moving Archives - Page 2 of 2 - Kristen Anne Glover

Who’s up for a road trip?

We got the news on Saturday. For over three weeks, we have been waiting to hear where Jeff’s first duty assignment as an active duty chaplain will be. It was a good sort of waiting, like waiting for Christmas, because every place was exciting and new.

But still, three weeks is a long time to wait to see what is under the tree.

The kids and I looked at maps of all the Army installations around the world and dreamed about the possibilities. We could be moved right down the road to Ft. Lewis, which would make it easier to say good-bye to Nana and Papa, or we could be sent across the ocean to new adventures in Japan or Germany.

“I just hope it’s not Texas,” Jeff would say when the topic came up. He had been stationed in San Antonio in his Air Force days, back when he was young and single and almost as incredibly handsome as he is now. If I had known him then, I would have snatched him right up.

But I wasn’t there because I didn’t know him then.

Because of that, and a few other reasons, San Antonio was miserable. San Antonio was the reason he got out after three years instead of four. San Antonio was the reason Texas did not make the list when Jeff’s recruiter asked him where he’d like to be stationed.

So when I got home on Saturday from a day out with Faith and Jeff met us in the driveway with a big grin and the news, “Well, I heard where we’re going!” I did not expect him to say El Paso, Texas.

El Paso, Texas?

I choked on a laugh and repeated the words because I thought he was joking.

“Are you serious? Texas?”

“I would not make that up,” he said. “We’re headed to Ft. Bliss in El Paso, Texas.”

“Ft. Bliss?” The name made me explode, it seemed so funny to me. Ft. Bliss. God has a sense of humor.

Jeff was smiling too so I grabbed him around the neck and kissed him because it was so wonderful to know. Texas! Suddenly it didn’t matter that San Antonio was not his favorite place on earth. This was not San Antonio. This was Ft. Bliss!

Joy rushed in with the knowing, and we both felt the thrill of knowing where the next two years were going to find us.

“We’re going to Texas! We’re going to Texas!” the kids whooped and hollered in the driveway.

All except for Kya, who burst into tears and ran into the house.

But we could not stop laughing. God was not going to let us off the hook with this whole faith thing, not now, not ever.

“Where is El Paso?” Jonathan said, wrinkling up his nose like the word tasted funny in his mouth.

“Let’s find out!” I said, and we all ran for the classroom atlas that we keep stowed away in the school cupboard. We flipped open the pages to the state that will be our new home in just a few weeks, and found El Paso. There it was, right in the foothills, within spitting distance of Mexico, with miles and miles of desert all around.

I looked out at my lush green yard and the beautiful view of the ocean and the snowy mountains and I laughed again. I was going to need to buy more sunscreen.

But what an adventure!

“We’re going to learn Spanish,” I told the kids, “and go to Mexico! Just wait until you see it!”

It’s been nearly twenty years since I lived in Mexico, but it has not been so long that I have forgotten what it was like to walk through the shanty towns, what it was like to drive by the street kids, dressed in rags and high on paint thinner. It has not been so long that I have forgotten the warmth of the people and the richness of the culture. It has not been so long that I have forgotten how much I loved it.

I was going to get to take my kids to Mexico!

The kids were thrilled about the Mexico part. Not so much the Spanish. Spanish sounds a little bit like school, and that was an unfortunate reminder that schoolbooks are packable.

“What’s it like in El Paso?” Faith asked.

“Well, there are lots of rocks, and swimming pools, tons of tarantulas and scorpions…” I paused for a second and wondered if it was a good idea to embellish the amount of venomous creatures in and around El Paso. I wasn’t exactly sure there were tons of them, and I could just imagine God giving me a house infested with them just because I promised it to the kids.

So, that would be great.

“Will I be able to catch lizards?” Jonathan asked. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Arachnids the size of dinner plates and scaly things that bite are his favorite.

“Probably.”

“What kind?”

Jeeze. “Well…”

“Does everyone have a swimming pool?” Kya asked, saving me from having to recall anything beyond an armadillo, which isn’t even a lizard, but I couldn’t think of iguana for the life of me and I suddenly felt insecure about whether or not Gila monsters lived in Texas. I should have paid more attention when Planet Earth was on.

“Will we have a pool?” Kya pressed her hand on my arm, tears still glittering in her eyes, and looked at me intently. This could be the deciding factor on whether or not she moved to Texas with us or packed up her princess paraphernalia and moved in with Nana for the next two years.

“Oh, Kya, of course…”

Jeff looked at me and shook his head. The thought of pool maintenance weighed heavier on his heart than her puppy eyes. The man is made of steel.

“…of course…I don’t know yet,” I said slowly. “We’ll see.”

Jeff looked at me again, only this time his face was very clearly communicating something like, “There is no way on earth we are getting a house with a pool,” but he said, “I saw a picture of the one on post, and it looks pretty great. It has a water slide and everything.”

Nice save.

Her eyes grew wide.

“Awesome!” Jonathan yelled.

The living room erupted into shouts and cheers and various forms of interpretive dance. Kya threw her arms around me. This is going to be okay.

And of course, it really is going to be okay. I looked at my children and I thought about all the places Jeff and I have lived, both before we were married and after. Our lives have taken us all over the world, and while we both have lived in places we did not love, we have yet to find a place on this earth where God’s mercies do not reach. All of those experiences have shaped us into the people we are today.

