The 7th Kitchen

I’m sitting here on the kitchen floor in the last rental home I’ll likely ever have. Well, maybe not ever, but at least for the foreseeable future. We’re moving (again), and to us, that is really exciting. We are going home, and quite possibly, may never move again.

Our reassignment to our dream spot came as a surprise, but then again, so did leaving it. We never wanted to leave our home just north of Boston, but the needs of the military dictated it. Handsome Pants was tapped for a really great opportunity at the Pentagon, so off to Washington D.C. our family went. After all, the military has always been the third partner in our marriage and the loudest voice by necessity. She always wins, whether I like it or not.

It broke our hearts to leave the first home we ever owned. But when you start over every few years like we do, you just kinda get used to it. And through the perspective of an open heart, you see the array of gifts that come with it.

If you know me, you know that the kitchen is the center of my home. It’s where my heart dwells and my nature to serve thrives. Cooking is a love language for me. I get a high from feeding people. And as I look around this now-empty epicenter of my life’s work, I feel a conflict of emotions. But then again, isn’t that ‘push and pull’ nature exactly what military life is all about anyway?

Seventeen years on this ride has given me so much and it is easy to feel grateful when I survey the ‘Wins’ column, but it hasn’t always been ‘easy’. For every gift I’ve received there has been some heartache, too. And for a ‘Heart on your sleeve’ kinda girl life myself, it helps to write about it.

The military lifestyle has given us 7 homes in 5 states. To move like that, all within 17 years, is daunting for even the steadiest of spouses...

... but it has given us the chance to meet so many wonderful people who took a piece of my heart with them when we had to say goodbye.

We’ve done hard things on our own, like birthing babies, losing loved ones, enduring health scares and navigating separation and deployments...

... but it has shown us just how strong we are as a family unit. We can count on each other wholeheartedly. Because most times, we’re all we have.

It has robbed us of the proverbial village...

... but it shown us that your support can come from unexpected places and faces. A village is a ‘Who?’ not a ‘What?’ for the military family.

It has put me in close proximity to our President, celebrities and the elite of the military...

... but has kept me from our extended family when their own hard and even happy times have hit.

It has forced us to make tough decisions about life and careers and finances and travel...

... but has shown us what is truly important in life anyway. Growing as a family is just important as growing as individuals.

It has necessitated creativity. Have you ever had to make the same furniture work in 7 homes all the while watching it be carted around by movers who scarcely cared if it survived or died? That’s sure not for the faint of heart...

... but my grateful heart appreciates the immense help that a military-sponsored move provides and knows full-well that it isn’t the furniture in the home that matters, it’s the bodies that rest upon it. And my furniture has hosted some of the best bodies around.

The military will pull the rug out from under you. She will send your spouse off to parts unknown and keep them at work until all hours of the night. She will implore you to make the tough decisions and hold up a mirror to the ugliest parts of your personality. She will shine a light on loss and take parts of your soul through the atrocities of war. She makes you have talks that you never thought you’d have, like who will take guardianship of your children if your spouse never makes it home and then something happens to you shortly after. She will take and take and take...

... but she also gives freely and abundantly. She afforded me the opportunity to be a stay at home mother for nearly 12 years. She paid for some of my advanced degrees. She gives my husband a great satisfaction in his service to her and she has orchestrated the introduction to countless amazing people. She has allowed us to see so many parts of the country and world that we never would have seen if we hadn’t stepped outside of our comfort zones and taken that next assignment, surprising as it may be. She has shown my children that service comes before self and the needs of the many are more important than the needs of the few. Because of her, we are patient and accommodating. Because of her, we have stronger characters. And because of her, we rise to any trial or triumph that comes our way. So, I love her, in spite of anything that tries to tell me not to. I love her because she is a part of my identity. I wouldn’t be ‘me’ without ‘her’.

And so, as I sit in this 7th kitchen and prepare to close yet another chapter in this wild lifestyle, I can’t help but wonder how much longer will we stay on this ride? How many more kitchens? And mouths to feed? And heartstrings to grow? And experiences to strengthen us? And heartbreaking goodbyes? And exhilarating reintegrations? How many more once in a lifetime opportunities or road trips to cool places near our new duty station? How many new schools for our children or first days for my husband?

The answer is as ambiguous as this lifestyle itself, but I know one thing for certain: I will bloom where I’m planted... and make a really great meal to celebrated it.