The city took our driveway!!!

It was the following week (after the break in) when we arrived home to find a note on our front door.  The note was from the construction company doing roadwork on our street.  We knew months in advance that the street we lived on was going to be upgraded.  In addition to repaving the entire road, a lane was to be added and new sidewalks were going to be poured.  We knew that for a portion of this time we would not have access to our driveway.  The entire project was supposed to be completed in September. 

This first week in November the project reached its half-way point.  That was the point in which we would lose access to our driveway.  The note on our door asked us to remove all cars from our driveway by 8 am the following day.  It also included an updated timeline for the remainder of the roadwork.  We were to have a brand new completed road by the end of November.

As we left our house on the way to work the following morning, we passed road workers setting up cones.  By the time we returned that evening, the top layer of pavement had been removed and the old brick street was left exposed.  The brick street was torn up and dirt was exposed the following day. 

With a nearly two-foot-deep trench in front of our yard, work seemed to halt.  Warm, sunny days passed with no changes to our street.  Then it began to rain.  The trench became a moat.  Getting from our house to our car took at least ten minutes and usually two pairs of shoes.  With sidewalks torn up, it was impossible to avoid the mud.  We began buying small amounts of groceries that we could carry in one trip, and planned our days to get all of our errands completed at once.

Even though the city's revised work schedule showed completion at the end of the month, I never let myself believe it was possible.  I was shooting for driveway access by the beginning of 2011, and left to celebrate the holidays hopeful that Santa would bring me a new driveway.

2011 began with no driveway.  Johnie and I planned for when we would get it back.  We had been considering the purchase of new furniture for more than a year and decided that making the purchase while having a mud pit in front of our house might possibly spur some road good will for us.  The furniture store delayed our delivery for weeks as we waited.  But then we could wait no longer, and we scheduled - and received - our furniture delivery before our driveway completion.

After four months of living with constant mud-caked shoes, dirt-covered floors, and spending as much time getting to our vehicles as it took to drive them to work, my patience wore thin.  I began calling the construction company, calling neighbors, calling city officials looking for answers.  No one really had any.

By March, the new lane in front of our house had been paved.  While I no longer felt as entrenched as before, there was still several feet of mud between the street and what was left of our old driveway.  Work halted once more.

This is when I really began to go a little insane.  More warm, sunny days passed with no progress.  I began studying the gap between the street and our driveway, brainstorming ways to fill it in.   I asked, only half jokingly, "What could they do if I poured the concrete myself?"  After all, it was my property.  I asked my grandfather -- in all seriousness -- how to mix and pour concrete.

During all of this, Johnie was back to juggling another full time work load and full time school load. I had asked too politely that he only take a couple classes during this semester.  He hadn't understood that it was a completely selfish request on my part.  I needed him more.  I needed him to help me more, to spend more time with me.  All of that was lost in translation.  Each week I asked him to drop a class or two; each week my request went unheeded.

He was also going through what turned out to be a five month application, interview, and negotiation process with the job he has now. 

It was all too much for me.  What had been mild stress-related stomach issues in January intensified in March, and a few other stress-related ailments followed.  I ended up having to spend a week on the couch.  It was then that Johnie realized what I was really asking from him, a week too late to drop any classes.

On April 6th, Johnie accepted an offer for the job he has now.  We were now on our sixth month with the mud hole in our front yard, and faced with the challenge of selling a house without a driveway.  Our friend and realtor enthusiastically crossed the mud and helped us create a strategy for planting a 'sold' sign in the front yard as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, and ironically, and bitter-sweetly, the work to our driveway was completed on April 18th.  One day before the house officially went on the market.  The remaining yard and sod work wasn't actually completed until after we moved to Kentucky in May. 

I was glad to offer a driveway for the house to potential buyers -- with the promise of a nice new yard -- but I was frustrated, angry and sad that we had endured those months without getting to enjoy the benefits from the work.

The stress and craziness that descended in September was still continuing in April.  As we planned an 800-mile move still fraught with uncertainty, there was no end in sight.

The Break-In

We pulled into our driveway that Saturday night after the show.  I felt rejuvenated.  I was already dreaming of the last day of our weekend off.  Buddy met us at our car.  He seemed sad, especially starving for attention.  We hadn't paid much attention to him in the last few weeks.  I was sure he had probably been acting like this for a while and I was just too busy to notice.  We gave him a few pats and then headed inside.

