Month: November 2020

Once again, the holidays catch me by surprise. 10 years into our Middle Eastern adventure (December 1st, 2020 marks 10 years since we flew to Egypt) and I still don’t know what Christmas is supposed to feel like. Someday my kids will grow up and have families and when their other half asks about their family traditions growing up, they’ll probably say, “We didn’t do presents and every year was different. We don’t have any traditions.” Bless. I swear we have more fun than that, but those two statements are pretty accurate.

But one tradition I have managed to sustain over these 10 years is the annual Chartier family calendar. It takes hours of pouring over all the photos that I’ve taken during the year and attempting to either theme each month (with a trip or an event) or make the random photos work somehow — and every year I vow that next year I will take more photos in landscape mode because they are so much easier to fit into a photo spread! I started because we were living our lives long distance from the rest of the family and I wanted them to feel connected to us in spite of not seeing us for months or years at a time.

I almost gave up this year. First, I forgot that it was November. Easy to do in a normal year, even easier in a year where most days find us sprawled on the couch. Then, when I decided that someday I would want to look back on the ridiculous year that was Covid (and hopefully it will be buried deep in my memories soon), I started to look through my photo roll and saw that I have absolutely nothing to work with. 2,342 photos of kids looking at their computer screens or lying with animals. That’s it.

The glory years were when each month was a different (beautiful) country. Oh look, the Chartiers in Thailand! The sparkling blue water is so clear. Hey, skiing in Germany! Wow, what fun to see all the kids bundled up and tiny Camille on skis. This year it’s Caleb in sweatpants wrapped in a green fuzzy blanket because he can’t be bothered to put a shirt on and Camille wearing big headphones, gazing into either her computer screen or into the eyes of whatever animal she is manhandling at the moment.

I endured and persisted and many hours later I’m almost finished! I’ve completed 9 out of the 12 months (and December usually ends up being late November photos so I can hurry and get it to the printer) and am on the home stretch. Thankfully we went to Dubai at the end of October and we went camping this month so I should be able to scrape together some mildly interesting photo collages for those months. And we put up our Christmas tree this past weekend so December can be sorted without too much difficulty.

The rest of the year? It’s a whole lot of this . . .

It might have been a dull year photography-wise, but we still have a lot to be thankful for. It was a good exercise to go through it month by month and pick out the high points. Or at least be thankful that we aren’t reliving that month again. (I’m looking at you, March).

Back to the grindstone since I want to finish this tonight while we’re watching Nativity! (my favorite Christmas movie). Happy Holidays! May we look back on this year fondly (the key words being look back).

I wrote this a week ago in the orthodontist office while waiting for Caleb to finish his appointment — it took longer decipher my scrawl and transcribe it than it did to compose it in the first place.

Dear Lord, as we approach the season that is usually filled with family celebrations, I pray that family bonds and relationships would be strengthened and restored. I praise you that technology exists to allow us to see and hear each other even though we are thousands of miles apart.

I pray that those who are not able to be with family would not be discouraged — that in spite of the distance, that they would feel connected. I pray that many of those who are desperate to return home would be allowed to travel. I pray specifically for Emily, that you will make a way for her to see her family in South Africa.

I pray that in this season of joy to the world and peace on earth, that joy and peace would shower over Abu Dhabi. I pray that people who are afraid would feel your peace and those who are discouraged would be filled your joy. I pray that no one would be without hope and I pray against any thoughts of suicide. I pray for the families of those who have taken their own lives this week and that you would comfort them as they live with their grief.

As we spend more time together as families, yet are isolated from others, as work/school/church are all at home, I pray that we would have grace for each other. That familiarity would not breed contempt, but that we’d be thankful for the gifts you’ve given us in our homes — gifts of son/father/sister/brother/mother/wife/daughter.

I pray that those who are alone wouldn’t be lonely Lord. That you would fill their days with deep connection with you. I pray that for all of us as our relationship with you is to be the one we prize the most. I pray for those who are unmarried. That they would be at peace with where they are in life. Not waiting for a partner, but focused on the present and content with today.

I pray that this time wouldn’t be wasted. That as we near the end of the calendar year, that we wouldn’t say “good riddance” or hurry it past, but that we’d be thankful for each day you have given us. “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Even in 2020.

