Deterred but Undaunted . . . Kind of

So even the best laid plans fail. Well, they weren't the best laid, but they were planned with an incredible amount of optimism, hope, and anticipation. And yet they were no match for Murphy's Law and Mother Nature -- a lethal combination.

Although we've been married for 2 1/2 years, Bo and I have really never had a honeymoon, unless our two days in Breckenridge count before we once again parted ways. (He went back to his training in New Mexico, and I to my dorm room in Southern California). So in an effort to make up for some lost time we planned an 8-day cruise around Italy, Greece, and Turkey. I get starry-eyed just thinking about it. But Iceland's volcano apparently needed to blow its cap just before we were scheduled to go to Europe, thwarting our plans . . . and those of thousands of others.

As devastated as I was . . . and still am, it is humbling to think of the many stories that came out of that natural disaster that were true disappointments. Stories like organ transplants that were scheduled to happen, but the doctor couldn't get back to his OR; workers who lost their jobs because of strict time-frames; and schools that closed because so many teachers couldn't get back to their students. Although i can't help but wonder where my long lost cruise ship is or what i would have been doing right now on board, I guess this is the part of life where you lift your chin and say, "oh well, there will be a next time."

I want to start planning my "next time" right now...

How the other half lives

I met a girl the other day who had been with her boyfriend for six years and literally couldn't remember ever spending a night apart. "Oh, I'm sure there were a few nights," she said. The thought of having your partner at your side every night leaves me both starry eyed and baffled. Although I have tried, I literally have no concept of what that would be like. Even more - would I want that? . . . What would it be like to have two lives so completely intertwined so as to hardly differentiate where one starts and other stops? Would it be "us" or would there just stop being a "me?"

Bo is away and like most other times I am left feeling the sense of familiar liberation and worrisome loss of identity. I pride myself on my independence and my own, innate sense of who I am . . . as a wannabe writer, as an adventurer, as a woman . . . all the while reminding myself quite vocally, "I am NOT just a wife."

We are beginning a whole new chapter, and it is hard to not feel like I am just riding on the coattails of another. We are chasing his dreams and watching them come true. And while I couldn't be more proud or excited, its impossible to not be reminded every day that these dreams are his and not mine. I take them on as part of me, but at the same time hoping, praying, aching that in all the hulabaloo, I find myself as well.

Although the unconditional support and partnership of a wife to her husband is vital to any marriage, i am more and more convinced it is just as vital that each wife also have her own identity. Some might disagree, but i believe, without this independent and continually blossoming identity a military wife becomes just a shell. For every woman this identity is different and most definitely evolves throughout her life and her marriage. For some it is the joy of being a mother. For others, it is a homemaker. For still others it could be their office, classroom, boardroom or drawing easel.

I guess I'm still trying to decide what my identity is . . . what it will be. Is your identity something you get to decide? Or is it just handed out like hotdogs in Central Park? Do you really get to choose what goes on it and how it is made and how it looks? Or do you just take what is handed to you and be happy with it?

I want to choose it. I want to create my destiny and not just let it happen. I want excitement and variety. I want travel and adventure and newness every day. I want busyness coupled with the ability to escape. I want to explore not only places but people and things, events and histories. I want to uncover mysteries and awaken people's curiosities. I want to whet their appetite and therefore satisfy my own. I want a challenge, and I want fulfillment.

As a recent college graduate, disenchanted with the workplace i've experienced so far, I'm not sure how realistic my list of wants are. But that is the beauty of youth: huge goals with the naivety of undaunted optimism.

Maybe that is my identity right now: hopeful.

It is a good building block.

The People at the End of the Road

It is not often we see a man so wholly, so unabashedly, and so passionately put his money where his mouth is. For Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea and the newly released Stones into Schools, fulfilling a promise to an almost unknown people in the farthest reaches of the world has reverberated so deeply, it is now a daily part of his soul. For Mortenson and for the people he reaches in Pakistan and Afghanistan, education is not simply the obligatory next step, we Americans flippantly accept. Instead, for those whom everyone else has forgotten, education is life -- more than real shoes, decent food, increased industry or governmental assistance -- education is what they crave and need.