Johnie was the first to go in the house.  He was in the dining room by the time I was at the top of the stairs in the kitchen.  Light was shining through the dining room windows and I just couldn't figure out what was in the floor just a few feet from him.  I flipped on the light and discovered it was one of my jewelry boxes, turned upside down with the contents spilled across the floor.  My eyes darted to the vanity where the box was supposed to sit.  The drawer was open.  I was angry.

Why does he have to be so careless?  I thought.  It would have only taken a second to close the drawer back and how did he knock that jewelry box off?!?  It's probably broken.  Johnie's back was still to me.  The front door looked like it wasn't shut all the way. Had we forgotten to close it?  What is that gold thing in the floor there in front of the door?

Something wasn't right.  I broke the silence.  "Has someone been here?"  Johnie's hands went up to his head.  "Yes."

With that, I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.  As the phone rang it hit me that I didn't know where the burglar was.  As I recounted the last few minutes to the dispatcher on the other end, she advised me to go outside to wait for the police.  About that time, an unfamiliar car pulled into our driveway.  The dispatcher told me to use my best judgement as to what to do.

My judgement wasn't very good.  Laughably now, I "hid" - in plain view - in the corner of the dining room.  My reasoning was that I should be able to see the burglar come from any part of the house, as well as be protected from any stray bullets he might fire outside my vision.

I'll go ahead and save you the suspense.  The thief was gone before we arrived.  The car in our driveway turned out to be friends of our neighbor.  The police showed up in what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes.  After a quick search of the house, they began assessing the damage with us.  Initially, Johnie and I were both relieved.

I had left my purse on the coffee table, open, with money visible inside it.  It hadn't been touched.  The opened vanity drawer stored our passports, social security cards, birth certificates, and several credit cards that we didn't use on a regular basis.  All untouched.  Johnie's guns were safe.  The guy (or girl) had kicked in the door (it was the lock on the floor that I had noticed earlier), taken a pillowcase, and dropped a glove.  What a silly criminal!  We were ready to send the law officers on their way.

"Please walk through every room of the house with us and look them over carefully for things that are missing," one cop advised.  We followed him into our office.  Nothing really seemed out of place.  Big flat screen monitor was still there.  Johnie checked our financial files in there.  They hadn't been touched. 

I stared at my desk.  I almost never unplugged my laptop cord.  Even though I would carry my laptop from room to room, I always left the cord in the office.  I didn't remember unplugging it.  And, I couldn't remember where my laptop was. 

It seemed there was a laptop shaped hole on my desk with stacks of papers neatly framing where it should have been.  It was odd.  I continued to stare.  I walked over to my desk and examined it closely.  I couldn't remember moving my laptop, and usually when I did the papers around it didn't remain intact for long.  "Johnie, do you know where my laptop is?"

His head turned to my desk.  "They took it."  We described it to the police.

We walked into our bedroom.  Nothing seemed out of place.  "So, I guess they just took the laptop," Johnie said.  My eyes swept past the dresser.  I kept all my rings in a little silver heart jewelry box.  That jewelry box usually sat in the middle of the dresser.  It wasn't there.  I racked my brain but could not remember moving it.  I needed to go down to the basement to check if I had taken it down there.  "They may have taken a jewelry box.  It usually sits here.  I may have moved it, but I can't remember." 

"Wasn't there something else on the dresser?"  Johnie asked.  "Yes!.... A bucket."  I turned to the officers.  "We also had a silver bucket sitting there on the corner."  I blushed a little.  "It just had some letters in it, between us."  In a marriage study at church, we were all given a little bucket to decorate and then drop love notes to one another in.  Then I remembered what else I had stored in there.  "Oh!  And it also had some old coins.  Mostly half-dollars and silver dollars.  About $20 worth." 

As a very young child, two of my uncles would give me coins whenever I would visit them.  I saved them up in a Minnie Mouse bank from my great grandmother.  The previous Christmas my grandfather had asked me to take the coins home with me for safe keeping.  I brought them home (minus Minnie) and dropped them in the bucket on our dresser. 

And, I also remembered seconds later, the bucket also held a carved arrowhead stone my grandfather had given me years ago.  Now this crook was really making me mad!  Those coins were important to me!  And that arrowhead was one of a kind!

I asked the cops if we should go ahead and change all of our online passwords.  Johnie and I had just dealt with a credit card theft a few months prior.  It was a headache, and our initial fear was that we were going to have to go through all of that again- with every single card.  They agreed it would be a good idea, and I sat down at our computer to do that.

