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I guess you could say this Christmas we are "undecorating."

You see, today is the last day we'll be together as a family in the place we've called home for the last year and a half. Tomorrow, we start the trek back East. The Wife and kids will be staying with her parents while I'm deployed.

The reality of all this is finally sinking in.

Finding this house was a true blessing. When we first moved out here we were living in a dingy hotel room, sharing a wall with the room that housed the hotel's industrial sheet washers. We were desperate to get out of there, but nothing we looked at even remotely fit our needs. Houses were either way too small, too rundown, or too expensive to be suitable. We were about to start looking at places an hour or more away from my job when we decided to check this one last place out.

The Filipino lady who greeted us was sweet and warm. She was just as excited to show us the place as we were to look. Four bedrooms with a beautiful kitchen 20 minutes from work and right at our budget. When she found out I was a Marine she started to cry. Her husband, who died a few years ago, was a retired Marine. He had told her that if she were to ever rent the place to rent it to a Marine or a missionary.  God had answered many prayers that morning.

After looking at the place, the Wife and I exchanged nods and said we'd take it. Then, in the middle of the kitchen, our new landlord asked if we'd pray with her. That was the start of many wonderful memories here.

Even though we are close to 3,000 miles away from most of our family (except the Wife's sister and her two children), most of those memories involved our family visiting. We had Becky's aunt and uncle and their three kids around for Grace's first birthday. Her parents were here a couple times. My parents came a couple times. My sister, brother-in-law and their two kids came to stay for a bit.

We welcomed our second child into the world here. Well, we welcomed at the hospital technically, but we brought him back here. I'll always remember watching the Wife do Wii yoga in the living room at nine months pregnant trying to start labor. That didn't work, but I'll also always remember the friends who came here to help us out at 3 in the morning when it was go time.

I'll always remember this year's Thanksgiving and what a blessing and a blast it was.

I'll always remember how much fun it was to splash in the pool with Grace and our niece and nephew. Until we moved here, I'd never seen two kids spend nearly eight straight hours in a pool.

I'll always remember cool nights in a hot tub.

I'll always remember snuggling with my wife and both of us talking in amazement how blessed we are.

I'll always remember my nightly bedtime routine with Grace.

I'll always remember finally feeling grown up because we no longer lived in an apartment. I jumped for joy at the sight of a garage. The Wife jumped for joy at a - no kidding - full-sized washer and dryer.

I'll always remember my first (and so far only) attempt at being handy. I built a set of shelves to go in our living room. They took me four weeks to make.

I'll always remember running up the Marine Corps and American flags up our flagpole. That may seem minor to some people, but that made me feel proud on so many levels.

I'll always remember Grace taking her first steps here.

I'll always remember rocking Timothy to sleep in his room.

I'll always remember rolling around on the floor with Grace while the Wife and Timothy looked on - all of us laughing.

Yes, a lot has happened here in the last year and a half. It's all those things - and so many more - that make me sentimental about not living here anymore.

Moving has to be the most difficult part of being in the military. I long for the day that we can call a place home and mean it. Where our roots can grow deep, the memories would fill volumes, and the door is always open to those we love.

But that's not our reality yet, and I'm okay with that. I also realize that a house is just wood and drywall. A home is so much more.

It's wherever me, my wife, and children are together.  

Say cheese!

I thought my wife's idea of getting a family portrait done was great. She'd have something to frame, and I'd have something to carry with me in my pocket in Afghanistan. HeartsApart.org, a non-profit that connects servicemembers with photographers, would do this for free for us too. Very cool.

The concept of getting our family picture taken seemed easy too: Dress up, pose, smile, click, and done. Five minutes. Beautiful photo, home for football.

The deceiving thing about a photo, however, is that is shows you, at most, 1/60 of a second of time. You really have no idea what's going on between those split seconds. Smiles - or what looks like smiles - could really be the reaction from you kid kicking you in the crotch.

It seemed that neither one of the kids wanted a happy family moment to happen for us. Our perfect little angles must have been possessed for the hour and a half we were at Lauren's house. Grace would not sit still, Timothy cried. If we got one to cooperate for a moment, the other would blow up. I have never bribed one child as much as I did during this shoot. I think I may have even promised a pony in exchange for three seconds of calmness.

Every chance she got, Grace would tear away from me or the wife and run into another room. I'd get up and have to go chase her down. She was mule kicking me the whole way back to the set. I was getting hot from repeating this exercise a dozen times. I hope you can Photoshop out sweat.

If Grace wasn't running into other rooms, she was up in Lauren's face begging to see the camera. Actually grabbing for it too. I know cameras and I was praying she didn't break this one. I don't know how I'd feel if this free photo shoot would have set me back a couple grand.

Timothy just was not happy in any position. All he probably wanted to do was sleep, and we were bouncing him, pulling his hands out of his mouth, swaying, and tickling to get him to smile - everything but leaving him alone. Poor kid.

Lauren was an absolute saint through all this. She is a young military wife and professional photographer who volunteered to work with HeartsApart. Her and her husband don't have any kids yet, but she was perfect with them. Much more patient than me or my wife when Grace went exploring around the electronics array near their TV, or Timothy was wailing instead of smiling. And she had just enough tricks up her sleeve to get smiles from both kids.

When all of us adults reached complete exhaustion we threw in the towel. What was on that camera card was all Lauren was going to have to work with. However, she showed us a few frames that she captured, and they made my heart smile.

I really do have a beautiful family - even when our kids' attitudes aren't the best I feel so blessed to be their dad. And now I'll have a picture to remind me every day that I'm gone of how wonderful they are.

Saying Goodbye

The family we had in town for the last couple weeks leaves today.

While our house will be back to "normal," I'm sad to have to say goodbye. I know that Grace enjoyed having her two cousins around. She finally had pint-sized playmates besides the dog almost 24/7. Timothy had more than enough people to hold and rock him, and The Wife and I had other adults to talk to (simple things, really).

There's more to this goodbye for me though. What kept me from falling back asleep this morning - besides Timothy wriggling in  my arms fighting off his own sleep - was the realization that this goodbye means I'm closer to the one I've been dreading for a while now.

In the not-to-distant future I'll be separated from my family for a year.

A whole year.

Those words are like a punch in the gut every time I think about them.

I've deployed before. My wife and I were barely six months into our first year of marriage when I went to Afghanistan. Half of our first "honeymoon" year was through bad phone connections, e-mail, and grainy video chats.

While that deployment was certainly difficult at times, this is going to be even tougher. I'm going for twice as long and now there's two kids who grow and change every day. That's 365 days of change I'll miss.

I know that my wife and kids will be well taken care of while I'm gone, and I'm going to be busy most of the time, but I'm sad knowing I'll miss Timothy's first steps, Grace's ever-expanding vocabulary grow into full sentences, and the fact that The Wife has to balance everything on her own. She didn't ask to be a single mother, and yet my service is forcing that for a while.

Don't get me wrong though. I'm proud of what I do, and my wife supports and helped make the decision that I should stay in the Marines. It was a decision made with lots of prayer, and we believe this is where God wants me right now. We'll make it through, just like we did at the beginning of our marriage.

But goodbyes suck.

Whether it's goodbye after two weeks with your sister and her amazing family, or it's goodbye to the people that complete your life.

Goodbyes suck.