The thought makes my brow furrow and my mind race.

It is upon this building block that Mortenson, the CAI, and all the thousands of Afghani and Pakistani people clamoring for a school of their own, are hinging their future. It is with a deep-seated assurance that they know a better life is only possible with this possibility. Peace will reign, not with an increase in bombs but with books and education for girls as well as boys.

For the wife of a military man, this reality sinks in even as we increase the troops present in the war-torn region. I support that decision, but can't help but wonder if the military spent as much time teaching their children as rooting out their insurgents if we'd still have the chaos we see. Few people have inspired me as much as Greg Mortenson. It is with awe I realize how much is riding on his plan.

Admiral Mike Mullen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, understands the importance of what Greg Mortenson is doing as much as anyone. Even as he fights with weapons made of steel, he demonstrates the value of the weapon of education when he states, "The Muslim community is a subtle world we don't fully and don't always attempt to understand. Only through a shared appreciation of the people's culture, needs, and hopes for the future can we hope ourselves to supplant the extremist narrative. We cannot capture hearts and minds. We must engage them; we must listen to them, one heart and one mind at a time."

Living Out of Control

While marveling the other day at the different turns my life has taken in the last five years, I couldn't help but pour out some of the crazy twists this journey called life has taken me on.

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The timeline was all planned out.

After another semester abroad, finish school at a Christian university. Move to a large city and start my career. Work hard, and move up quickly. Don’t start dating anyone seriously until 26. Make my career a priority. Get married at 28. Keep my career a priority. Have children at 30. Continue moving up the corporate ladder.

I had my sights set, and everything was going according to plan. All I needed was control. With control came success, power, prestige, and that all-important attribute: independence.

And then, as only God can do, everything was turned on its head. Within six months I met, fell in love with, and married a kind of man I didn’t even believe existed. I was 21. My timeline was shot. My control was gone. My new husband was in the military, and I hadn’t even graduated college. The only thing I knew for certain was the future was out of my hands.

Although a “Christian” since the age of six, I had walked the fence for the last five years. I didn’t trust God to understand my needs, my desires, or my passions. I thought I was the only one I could trust to fulfill my heady aspirations. The last years had seen me live in other countries, graduate at the top of my class, be accepted into prestigious colleges, and yes, decide my own love life. I was making it happen—or so it seemed.

It was mostly in my sometimes-serious, sometimes-not-so-serious dating relationships that I felt the control slipping. Like Paul, I knew what not to do, but found myself doing that exact thing. I knew what to do, but found it almost impossible. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t finding satisfaction or fulfillment. I kept messing up and then hating myself for not being stronger. I couldn’t get it right; I was failing. And it seemed the harder I tried, the more shocking my mess-ups got.

I was ashamed and dirty and repugnant. I had failed.

In all of my years as a “Christian,” I had never gotten to this point. I had always maintained the façade of controlled obedience. From the outside looking in, I was the good girl. I played the game well. But I couldn’t ever bring myself to lay it all on the alter. To fully surrender would be to give me up, and that, I had always thought, was just too risky.

I remember vividly the day I submitted . Finally, completely, truly. I remember praying this prayer on my face in utter angst, “Lord, I surrender. I can’t do this. I trust you. I’m scared, but I trust you. I give up control, I give up my timeline, I give up my desire to control my relationships. No matter what it costs me, I will obey you.”

And like being wrapped in a down comforter by a crackling fire, I felt a love I had only heard about but could never accept. I was an utter failure. I wasn’t good. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t deserve it, but here it was—a love so real I couldn’t even scoff at how much of a cliché it was. I was loved. In all my failures, I was loved. And the realization that this ABBA Father knew me intimately, and had a greater plan for me than my timeline entailed set in with full force. I didn’t know what was going to come next, but for the first time, it didn’t matter. Even the impending certainty that I would be called to indefinite singleness, didn’t make me cringe. I was not in charge anymore. If God’s plan led me to a life of celibacy and singleness, I would accept it without question.