As I began logging into our accounts, I was mentally congratulating myself.  Our house had been broken into.  We both felt lucky that things weren't worse.  I always thought that I would be devastated if my house was broken into.  I wasn't crying, and after the whole dining-room-gun scare, I wasn't even nervous or afraid.  I was ready to send the cops on their way, bar up our door for the night and go to sleep.

An officer followed me into the room and began asking questions.  I described the missing jewelry box for him.  He asked about it's contents.  "Oh, just some rings," I answered.  "Probably about 10 or 12."  He asked me to describe them.

My aunt had given me a few diamond solitaires.  Those wouldn't really be distinguishable.  I remembered my high school class ring and described it.  That was a little frustrating to me, but I could always just have another one made.  Then it hit me.  "And..."  I lost it.  I began reacting in the way I had imagined I would after being robbed.  My hands went to my face as I let out heavy sobs.  Johnie came to my side. 

I composed myself enough to finish, "a gold Kentucky cluster ring.  It was my grandmother's 25th anniversary ring."  It was my prized possession.  As creepy - or sickening - as it may sound, I had never cleaned the ring.  It was one of the few rings my grandmother always wore, and as such, it had much dirt built up underneath it.  I clung to the ring - and it's dirt - as a lasting reminder of my grandmother.  I was shocked when my grandfather gave it to me, and felt so undeserving of such a special item.  And the thief took it!

I morphed from a logical, sane person into a crazy lady ready to scour the city in search of pillowcases and a dirty cluster diamond with a broken gold prong.  Much to my dismay, no one in Kansas seemed to even know what a Kentucky cluster was.  The police were really nice, but my faith in their ability to recover the ring wavered with this knowledge. 

As the reality slowly hit me that I was completely helpless and completely defenseless to a person entering my house and taking my things, my anxiety and fear increased.  I sat down in a chair in the living room, exhausted.

I felt so violated.  Not only had a complete stranger pilfered through my very personal possessions, but now multiple police officers were walking through and photographing every room of my house.  I wavered between asking them if I could tidy up before they snapped the photos, asking them if they could explain to anyone who looked at the pictures that we had been really busy and stressed out these past few weeks and normally didn't leave dirty dishes in our living room (we had eaten dinner in front of TV and left our dishes on the coffee table), and just asking them to leave and let us put our house back in order.

I decided just to stay out of their way and let them do what they wanted.  And when it was time for them to leave, all I wanted to ask was if one of them would stand guard on our porch for the rest of the night.  When the last officer stopped at the door, turned, and asked if we had any questions, I began grasping at possible queries that sounded less bizarre than my personal cop request.

"Do you know why our house was broken into?"

"It was probably just random.  Similar break-ins have been happening all over the city."

"Do you think they'll come back... like they just staked out our house?"

"Probably not."

"Is there anything we can do to help prevent this from happening again?"

"Always keep a light on in your house, and keep your porch light on."

Now I was grasping more frantically.  I watered down my request as best I could. "Will there be officers patrolling this street tonight?"

Johnie's dad made it to our house just before the cops left.  I felt torn.  I didn't want to leave my house, but I also didn't want to stay in my house without someone keeping guard that night.  Instead, Johnie's dad boarded up our door and we went home with him.

I spent the night awake, wondering who would have broken into our house and why.  In those first moments, I had imagined a hardened criminal watching us for weeks before making his move - knowing exactly where we kept all of our valuables and personal information.  As I processed it that night, I began to agree with the cops' assessment that it was probably someone who saw a dark house and wanted some items to pawn for a few bucks.

I thought about where my grandmother's ring would be in the city.  How I could find it.  I wanted to put an ad in the paper.  I was sure I'd pay the burglar more than any pawn shop or gold buyer to have that ring back.  I thought about the price of gold and how the ring would probably be sold and melted.  The thought still brings tears to my eyes.

In the following days, we filed our insurance claim, our dear friend hung a new - and much more secure - door for us, and we put our life back together.  Johnie continued with his classes, we both continued with our jobs.  I had another conference that week.  I longed for a break even more than I had before the "relaxing" weekend started, but the whirlwind continued.

A storm in the distance

Early in 2010, I began reflecting on time spent with my grandfather.  He was experiencing some health problems that made me nervous.  Honestly, part of me worried that I'd get a call one day that things had taken a turn for the worse.  In thinking about my grandfather's limited time, I decided to do something special for him and planned a surprise birthday party.

