Facing Change.

The other day, as we were driving to church, my husband turned to me and said, "As you might have figured out, I actually like change." The context for his statement was a loop the Navy had thrown at us. Seth is set to separate from the Navy toward the end of next summer. The Navy had decided, for various reasons and purposes, that it might possibly separate him at the end of this fall. The key words were "might possibly." The military doesn't deal in definites, at least not in advance.

Seth was excited. When the personnel people told him that he might no longer be 2nd class Petty Officer Atsma by Christmas time, he immediately began thinking about what his new job would be like. He began picturing himself tearing down nuclear reactors at the Hanford Nuclear Reserve or flying out to Hawaii to fix submarines and coming home within a week or writing software for the healthcare industry in Madison, Wisconsin. He saw only possibilities. Okay, that's not entirely fair. He saw difficulties too, but for him the possibilities easily overwhelmed the difficulties, questions, and confusions. He was confident that everything would work out. He always is.

I saw things differently. I could see his possibilities, and I like them, but the most present thought in my mind was "What do I do now, and what should I do first?". I could see a million obstacles between how things are for us now and how things will be when the Lord provides. We have a house which we just re-sided and refinanced. Said house is not ready for sale; it needs new paint in almost every room and cleaning of every carpet. Because of said residing, we have no savings to speak of either. We have no job at the present. We will have neither health nor life insurance once we separate, and we have no experience finding health or life insurance either. The Navy took care of that. This is what I saw in my mind when Seth came home and said, "Oh, by the way, Love, the Navy told me today that they might let me go at the end of November."

I think my panic disturbed him a little. In his mind, he takes care of the necessary, and God takes it where He wants to go. So he put his resume out on job engines and began applying to the few jobs in his field in our area. He was completely calm about the whole thing, but the whole time, my mind was racing, and in spite of a strong sense that God was going to work everything out smoothly, I couldn't help but say to myself "What if . . . . what if . . . . what if . . . ?" I wasn't questioning Seth's ability to get a job or his competence in taking care of our family, but let's face it, there are a lot of people like us out of work right now. These are frightening times, and I respond to those fears more than he does. I think he understood that that's all I was doing, but I could also see that he was hurt that I couldn't join in his excitement at the prospect of something new.

Remember premarital counseling, when you both sit down with the pastor who is going to marry you, and he goes through all the questions that help you figure you if your marriage is going to last. (My pre-marital counseling sessions were conference calls. That's what happens when one's fiance is in the Navy.) Our pastor asked us questions about spirituality, our relationships with God, marital headship, love languages, attraction, money, and expectations in life. No one thought to ask, "How do you approach change? Are you comfortable with the way your spouse approaches change?" I wish he had. It's an important question, a question that should be thought out ahead of time. A time of big change is a time of big stress and uncertainty. It is not the time that someone wants to be blindsided by systemic marital misunderstanding.

Seth and I were prepared for it for a disparity of feelings on this subject. If the Navy has taught us nothing else, it has taught us to be open with each other about our feelings in trying situations. They've pulled premature separation on us before, but never with this much probability that it would actually happen. I know that Seth has been looking forward to civilian life almost as long as he's worn a uniform, and he knows that I would rather put up with anything than face uncertainty. But I can face when I remember that Seth is by my side, and God has us both in a very strong grip. And Seth can put up with a few more months in the Navy for the sake of my sense of security.

As it turns out, the Navy has decided that it will keep Seth until the end of his enlistment. I could see that he was disappointed. He comforted himself by saying that at least he'll be able to go to Guam and eat at his favorite restaurant one last time. Poor comfort to a man who thought he'd be a civilian in a few weeks, but he hid his disappointment for me. As for me, I did my darndest to look less relieved than I felt, but I don't think I was very convincing. I know that sooner or later separation will come, and it will probably come smoothly, but I'd like time to meet it. We still expect to get out in August, and until then, life goes on. After that, well, life will go on too, and somewhere deep inside of me, I'm learning to be okay with that.