Americans Anonymous

Happy New Year to all! Many apologies on the sporadic postings of late. The perfectionist in me has been wrestling for a refreshes vision on how to proceed with the deployment over and a new life for me beginning, as well as a new year and new era for all of us as Americans. How do you encapsulate any of that in one blog supposed to be about the war in Iraq??

Exactly. Time to put this one into archives for now and turn over the proverbial new leaf. Which leads me to the new home and new beginning of Recovering American, my new blog about what it feels like to be an American who is facing the same struggles and addictions as everyone else.

The first blog was about what made my life unique and sharing it with the world, this one will be about our commonalities and me sharing what God is putting on my heart, in the hopes that since we’re in a very similar boat, we can all benefit.

Rest assured, it will be full of the same rambling anecdotes, horrific grammar and typing, and losely connected logic as the original. Nonetheless, I hope your knowledge of the truly great bloggers who are really out there is pretty limited and you’ll feel compelled to join our recovery group at http://recoveringamerican.wordpress.com.

I truly encourage debate, comment, and thrive on feedback as I walk again into uncharted waters. I hope you’ll find it worthy of spending a few mintutes to check it out. Look for the inaugural post before the real Inauguration!

Blessings and see you there,

Joe

Gone Cold

Many apologies to the faithful who’ve kept up with the blog for so many months. I’m sure you can understand that after all that our family has been through this year that finding ’sensational’ things about which to write is becoming increasingly difficult for fear of me boring the readers to tears.

So the blog’s gone cold of late: very silent, mundane, sparse at best. If you were looking here for answers to anything at all, they most assuredly wouldn’t be found here. I imagine many of you have come to the blog to check for any sign of life or any new word only to see that “nope, nothing’s changed.”

Though totally unplanned, that makes a pretty cool visual for what life was like for the faithful prior to the birth of Christ. Though there’s only a page between Malachi and Matthew in our Bibles, there’s a time span of 400 years. In all that time, several generations worth, how many hundreds of thousands looked to the Word for Its promises, calling out for a new message, looking for any sign of life for a word for a people that was oppressed and destitute? How strong their faith must have been to pass from generation to generation, father to son, moms to daughters, to keep believing despite the apparent inactivity and silence from the Lord.

What a reward when word finally came that He’s here! How cool. In a moment the world was completely corrupt and without an apparent hope, then a tiny baby changed all that forever. The silence couldn’t have been broken any louder. God certainly knows how to make a statement when He speaks.

This morning in church one of the pastor’s spoke about how even the secular world is willing to accept Christ the baby. It’s the whole growing up and conquering sin thing that people get hung up on. Our challenge from the pastor this morning was to take Christ out of the manger and spread the message of the “grown up” Christ…to tell the rest of the story, reminding the world that Christ was King first for eternity past, and is sitting now at the right hand of the Father. He was never boxed into a 33 year blip of human history.

One powerful illustration of the significance of when and how history is made was in the year 1809. In 1809, much of the world was embroiled in war or recovering from it as Napoleon swept the globe, this time battling in Austria. If you’d picked up the newspaper or had Fox News in those days, it would be all about Napoleon and the evil tyranny he was spreading across the globe. It wouldn’t have been about a humble baby born in a log cabin in Kentucky named Abraham Lincoln. The history being made in 1809 was not the apparent history of the current events, but the hidden, humble works of the Master’s hands as He brought a special life into the world to free an enslaved people. Sound familiar?

So often we fall into the trap that Christ is God’s plan to react to man’s fallen condition. If that were true, God would not be the all-knowing sovreign God He is. Instead, He knew and planned all along for the fall. In Genesis, Adam and Eve are directed to go forth and multiply and to rule and subdue the earth. Now when they were created, the animals were no threat to one another or to man. Creation was in perfect harmony, and there were no seasons to disturb our still naked mankind. No smog or tainted water threatened man. Yet God still commanded man to rule and subdue. Why? Because He knew the time was coming when that all would change and man would be charged with holding the reigns of a creation buckling from the effects of the fall. God’s mandate was to unveil His glorious greatness through man’s sinfulness, not despite it.

So this Christmas, in a world gone cold, still ravaged by war, economic collapse, resurging China and Russian influence, and a fallen climate, our family is trying to accept the challenge and realize that Christ is not a baby in a manager, but King of Kings and not one ounce less in command than ever before. Have a blessed Christmas…the whole story kind of Christmas!

