... or "Famous Last Words."
I admit it, I'm a control freak. As long as I have a plan for a scenario, I'm fine. Well, not fine. But more fine than I'd be normally.
The Army is therefore not the place for me. It is an entire institution in which things change constantly -- and they do not care whether or not a person has a plan.
At first it wasn't so bad -- Luke was going to have a job change and will be deploying to Afghanistan with his brigade instead of Iraq. Whatever. It's all pretty much the same to me, let's not lie.
But when he met with the colonel last night it was a different story ...
Luke for now has a job change. And for now is deploying to Afghanistan. But it could be that instead we move to Georgia this summer and he doesn't deploy at all.
Obviously you'd think that this would make me happy. Except that I don't have a plan for this.
I have a great plan for when he deploys -- I stay here, enjoy being a mom, pawn my child off on people while I workout to keep myself from going crazy, love on the Northwest summer, visit D.C. for a few weeks, visit Florida, drive to Idaho whenever I feel like it, get increasingly involved in my church ... you get the idea.
I have NO plan for Georgia. No friends for pawning off the kid. No delightful Northwest summer. No friends. No church. No nothing. And moving across the country with a newborn? Well that doesn't really sound like fun at all. ZERO FUN.
So we likely will not know anything more about what we're doing until mid March, at the earliest. That lovely time delay is also not good for my need to have a plan. Not. Good.
And remember how I went off in my last post about how I am really starting to feel like I belong here, like God has something for me to here, how finally, after a year, I know people and things and all of that good stuff?
Yeah, funny. Except not.
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