Little House on the Prairie?

It's been awhile. Like a long while. This big ol' family packed up all of our treasures and otherwise worldly possessions and moved far away from all we knew and loved. And guess what? We've all survived...more or less. Change isn't easy for anyone especially when its fought tooth and nail (guilty as charged), but...we came, we saw and we are in the process of trying to conquer. And in all of this I've realized something. Some things really never truly change.

What's that you say? Let me try to explain. But first, do me a favor. Take a long, deep, cleansing breath in and let it wash over you. OK, now another one. Do you smell that? Nope! That's the passing winds of change. Dodge that bitch! I mean that other smell. Yep...that one. That lingering dirty-toddler-diaper scent mixed with overdue-for-a-shower boy stink being covered by the always-musty-smelling tween wrestler masked by teen boy stench that's sprinkled with man smell. Yep! That's the one! That mother f@$&ing smell followed my tail across the state! What the what?! It's surrounding me on every side! I can't escape it. I'm actually quite concerned that maybe I possess the same demented smell. I mean...when in Rome, after all.

Anysmellychild, I digress. I was contemplating the inevitable winds of change...or lack there of. This smallish family with seemingly very little relevance in the grand scheme of the world successfully moved, and it seemed that "change" possessed the very real threat of being our destruction. Only it wasn't. Don't get me wrong. Change happened. That it did! Probably more changed than didn't in regards to everything that my family knew, our comfort zone, our common grounds. Nonetheless still things in a somewhat peculiar way stayed the same...different...but the same. I mean...I'm still too busy to shower and too exhausted to care, and I'm continually trying to juggle more itineraries than should be allowed, and Captain Hubby (not sure I ever promoted him officially in my Mom-Dom...maybe I should do that!) is still an ever-constant absence in this castle. So what on earth changed other than our physical location? I'll tell ya! Me. 

I've ever so slowly started to let go of some bitterness and anger and feelings of being "let down". I'm not as devastated as I once was. I'm trying to put my money where my mouth is and "go where I am sent". I know the task of moving one's family seems simple and unworthy of a fuss. I've actually taken lots and lots and lots of heat for my reluctance to jump for joy over the biggest change of my life. What has gotten lost in the grand scheme was that other than my parents' home my previous home/city was the only place I've put down roots and lived for more than a decade. Even with that knowledge, I was on more than one occasion openly chastised for not being more flexible. Nothing like being kicked when you are down. But, as I'm learning, such is the human way. However, in hindsight, I can now consent with my naysayers and admit that I could have been more agreeable (for the record, that's not really my way so my reaction shouldn't have been as shocking as it was).

What was overlooked as a teeny, tiny detail was MY two wars both of which were fought in my previous home...in my previous town...with MY previous "battle buddies". It's not just the deploying soldier who goes through things and is left with hidden little scars. I have many scars, memories, moments, fears, nightmares that are hidden down deep and deep they shall stay. But what impacted me most was the friends and perfect strangers in my last community that rallied around my little family, extended a helping hand and aided in my very survival. Simple as that all sounds...that experience, those people, those moments, they become a part of you. A part that is hard to let go. THAT is what hurt the most to leave.

So...yeah. I'm a work in progress...one to whom the Almighty continues to extend undeserving grace. I'm lonelier than I've ever been but not alone. Conflicted in my hopes and dreams and plans for my future yet I'm slowly accepting that I truly have no control over plans for this family. But I'm also learning to lean into God when loneliness hurts...when disappointment closes in and somewhat mocks me. I pray more and cry often but in the same moment try to hide my head in God and welcome this new, deeper relationship. Aw! There's the rub. It's not that I have more time for God, but my attention is definitely His and I find I desire His moments.

My heart may be changing...little by little. I'm trying to be more open and slightly less controlling. Dare I say...I'm growing up!

I'm still slightly crazy, smell like one of the boys, tough as nails while being secretively sensitive and posses a raging mama bear. But I'm learning...and waiting...and letting go more than I ever have. I guess I'll embrace the loneliness and learn to cry without apologizing. I'm practically Laura Ingalls Wilder on my new "prairie" home...I pray, play card games with my crew and rarely bathe.

Look for my book series and "made for TV" mini series soon!