**WARNING** the following excerpt on what happened with our Germany trip, is long..so I am prepared for only the extremly compassionate, or extremely curious, to read all the way to the end...so grab a cup of coffee or tea, and sit back...

Well, I wasn’t planning on recounting the Germany Fiasco until a later date. I no longer fear discussing it will make me upset, no that has long passed…more so I want to give it the full comic value due to the experience. As some part of me laughs and chuckles, another part of me just shakes my head. MORE of me is on the “shaking my head” about it, than laughing at it. For the last month I have thought about everything that happened, a few times I have laughed, especially when Joe would bring up a detail I had forgotten (or blocked out) lol. Really, I was trying to wait until a time when I could convey it without any sense of bitterness. I am not bitter, at least I don’t think I am, but being as far more of me is inclined to shake my head at the events than to laugh at them 110% (unlike Joe whom now finds every recount hilarious) I have been hesitiant to convey it. Joe would be the better one to tell the story, but being as I'm the writer in the family it is up to me. 

SO, I have worked on trying to appreciate the comic value 110%, like Joe, and then have been puzzled and confused as to WHY I just can’t do that…but alas, here I am. More on the encouragement of my husband whom is dying to read the events and laugh yet again, than anything else. And finally this morning I thought, hey you know what there are just some events you watch married couples recount. One usually grinning, laughing, chuckling, telling the story in all wide colors and gestures, and the other spouse, whom was affected a bit more on the emotional side, grinning, maybe giggling here and there, but none the less shaking their head with a “it is funny NOW, but I never want to go through that again”….well my friends, that is me. I am recounting it so that you all may understand, laugh, giggle, chuckle, and embrace our upcoming cruise with more joy…as Germany was certainly a FLOP!

I think an easy way to describe the Journey to and from Germany (having never left UK soil) as an easy, light-hearted mix of scripts from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles and The Out of Towners with Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn. But I must not leave out the details of Why that description fits so well…

Let’s move back, about 2 weeks prior to departure time. It is a bit of a blur now, because everything just sort of piled on everything else, but I will try my best, if not exactly chronologically, at least you get the jest of it. For about a year now we have talked about trying to get stationed there when this tour is up, and that talk has turned much more serious in the past 6 months. In February Joe was privileged enough to take a week long TDY (temporary deployment) to attain His Cisco Certification. (which enables him to teach as a certified Cisco Instructor)The kids and I were unable to go at that time, but he sent amazing photos and we talked every night about the new places they saw and the new foods they were able to try. He ranted and raved. He began sounding like a travelers guide. My intense desire to experience Germany, despite my curiosity to put down “roots” there in the next couple years….was incredibly intensified! Joe came home bearing gifts, pictures, and tons of stories. I couldn’t wait. I was definitely chomping at the bit. Not to help matters he came home so excited to take me back with him. He couldn’t wait to share these exciting experiences with his bride, best friend, and closest confidant. Hearing that made me not want to be anywhere else in the world, but by his side exploring this land he had fallen so in love with. Immediately we began looking for breaks in the scheduling of classes he needed to teach and watching the airfare rates. Suffice this to say, Germany had been long planned and long awaited before the airfare was even purchased.

Finally the day came, He had definite dates for us to plan a trip with, we had the funds, all things were green for go! I was still getting sick, but I was too excited. I had waited too long. We were going! Now enters the preceeding stress, you know little things that happen that begin to unravel your sense of sanity before the packing has even begun. I think perhaps I could relate this portion of time the same as the craziness that enveloped the household of the Home Alone movies, just a few days before their departure. Except these instances were specific to UK living, little things gradually falling apart at the seem. Not to say any of what I am about to share with you wasn’t our fault. It was. Even for as long as we’ve been here, there are some “schedules” and ways of doing things I just can not get used to! Not that they are bad, just different. And it is taking longer than the time we have been here to reprogram this 100% American brain of mine! Enter the trash, the phone, and lack of or overabundance of both. Let me explain:

The Trash: The garbage here is sorted and distributed into 3 separate containers. They make you recycle here. How can they “make you” you say? Well, make the bins incredibly small and only schedule pick up every other week per bin. That is right. There simply is not room to try to throw everything into one bin, you HAVE to separate. The garbage bins here are half the size of the ones that were distributed by our home state, and instead of weekly pickups, they only pick up the blue bin (which is strictly dry recyclables) every other week.

Also in accordance, the black bin, (your “catch all” garbage: diapers, food scraps, or any non recyclable garbage) is only picked up every other week as well. (Yes, that means there was a point we had two babies in diapers, filling up a bin barely the size of me, that had to last 2 weeks before pick up! EEEK!)