Still, Still, Still

It’s been a week since my last post…man, time flies this time of year. Now that Christmas is approaching, time seems to pass at an even faster rate. This brings me to the title of this post “Still, Still, Still”. It’s the title of one of my favorite Christmas carols, and to call it a treasured favorite is an understatement. Few songs can transport me to another place the way this one can. I think it’s because it’s two- thirds carol and one-third lullaby. Every time I hear it, my blood pressure drops about 30 points and Katy has to get out the defibrillator to bring me back to reality.

Yesterday I got in a lively debate with some folks about the bailout of the Big 3 automakers. My argument was that between the greed of the upper echelon management who built a business model on trying to convince their market they needed a new car every three years, and the trend of the UAW over the last 20 years to blackmail the industry and the car buying public, the Big 3 have made themselves non-competitive with foreign auto makers on our own soil who are non-unionized and crank out equal quality cars at often lower prices. This is an uneasy topic for me because I have loved ones who are directly affected by the Big 3’s plight. But in a national spiritual sense, I think it’s healthy for us to see the houses of cards implode and be reminded to look inward and upward again.  

For years the auto industry has shunned advances in productivity in favor of appeasing union bosses whose primary goal was to protect employees, whether the job positions were in the best interest of the company or not, and whether the employee’s work ethic warranted employment or not. When other automakers have incorporated Lean Six Sigma practices ruthlessly and embraced automation technology, they created a climate where merit prevailed over the deceitful false sense of security that the UAW tried to give their workers in exchange for their extortionist dues.

This is not an argument that auto factory workers are dumb, lazy, or anything of the sort. They are trying to make a living for their familes and who can fault that. But the unions, just like big government, when it enters the picture, they never leave, and the people become enslaved to the entitlements provided by the organization when once they were expected to provide those things for themselves. Those in a union will say, “Without the union I couldn’t do… and I could be fired at the drop of a hat. With a Union, I’m protected.” Since when did thousands of American men need an arbitrary organization to tell them when enough was enough and when to draw the line or not?? Seriously, if conditions are truly that bad, common sense kicks in and people demand change or walk, no union required.

In a free market economy, all my employer owes me is a safe work environment and a paycheck. If I accept employment there, I accept the working conditions, the pay, and the benefits. If I don’t, then I sever my relationship with that employer and go to one who throws in vacation or health care or other things to entice me to work for them. Or I start my own business. Instead, over time, these “extras” are now seen as God-given entitlements that you can only take away over my dead body. Employers are then faced to pay more and more for an employee, regardless of that employee’s worth to the company. What happens is that strong employees are stifled to follow union rules and simmer down. And weak employees are kept on to preserve the status quo so that an artificially low baseline of capabilities can be maintained.

When someone comes in with a different mindset (AKA foreign manufacturers), the game changes. We had the market share to allow us a decade or so of “business as usual” but the day of reckoning is here. We’re at a cross-road in our nation where true visionaries will see that this is the time to change the way we think. We don’t deserve squat by virtue of just showing up in the morning. Instead each day God gives us a chance to exercise the gifts and talents He’s given us and His word promises that we’ll never lack because of HIS provision. It also says that work is good and that we are to eat based on the fruit of OUR labor – not that of someone else.

Visionaries will see a need to change government accountability, re-emphasize education, re-emphasize charity, care for your neighbor, love the truly needy, and have the courage to break the mold of this entitlement generation that we’ve become. If just Christians tithed, there would be no need for medicare or social security. We’ve allowed the government to try to do the job of the church.  

What does any of this have to do with a Christmas carol and stillness? Talking about unions is a pretty impassioned topic. In fact, if you took me back in time, I’d be pro-union. They once stood for the individual against the mighty corporate barons who could care less about a safe factory to work in, reasonable work days, or even hazardous wastes. But now they took the pendulum way too far the other way. If you love your people, sometimes you acknowledge failure and go back to the drawing board. Leadership principle number one is to “Seek and take responsibility for your actions.”

To that end, God saw the condition of man and knew He alone had to resolve what was broken. He cared for us beyond His care of Himself and heavenly comforts. He dropped the robe of royalty for that of a skilled laborer in the carpentry trade. He knows our needs, because He’s lived it. As this Christmas approaches, in many ways more than times past, it resembles the first Christmas in the words of the song, “Still, Still, Still”. We’re living in the moments right before everything changes, waiting for the King to arrive and set everything right.

