Take a run and stumble upon a big hill through greenery, pretend the beetles and butterflies are actually butterflies and cows. I’m trying, every time I start to whine about missing home and our last station, to remind myself how much I whined about our last station (“All the time,” as my husband likes to specify). Now is the perfect time to bloom where I am planted, reach up and kiss God my thanks with a joyful, singing heart, even if our time together is short and our surroundings unfamiliar. To be grateful for the time we did have at the last station, so sweet and easy, perfect for building our little family. To be overjoyed with this opportunity to see a new world in all it’s new beauty, as a family. To be thankful that we live in an age that communication is possible when the ship is underway.
Practice. Practice. Practice.