Gray Clouds

The sun is shining, the air feels light and the breeze provides just enough chill.  Even without air conditioning, I'm not too hot.  In other words, today is one of the few sunny, pleasant days in Misawa.

I didn't realize at this time last year how rare these days are in Misawa. Having moved here last July, I assumed these beautiful August/September days had been happening all summer. This year, I  had a very harsh realization in June and July, when I discovered most of the days were gray and dreary. In fact there is a term on base for Misawa June: "June-uary."  It is June but it feels much closer to the dark days of January than what you would expect from a June. Honestly, of the 14 months we have lived here, June and the beginning of July were the absolute hardest for me. We survived 6+ months of snow and lots of dreary days. When it was time for summer to be here, I felt like I had "earned" it. I did my best to have a positive attitude through the long (long, long, long) winter and I had finally made it to June. I expected the sun.

When it didn't show up, my heart sank. As a desert girl, I longed for the days of endless sunshine to brown my skin and warm my soul. My expectations of an outdoor summer with my kids were met with the  reality of gray, overcast dreariness. My insides began to match the weather outside. I felt a huge cloud settle right over my positive spirit.

Honestly, there were lots of things that contributed to this cloudy spirit, but the weather is the easiest to blame. 
Thankfully, the cloud over my spirit has moved on now.  A combination of things helped me get through bleakness: working out, taking vitamins, lots of time with friends, and getting out of town for a bit (to a truly sunny location!!). Ultimately, accepting the dark feelings and not judging myself for them helped a lot, as well. Gray clouds are going to come from time-to-time. While they are uncomfortable, they will not last forever, nor will the storm they encompass. Being honest about my darkness took away my fear of it, and gave me back a sense of ownership of myself. It wasn't easy and honestly I don't want to go through it again.

But I know I will, and on this side of things I know I can survive even an entire June of gray clouds.

The Light that Guides

Tonight, I find myself at age 36 sitting in a sparsely furnished tower apartment in Misawa, Aomori Prefecture, Japan. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to be in Japan and even just a month ago I never pictured spending any significant time in the towers on base.

We moved here in July of 2018 and settled into a beautiful town home on the North side of base. Our belongings took forever to arrive, and when they did finally arrive we didn't have an abundance of time to unpack and decorate our home. It took me a long time to feel settled there, and quite honestly I just completed organizing closets this July, a full year later.  We loved to sit outside in the yard, admiring the golf course and the beautiful trees. We had an amazing view on a quiet street. It was dreamy.
Sure, the drive got annoying sometimes (a whole 11 minutes to school/work!) but for the most part we loved being able to retreat onto north base, away from everything on main base. That home felt like a gift from the Lord when we arrived in Misawa. He knew how terrified I was to be in Japan and my trepidation about living on base. This home and the privacy it provided felt like a giant hug when I first arrived.

So sitting here tonight knowing that home will no longer be our family home stirs a lot within me. I am overwhelmed with grief. I have been grieving this change the past few weeks.  I know that it is far better to move than it is to stay where carpets are filled with mold and things really need to be fixed. I don't want to risk that for myself or my family. I know it is the right decision and I'm so thankful base housing will allow us to move.

Yet this is so far beyond what I thought my time would be looking like right now. I imagined coming back from vacation and getting my children onto a good sleep routine again in order to prep for school to start. I envisioned working out and having time to work on my counseling continuing education courses once school started. I imagined starting off our Fall routines from a place of being settled, not from having my life in chaos once again. It feels like PSCing on an off year. I feel like I am losing a place I truly felt safe and enjoyed being.

Alongside this grief is this crazy feeling of being truly taken care of. I feel like I'm walking in a dark tunnel and every time I need to make a decision or know what lies ahead the light shows the way. I can't see too far ahead and there is a lot of uncertainty. But I can trust that I will see each step needed as I actually need to see it. Honestly, it has renewed my faith on a lot of levels. I want to daily live my life one step at a time, asking God which way I should go. The unknown is scary, yet the trust that is developed when the next step is revealed at just the right moment simply blows me away.

For now, I rest in a temporary apartment, five floors high in a tower on base. It has a few of our necessities, but mostly it feels like camping. We have had so many kind friends bring us food and watch our children. I have had endless encouraging messages from people. God's community is kind and good, even through our brokenness. What an encouragement His people have been to my soul.

Though this is radically outside of my plan for myself, I'm learning to lean into Him and trust that He sees our needs and will meet every one of them, in His good timing.

Connection

Over coffee with a friend this week, I listened to her story. I heard her talk about military life, the constant TDYs, the separation from extended family, and the never-ending needs of her children. She talked about a scary medical diagnosis in her family and her desire to connect more deeply with her spouse. We touched on how difficult it is to make friends and how painful it is to endure betrayal. Our children interrupted, needing potty help and snacks. Yet, we would bounce right back into conversation. She listened to me, too. I shared my own struggles with living overseas, surprise inconveniences of military life, and my difficulty living many different time zones away from my family and close friends.

We truly connected while sipping our from our coffee mugs. After we shared our lives with one another, I felt lighter. Not because anything had changed, but because I didn’t feel alone.

As I listened to her, I saw her deep joy mixed with confusion and a hint of fear. Her situation is drastically different from mine but her emotions feel eerily familiar. That emotional connection we shared reminds me that life is messy and hard and yet beautiful for everyone.

I have been going through my own stressful period in my life and I have been contemplating how people make it through the ups and downs of life. As I listened to my friend, I recognized that community provides such a jewel of hope in the midst of life’s chaos. I’m not talking about simply being around people. No, what is needed is a much deeper engagement of our souls.

True community does not come easily. Feeling connection with others requires I get out of my comfort zone and face the vulnerability of putting myself out there. It requires I stop gossiping and instead share personally about myself. In order to share about myself, I have to know myself, so that means I have to dig deep into my emotional world and discover what is truly happening inside of me.

Sometimes all of that work to get to real connection stops me from seeking it. Sometimes I try to share and I find the person isn’t trustworthy. But oh, when I bravely share and connect with people who are trustworthy, my burdens become lighter and the joy is multiplied.

This connection feels deeply spiritual to me, as it mimics what my Lord offers me in relationship with Him. His community of people are truly a gift.