Here's my confession.  That birthday party was as much for me as it was for him.  The longer I lived in Kansas the more homesick I became.  I longed for those days as a little girl when all of my family would gather at Christmas.  Everyone had made their own Christmas traditions since my grandmother had passed away, but I felt like papaw deserved (and I really craved) at least one more joyous occasion with the whole family.

The party was a great success.  Papaw still brings it up and claims it was his best birthday.  I had hoped more of his grandkids would be able to make it in, but he had all his children together, and in a strange way that was really important to me.

In the beginning of 2010, Johnie and I began discussing a plan to move back to Kentucky.  The move to Kansas was never meant to be permanent, and I was ready to get back home.  We thought it'd take about four to five years to actually make the transition back.  Johnie had planned to get his degree as quickly as possible and then begin looking for programming positions in my home state.  After he was given the promotion at Cox, and was a successful programmer by all indications, we decided to begin the Bluegrass job search early - after that July trip left me even more homesick than I was before.

The true "beginning of the bad stuff" came Labor Day weekend.  Johnie was a few weeks into another semester of full-time college work.  His department was behind and he was working a lot of overtime.  My work schedule was unpredictable.  There were mornings I had to wake up at 4 am to travel to a meeting and nights when I didn't make it home until 8 or 9 pm.  There was no room for the unexpected.

The Saturday before Labor Day, we planned to take advantage of some free tickets to a Royals baseball game.  On the turnpike, halfway to Kansas City, we cancelled the trip and turned around.  My young, strong, healthy cousin had died unexpectedly.  I was not particularly close to this cousin.  Even now, I can't remember the last time I saw him.  The memories that I do have of him are pretty generic, and all are tied to other people.  Still, his death devastated me.

I have a large family.  I could easily name off at least a hundred cousins, without mentioning more than twice as many more.  And while I mean no offense to my cousins who don't fall in this category, Josh was a part of a distinct group.  Even though we weren't close, and even though we didn't visit, he was a special cousin.

My grandparents had 22 grandchildren.  We were (and are) a special group.  We had the privilege of being spoiled by several aunts and uncles while enjoying the benefits of two loving and devoted grandparents.  They had already made all their mistakes with their own children, and had softened quite a bit, too.  And while three boys came after me, I was (and am) the youngest granddaughter.

I spent a lot of time with my grandparents and, by default, with this group of cousins.  I adored them.  Some I even idolized.  (I'm not confessing which ones.)  I only hoped to someday play the sports and games they played, wear the clothes they wore, do the things they did.  They were cool.  And unlike the cool kids at school who picked on me and made me cry, my cousins always included me.  Even when they were cool in school, they never left me out.  Even when I was an annoying little brat (who sometimes tattled after we did the fun stuff....sorry guys, I felt guilty), they always let me be part of the group.

As we all grew up, began marrying and creating a new generation of Roses, I still felt a special connection with my cousins.  Most all of them were pretty good about checking in with papaw, and I usually got my updates on them through him.  For one of us to die so suddenly rocked my world.  Even though I am not usually presumptuous, I thought we were decades from something like that.

From hundreds of miles away, my heart ached for my family - my dear uncle who had lost a son, his other sons who had lost a brother.  Josh's wife and kids.  Between every one of my trips to Kentucky I lost someone.  Usually I could predict who it would be.  I said long-term goodbyes to an aunt, an uncle, and a great grandmother on trips home.  After a year or so of this pattern, I began dreading that part of the trip - the drive to Kansas wondering who wouldn't be there when I came back.  I could have never predicted Josh.

I didn't understand then why I was so devastated.  Looking back, I think it was a combination of homesickness, an overly busy schedule, and a sudden realization of the mortality of all my loved ones.  With everything in me I wanted to be with my family.  But I was scheduled to be at a conference in Atlanta the day after the funeral.  While internally I felt like I was spiraling out of control, externally I could only verbalize that a cousin had passed away, and no, I wasn't really "close to him."  It hardly seemed reasonable to change my schedule to allow for an emergency trip back home.

I immersed myself in a kitchen renovation that weekend.  I processed emotions while I peeled wallpaper and painted walls.  If any of you are working full-time, going to school full-time, and are married to a person who is out of town for work more than not, never EVER take that spouse to a home improvement store just hours after she learns a family member has died. 

