talk to him as much as you have been or as much as you'd like to. His voice becomes treasure and when he calls, you've stumbled upon gold. Dear friends who are not military couples, never take for granted the feel of your spouse's whisper at the cuff of your ear. Because when you are limited to sporadic, often interrupted, often muffled, often broken phone calls, you understand what a privilege, what a blessing it is to hear his voice.

I think I am type-venting. You know the kind: where you are typing 200 words per minute as a twister of frustration approaches your, otherwise placid, little farm-town-mind and spews debris all over your blog. And then, as you get to the last paragraph, you watch the F5 beast pass, leaving a destructive path in its wake. That is this. 

But now for the sunshine that peels back the heavy grey clouds. When I stop turbo-thinking, I can hear the still silent voice say: "Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10. 

And then I feel the Holy Spirit remind me "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Phil 4:6-8.

And then I feel my boat rock a little as Jesus gets up, rebukes the wind and says to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind dies down and it is completely calm. And He turns to me, draws me into His arms and says, "My daughter, why are you so afraid? Where is your faith?"(Mark 4:39)...

Perhaps we shouldn't dwell on that sudden undertow that jerked us away from the shore, but rather the fact that our head is above water and we're still swimming toward it. Now what was I freaking out about again?