Imagine our sinful, hell-bound world, with no hope whatsoever the very night before Christ arrived. For all our world’s faults, it has had Royal flesh walk upon it, but not so before that first Christmas. Mary was in labor but the Savior had not yet appeared. Creation knew change like it had never known was merely moments away. Wow, what a night that must have been. Even the stars in the sky had to mark the occasion. That night became the night that people could dream again of what could be and not what was; time to exhale and let someone else take the reigns; time to be still and watch the Lord’s work unfold.

This economic crisis has whacked about half of our family’s net worth. Yet we are unafraid. In fact I welcome the refocus it’s brought to our family and our priorities as we feel naked with our moth and rust destroyed treasures that are incapable of doing anything for our plight. But we’re dreaming of opportunities to minister, praying over boxes of donations we pray will bless needy families, and still going to bed with extra pounds on our bellies every night because the Good Sheppard still shows where still waters lie. We need that sense of awe and wonder again as we realize that God is more than able to meet the needs of any season of our lives.

Please take a moment and listen to “Still, Still, Still” at this link: http://www.last.fm/music/Mannheim+Steamroller/_/Still,+Still,+Still

Merry Christmas!

Still, still, still
One can hear the falling snow.
For all is hushed
The world is sleeping
Holy Star its vigil keeping.
Still, still, still
One can hear the falling snow.

Sleep, sleep, sleep
‘Tis the eve of our Savior’s birth.
The night is peaceful all around you
Close your eyes
Let sleep surround you.
Sleep, sleep, sleep
‘Tis the eve of our Savior’s birth.

Dream, dream, dream
Of the joyous day to come.
While guardian angels without number
Watch you as you sweetly slumber.
Dream, dream, dream
Of the joyous day to come.

 

The Happy Wanderer

My fondest childhood memories are from being in the outdoors camping, hunting, or exploring, either as a Boy Scout, a young Soldier, or a teen with a man-sized thirst for adventure. To me, there’s no place like outside in the woods. Stephen and I had our first Daddy-Son campout this weekend.

Of course moments like these you want to immortalize with your camera. As I tried to snap the first photo, I got the “Memory Card Full” message because the card was full of photos from Iraq. It was a very clear message from God I believe. We were close enough to Fort Bragg that Stephen jumped several times at the booms and thunders of the military live fire exercises going on, and much of our time was spent with that as the background music. The “Memory Full” message was like God telling me it was time to chose new memories or to hang onto those from Iraq. Time to delete and capture what God had in store for me now, not live in the past. A happy task indeed.

My Scoutmaster who passed away a few years back, Bob Stephenson, used to get a lump in his throat and teary eye everytime a couple hundred baritone youn men would sing the words to the old camping song, The Happy Wanderer. As a man in his shoes now, I definitely can appreciate why, but it is even more impactful now as Stephen and I went camping, just the two of us alone, this weekend.

We settled into our little campsite with our three tons of gear. In the Army I’m used to carrying everything I need and plopping down when it’s time to rack out wherever we stop. Truck camping is more like disassembling your real home and seeing how much of it you can tote to the woods with you. Man did we ever have the stuff.

As soon as we hit the ground, Stephen was ready to go exploring. Into the woods he darted as I began unloading the truck and setting up the tent. He’d return from his deep penetrations into the woods (never truly out of sight to me) to show me the latest rock, bug, or piece of firewood he’d found. Before long our makeshift campsite was set up and off we went to gather enough wood to get us through the night.

He was soooooooo excited and soaking up every little lesson like a sponge. The first rule of camping is to always get the tent up first and firewood immediately after that. The second rule, taught to me verbatim by Mr. Stephenson, is “When you think you have enough firewood, get ten times more.” True indeed. Thanks to my inner perfectionist and the careful camping ways of scouting, even when I have a flame thrower and hand grenades at my disposal, it feels like cheating if I use more than one match to start a fire. 

Unfortunately my first match went out immediately after I struck it. Stephen gave me an alibi and the second match had us a roaring fire in no time. I’ve still got it.

I digress, because before we started the fire we first took off into the woods and hit the trail. Stephen loved it. I must have called Katy ten times to tell her all that Stephen was enjoying. We looked at sandstone and how it was different from other rocks. We talked about how to find firewood even when the ground was damp. We followed deer tracks and even broke open some horse poop to see what the big fellow had eaten. (Surprisingly , Stephen later said that was one of his favorite parts of the trip).

We were quickly running out of daylight though and had to get back to camp. We were atop a large hill and Stephen wanted to be sure and come back to that exact, special spot tomorrow. So we decided that we’d do what they did in Bible times and pile up some rocks to mark the spot as special. Next to it, we wrote “SSP and Dad” in the dirt.