We drove from the exit on the turnpike straight to Lowes.  Obviously, I wasn't thinking clearly.  This was not the time to update the room in the house devoted to a primary need of eating.

Between our busy schedules and our home improvement ineptness, we didn't finish the weekend project until mid-October.  While I felt like I had missed my opportunity to celebrate the fall season, I was determined to keep Halloween traditions in tact.  I bought a couple pumpkins for us to carve, took advantage of half-price tickets to the Wichita Symphony Orchestra's Halloween performance, and held on for the weekend when I could unwind and relax.

It kicked off Friday evening with friends.  We caught a show of the hilarious Shonda Pierce performing one of her stand-up routines.  Saturday morning Johnie and I slept in and spent the glorious day relaxing until it was time for the symphony. 

Our seats were awesome and the music was even better.  It was entertaining in spots, soothing in others, absolutely beautiful throughout.  I remember at one point in the performance breathing in deeply and congratulating myself on making it through the trying weeks behind me.  I had processed my cousin's passing.  Johnie was more than half-way finished with his semester.  The work in our kitchen was complete.  I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Uncertainty, Surprises, Blessings

At the half-way point of our third year of marriage, I was given the wonderful blessing of a new job.  I had been desperately wanting to leave the agency I was with (although not so desperate as to take anything available - my experiences with my first job in Kansas made me extremely picky with my second one). 

I had applied for several positions with Kansas Children's Service League throughout my time in Wichita.  I liked the company foremost because of its mission.  It was the Kansas chapter of Prevent Child Abuse America, and I had interned with the Kentucky chapter in college.  That internship planted the seeds of passion in me to advocate for the best life possible for our children.

I never received a call back from KCSL until the summer of 2009.  I applied for a new position that would be responsible for assisting with a Shaken Baby Syndrome prevention program.  I was invited to interview for this job, and thankfully was able to ultimately accept the position.

While like the first job, my work with KCSL was nothing like I thought it would be, my new job surprised me in mostly wonderful (a few not as wonderful) ways, and had a sizable impact on my life.

I made some of my best "Kansas friends" at KCSL, and deepened both my passion and my knowledge of keeping children safe and strong.  My job evolved into the opportunity to travel to every corner of the state and talk to people about keeping babies safe.  And while I didn't always prefer getting up at 4 am to make a meeting 200 miles from home, I loved getting to visit all the quirky little Kansas towns, meet people in rural parts of the state that reminded me so much of the people I grew up with, and hopefully help a few parents and give a few babies a better start than they would have had otherwise.

Shortly after my job began at KCSL, Johnie and I became aware of the economic downturn our nation had taken.  By that fall, we had friends being cut from companies trying to stay afloat.  Cox, the company Johnie worked for, announced they would be reducing their workforce.  We braced for bad news, and created an emergency budget plan just in case.  But much to our relief, Johnie's job was spared.

It was also that fall when another highlight of my life in Kansas began.  Quite innocently, one of our friends called us one day and invited us over to sing with a few other friends and Johnie's cousins.  Even though I don't sing, I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to visit.  And what began (from my perception), as just a few friends getting together one weekend, turned into a full-fledged a capella singing group.

Singing with "7" became a mainstay for Johnie.  Sunday evenings were devoted to the group.  And I enjoyed (and enjoy) being the self-proclaimed biggest fan and groupie.  (Anyone else have three different "7" ring tones on their cell phone???  That's what I thought.)

Up until this point, Johnie had been working tirelessly in a side business.  His dream was to be a full-time, self-employed computer programmer.  After taking on some projects that turned into something much different than what he anticipated, he found himself in a situation where he was spending all of his free time at home on his business.  I was feeling increasingly neglected and alone.

Shortly after a weekend of serious discussion about this, and a lesson at church (I honestly can't remember anything about it-just that it impacted Johnie greatly), Johnie made the decision to give up his business.  To completely stop his efforts.

I was relieved and thankful to have time with my husband again, but I still wanted him to achieve his dream of becoming a full-time programmer.  We talked it over that winter and decided that he should take advantage of his tuition reimbursement benefit at work, and begin seriously working on a programming degree. 

Just a few weeks after we began our fourth year of marriage, Johnie began juggling a full-time workload and a full-time school load.  And then a few weeks after that came the call that made my stomach drop.

