Beauty for Ashes
As I pulled into the parking lot of my daughter’s school one cold January day, my cellphone was ringing—it was my husband—“Babe we got MacDill!” (one of our most highly sought after military installations to become stationed at). I could not believe it! This was “the base” of military bases to be assigned to; mainly because of the sun, bustling city of Tampa with its’ grand population of north-easterners (much like ourselves), amusement parks, powdery beaches, amazing culture and food; there was no doubt we were excited to call this place home in the months to come.
The wait was nerve wrecking leading up to the move, but nonetheless, we were game. Not even the slightest of disappointment could phase me at that point. I was moving to Florida boo! I’m all the way good, and no negativity was about to knock me off my natural high.
Thoughts of swimming after a long day, eating authentic Latino and Caribbean food, going on roller coasters, taking pictures with Mickey Mouse, driving to Miami, you name it; it all flooded my mind as I daydreamed day after day.
Even when I lived in other states across the nation, I always found the good in it. The adventure. Sadly, I’m not particularly sure why I struggled to experience “fun” in New Jersey, but it just didn’t hit all of the boxes for me. And, don’t get me wrong, New York and Philadelphia were both a hop-skip-jump away, but the state itself fell short on my list of excitement. What more can I say other than I’m extremely thankful for snow-days and the local farmers market.
So the day finally arrived. We were outta here! The packers came and packed our three bedroom home up in a day and a half. It was so odd that at some point that house felt pretty big, but now it felt more less like a tightly cramped closet. The moving truck was massive, cutting off traffic onto our street, and the movers hustled the huge crates and boxes onto the semitrailer. I practically didn’t look back at the house other than to show my daughter the cherry blossom tree that we think a bird planted by the water fountain I staged years prior when we first moved in; it had grown into a healthy 10 feet or taller tree by now. My daughter really had no other connection to the house, but she waved goodbye and that was that.
After 4 long gray winters in New Jersey, this was the breakthrough we know God had His hands all over. And, shortly after our arrival, Florida did not disappoint! It felt exactly like what it looked like in the magazines; sunny, sandy, blue skies, bright smiles, just an overall glow covers this area and it is amazing. The temperatures were just right, even though the locals warned us of the daily 5 o’clock rain (the hurricane season is upon us now) and increasing temps in the late summer; my family and I took to the culture easily. I’m not sure if it was the weather or how happy my family had become almost immediately upon arriving here, but my spirit was full.
We stayed in temporary lodging facility (TLF) for about 2 weeks. Now that part I was not a fan of, but it was temporary, and every single day I drove from city to city in search of a rental property that I found adequate enough to house all of our household goods, and that had a good-great school district for my daughter. Unfortunately, with such a high demand to be at MacDill AFB, and the increasing amount of newly stationed military members arriving throughout the summer, the housing waitlist was at an 11 month wait. There was absolutely no time to waste.
Everything we loved seem to fall through, and the mediocre properties were pending with other potential renters. I was over the idea of renting. The discouragement was beginning to set in, and my patience was running thin. I was doing a majority of the house hunting alone, but for good reason. My husband was busy getting back into the swing of things at his new office and in processing. This was the part of the balancing act that most military spouses do, that often get overlooked, but we play an integral part of the process as well.
Thankfully I abandoned the “house” renting idea, and switched to the apartment living concept for the sake of my sanity. Due to the horrific traffic (oh and it is just that, awful!), I branched only 5 miles away from base, and there you have it….we found a place.
There was an awesome move-in special and it was near restaurants I loved, what more to ask for! Basically the amenities sold me, and it was perfect for my husband’s commute and for me to find potential employment. With an 11 month wait to get base housing, this seemed to be the right choice—especially with our home goods on the way to be delivered soon.