Lord I pray against any abuse of others — that you would protect children or other vulnerable people from from those who would do them harm or are in relationships where tension is high. I pray that people would not express their anger or frustration in physical ways. I pray that you would change the minds of those who believe it’s OK or natural to rule over others in that way. I pray that loving your neighbor (or family member) as yourself wouldn’t be a rare event, but that people would look out for others’ interests before looking out for themselves.

Father, we don’t know what is coming next — I pray that our certainty in the future would be found in you. Not in our jobs, the outcome of elections, world events or in a vaccine. Thank you that our hope is in you and not in earthly things. I pray that the peace we have would be evident to those around us and that they would be drawn to you as a result. Amen.

*** I wrote this in pieces over the past several weeks as things happened, and then I had to wait and then waited some more and now Carter is in Texas. Phase 2.

Pass In Review, aka boot camp graduation, was today (October 22nd)! It’s not the ending (or beginning) we had planned, but I’m so thankful that I can play I Spy on YouTube tomorrow as I watch the video of 1000 graduates march in parade.

News from those that are local say it rained all day and moms were making jokes that maybe the rain would make their masks soggy so they’d fall down to their chins and maybe we’d have a better chance of spotting our kids in the sea of identical uniforms.

And now for a typical military wife/mom story: I knew that Carter would be calling this week as I’ve been tracking his unit’s progress via a group FB page. Everyone crowdsources any info they hear from their sailor, “Div 404 is at the phones now! Make sure your ringer is turned on!” “My sailor said everyone in their group passed the PFA — next up is Battle Stations!” or “the girls of 412 didn’t earn a phone call because some sailors were passing notes to boys in the other units.” Or “401/402/403 finished Battle Stations! Be ready for your phone calls parents of 404!”

Anyway, the call I’d been waiting 9 weeks for, the “I’m a sailor” call was going to happen in the middle of the night sometime on Monday-Thursday. I had been having disrupted sleep for 2 days already because I had to turn off my Do Not Disturb so his call would ring through so things were dinging all night long. (he was going to call from a payphone so I couldn’t prioritize a particular number, blah blah). ANYWAY, the magic hour hits — 2 am, the phone rings and I sit right up in bed, grab my phone and hit the green button to answer and nothing. Seriously, nothing. My phone would not register my finger as I’m jabbing it at the screen, seeing the 847 area code flashing before my eyes and NADA. And then it stopped ringing. NOOOOOO! Dang it.

I almost messaged Josh in the US to tell him to pick me up a new iPhone 12 — I was that irritated, but I messaged Calvin and thankfully Carter got through to him so I impatiently waited while they chatted and then I called Calvin to get the details from him. And the details were that he passed, was now a sailor and he was going to be stationed in San Diego after A-school (electrician course)! I’m sure there was more, but it’s all faded into the blur of the past few weeks.

I thought after graduation things would be easier, but actually the wait became more agonizing. It turns out that because of covid (that’s got to be Time magazine’s Most Influential Being of the Year — everything is “because of covid”) all transportation had to be coordinated within the military system, so instead of hopping on a commercial flight, everyone sat around on their bunks, waiting for something to happen. No phones, no communication with the outside world. Nothing.

After a week with no word and parents going crazy (thank God for 20+ years as a military spouse, because I was not worried, I just felt bad that he was stuck), Carter did get his phone back and had enough time to tell us that the waiting was terrible and that he was screwed and might be waiting for over a month before he could get on a flight to Texas. But he was overjoyed to have his phone back! He got a front row seat in Military 101: “Hurry up and wait.”

Meanwhile on the mom page: “my kid is going to Florida today!” Yay, my kid left for A school and now I’m FaceTiming her every 10 minutes.” Whatever. I wasn’t jealous. #lies. But surprise, surprise we got a phone call and Carter was already on a bus headed to Wisconsin to get on a plane because my favorite hurricane Zeta cancelled the flight to Pensacola and they took the sailors waiting to go to Texas and California instead. Military 102: “Make plans, but they will change (and change again).”

Carter made it to A school on an Air Force base in North Texas. He’s finished 1 week of school and has 11 more weeks to go. (maybe. See Military 102.) He actually does get to take leave for Christmas and will go to our friends in Texas who are like family.

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Look at my grown up baby!!

looking a lot like his Great-grandpa . . .