Instead of recovering, the economy continued to decline.  Companies continued laying off their workers.  Johnie and I continued to worry about his job security.  I was at my own job when I got the call from him.  I could tell from the sound of his voice when he said "hello" that I was about to get some news.  I didn't think it would be good.

"So, Paul called me into his office this morning."

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.  We knew this might happen.  We had planned for it.  I silently prepared myself, "We'll be okay.  We'll make it through this." Then, I asked for the news: "Yeah?"

"They're going to make me a programmer.  I'm moving to the IT department!"

My whole body went weak.  I was shocked.  I shared what I thought the news was going to be, and Johnie agreed that he fully expected to hear that he was being laid off when he closed the door to his boss's office. 

The promotion was a complete surprise and wonderful blessing to us.  We celebrated and celebrated.  And kept reminding ourselves it was really real. 

And almost as quickly as the happiness came, it was overshadowed.  Just a few weeks into his new position, there was an investigation into a situation in Johnie's new department that put his job into major jeopardy. 

Seemingly overnight, our prayers of thankfulness turned into prayers of pleading that Johnie's name would be cleared.

After a couple weeks of tense and intimidating investigation, it was, and we were finally able to settle into yet another new era of our life together.  It is still a time that we often talk about with amazement and humility, a time that I hope never loses the awe and (overall) joy it holds for us.

Cancun Trip

It was a boring day at work when I received an exciting phone call from Johnie.  He called to tell me we had just won an all expenses paid trip to Cancun through a bonus program at his job.  He was ecstatic.  I was reluctant.

I didn’t like the dates of the pre-planned trip, and I wasn’t sure I would have chosen the hotel his company picked for us.  I had never really had a desire to visit Mexico, and I didn’t know Spanish.  I also had a secret fear of being detained, of not being allowed back into my home country, like my own twisted version of The Terminal.

I was so complacent about our prize that Johnie actually e-mailed a couple hours later offering to turn down the vacation.  I didn’t want to be the girl who passed up an opportunity to go to Cancun for free, and I didn’t want to spoil Johnie’s fun, so I told him we’d go and began researching the city.  I e-mailed a couple friends who had visited Cancun and began pouring over tourist reviews.

It only took a couple days for my excitement to exceed Johnie’s.  If I was going to go to Cancun, I was going to take full advantage of the opportunity given to me.  I charged myself with planning the absolute best vacation possible.  One lousy meal, one lackluster tourist venue, and I deemed my mission failed.

I estimate that I spent at least 80 (probably closer to 200) hours planning the 5 day trip.  I didn’t have much to do at work, so I devoted myself completely to the Cancun planning project.  Back at home, I would talk to Johnie about costs, reviews, and my thoughts over dinner, and then reevaluate plans throughout the evening.

I decided we definitely had to visit Mayan ruins.  I read more and more reviews, considered more and more packages, and discovered more and more sites.  Many of the packages took all day, had uninteresting (for Johnie, me, or the both of us) side stops, and only included one ruins site.  I ended up ordering a set of maps detailing Mayan ruin sites, and considering factors like accessibility (there were some that you could climb on), safety (some were steep and didn’t have ropes to hang on to), and crowds (Johnie doesn’t like them).

I probably read at least a hundred local restaurant reviews before picking out a couple of must-stop spots for us to enjoy a meal.  I decided our best tourist-marketed excursion would be on some underwater scooters that allowed us to see the coral reef up close.  Think scuba diving without scubaing or diving.  And one night I even stumbled upon a little eco-tourism village where visitors could stay in their own little huts and enjoy crafts, meals, and ceremonies from the locals. 

I felt confident I had planned the perfect vacation for us.  Six days before our flight, while talking to my mom, the subject of the swine flu came up.  I had heard about it on the news.  I had already determined a little flu was not going to ruin my plans.  I reassured her that we had already planned on drinking only bottled water during our trip, were already taking immune building vitamins, and had already packed plenty of hand sanitizer.  I also shared that Johnie and I had decided, after hearing of the flu outbreak, to diligently prohibit others from coughing or sneezing on us.

Secretly I was most worried that flight passengers were being screened for flu-like symptoms before being allowed to board their plane.  I prayed that I would stay healthy enough to make it to Mexican soil.  If I needed to visit a doctor on my return - or be detained in an airport The Terminal-style for a few days - I felt it would be worth it. 

