Today I am super excited to by sharing my story at (in)courage. You read the first part here:

The day I turned 37 my husband was deployed to Guam. Three weeks prior to my birthday, I had packed up my household along with my three-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son and relocated to Texas.

It was a desperation move, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Only a few months prior, on August 29, 2005, our little family had huddled together with so many strangers, glued to the television in a hotel lobby in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. As we watched in horror, Hurricane Katrina made landfall, bringing a 30-foot storm surge to coastal Mississippi, just west of my husband’s duty station, not far from our home. Southern Louisiana was devastated as well, especially New Orleans where most of our family lived.

We were displaced for a few weeks. We drove to Miami, Florida to stay with my Aunt Peggy, then my military husband returned to Mississippi to help with relief efforts. Finally, after a few weeks, the water was safe to drink, the gas stations had gasoline, and there was a pediatrician in town, so I came back with the kids.

When we returned, people were shell-shocked, some were homeless, and many lived in partially destroyed homes. Small businesses stood vacant. There were long lines at gas stations. Grocery shelves were often empty; it was often a 2-hour wait to check out. Weeks after my return, my husband deployed with his unit and I was left alone there with my little ones.

The Lord had been gracious and we’d had minimal damage, which was repaired quickly, so it was easy to sell the house. We spent the holidays at my sister’s house and set out to Texas from there. We moved to San Antonio, our next duty station, and waited for my husband to return from overseas. We got along pretty well, but some difficulties took me by surprise…

You can read the rest over at (in)courage by clicking here!!

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