Our First Military Move: The U-Haul, No Home, Church Home (Part 1)

Imagine the Lord spoke to you and said, “I want you to pack up all your belongings in the back of a U-Haul and start driving” without telling you where to go. I mean, really imagine that a moment. That’s practically what happened to me and my husband in the thick of our first military move.

Rust Water, Boggy Carpet

We were newlyweds with a newborn. I was still suffering severe postpartum depression (and worse, it was undiagnosed at that point.) We drove from Colorado to Texas to Florida and stayed in the TLF (the temporary housing on base.) I heard rumors it was set to be condemned soon after we left.

The carpet was so mildewed that it left black stains on the knees of our daughter’s pajamas. Our beautiful 9-month-old crawling baby. The water in my shower poured out rust on to my body. I freaked out because I was still nursing, so I tried to rinse off with sink water that was just as burnt orange. Then I resorted to dripping Thieves oil all over (*everywhere*) and let me tell you… that burned!!! Stress was high. (And Haylee is laughing pretty hard about now as she reads this, since she knew the intimate details!)

We needed to find a place ASAP.

Rot and Mold

Weeks later, we found a cute little house down by the bay (where the watermelons did not grow.) It rained that entire January, feeling so much colder than Colorado winters. My husband traveled most of our first few weeks in that house. And I grew very ill. I could barely lift my head or hand. Not ideal when home alone, in a new town, knowing nobody, and strict in charge of the livelihoods of a puppy and an inquisitive fast moving 10-month-old.

We had professionals check out the house and discovered the rental had “sick house syndrome” due to an unrepaired roof leak. The ceiling was 100% saturated. The HVAC unit rotted out, and the attic was filled with formaldehyde (which I’m severely allergic to). Black mold started growing out of the sink faucet drains (which I’m deathly allergic to).

I’ll spare details, but from then on, once again, we needed to find a place ASAP.

Stressed Houseguests

The Beekman’s, a very kind couple (a friend of friend) let us stay with them for a week or two while we tried to figure out where we’d move to next.

 There’s no description for the cortisol levels of a severely postpartum depressed nursing mom, new military wife, who just lost all her friends and family, moved to a state where she knew no one, and then was faced with death while her husband traveled abroad. But I’ll simply say… I was basically acting like a lunatic.

There’s not much sanity, logic, or calmness on the mind’s faculties when you cross the grief of a cross-country move with toxic mold exposure and SPPD.

This sent me into one of the worst health crises of my life, and we had to toss everything porous that we owned.

Everything was financially, emotionally, and physically devastating.

Go to the Rock

One afternoon, as high-strung guests in kind strangers’ home, Dan went out to the backyard. I watched him from the kitchen window and peered through hurricane shutters. Beautiful baby in my arms, death in my lungs, and heaviness on my shoulders.

In all my life, I’ve never met anyone as stable as Dan. He was the rock of our family and the cornerstone of his. And I watched him, my rock-solid beloved, crumble to his knees at the foot of a big rock in their backyard. He kneeled down and even clasped his hands to pray like he would’ve done as a small boy. He fell down to his knees at the Rock that was Higher than himself.

I can’t imagine the pressure he felt as provider. A new dad and a new husband, taking his family on our first military move or so-called “new adventure.” (Tongue in cheek.)

I watched him cry out to God and it both broke my heart and also grounded me, assured that God hears the prayers of a righteous man. I asked him later that day about his conversation with God. He seemed like some weight was lifted off his shoulders but still had no clarity on where we were going to go or what God’s plan was. What God did tell him was the purpose behind it all. And that seemed to be enough for Dan. So it was enough for me.

Why, God, Why?

Dan told me about his conversation with God in the backyard, kneeling down by the rock. How he cried out to God, “Why?! Why??” He told God, “I’m an officer in the U.S. Air Force. I have a stable income. I am taking care of our finances. And yet I cannot find a safe place for my family to live. Why is this happening to us??”  And in the same way God responded to Elijah who had a similar conversation, God whispered to Dan. “This is so that you will experience the Body of Christ.”

We were puzzled but somehow comforted. We would take any resemblance of comfort we could get. “To experience the Body of Christ.”

Well, in hindsight, that is exactly what happened in the throes of our first military move as a family. We experienced the Body of Christ.

In that one military move, we ended up living in 7 places and moving all of our belongings 4 times in 6 months (with a deathly ill wife who had severely postpartum depression, and a baby, and a puppy.)

The Body of Christ

Prego Hostess with the Mostest

The week before it all went down, we visited a church where Haylee and Tony invited us over for a pot roast lunch that first Sunday. There, we met loads of sweet couples who later became our small group and church family.

We had only met Haylee and Toney that one time when our housing situation bottomed out, and even as strangers to them, they invited us to stay with them in their home while we tried to find housing. Even when Haylee was in her third trimester of pregnancy with their first child!!! (How many people do you know have a heart like that!) Our time with them was full of love and precious and we became both instant and life-long friends.

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples,
if you love one another.”
John 13:15

Boba Fights and Birthday Parties

Then, we put our stuff in storage, and tried to scoot quickly so they could focus on upcoming baby. We got a call from another couple from church, Evan and Lucy, eagerly inviting us to stay with them and explaining they already cleared out their guestroom dresser and closet for us and had room for the pack and play. We had only then met twice at that point, I think? (Such a generous and loving couple!)

So we lived with them while we continued to search for a rental property or a home or a tent on the side of the road. Lukpla and Evan cooked us Thai food, hosted our little girls one year old birthday complete with a Boba food fight, and nursed me back to improved health. (The sweetest thing I could eat was roasted cauliflower as I tried all kinds of extreme things to heal from the toxic mold exposure. Torture.)

But we had Pictionary, dance dance revolution, and dart wars. The fun we had with new friends squashed the previous traumas. We laughed so hard playing Pictionary that I still own and treasure Lucy’s drawings of a fish, or cow, or dog, or alien. (We’re still not sure.)

Home again

We ended up building a dream house and stayed in a temporary apartment in the interim. But our time of upheaval moving from family to family is what we needed most… a crises that resulted in a tight-knit, fun-loving community of Believers. We didn’t have a home on earth for many months of our first military move, but we quickly got swallowed up and loved on by a vibrant church home.

From personal experience, I have had a house-home and not a church home after a military move. And I can tell you, it’s better to be without a home and embraced in a church home.

To experience the Body of Christ humbled us to our knees, and it also gave us lifelong family that we know and love to this very day.

I’ll share more in the next post. It’s one of my favorite parts of the story.