The True Meaning of the Season of Giving

Last night my son, Hunter, and I packed up some miscellaneous boxes and cans of food and drove out to the mall to drop off the items to the local radio stations food drive for MANNA, our local food pantry. Hunter has just loved being a part of the giving that we do as a family. Over the summer he rode his bike to raise money for St. Jude's ($200+ all by himself), then he helped me collect items for the local USO, then there was the day that truly made me feel good about the lessons I have taught him about giving back...

A few weeks ago I picked Hunter up from daycare and as we walked out the door he pointed to a large box that was set outside his classroom's door. The conversation that followed this gesture brought tears to my eyes:
"Mommy, we have to fill this whole box."
"Okay, we'll bring some stuff in to help fill the box up, we'll go to the store tonight."
"No Mommy, we have to fill the WHOLE box!"
"Hunter, everybody helps to fill the whole box, together."
"No, there are lots of people that don't have the money for food Mommy, we have to fill the box!"

WOW! I thought as we walked down the hallway. But, it doesn't stop there. That night I walked into Hunter's room to find him trying to get his Thomas The Train bank open. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I need to get my money out Mommy." "Why?" "To put it in the giving jar." After a few minutes of talking he explained to me that Ms. Rachel, his teacher at school, had a jar that they were going to put their change in and that money would help people who couldn't pay for their food too. Together we opened his bank and then went into the office and got the Mommy and Daddy chane jar and emptied that too...together we had close to $15.00 for him to bring to school for the giving jar. About a week or so later his other teacher, Ms. Melissa, informed me that she had taken the jar to get the change counted and they had a little over $75.00 in the jar that she was going to take to the local mission to help them give food to the homeless.

I have been touched by the kindness of my child. Through him I have learned the true value of the season of giving. Who would have guessed that a 4 year old could teach a 29 year old this lesson?

It is through our children that we can make a difference in the future. It is the lessons that we teach them, and they in return teach us, that really makes all the difference.

I don't want to raise the typical "military brat child" that we hear about...I want the child that is humbled by the world and would rather give the money in his Thomas the Train bank to those in need than to save it to buy a new toy that he won't really care about in a year.

Who says that money can't buy happiness? I bet that money from his bank bought happiness for those in need at the mission.

And now it's my turn...again.

So, here we go again...

We finally got the news we have been waiting for three days to get. We are moving...again. Looks like I get to test those people that I would call my friends here in Pensacola with the test of what happens next...the point when you find out whether they are your real friends or the ones at the bar.

I look around at this house and realize that in no time at all it will be filled with boxes, once again my life will be wrapped up in packing paper and stuffed in a box...of course the fragile stuff will be packed under the heaviest thing in the box and it will always be broken...no matter how short or long the trip in the big truck.

How do you make it through this process over and over again? It's not easy when you realize that the things that have the biggest meaning to you fit in the smallest boxes. Or when they fit your whole life, every last thing into that truck without having to push or shove. How is it possible that a 1400+ square foot house can fit into an 18 wheeler? How can it be? That 18 wheeler is less than 1400 square feet. Or the fact that the same 18 wheeler can hold every ounce of what I have to go into the kitchen in that 1400+ square foot house but I couldn't make it fit in the kitchen?

My favorite though are those boxes out in the garage that have been there for the last year but have never been opened and I really don't know what's in them, but they will also get put on that same 18 wheeler and brought to the new house where they will again sit somewhere hoping to be unpacked. Maybe the next place will be big enough to fit it all...or maybe I'll be right where I am now...wondering where something I KNOW I own is, and not being to find it...because it's in one of those boxes that has not been opened in the last year.

We'll get where we're going, this time Jacksonville, and they will begin to take the boxes out of the truck and lug them into the new place that we will call home, for how long, or short, this time is anybody's guess.

I knew what I was doing the day that I met him, I knew we would move around a lot, and that it would be hard. Everybody kept telling me that it wouldn't be that hard for me because I'm so good at making friends...it won't ever make it easy to do though.

I have said it before, and I'll say it again...

It still sucks though...it always will.

Saying Goodbye Sucks.

Somebody should have told me that being a military wife would mean making "good bye" part of your normal vocabulary. It seems to be one of the most stereotypical things that I could have heard, but it has become so true.

When I left Connecticut to move to Auburn, Alabama I was excited, but so sad too. Leaving behind my family seemed to hard to do, not to mention my friends. Over the last three years I have found out that nothing can prove who your "real" friends are better than distance. You know, the friends that you talk to at least once a month, that call you or email you just because they saw something that made them think of you. Those are the ones that I call my real friends. Then there are those friends that I think of when I'm getting ready to head out to the bar for a night of fun. You know, those friends that are great for a night, or weekend, out but suck at being a friend when I get back home and I just want to call and catch up. The same friends that you go to the bar with, but when you bump into other friends that you haven't seen in more than 7 years and you get caught up...catching up...they treat like pure crap, like you are the one that blew them off?!? How much does that suck?

I did it again when we left Auburn, this time leaving people I had known for a few years, not my whole life, but it really sucked then too. We made some really good friends there, none have become the later of the above mentioned, yet. Who know what will happen in the years to come, but they are true friends...

So, today I did something I haven't been looking forward to for awhile now. Shelly and I have been together since I moved to Pensacola, but before then we were friends in Auburn. One of my best friends, she has been there for me through the toughest of times, especially over the last few months. Today Shelly left for Virginia, as military wives do, to follow her husband Shane, as he started the next part of his Naval career.

I didn't cry, like I thought I would, I didn't even really say good bye. I guess it's because friends like Shelly and Shane don't get to hear those words because they are so...final. Instead they get "Drive safe", "Call me when you get there", and "See you soon". You know when you find those people that you are so close to that you know no matter how many miles seperate you, nothing will truly seperate you? Shane and Shelly are those people.

I know that when they get settled in I'll get that email or phone call from her. Or maybe it will be the text message tonight that they are on the road, or how the movers did something funny. No matter when I hear from her next, I know it won't be like those friends in Connecticut that only return my calls when I'm in town. She'll call...we'll meet up again...

It still sucks though...it always will.