Early thoughts on a life in Turkey.
/The cross European trip/move was....prodigious. Yes, I just looked up a synonym for incredible because incredible doesn't quite cut it. When we really stop to think about it, as we have multiple times this past week as we've been planting our feet here, it's a bit mind blowing to think about the enormity of the whole process. My husband looked at me adoringly (I LOVE it when he does that!) one morning in the TLF kitchen and said he was proud of me. I think we were both so much in survival mode that we really just NEVER connected on the trip. Like, really not once. Our marriage thrives (as do all marriages) on communication and time together, neither of which we had for about 6 solid weeks. From the time that Josh's parents spent their last week at our house in the Azores helping us pack to the moment that he told me in the TLF kitchen that he was proud of me, I honestly couldn't think of another moment that I had that relief - that connection. I knew he was, but neither of us had had the foresight or the energy to be in the presence of mind to notice how disconnected we were both feeling from one another. From packing boxes to mail, packing out with the movers, cleaning and prepping to leave our island home, leaving our beloved Casa by the Sea and all the memories made there with our four precious boys (that I store up in my heart!), living in the TLF for a few days at Lajes Field, loading on the plane and flying to Lisbon, Portugal to begin our journey, driving across Europe and into Asia and onto our new base in a span of 18 VERY long and exhausting days, and then spending the last week and a half waiting for and moving into our new house, and now trying to get those mailed boxes unpacked while slowly growing accustomed to the consistent 100 F + heat and 100% humidity is a lot for anyone. Then tack on 4 little boys and all their baggage (literal and figurative) and the wild range of emotions that the are trying to process - with it all you have one VERY wiped out family!
When we first arrived on base we were SO completely ready to be out of the car, that everything was a relief. Even the heat didn't bother us (though I swear it wasn't as hot then as it is now!) - the commissary is excitingly larger and significantly better stocked than our one at Lajes and the BX has most of what we need. We aren't able to leave base right now, so we are being forced to either be patient, order stuff on line or get really creative.
As we've started unloading things into our new home here (which we really like), my heart has sunk on many occasions. A box here that I was packing while talking to Manuela in the kitchen. A box there that had last minute treasures we collected by the sea and around our house to use in decorating. A box here and there that smell like our house there. sigh. A sad heart.
I heard Judah the other night when Josh and I were sitting down to watch a movie on our laptop that has a killer sound system built in (imagine tininess so fantastical that it drowns out much of the dialog..ha!). I went upstairs to see what was wrong and he was laying in bed weeping. Not get attention weeping, just hurting heart, exhausted weeping. We laid and talked for a bit about "the Azores" and his deep and intense desire to "just go back". I assured him that I, too, wanted to go back, but that this is where God has us. It was all too familiar. He's SUCH a sentimental, nostalgia loving child. The other boys seem to be more like Josh, just really pumped for the new adventure, but Judah and I love hard and have a very difficult time letting go of the home we made and loved. We'd had this conversation one night in our early days on the island. He just wanted to go back to Florida. He was 3 1/2 when we moved to the island. SO young, but SO in tune with his hurting little heart. He buried his face in my chest and soaked with his tears for a bit and then laid back to wipe his eyes and said, "Ok. Night mama. I love you." He rolled over, pulled his blanket up to his face and closed his eyes. I winced, wanting to weep with him and pour my heart out, but I decided this time (unlike the night on the island) to not weep with him. I chose to hold it back. Yes, I think it's good to let our children see our emotion, but I chose to tell him of it this time, not let him see the product of it. My heart hurts SO intensely in this journey. OH how I'd love to hold my precious girlfriends in a tight hug again! OH how I'd love to smell that salt smell in the morning! OH how I'd love to open my huge, wooden arched windows and listen to the sea. OH how I'd love to send my boys out to play and have trees for them to climb and weather that doesn't turn their little faces beet red in 2 minutes and have their bodies soaked with sweat. I miss it, immensely. But God is sovereign. In the meantime we embrace the challenges and the beauty that comes with them in the life he's given us here. Being far from home isn't easy. Being far from family and friends and familiar isn't easy. But we choose to love the life He's given us and follow hard after him and seek to glorify him above all else - having a good attitude about all of this and not having a complaining spirit is a very big part of that.
I take great delight in the beautiful FACT and promise that the things we love in this life are nothing compared to the glory we will experience when we are finally in his presence - in our true home
Here are a few pics from the last couple of weeks. Thank you, again, for your prayers, support and continued encouragement.
