Lily's wants a little house on the prarie

I should have never joked with Lily about our new home being an old log cabin. At Winter Quarters there's a one-room cabin inside the visitors center. I joked with Lily that it was our new home and that I wanted to let her see her new room. She loved it! Unfortunately she was confused when we left and had a hard time understanding it wasn't really our new home. I felt bad. Every day she asks when we will get to our new house. I'm not much different than her -- I'd like to know myself.

Our new home

We are headed up to Missoula but don't have a home yet. As you might guess, this has us concerned. We decided to check out an area our agent didn't show us and this is what we found. What do you think?

Lily thought this place was great and was actually disappointed that it wouldn't be our new home. It had to be the front yard that she loved the most. She and Joshua fed peanuts to prarie dogs the whole time we were there. It was hilarious fun. Great stop at a historical homestead just outside of Badlands National Park in South Dakota.

Council Bluffs and Winter Quarters

It's sad leaving TN but we've made the best of it. One of our favorite stops along the way has been Winter Quarters near Omaha, NE. Each day is a long day of travel with the kids but taking extra time this was well worth it. We toured the Kanesville tabernacle and learned all about the area the saints settled after their forced exodous from Nauvoo. Pioneer stories are certainly inspirational but these ones seemed to really hit home. It sure put a stop to any complaining we had about our "trail of tears" going west. And of course, the kids enjoyed the stop too.

Trail of Tears

Little Bear is moving on. We're on our way to Missoula, Montana! We've been on the road now for 5 days. In some ways it has been our own little trail of tears. We already feel the loss of missing our friends and family in Tennessee. In time there will be new faces to meet but it's just impossible to replace good friends -- it can't be done.

Even boring is fun!

Even mundane boring things are fun lately...I hope the novelty of being at home again doesn't wear off too soon...

Remember the spelling bee?

Kerrigan is doing well in school. She was one of the best spellers in her class so she represented the second grade in the school spelling bee. I had not idea there would be so much drama at a spelling bee! She did great -- made it into the fifth round but got tripped up on the word remeber. Bummer!

Bizarre Birthday!

I've been having plenty of fun with the kids since I got home. Yesterday was Logan's birthday and the day before was Madison's birthday -- Lisa had birthday arrangements all squared away but it was still a great excuse to make a cake. Kerrigan and I made this crazy messy cake -- looks like something from a Dr. Seuss book to me! Jen, this is what we did with the Wonka bar -- it was all I could do to not let Kerrigan cover the whole thing in the pop rocks you sent! She was the "Designer". Anyway, nothing like excessive frosting to make a cake tasty. Oh, and I have to take full blame for this cake being what we had for dinner that night too...so much for promoting good nutrition but it was good fun. We slapped a couple of "7" candles in for the 5 and 8 year old, they blew them out and then we chowed down. Good times.

Home Again

It is SO good to be home! I've been back for seven days now. I've had to go in to work every morning for just a few hours but I've got the majority of every day to be with the family. I haven't done much -- just spent time with Leigh Anne and the kids. It has been great. They've changed so much. When I left, Lily never said a word and Josh could only roll over. Now Josh climbs up everything and Lily talks constantly. Kerrigan was barely learning to read and now she is an avid reader. Leigh Anne is the same as ever -- beautiful and great company. It's just good to be home with family. I appreciate home now more than ever before.

Rumor has it....

That little bear (and Craig) will be home on Tuesday, February 10th!

Home

It won't be long before I'm home again. As the end draws closer I think more and more of the things I've missed from home. When I'm talking with the other docs we ask each other silly questions like, "What's the food you miss the most" or, "Where will you go on vacation when you get home?". Then conversation turns to "What will you be glad to never see or hear again?!?". When the conversation is over I think of the little things I miss about home. I miss reading bedtime stories to Kerrigan. I miss walking barefoot over the cool kitchen floor in my pajamas in the early morning before everyone wakes up (as opposed to never barefoot anywhere, never in pajamas, no kitchen and somebody always awake in my hut). I miss sitting in our big chair with Leigh Anne. I miss music without headphones and I miss running through farms and down by the river. I miss sitting in church with Lily on my lap. I miss carrying Joshua when he's asleep and seeing his constant giant grin when he's awake. I miss tickling the kids! I miss the silence and calm of mornings outside.

Absence does make the heart grow fonder! It seems like seeing home from so far away somehow helps me to see it all so much clearer. I appreciate family and home now more than ever before. I'm glad to be alive and I'm grateful to be healthy. I'm excited to come home. I remember how it felt when I was younger to really want to have things or to go places or achieve seemingly unattainable goals or to really be insanely in love with some girl I hardly knew. Those desires seemed so strong. But it all seems so weak compared to how I YEARN for home now.