I can’t wait for my kids to have some of those adventures.

So. We are going to El Paso, and it’s going to be great!

Dust rises softly as I pull books from the shelf. It floats up with the heat from a sunbeam,and I watch it for a second, waiting.

Each book holds a memory for me, and I look at the covers and run my hands along the spines, prolonging the decision that must come. Does it stay, or does it go? I wish I could keep them all.

There’s a box on my bed for the ones that are staying, and a box on the floor for the ones that are going. The box on the bed is winning.

There are piles in the hall, too, where I’ve been rooting through closets and bedrooms, and stacks of our things down by the garage door, waiting to go to Goodwill.

Jonathan has taken it upon himself to sort through his treasure collection. The trash can is full to overflowing with rocks, rusty nails, and broken bits of toys. I notice, with a twinge of sadness and relief, that Jonathan has finally decided to throw away the shredded aluminum cans he’s been saving since last summer when he got to shoot a .22 with his dad in the field. The bullet had gone in clean. But it didn’t come out that way.

That’s a little how I’m feeling these days. The bullet went in clean. But it didn’t come out that way.

A first look at our house

This house was our first house. The housing market had just taken a huge hit, and the house was in foreclosure. It was owned by a couple with two kids, and things had not turned out the way they had hoped. I noticed the pencil markings on the kitchen wall and saw how their two babies had grown since they’d been here, and my heart broke for them a little bit. The leaving couldn’t have been easy. There was something special about this house.

It was the first house I had seen that was anywhere near adequate for a family with three young kids and two more on the way. We couldn’t stay where we were living with five children, and we couldn’t rent for less than the cost of a mortgage, so on Valentine’s Day, after we’d worked our budget out on paper a dozen different ways, we decided to buy it.

We called the realtor, but she had news of her own. “You won’t believe this,” she said. “Someone else put in an offer on that house today.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Jeff, who put his arms around me and said, “It wasn’t meant to be.”

I blinked back tears. That was my house. Whoever was trying to buy that house did not love it the way I did. They did not have three babies and two more on the way who needed that house.

I could not give up on it. Secretly, I watched the house online and waited for the “Sold” sign to appear in place of “Pending.”

It never did.

A month later, after viewing a dozen inadequate homes and very nearly giving up hope that we’d be able to find a decent house in a nice neighborhood for the money we had, that classic gray house, my house, was back on the market.

We bought it.

Then, we watched God provide.

Jonathan is super excited about the new fridge

The house was in need of some serious repairs and upgrades. We found free paint at a paint recycle station, a bathtub for $10 and a pedestal sink for $25 and a chandelier for $50. We found hardwood flooring on Craigslist and a brand-new stainless steel Samsung refrigerator for $100. There were solid wood doors for $30 each at a local liquidation store, strapped to the top of our minivan, and a series of scavenger hunts for just enough discounted tiles for the downstairs bathroom.

There was the carpet we saved for, agonized over, and ended up getting for free when it turned out to be defective enough to void the warranty but not defective enough to replace. We were given beds for the children, dressers that could be painted, and even a dining room table when we outgrew the one we had.

There was a brand-new lawn mower that had been returned to the store and marked down just before we came looking for one. The yard is bursting with plant starts from my mother-in-law, spring bulbs from my neighbor, and even a free rose bush from a lady who likes to talk to the children when she walks her dog past our house each day.

And everywhere, in every part of our house, there was the handiwork of people who came and helped, just because they love us.

I see it as I’m packing up and sorting through, preparing for the move we know will come. God is leading us on from here. I know it, and I am grateful, but I am shredded too. The bullet went in clean, but it did not come out that way.

In my humanity, I want to dig my roots in deeper instead of yielding to go. I want to hold on to this house because I have seen God here. I have been loved by God here. There’s a part of me that hurts to prepare this home, my home, for someone else, to share my neighbors with someone else, to leave my friends and my church to someone else.

I turn in my Bible and I read of all the wanderers, all those God called out of the places that were safe and comfortable, called out of the places where God had revealed His glory, shown His hand, and showered them with provision. There are many. Some seem to go without a second thought. But others ache with the going.

It is so tempting to stay.

But it is an act of faith to go, even when it hurts.

So I sort through the years of things that have filled our home and I yield to the sharpness that comes from leaving the places that have been most pleasant and I trust that even though it hurts, God’s going to make it come out clean.

*A little over a week ago, we learned of a significant turn of events in Jeff’s chaplaincy application. He missed the original deadline because of a computer error, which included all applicants with prior service. We were told there were no options but to wait for the next review board. However, the military granted an unprecedented extension to anyone who was affected by the computer error. It was a complete shock to his recruiter and to us!

Jeff resubmitted his application and will be considered for active duty by the Chaplain Review Board which next meets on April 14, 2013. If accepted, we could be reporting to a new duty station in as little as 30 days (chances are they will not keep him at Ft. Lewis, where his reserve unit is located). We are trusting that God will continue to open doors to minister to the military, as it seems this is where He wants us, and preparing for the move so we’re ready when called.

Moving to Ft. Bliss

Coming Out Clean