“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, 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 in Christ Jesus.”
– Philippians 2:4-7
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. So the old adage goes and so our journey began on a rock overlooking the Pacific Ocean in San Onofre, CA. (Technically, a better translation might be “Even the longest journey must begin where you stand,” but we need not be pedantic. Except for using the word, “pedantic.” It’s a fun word and it makes you sound, well, like a pedant, which is not as naughty as it might sound.)
About halfway through my one-year unaccompanied tour in Bahrain, Brandy was struggling. Frankly, we all were, but that is to be expected. Having taken the kids to a free day-camp for children of deployed service members, Brandy was “looking forward” to three hours of uninterrupted house-cleaning. (Trying to clean a house with kids in it is like brushing your teeth while still eating Oreos.) What she didn’t plan on was that the camp, even though it was on Camp Pendleton, where we lived, was an hour and a half drive. Since she would spend all her time driving back and forth, housework was out (and Brandy was devastated).
With three hours to kill and no plan to account for it (a rarity for Brandy’s formerly very structured outlook on life), she decided to have some “me-time.” High on a cliff at San Onofre Beach with a commanding view of the ocean, Brandy’s mind shifted into overdrive – when I returned in December, we were going to need a place to live. We were on the waitlist for housing, but the wait was 3-4 years (we’re still on the list, mostly out of curiosity). We couldn’t afford to live in Coronado otherwise, but if I was going to be working there, when would there ever be a better time to live on that cute little island? Anywhere we lived would end up being a 45-60 minute commute on a good day. And that close would require more than our housing allowance. How much was a “short” commute worth to us? And so it went. (This is a fraction of a second in Brandy’s brain. Seriously, it’s impressive and a little scary. I would have been able to accomplish an “Uhh?” and shoulder shrug in the same amount of time.)
As the reality of our housing situation and our current geographical separation and a hundred other things bore down on her, Brandy began to cry out to God, literally. One of those times that I wished I could be there. With tears in her eyes, she looked at the sailboats on the horizon and thought about the carefree lives those sailors had (how little we knew). Someday that would be us.
Why not NOW?