Our Special Spot

Back at camp we started to warm up and we had soup and pop tarts for dinner. We umm roasted some marshmallows and then called it a night, laying under 10 tons of blankets in the tent telling bedtime stories we made up. By 8:30, father and son were racked out.

Stephen didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed, though he was anxious for what was in store next. It was much like my return from Iraq. I had to let go in order to move on to the next chapter – I couldn’t keep one hand on one side of the ocean while grabbing this side. Outside the tent I made a very warm fire and breakfast, and knew if Stephen would just trust me, he’d quickly find his father had already prepared for him in advance all that he would need to take the next step. Same goes for me and you with our Father.

We spent our day hiking around the lake and broke camp for home. In all, it was a dad and son fleshing out the lyrics to “The Happy Wanderer”:

I  love to go a-wandering,
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.

Chorus:
Val-deri,Val-dera,
Val-deri,
Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-deri,Val-dera.
My knapsack on my back.

I love to wander by the stream
That dances in the sun,
So joyously it calls to me,
“Come! Join my happy song!”

I wave my hat to all I meet,
And they wave back to me,
And blackbirds call so loud and sweet
From ev’ry green wood tree.

High overhead, the skylarks wing,
They never rest at home
But just like me, they love to sing,
As o’er the world we roam.

Oh, may I go a-wandering
Until the day I die!
Oh, may I always laugh and sing,
Beneath God’s clear blue sky!

Welcome Home

After posting all the pics from Iraq, I realized I hadn’t posted ALL the pics from Iraq. I left off the ones from the “finish line”. Our good friend Pam was kind enough to capture the event for us blubbering ones, and below are some of the highlights. I’d like to thank Uncle Dude one more time for being there. There’s a cool picture of Stephen with Puppy under his arm talking to Uncle Dude while I explained to Stephen that Dude gave me my very first pair of combat boots. Of course, all are special in their own way and for their own reason – a contented child peacefully on my shoulder, a hottie wife greeting me back into her arms, hugging my own parents and siblings, and the obligatory welcome home banner that is the embodiment of the end of the deployment. I hope these pictures convey the moments as well as I felt them. Blessings!

Sorry for the Wait

Sorry for the long delay in postings…for your patience, here’s some photos of the trip now that I am somewhere that has the bandwidth to post them rapidly. Thanks for waiting…

Joe

 

My Beachfrony Property

My Young Friends

CSI Baghdad :)

Male Bonding Movie Night

Practicing OPSEC :)

Sandstorm

Iraq’s Future

Unwelcomed Ceiling Work

The Widget that Saved a Soldier

Our Band of Brothers and Sisters

The Table Set for One

Dust Off

Soldiers Re-Up for 5000 Yrs More Service

Sneaking Out of Baghdad in the Middle of the Night

“I’m Home, Baby!!”

My 4 a.m. Welcome Home

Maine’s Welcome Home

To Those Still There – Physically and Mentally

Weekend Adventures

What a weekend! Thanks for the advice on the road ahead with the blog – much appreciated. It’s cool to see commenters using Army lingo too – glad to see so many folks catching on.

Well after one grueling day at work on Friday (not), we sprang into weekend mode in our home. We had a terrific weekend, especially for one being the first one back where I had fully expected it to just be “busy” unpacking, cleaning, and all that. Not so at all. It was fun, productive, bonding, and relaxing. Now I have the Sunday night jitters trying to wind down from the weekend fun to gear up for PT tomorrow morning in the dark and cold.

Where do I start? First off, after six months of sitting idle, my car would not start when I tried to get it going. I pushed it out of the garage so we could give it a jump. No luck. We let it charge forever…still no luck. The battery hasn’t been changed since my last long trip, so that dude was dead.

I tried pushing the car to a more conveinient spot in the drive, and it kept rolling downhill into the street. Nuts. Katy was steering and when the car got to the end of the driveway, the back half was smack in the middle of the road, which goes uphill. Three hernias later we managed to parallel park it in the street.

Stephen and I spent some man-time replacing the battery. We had a ball. He was really into it. Having him help made an expensive and mundane task a lot of fun for us…except that I have a 7/16th socket somewhere in the engine compartment of the car that I dropped and can’t find. Since Stephen was such a big helper, I gave him the honor of starting the car up after we reconnected everything. He started it, then immediately turned it off…I was afraid it wouldn’t start up again, but it did, so he sat in my lap and I let him “drive” to the end of our cul-de-sac. Hilarious. Between my curb attacks and his wild swerves, stay off the roads! Stephen took the wheel from me more than once saying “I can do it!”, then I said, “Well look out for that mail man.” “What mailman??”. Precisely, now give me back the reigns. 