These are a few of my favorite pictures from deployment. This is what I miss most. I love my family.

little bear "where's Waldo"

These are more "Where's Little Bear?" pictures. The first makes me laugh every time I see it! Not because it's of Mason, our hilarious and somewhat casually psychotic Kiwi friend who four-wheeled us all over back-country Bamian like we were in some kind of off-road rally -- but because somehow this picture has found it's way to a Kiwi web site and people have been e-mailing him to ask what's up with the little bear?!?
The V8 pictures are of course from the practical joke we played on Rick Stocker some time ago...he has long since finished every one of those V8's and is now back in D.C. Next is a pic of Little Bear and I after finishing a unit ruck march....
The picture at the lake is Little Bear at Bandemeir -- good luck finding him in that one!
And of course I had to get a pic of Little Bear with some basic supplies that were kept just outside the room we slept in at Scott Base -- gotta keep your boots, fire extinguisher and rocket handy you know...
And last but not least we have MAJ Hargrow -- I think Little Bear was helping her finish of her dinner or something here....that guy has an incredible apetite.

Where is Little bear? AKA Where's Waldo?

I was talking to Kerrigan the other day and she asked me about Little Bear. She ALWAYS asks about Little Bear. She sent me Little Bear so that I would have some good company while I'm over here. So, Little Bear and I have been a few places. And now, for Kerrigan, here's a few of Little Bear's pictures! Think of it as a "Where's Waldo?" challenge! There are quite a few so good luck! Little Bear really has been good company...

Just a couple notes about the pictures...the German Shepherd is a military working dog here where we live, the pic where I'm sitting down on an adobe chimney was taken at Scott Base, a kiwi outpost in Bamian, and the pic of Little Bear on the rocks -- the rocks are actually the remains of the Bamian Buddhas being sheltered so that they can someday be rebuilt...

Christmas thoughts

I was cleaning up the blog and found an old post that somehow I never published. This is from Christmas 2008 when I was in Afghanistan.


What makes Christmas Christmas?

What makes Christmas Christmas? Is it the holiday? Is it the break from work, the decorations, the music, or the gifts? Is it all the traditions of trees, turkey, caroling or Santa? Is it just being home again? Or is it bringing a bit of home to wherever you are?
I’m sitting in Afghanistan and it’s December 21st. I went to church this morning and only then realized that Christmas is just a few days away. I had actually forgotten that Christmas day was so close. No signs, no shopping – there are no festive clothes or parties going on here. No traditions, no family, no caroling and I’m quite certain that Santa will not be stopping by in this neck of the woods. It seems the one thing we do have is a calendar that says it’s Christmas. So, can it REALLY be Christmas here?



There’s one Christmas from my youth that really stands out. It was 1977. I was ten. Mom was sick with cancer – but that was not heavy on my mind at the time because it was Christmas! I’m sure you recall how it was as a child. No school, anxious to open presents, wanting to play with cousins and friends or just being excited about grandparents coming – we all recall being caught up in the Christmas season. That was me in 1977.



It was Christmas Eve and our family was doing what we did every year. First we opened up the one gift under the tree that Mom picked out for us. This, of course, was the same gift every year – new, homemade pajamas. I put mine on. Then we acted out the Christmas story. Alan was always baby Jesus. The little guy always got that job. Mike and Wendy were Mary and Joseph. I don’t recall if I was a shepherd or a wiseman but I remember putting a bath towels on my heads to somehow look more appropriate. Undoubtedly the thick plaid pajamas were part of the costume too.



And then it happened – a loud banging on our front door. I was right next to the door and with all the energy of a 10 year-old I jerked it open as fast as I could. I will never forget what I found. It was a money tree.
There on our deck was a tree made of all kinds of bills. Wow! How cool is that?!? By the time I got over the fact that the most money I had ever seen in my life was right in front of me, the persons who left it were long gone. We brought the money tree inside and oooh’ed and aaah’ed over it. It was a big Styrofoam cone that had so many bills pinned to it that all you could see was the money. It was amazing.

I have no idea how much money was on the money tree. I don’t know who left it. And honestly, for years I think I forgot all about the money tree just as I’ve long ago forgotten any gifts I received that year -- except the pajamas.
What I have begun to understand now as I sit far from home is a touch of what it must have been like to be my parents that Christmas in 1977. Mom was dying; money was scarce -- And yet it was Christmas. I don’t recall a lack of special treats or presents. I do remember that Christmas being special just like family Christmas’s always were. Now that I’m married and sit here separated for one year now from Leigh Anne (my wife) I think I can begin to imagine an inkling of what it might be like to know you will soon be separated by death from your one and only love. Now that I have children I know how it feels to want them to have a wonderful Christmas and to learn all of what Christmas really means. I don’t think I can ever know what it was like for my Mother to be experiencing her last Christmas with her children knowing she would soon die.
So, what makes Christmas Christmas?
As I sit and think of that Christmas in 1977 I literally have tears in my eyes each time I think of who it must have been that left the money tree on our porch. I don’t know who it was. I expect there were a number of people who put money on that money tree. I expect these were the same people who had done so many great acts of service for our family long before and long after our mother died. I am willing to bet that now, 31 years later, none of them remember the money tree at all. But there’s a 10 year old boy who was there that day who remembers the money tree. He thinks about it every Christmas. He remembers it when the days are long and the weather is hot too. He remembers that the most important thing about Christmas is to give of ourselves to others. He remembers that Christmas is Christmas when we do what Christ would do – no matter when or where we are.

