Something else

From this one place, I can't see very far.

In this one moment, I'm square in the dark.

These are the things I will trust in my heart:

You can see something else...

The phone rang on the empty pillow next to my tousle-haired head. The time above the incoming call read 5:30. "Hello?" I answered in a groggy voice that tried to sound awake, as if someone were going to judge me if they caught me sleeping before 6am. Roberto's work hours during the summer time require that we set our alarms an hour earlier than usual---3:50am. Normally I would stay awake after he has left and start my day, but there's just something ungodly at sitting down at a desk at 4:15 in the morning.

"I got the orders."
"And?"
"And I'm really upset right now."

It's time for us to pick where we'll be stationed next. Naturally we would like to go back to Florida, but of course we can only take what's available. Unlike all the other 20-somethings vying for Florida orders because they think it'd be fun getting slammed on the beach every weekend, we have all of our family there. But almost more than that, my scholarship is in Florida.

I refuse to adopt the ball and chain that so many American students have laden themselves with indefinitely. My scholarship would save us $30,000-$60,000 (a small house, two top tier tickets for a World Cruise, a luxury vehicle).... It's only caveat is its statue of limitations: like an hour glass glued to the table, it starts over for no one---only grows ever closer to running out. I'm almost 23 years old. According to most universities, I have three years left on my bachelor's degree. And I'm not intentionally having kids or moving on with my life until I get it.

So if you ask me, we need to get stationed in Florida.

Jacksonville was available the month before. We missed it by a few days, but had complete confidence the opportunity would circle around again.

I was about to find out if we were right.

"Our options are Texas, Maryland, or New Orleans."

My sleepy little heart sank.
For the first, I'd rather have my fingernails removed. The second, I'll take walking into oncoming traffic. The last? Several quick, simultaneous bullets to the head would be much appreciated. Surely only God could construct such a perfect list of the last three places on the face of the earth we would choose to go.

I spent the rest of the day nursing a throbbing pain behind my left eye. Ya know, the one I get when we're camping on the beach of an uncertainty which threatens to make indelible marks on our lives.

Roberto is pulling every string he can for other options and/or an extension of time. But oh how I detest this helpless unknowing. And yet, I'm not the distraught mess I probably should be. The thing is, we'd be far better off getting stationed in New Orleans than we would in Jacksonville if New Orleans is God's will.

He withholds no good things from us (Psalm 84:11). 

His plan is so much better than anything a short-sighted, 5'7" 22-year-old can tell. He's got boxed seating while we're sitting at the baseline. I'd be cutting off my nose to spite my face if I fought for the best plan only as far as I can see. I know these things. I'm not saying it's an easy pill to swallow. But it's one that brings a peace which passes all understanding.