So Grace and I bonded this weekend by letting her fix my hair, all 1/8th of an inch of it. We were cracking up playing beauty shop. We had pancakes for dinner, so I had to ask her if all beauticians normally smelled like syrup. Syrupy or not, I just can’t cut my own hair as hard as I try.

We also broke out the Christmas stuff today. Since we won’t be here for the week of Christmas, Katy thought it best we get our decorations up and emphasize traditions with the kids to help bring stability back in our lives. Good idea. The kids are so confused. While we were away, our roof leaked and we have a small molded water spot in our master bedroom ceiling. Grace said, “This hotel is yucky. Need a new one.” She must be thinking, “Why would dad fly in the same plane for six months straight and then bring us to this yucky hotel?”

We even had a great service at church this morning. We returned to a church we previously visited. It’s only problem from before was it’s size. It is growing so fast it is outpacing itself. They’ve added services since we were there for a total of six services on Sundays. The worship and teaching were amazing and the kids enjoyed the crowded childcare. The church did something I have never seen before. They asked all Soldiers who have returned home within the last 30 days to stand. They prayed for us and our families and for our adjustment back into the world. Then they asked all those leaving the church for the sandbox in the next 30 days to stand for prayer. The entire congregation stretched out their hands and prayed for their safety, success, and protection of their families. Katy sobbed.

Things are really settling in well, but I am still having some wild dreams. Last night was a good one and it kept me awake for awhile afterwards. I wouldn’t call it a nightmare, just not a pleasant dream. The dream was more of a lesson than a dream, like in the dream I knew it wasn’t real. Nonetheless it was very gory and centered around my fears of making decisions in Iraq that I personally didn’t have to live with. In the dream I was participating in an attack where I downplayed the importance of a certain key fact, which the enemy exploited and counter-attacked from. As a result, friendly and enemy forces were all intermixed and there was a lot of fratricide and just plain in your face gore. However, in the dream I knew it wasn’t really happening…you know how dreams are…but it gives you pause nonetheless. I think daily of the guys still there who are the nameless ones executing the decisions we in the relative comfort of the palace made on their behalf.

Between the dead battery, Christmas’ remembrance of the Savior’s entry to the world, cutting hair I can’t reach, and intercession from the church, I was reminded all weekend long of my own inabilities and rested in knowing they were all cared for. All these things we did this weekend require an outside solution. I can’t bring a dead battery back to life. I stink at cutting my own hair for real. God protected and is protecting me and mine when I couldn’t. All these areas of life have and will continue to need the outside hand of the Almighty reaching in do what I can’t and to fix what’s broken, and it’s comforting to know that He’s actively doing just that. 

Have a blessed week!

First Day Back

OK, did it really have to snow on my first day back to PT? Not only was I freezing from the major adjustment in temperatures, but immediately after we started my first four mile run at Bragg, the snow started coming down. It wasn’t heavy or anything, just Divine humor I think.

At 0630 sharp everymorning on Ft Bragg, just as it is on every Army post, the flag is raised and revile is played over the loudspeakers all across the Bragg compound. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing stops, you face the music and render a salute until the completion of the revile. Great way to start the day and a good workout. After that we began PT. I met my new commander in the dark hours of the morning outside as PT began. As soon as we began running, my new commander and I ran alongside one another where he immedately communicated his intent for my postion and me personally. Bottom line up front. Love it. Nothing like doing business while running and trying to carry on a conversation pretending that you didn’t just get back from the desert and that it wasn’t snowing and you weren’t freezing. Despite my poor acting, he said that he’d heard great things about my performance in Iraq and was anxious to put me to work on a couple of projects here stateside, which he explained. He was sensitive to the fact that I was hoping to not come back here and was supportive of helping me how he could to get to that dream assignment after my time up is here. Apparently it’s not lip service either. Another officer needs to attend a four-month school to be competitive for promotion, and he approved that. Prior to that, that same officer is out for convalescent leave for a month for jaw surgery. So my commander supported what totals a five month absence with no backfill. Another fellow officer (and there are only four of us majors) is going to get reassigned across post and swapped out with someone else. She’s a contracting officer and needs operational experience in order to learn her job, and the boss supports the swap.

No less than three department heads requested I come to work for them yesterday. The boss kind of left that up to me. He wants me to come back to him by Tue with a recommendation on where I should plug in to best accomplish his intent. I’ll keep you posted on how that pans out. The right boss can make all the difference.