May 4th, 2018. The day before the celebratory “Cinco de Mayo”was our delivery date. Dispatch had contacted us about the delivery of our home goods, and we had plans to spend the weekend unpacking and organizing to store a good portion of our belongings in a storage unit. My husband rented the U-Haul truck, and we patiently waited to see if the semitrailer was arriving. The two hour window of 10am-12pm came and went. We called dispatch and received no answer. This was highly unusual considering that the woman who handled all of the logistics was very responsive.
In my pondering, I was bored and tired of waiting so I decided to call my father. We talked about blessings and patience, and how we were thankful that we were closer in proximity now that we moved to Florida. The apartment was quite empty and echoed with every word we said. In the kitchen, I could hear my husband’s phone ringing and him starting a conversation. I ignored it because I was still in the middle of my conversation with my dad. Then I was interrupted by news that would change my perspective on life forever.
“Jenn I need to talk to you, it’s important”, my husband said to me through the halfway open door. I immediately got off the phone and asked him what was going on, and the look on his face was like nothing I have seen on him before. He then explained to me that the truck that was carrying all of our household goods had been involved in an accident and caught on fire. Nothing was salvageable and there was no police report. Just like that, all of a dream became dark. The sun was out but the clouds seemed to have rolled in quickly. Visions of all of my possessions, including my husbands and daughters possessions, going up in flames was playing over-and-over in my mind. All I could imagine was flames and heat consuming my life’s accomplishments and keepsakes. Nothing short of bad movie that I could not stop playing.
To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Not for nothing, I distinctively knew my sadness had a place, but this was not the time to exercise those feelings. I also knew that I should not covet, and to do so is not what God wants for me to do. I literally was placed in the position to let things go without my permission. There was no sorting through my things, picking out what I wanted and did not want to keep. It was gone in a matter of minutes. The very thought of not seeing familiar pictures and holding my childhood memories was now my new reality.
The weeks went by. We were practically in regrouping mode. Everything that was lost was now a distant memory. A good friend suggested we setup a contribution pool, similar to Go Fund Me, so that we could quickly recoup the necessities. That was extremely helpful and allowed us to get back on our feet after the loss. All-in-all, it still felt surreal. The clutter that I once complained about, the toys that we in the way as I walked through the living room, the maternity photos that were in my daughter’s bathroom, the CDs I collected from my adolescence, and the yearbooks with well wishes were now minuscule in comparison to life itself.
Thankfully the driver was unharmed during the accident, and so were my family and I. We were not in the vehicle, only our belongings. The perspective that I prayed to view this from was to take on the incident, manifest the positive aspects of it, and in spite of all of the tings that were lost, those “things” were just that...things. Without any doubt I know God was control, and our resilience fueled our faith in Him more now than ever before. There’s something about being stripped of everything that is sobering and leaves you vulnerable. That enabled us, and it allowed us to see the situation from a different scope. Isaiah 61:3 (NLT) reads:
“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give you a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.”
Nothing Satan tried could break that promise that God made to us (all of us), because of all the “things” the world has to offer, God will always supplement and give us more than what we deserve. He most definitely was my strength and my salvation during and after the storm. And, in no time during that storm did I ask Him to get rid of the storm. In fact, I asked for Him to walk me through it. I’m imperfect in many ways, and this has never happened to me but I knew he’d be my comfort when I felt all was hopeless.
When I reflect on the circumstance, it was a revelation of sorts for my family and I. Only can God take anyone from losing everything, to being in a state of thanksgiving. From what I thought was the “good” part of my life, to preparing me for what is very likely to be the “best” part of my life. The blessings are flowing, and they are coming in so many different forms that I cannot help but be thankful to God and those He has used to bless us as well.
Throughout this process I have been open to sharing my testimony (my story), taking my time to come back to my brand, blog, and give you all the honest story of how my life has been shaped as of late. I completely took a step back to let go of the fear of reliving the loss publicly, but the secretiveness was not what was intended for my story, it is the part of me that cannot be undone, and that I am forever thankful for.
I will continue to share my story with you, and thank you for your support and for being patient with me.
Blessings!
-Jenn