Five days before our trip, Johnie’s company sent an e-mail saying they were evaluating the health risks of traveling to Mexico and how that might impact our plans.  I felt like everyone was completely overreacting to the whole thing and that the e-mail was sent out to calm the fears of germaphobes.  But the next day they announced their decision to cancel the Cancun trip.  I was devastated.

They offered no other details but that they were still deciding the best option for the employees who had won the vacation.  I consoled myself with the hope of a large monetary bonus in lieu of the vacation, or travel vouchers that would allow us to reschedule the trip, or just moving the dates of the trip they had planned for us.

A day later the company informed us they were planning a trip to an alternate location with the same dates as the old trip.  I was a little disappointed to abandon my new-found Mexican dream vacation, but I was increasingly excited about the mystery location.  I was sure that the company would not have bought our passports without taking us to a place to use them.

It was two days before our flight when we learned our destination.  Florida.  I cried a lot.  I had visited Florida before.  I could get in my car and drive there.  I surely didn’t need a passport.  I talked to Johnie about taking the small cash bonus option instead of the trip.  He wasn’t open to that.  While he was disappointed by the Cancun letdown, he was excited for a few days off work in what he was told was a “really nice hotel.”

I’ll hand it to Cox.  It was a really nice hotel.  And they gave us extra perks and bonuses throughout the trip to help.  If we had won this trip to Florida without having a Mexico trip offered and then rescinded, or if I had been given a few weeks to grieve the loss of my plan and the hours I spent creating it, I could have probably written a post twice this long about how amazing the Florida trip was. 

Don't get me wrong, it was a good trip.  We both had a good time.  I am thankful for the vacation, and the opportunity to stay at a hotel way out of my budget. I didn’t have time to really plan, and it was just “stupid old Florida that we could visit anytime,” so I made our new vacation itinerary to include a lot of ocean side relaxing.  That was something I had decided we didn’t really have time for in Cancun.

Other than a bus ride all the way to the Florida Keys from Miami (in my defense I didn’t realize the lighthouse was THAT far away), and an evening excursion to Espanola Way (the closest thing to Mexico the city offered), we spent our time on the beach, on the balcony of our room, or generally lounging with the calming sounds of waves in the background. 

There are plenty of pleasant memories to share from that trip, but sadly they are all marred by the fact they came at the price of a lost trip to Mexico.  And while I think almost everyone else involved in the trip has probably gotten over it, I sadly have not.  Embarrassingly so.

Just the other day (yes, more than two and a half years later), I was thinking about potential 2012 vacations and wondering if we might need a passport.  Then out of nowhere I started tearing up, memories of the missed Cancun trip - and a second canceled Mexico trip (which comes later) - flooding my mind.  

Don't worry, I am comforted by plans for a Mexican vacation someday.  And, while I still hold my pre-trip conviction that we should always take full advantage of every opportunity we are given, I did learn an important lesson through it.  Sometimes there is beauty to be found when things don't go the way we planned for them to.  And, just because you don't get to your destination the way you thought you would doesn't mean you won't get there in the end.

The Year that Nothing Happened

Our courtship, engagement, and first married year were quite eventful.  As we talked about our memories from that time, we actually had to decide what details to leave out of our "story."  Our second year was a little different.  In planning to tell the story of our second year, I had trouble coming up with anything to share.  After several days of trying to remember something interesting from that time, I finally decided to admit to Johnie I was drawing a blank for an entire year of our lives.

We talked about it a few months ago.  “I think I’m just going to say it was the year that nothing happened,” I said.  “Stuff happened.”  Johnie contended.  “Well, like what?”  I asked.  “Our new jobs.”  First year.  “I started singing with Seven.”  Third year.  It went on for several minutes.

“So nothing happened our second year?” Johnie seemed a little worried.  “Well, it’s not like nothing happened.  I mean, it was a good year for us.  I just don’t think we have very many stories from that year.”  After a bit of further discussion, he seemed okay with our lackluster year.

In way of confession, I feel I must admit that our second year may very well go down in history as one of my favorite years of marriage.  The first year was hard in many ways.  We were learning a lot about one another and how to function as a team.  I was terribly homesick and adjusting to life in a completely different place.  I have plenty of happy memories from that time, but just as many that involve tears, depression, and loneliness.  And we’ll get to the other years later.  While I don’t have any second-year stories to set off fits of laughter, I also don’t have any struggles or hardships to share. 