Soon I should have to go on a short trip to DC to report on my experiences in Iraq and offer my perspectives on lessons I learned in the sandbox that could be useful to changing business practices here stateside. I look forward to having that opportunity to share some insights.

Tomorrow will be our first Sunday back here. Prior to leaving the first time, we visited about a half dozen churches and never really found one that we felt led to join. There are literally churches behind churches here in this town. One church has three services of about 1,500 or so each with another mega-church literally right behind it of about half that size. Down the road in either direction are two more large churches. But so far, none of them fit our family and we didn’t fit them either. More praying and visiting to be done. Please keep that in mind and if you have a church home, enjoy it!

Katy and I are now half-way through the Love Dare. Hard to believe we’ve been back together for almost three weeks already. Amazing. The Love Dare is a great tool that sparks conversation between us about how to love one another better and more Christ-like. There’s nothing revolutionary about it, it just helps facilitate looking at love and your actions in a new light, and taking small practical steps towards deepen your intimacy with each other.

That’s it for the news today. Next week should be a little more exciting and hopefully I can finishing posting those pictures now that we have internet access turned back on in the house and I am no longer stealing the wireless signals floating about in our neighborhood. Have a great weekend!

Picture Stories

This post is still under construction. I’m fighting the perfectionist side of me that wants everything to be perfect and complete before publishing a post. Instead, here’s a couple of pics to wet your taste buds till I can get my act and thoughts together on it all. Thanks for your patience!

 

The Reason for Leaving

Saying Goodbye Ain't Easy - Especially at 5 am

The Wall

 

The Office

 

The Ride to Work

And Now for Something Completely Different

Now that we’re now home at Ft Bragg, the Sandbox Adventures should probably have a fork stuck in them and called done. Here’s where you come in. I could really use your help in getting your toughts on what you’d like to hear about next. Is it politics, devotionals, military affairs, a day in the life at Bragg, or silence ? Please post a comment and let us know your thoughts. I’d love to keep this community of readers connected and even see it grow and evolve into something better. So I welcome your thoughts.

Back on the homefront, if you were in Fayetteville, NC, you’d know this town is unlike any other in the country. Bragg is one of the largest posts in the U.S. and also has Pope Air Force Base adjacent to it. Bragg is home to the 18th Airborne Corps, the 82d Airborne Division, the JFK Special Warfare School – which includes the Green Berets, Delta Force, Psychological Operations, and Civil Affairs. The place is crawling with special people.

When we first moved here, we were surprised at just how special they were. We are all in the Army or support the Army in some shape form or fashion, even the civilian neighbors we have, save one who is a financial planner. Everyone else is Army. What they do in the Army is closely guarded. Neighbors, especially wives, say little about it. We all just work for the Department of Defense. Some of the units don’t even ‘officially exist’ and others are unnamed. It makes those first conversations that usually begin with “So what do you do?” really awkward.

Such conditions make a close knit community of not close knit lives. We’re all supportive of one another even though we don’t necessarily know what it is we’re being supportive of. Neighbors we had just six months ago have moved on. One neigbor’s son kept our yard mowed while we were away. The neighbor next door who barely knew us when we moved here, kindly cared for our home while Katy stayed with family. Now that we’re back, her husband is now deployed to an undisclosed location and she is in Katy’s shoes with two young children to raise on her own.  Across the street another civilian neighbor is preparing to deploy sometime after the first of the year. The drumbeat continues.

Speaking of, all day long our little house rattled to the sound of gunnery – artillery units practicing their craft. It was eerily reminescent of Iraq and coupled with the numerous sounds of helicopters overflying, I must say it took me back to that place a couple of times today while playing with Stephen and Grace.

Tomorrow is my first day back to my new old job. The job is in the same place, but my entire chain of command rotated out while I was deployed, so I have no idea what to expect at work tomorrow. In many ways, coming home is like being Rip Van Winkle when he awoke. Likewise, Katy will be without her direct support network tomorrow for the first time in a while. It will be just her and the kids getting adjusted to life in an Army city while Dad’s away at work. I joked with Katy that I bet within the next week or two I’ll be flying somewhere for a short business trip. I wouldn’t bet against it.

Nonetheless, other than having to get back in the habit of being at work by 0630 to do PT, it’s good to be home. I’ll keep you posted on how the new old job unfolds. Please shoot your comments on what direction you’d enjoy seeing this blog take. 

Blessings!