It’s Not Our Time to Leave 

“Check again!?” I not-so-subtly demand. “I heard the Jones got orders yesterday. Are you sure there’s nothing in there for us?” My husband rolls his eyes in gentle exasperation at my questioning. I’ve already asked him 28390285x if he’s sure we’re not getting orders this cycle. And each time he’s patiently confirmed with a shrug that no, it’s not our time. 

Not our time. 

It’s not that I want to get out of here. We like where we currently are just fine. But it’s been four years and at this point, it’s inevitable. But in true military fashion, we are knee-deep in the hurry-up-and-wait stage of orders…maybe getting orders? 

We always talk about how to respond when you do get orders. We talk about the PCS pull away or when you have orders but are sitting and waiting some more. We know the first and most important things to start doing once we get to a new duty station and we sure know the best ways to pack and pre-pack. 

I know how to go. I know how to prepare to go. I know how and what to pack and when to start taking things off the walls. The lists and the plans come easily to me. After all…a body in motion stays in motion, right? 

Admittedly though, I’m not sure that I know how to stay. 

So how do we respond when we don’t get orders? How do we stay gracefully, thoughtfully, and intentionally? How do we act when we’re staying back and friends are saying their goodbyes? What do we do when we thought we were going to be on that side of the track, but instead, we’re the ones staying put? 

I wish I had the answers to these questions. I wish I could confidently say I wasn’t disappointed. Or that I knew exactly why we were still here when I thought we’d be in a forward motion, propelled forward to the next adventure. I wish I could spew out ten facts about dealing with rejection or disappointment, while also recognizing that those two (big!) emotions are so often a part of this lifestyle—that we can’t, and don’t get everything we want when we want it. 

It’s just not our time to go.

I wish I could squeak out cliches like, “Whatever’s meant to be will be” or “Sometimes our plans aren’t The Plans.” Ya know? 

I want that posture; I do. But sometimes it’s much easier to sit in our defeat and powerlessness. To feel out of control and maybe a bit small. 

So, like every bump on the road on this wild military journey, I’ll learn to sit in my discomfort. I’ll spend some time wallowing and pouting. I’ll whine about how I didn’t get my way, or this isn’t what I wanted—that this isn’t my ideal.  

That it’s not our time to leave just yet. 

Then tentatively—slowly—I’ll recognize that maybe, just maybe, my plans aren’t The Plans. And that plans not working out can be blessings in disguise. I’ll take deep breaths and remind myself that every single adventure and curveball that this lifestyle has thrown us has taught us and strengthened us. That it’s shown us some amazing and beautiful scenery and some difficult, but powerful lessons. 

I’ll remember that wherever we are is home (and all those sickeningly sweet cliches that are so incredibly spot on). I’ll remind myself that wherever we go next and whenever we go there, it won’t be perfect—it will be inevitably hard and challenging, bittersweet and frustrating. 

And I’ll do all of this with just enough time for us to get orders to leave again.

Because that’s the way military life goes, right?