So...it has been a long time since I've posted anything. Thanks to Jennifer for helping me out with this one. She wrote me about the 'money tree' from a Christmas in 1977...and I got to thinking about it and here's what I thought of...


What makes Christmas Christmas?

What makes Christmas Christmas? Is it the holiday? Is it the break from work, the decorations, the music, or the gifts? Is it all the traditions of trees, turkey, caroling or Santa? Is it just being home again? Or is it bringing a bit of home to wherever you are?
I’m sitting in Afghanistan and it’s December 21st. I went to church this morning and only then realized that Christmas is just a few days away. I had actually forgotten that Christmas day was so close. No signs, no shopping – there are no festive clothes or parties going on here. No traditions, no family, no caroling and I’m quite certain that Santa will not be stopping by in this neck of the woods. It seems the one thing we do have is a calendar that says it’s Christmas. So, can it REALLY be Christmas here?

There’s one Christmas from my youth that really stands out. It was 1977. I was ten. Mom was sick with cancer – but that was not heavy on my mind at the time because it was Christmas! I’m sure you recall how it was as a child. No school, anxious to open presents, wanting to play with cousins and friends or just being excited about grandparents coming – we all recall being caught up in the Christmas season. That was me in 1977.

It was Christmas Eve and our family was doing what we did every year. First we opened up the one gift under the tree that Mom picked out for us. This, of course, was the same gift every year – new, homemade pajamas. I put mine on. Then we acted out the Christmas story. Alan was always baby Jesus. The little guy always got that job. Mike and Wendy were Mary and Joseph. I don’t recall if I was a shepherd or a wiseman but I remember putting a bath towels on my heads to somehow look more appropriate. Undoubtedly the thick plaid pajamas were part of the costume too.

And then it happened – a loud banging on our front door. I was right next to the door and with all the energy of a 10 year-old I jerked it open as fast as I could. I will never forget what I found. It was a money tree.

There on our deck was a tree made of all kinds of bills. Wow! How cool is that?!? By the time I got over the fact that the most money I had ever seen in my life was right in front of me, the persons who left it were long gone. We brought the money tree inside and oooh’ed and aaah’ed over it. It was a big Styrofoam cone that had so many bills pinned to it that all you could see was the money. It was amazing.

I have no idea how much money was on the money tree. I don’t know who left it. And honestly, for years I think I forgot all about the money tree just as I’ve long ago forgotten any gifts I received that year -- except the pajamas.

What I have begun to understand now as I sit far from home is a touch of what it must have been like to be my parents that Christmas in 1977. Mom was dying; money was scarce -- And yet it was Christmas. I don’t recall a lack of special treats or presents. I do remember that Christmas being special just like family Christmas’s always were. Now that I’m married and sit here separated for one year now from Leigh Anne (my wife) I think I can begin to imagine an inkling of what it might be like to know you will soon be separated by death from your one and only love. Now that I have children I know how it feels to want them to have a wonderful Christmas and to learn all of what Christmas really means. I don’t think I can ever know what it was like for my Mother to be experiencing her last Christmas with her children knowing she would soon die.

So, what makes Christmas Christmas?

As I sit and think of that Christmas in 1977 I literally have tears in my eyes each time I think of who it must have been that left the money tree on our porch. I don’t know who it was. I expect there were a number of people who put money on that money tree. I expect these were the same people who had done so many great acts of love and service for our family long before and long after our mother died. I am willing to bet that now, 31 years later, none of them remember the money tree at all. But there’s a 10 year old boy who was there that day who remembers the money tree. He thinks about it every Christmas. He remembers it when the days are long and the weather is hot too. He remembers that the most important thing about Christmas is to give of ourselves to others. He remembers that Christmas is Christmas when we do what Christ would do – no matter when or where we are.


I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas wherever you are!

Gotta Love those donkeys

Thanks for posting all these pictures Julie! I think my favorite has to be the donkeys. Everytime I see that one I think of so many funny captions...all of which are generally inappropriate -- but it makes me laugh so that's good. Thanksgiving is past and Christmas is on its way! Next thing I know I'll be home. At least I'd like to be home. It should be soon. Leigh Anne is really ready for me to be home and I don't blame her. I think it is easier for me to be here than it is for her to be home.