The Square Peg

I wasn't going to participate in today's blog carnival because the nomadic lifestyle I've lived hasn't allowed me to belong to a community for more than a few years at a time. But I thought about it a lot and after looking up the definition of community, I realized living in so many different places in my 42 years formed opinions about community that I'd actually like to share with you.

Spokane, Washington - my first community as a military wife. I probably grew more in this community than the others I've lived in. This is where I discovered my desire to have a real relationship with God. It was here that I had to learn to put my big girls panties on because my mommy was about 3,000 miles away and couldn't come to my aid every time something went wrong. Drewby was born here. And it was here that I met people who weren't family, yet cared for me as though I was. On the day Moose left for his one year deployment to Korea my friend Carla drove us to the airport to drop Moose off. When we got back to her car she presented me with a gift; a cookie jar with a custom-painted lid that matched my kitchen decor. Gifts are not my primary love language (that might be why I'm not good at giving them) but something about her thoughtfulness that day really ministered to me. I've never forgotten it.

Panama Canal Zone - the first community I'm able to remember. I was 5 when I lived there. Our apartment was on the fifth floor and the Panamanian kids who lived across the street would come running over when I would walk out on the balcony to feed our dog. When the pieces of dog food would inevitably fall over the ledge, the kids would fight over them because they were hungry and their families didn't have enough food to go around. I watched kids...fight to eat my dog's food. And I knew then I wanted to feed hungry people whenever possible. It was in this community that my beliefs about ethnicity began to form and I realized skin color didn't matter because we're all the same on the inside.

Warner Robins, Georgia - If you count both times we've been stationed here, I've been in this community the longest. I love the spirit in this city and it's a great place to raise a family. I've met some pretty neat people and it's going to be hard to say good-bye to them when I leave in a few weeks. I love my neighborhood and will miss it very much. It's quiet, established, and unbelievably beautiful in the spring when the azaleas and dogwoods bloom. I walk Zoe around our block most mornings and every evening and I love the images, smells and neighbors that I pass. I will fondly think of goth girl, who has long, black hair and always dresses in black clothes and shoes and seems barely able to eek out a smile when we greet her as we pass. And beer guy and gal, who go out for their evening stroll, each of them holding their beer can, with the soft-sided cooler holding the extra beer slung over his shoulder. Sometimes their stroll is more of a stumble, but they're always friendly and always smiling. And I'll miss the cloud of lavendar I walk into when we get near John & Kim's house (yes, I actually know someone's real name!). I guess it could be fabric softener that I smell, but I've tried 'em all and none of mine have ever smelled like that. In any case, I like that smell. And I like this community.

And finally, Starbucks. What, you don't think that's a community? Well, I've got news for you, it is. And while the coffee's great, I really love going because of the wonderful mix of the community that I see there. We can go there with our young, vegetarian, non-caffeine drinking, Bible studying, atheist, pagan, gay, ultra conservative, stuffy, free-spirited hippie, old, uber liberal, tattooed, nerdy, civilian, pierced, camouflaged fellow community members and enjoy each other's company while we sip our drinks or share a smackeral of something. Everyone from the freaks to the fanatics are welcome at Starbucks. And community, at its core, is nothing if not inclusive.

Thanks for hosting, Bridget.

Moose and I went to a college football game at the University of Tennessee last weekend. It was a belated birthday gift for him and we had an absolute blast. And this former cheerleader was in her element. I LOVED seeing all the fans dressed up. There's nothing quite like football, bands and fans in the crisp, fall air. Nothing. FYI: old cheerleaders never die, we just let out the waistbands of our skirts. And we always know how to accessorize our outfits to show our S-P-I-R-I-T spirit (clap, clap). My orange eyelashes and T's were rockin! BEHOLD:
I know what you're thinking. But don't hate me because I'm beautiful. *snorts*

My mom was here this past week helping me get some things ready for our move and I was so glad to have her expertise since she's done this overseas thing a couple of times. (I recalled how bossy she was when I was growing up and knew she'd be good at keeping me on task, but I swear I think that little woman carries a whistle and a whip in her purse.) Kidding aside, we actually got several things done this week that previously felt overwhelming to me. Moving overseas is a whole different ball of wax than a stateside move, lemme tell ya. There's still so much more to be done, but I'll get there. Eventually.

The house was in decent shape when Mom got here, but now that the sorting, cleaning, clearing & purging has kicked into high gear, walking into the house reminds me of Waffle House hash browns because everything in here is scattered, smothered, or covered in one way or another.

 Peace in your 'hood, people.

I'm participating in a one word blog carnival and today's topic is "remember". Thanks to Peter Pollock for hosting.

When I hear the word 'remember', I don't think about lists to prevent me from forgetting items at the commissary (that's military-speak for 'grocery store'), where I left my keys, or that the dog needs a walk later. For some reason, when I hear the word 'remember' I think about where we came from, our backgrounds, and the feelings, relationships and circumstances that shape us and make us into who we are.

my grandfather and the #1 piece of marital advice he gave me over and over in his thick, rich, deep, Hungarian accent when he was alive. "Love each other, Evi, and don't fight." I remember the way he used to look at me. Not just glance at what I was wearing, or at my lips as I spoke so he could understand what American word I was saying, but the way he looked at me and how I could physically see his love for me on his face. He was taken as a political prisoner of war when the Russians invaded Hungary. He eventually escaped by cutting a fence with a pair of pliers only to find that while he was in prison his wife divorced him, took their daughter Eva, and left the country. It was because of his suggestion that I got my name. Mom wanted to name me something common like Stephanie or Nicole (no offense to readers whose name are Stephanie or Nicole) but he asked Mom if I could be called Eva. I'm glad she agreed because I love my name and its meaning suits me perfectly. It means 'life'.

the prisoners of war. If we can't find them and bring them home, the least we can do is remember them. All gave some, some gave all.

people need to be told they're loved and appreciated. We're all afraid of being forgotten, whether we'll admit it or not. Saying good-bye to friends goes with the territory of being a military wife, but I've become adept at showing people how I feel about them while I'm enjoying their friendship, not just when it's time to move to another base and the fun has to come to an end.

the people/things who affected change in my life.
**Like Lisa Riddle, who let me ask any and every question about homeschooling I could come up with when I started entertaining the idea of schooling Ryan at home. I probably drove her crazy, but she was a trooper. I educated our boys at home for their entire high school career and it was partly because she let me ask questions and ponder my beliefs about parenting, education, and responsibility.
**Like Mrs. Pruett, whose constant reminder throughout my senior year of high school of 'it's easier to keep up than to catch up" deeply influenced my schedule of housework, tasks in the workplace (back when I had a job that actually paid me for my organizational and management skills), and still helps me when organizing big projects and determining the importance of various tasks.
**Like my husband who is never, ever ungracious to people, even when they deserve it. He always takes the high road and never stoops to someone else's level. I love that.
**Like Rick Godwin whose book Training for Reigning helped me realize that little areas of faithfulness are big indicators of trust, responsibility, and character qualities as well as capacities. If you can't handle picking up trash in the church parking lot without getting an attitude, you'll never be able to lead that flock as their pastor. I'm just sayin'.
**Like Fred Rogers, whose children's TV show convinced me that I (as well as all others) really did have value. Laugh if you want, but I never hear the word 'neighbor' without thinking of Mr. Rogers, his sweater, and the shoes he changed into each day. In fact, the six-year-old next-door calls me "neighbor" because she can't remember my name. And every time she does, I smile - and remember Mr. Rogers.