Boxes, Slides, and Buckets

This past Monday and Tuesday our material lives were taken apart, boxed, and put in crates by Jose, Jose, and yes…Jose.  It’s amazing that no matter how much I clean, dust, and organize, the Jose to the third managed to tornado up what I missed.  They were happy guys that gave us Latin stations for Pandora to play loudly as they disassembled our things.  Our google translate helped at times when we needed to ask them a question (like what do you want for lunch) but wasn’t helpful when I was trying to explain an idiom (picking the short straw) for the Jose who got Barrett’s office.  We laughed at the struggle and simply shrugged when we realized it was simply lost in translation.

What wasn’t missed is how they loved on our kids by letting them help a bit with tape and holding boxes open.  Once they knew their names, they wrote it on the boxes in their rooms.  So kind!  When Ronnie wrote his name on a scrap piece of cardboard, Jose wrote his right next his. Ronnie still carries that rectangle treasure around our transformed house.

By the end of the two days, we had created a bond that made them shake hands with emotion in their eyes. We waved and yelled “Wepa!” as they drove off.  We re-entered our now emptied house of Craig material character, but full of many Craig commemorations.  We sat on the floor as we ate dinner in our now echoing house.  It felt like we just put the pictures on the walls, now they were gone.

We are sleeping on air mattresses for about 10 days with a brief stint this weekend in Aguadilla.  We are staying in a guest house so the new chaplain can be introduced to the search and rescue crew on the west side of the island. I must say, it was great to sleep in a real bed!  But, in Puerto Rican style, this side of the island is in a drought so there is mandatory water rationing.  Every other day we have water.  I strategically kept our dirty clothes to wash here since we don’t have a washer and dryer anymore, so once we arrived, I put in a load of laundry!  Today we have to bucket in water to flush the toilet. With a no shower option, we will soon be heading to the pool.

My friend Mileidis and I have been talking about how much we have learned to trust the Lord while living here and in Okinawa together.  We were both in Okinawa at the same time and both our husbands got the only two chaplain billets in Puerto Rico!  So we’ve had the pleasure of being together for six years.  Living overseas slaps you in the face with adapt or complain.  I could complain about the water rations, or prepare and get what I need done when I have water.  She could complain about the power outages that they get on this side, or she can pack up and head to the beach for the day. We could be disillusioned that the grocery store is missing our key recipe ingredient…again…or make a game day call for the meal.  We live in a constant state of either gratefulness for what we have or complaining about what we think we should have.  It has opened my eyes to my white knuckle grip on comfort.  I want comfort and ease more than I want to trust the Lord with my day and plans.

My mind flashes to the past few days where my three amazing kids have been content to slide down a cardboard slide (aka…stairs) in a box or on a blanket.  They all have chosen a box for a chair and calmly do homeschool while in the boxes with only their heads popping up.  Stripped of their rooms and toys they have decided to make it fun with what they have rather than complain about what they don’t have.  I haven’t heard a complaint escape their lips since their stuff was boxed up and taken away.  Instead, I hear peels of laughter as they go down the cardboard slide again, this time with a blanket over their heads.  I smile as Barrett goes to put more water in the toilet.