Just typing that makes me feel so blessed.  It is the reason why I cherish our second year.  For that and one other reason: I love routine.  Our second year was routine.  We settled into work schedules.  After Johnie working nearly every Saturday of our first year, we now had our weekends free.  I felt like we were finally normal.  Our first year we guarded our date night as though it was sacred.  Several months into our second year, Johnie asked me one evening why we didn’t do date night anymore.  It was because we had every evening together and usually more than one date a week naturally resulted. 

We received extra income from my job, but no added bills.  It was the most financially stable either of us had ever been.  We were oblivious to the looming recession and didn’t even know to worry that we might ever lose that stability.

We planned long vacations to Kentucky.  And they actually felt like vacations.  Trips home that first year felt like challenges to spend as much time as possible with as many people as possible with no regard for sleep or personal preferences before having to return to Kansas.  We purposely made our second year trips more leisurely.  Dividing the drive into two days, and scheduling side trips during our stay.

My relationships with Kansas friends and family continued to grow and deepen, and I didn't feel as isolated or lonely as I had the first year.  It was the least stressful my life had been since I was a little girl, and my schedule was more laid back than it had been in years.  If I had to describe the year in one word it would be relaxed. 

We had decided when celebrating our first anniversary in Kansas that we would like to celebrate each year in a different state.  Our second year celebration was in Tennessee.  And then we started our third - when things started getting a little more interesting again. 

Job Changes

Our first autumn brought some welcome work-related changes.  After settling into our house in the spring, I decided I wanted to get a job.  I spent my days alone, waiting for Johnie to get home from work.  His 12 hour work days made that difficult.  I didn’t really have very many friends available to spend my days with and I wouldn’t have known how to drive to their houses even if I knew where they lived anyway.

After a long and discouraging job hunt through the summer, I finally landed a part-time job with a local non-profit in October. 

As a side note, I was going to “tell all” about what was easily my worst working experience to date, but I have decided not to air that dirty laundry in public.  However, if anyone would like to hear some unbelievable stories sometime (not in writing), just let me know.  If you're a fan of The Office, some of these completely true stories will sound eerily familiar.

As I was celebrating my own job victories, things were changing for Johnie’s career as well.  He had recently been accepted into Cox’s Leadership Academy.  We were ecstatic for this opportunity, but had no idea how it would change our lives.

Shortly after his classes began, he learned of a newly created position in the company.  The person to fill the opening would act as a liaison between field service technicians and office and engineering staff.  It sounded perfect for Johnie.  With the approval of his director and vice president he applied for the position.  He interviewed and then we waited.

We waited until one day, in between service calls, Johnie’s phone rang.  It was the manager of the new position.  She let him know they had decided to go with someone else, whom he was welcome to shadow, for the new spot.  We were devastated.

Johnie loved his job.  He loved the company he worked for, but he hated several elements of his work.  He was required to work long hours in adverse weather.  Kansas winters, with their bone chilling wind, were especially brutal.  Before we received the bad news, we had both looked forward to winters worked indoors.  With this new development, I began praying that the winter before us would be the last Johnie would have to work outside.

The newly created position was promptly reposted the following week.  The manager had decided to go with someone else.  She just didn’t know who that other person was yet.  Johnie and I were even more disappointed and confused.  He talked with his supervisor about reapplying for the job that sounded so perfect, but was discouraged from doing so. 

The more I thought about it, though, the more I couldn’t let it go.  We studied the job description.  This job was for Johnie.  Obviously the manager had misunderstood his experience and qualifications.  I pushed Johnie to write a letter to her, asking what he could do to meet the requirements for the job, and also spelling out why he (or I) thought he was a perfect fit.

After a bit of reluctance, Johnie sent the letter.  A couple of weeks went by without us hearing anything.  We decided to accept the fact this wasn’t Johnie’s ticket inside the office, and  to prepare for another (hopefully the last) long winter outside.

My first week of my new job arrived.  One of my very first phone calls that week came from Johnie.  He had a question about one of his suits because he had been called in for a second interview for the elusive new office position.  He hadn’t been given much time to prepare.  By the time I made it home that evening, he had been offered – and had accepted – the new position at Cox.

I don’t think we ever learned why they were so hesitant to give him the job in the first place, or if the letter had any bearing on their final decision.  We were grateful for the opportunity, though.  Even today, Johnie will still mention his thankfulness for working inside on cold, rainy, or windy days.  Other times, when we hear dreadful weather forecasts, he’ll express sympathy for those still in field positions.  And this job became more of a blessing than we could have ever imagined.