But God’s ideas are not our ideas. I gave up, and God gave me Bo.

In a test of my newfound faith and trust, God called Bo and I to step out in a radical way, and be married sooner rather than later. God had molded and shaped this incredible man in the previous years, and he was ready. If I was serious about my promise to unclench my control-filled hands, God had the most amazing gift ready for me. It wasn’t on my timetable, I didn’t have all my ducks in a row, and perhaps most importantly, I didn’t even know if I was ready. But that was the point. God didn’t want me ready or strong or resilient by my own volition. He wanted to shape me in His way and in His time.

That was over two years ago. My life now requires not only an open hand, but all too often, open fingers. My plans consistently slip through the cracks like innumerable grains of sand, and that is ok. As wife to a man who is part of an elite special operations group, I take each day as it comes—thankful for the days when my husband is home and fully reliant for the many days he is gone and our lives are in the air. I have no control, but I am happy and I am blessed. I understand the love and desire of a very real heavenly Father when he says in Jeremiah, “For I know the plans I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Many would say I live a crazy life. I would have it no other way.

Life Now

Its been 3 months since i've graduated. Two months since i started working. Vegas is hot, and i miss school. Life is weird i've decided as you grow up. The way I pictured it working out isn't necessarily reality, and on one hand that is fine. On the other hand, it makes me yearn for what else is out there. I refuse to let this 9-5 life be it. "Normalcy" i've decided is subpar. I don't know what yet, but i'm going to do more --- I have to.

Three Cups of Tea

"THE ENEMY IS IGNORANCE"

Dr. Greg Mortenson, aka Dr. Greg, as he is so fondly called by Pakistani, Afghani and Balti alike, has made my head spin as i finish an incredible read of his inspiring account of his mission to promote peace with books not bombs over the past decade. Maybe its his residence in Bozeman, Montana that strikes a cord, or maybe its the fact that he has single handedly done more for this region than our whole military might has seemed to be able to muster.

From a successful K2 climber in the Hindu Kush to a passionate activist for the right of the Baltisan people to be granted education that promotes no religion, no sect, no gender, and no agenda, Dr. Greg Mortenson is a true 21st century hero. His story, Three Cups of Tea, is a must read and soon after finishing the last word, i am left aching to help his cause....a cause too large for one man or one organization to bear, but one that Mortenson has admirably and successfully continued to attempt.

How can we, as a nation, hope to bring peace to a nation when we prioritize education, clean water, and women's rights far below the often idealized notion of security and democracy? Yes, the latter too are oh so important, but they will be forever at risk when core of the problem is left ignored. In a country where lack of education leads young boys to flock to the Madrassas where they are indoctrined by extremist jihadi, doesn't building schools to teach basic arithmetic, history, literature and science and not just militant jihadi make sense??

"Vast swaths of the country were barely served by Pakistan's (also true in Afghanistan) struggling, inadequately funded public schools. The madrassa system targeted the impoverished students the public system failed. By offering free room and board and building schools in areas where none existed, madrassas provided millions of Pakistan's parents with their only opportunity to educate their children (pg. 243)."

Determined to see this change, Mortenson has since established 78 schools serving over 28,000 students in the most remote and often war torn areas of Pakistan and Afghanistan. He has survived an armed kidnapping, multiple death threats and fatwas by angry mullahs and literally hundreds of trips from the US to what President Clinton dubbed "the most dangerous place in the world today." If he is not a hero, i'm not sure who would be.

Mortenson has had tea with the Taliban and sat alone with the shrouded Mother Theresa just days after her passing. He has spoken with presidents and generals, with military and civilian, influential and not. He has given and given....in the hope that the lives of the people of this often forgotten corner of the world would be better....and in that, the lives of people the world around. His cause is one of the most noble i have come across, and his mission more inspiring that mere words can do justice.

For some -- in highschool and in select parts of the military-- this book is a required read. I believe it should also be for the operators i am surrounded by and so proud of. Tactics are not solely taught on the training field.

worth a thousand words

Just to peak the curiosity . . .