 Then there is the brown bin, which picks up your nature waste, tree branches, gardening weeds, egg shells, banana peels…etc. brown bin is *usually* picked up along with your blue bin pickup…again, every OTHER week.

Yes, there have been plenty of times we have “missed” trash day. We have had to make trips to the base with garbage in our van just to “catch up”…and then there have been times, (such as in the weeks prior to Germany) that bins were not picked up for reasons we had no idea. We had the correct bin out to the curb (or as the Brits spell: kerb) on the correct day, at the correct time , yet still ours was passed over while all our neighbors are retrieving their happily empty bin back to their homes And we're  left scratching our heads.

This was one of those times. We were going on the second missed week for our “Dry” recycles. The bin was overflowing with non-smelly, but none the least garbage, that needed to be dumped. The last trash day for blue bins came 2 days before we were to depart to Germany for a week….this was the third time, (6 weeks had passed since our blue bin had been emptied) and we were passed over AGAIN! Not wanting to have trash piled up while we were gone, we began sifting through websites via internet to contact the Local Village Council to find out why they have refused to pick up our garbage. Finding and locating your specific county/village council was not easy. I don’t know why, but it wasn’t. It was a frustrating hour for Joe, but finally we did find a website and found the appropriate number to phone.

Did I mention these are “DRY” recyclables?

Did I mention the trash guys had broken off the lid to our blue bin a few months after our arrival?

Did I mention it had been raining nonstop the last 3 weeks prior to this?

Joe’s concern was that they would not pick up our “dry” garbage because they had broken off our lid and this country was so fanciful at raining, that our dry recyclables were no longer dry. Yes, I completely would not put it past them to not pick up for just such a reason.

But Joe was able to find out wonderful news on the phone, 1) we were getting a new lid and free of charge! 2) they had not picked up our recyclables because they changed the policy to wanting the garbage thrown into the blue bin WITHOUT being in plastic garbage bags, they just want it freely thrown in.

Did I mention it might have been good to know this?

You know, have someone tell us, send out a flier, tape something to my door,… anything?! We had no idea. But apparently this was their reason for refusing our pickup for the last 3 runs. Once again, I can not emphasize how nice it would have been to have been told!

So Joe is back outside, in the rain (because this spring it never stopped) tearing apart 6 week old trash bags and re-dumping them into the bin, then stuffing the now empty plastic bags themselves into the bin as well. Why this is okay, but not okay to have the garbage INSIDE the bags, I don’t know. It is something I shake my head at and attempt not to think too hard to figure out. But he did it. And sure enough, good on their word they delivered the new lid the next day. Our "newly", 6 week old, dry recyclables were finally going to stay dry. Okay, trash taken care of, the day before departure.

The Phone: First off, there is only one phone company here. There are a few smaller ones, but they only get their service through the Big Dog, thus really, it is ALL controlled by one company, therefore we choose to just go through the big company. This company will only receive payment through Joe, as it is only his name on the account. You would think they would receive money from anyone, I mean, hey! I’m giving you money here, but no, it is only through Joe. They will have nothing to do with me. Have I mentioned there are no mailboxes here? Well, there are, but they are every few blocks in the neighborhood. There are no individual mailboxes to each house. You do have a mailslot in your door to receive your mail, but if you want to mail off bills or PAY your bills, you go to the post office. Yes, I know. It is beyond odd to me, but true, you can either buy stamps and mail off your payment at the post office, or you can just go ahead and pay all your bills at the post office itself and not mail anything.

Again, not that this system is bad, it is just SO different it is hard to get used to, I don’t care how many years you have been here. Unless you are a native, this is hard to remember to do. Our phone bill is the worst, because it is the only one we have not been able to get into direct debit. We always, always, always, without fail, forget to run to the stinkin’ post office to pay the measly phone bill. It is always late. This is such the case here.

We were down to one car at the time, Joe was full throttle in teaching from 8-5 everyday, it was raining non-stop. (I keep referring to this, but it is because this type of rain over that month was very unusual for Britain. We will have been here 2 years this fall, and I had never seen anything like it. POURING sheets, occasional hail, very small breaks in between literal Downpours! Even the Brits themselves were saying, "this is a very unusual amount of water we’ve been getting." I am not against walking down to the post office on the main street of my small village, but in the pouring rain and sludge with two preschoolers, I have a few concerns!!!)

 So basically, phone was cut off. We could receive most calls in, but could not call out. This prevented me, a few days from departure, to be able to reconfirm flights or make hotel reservations at our receiving base in Germany. I was able to reconfirm our flights via internet, thankfully! Lodging in Germany is HUGE (in quantity) Joe assured me we’d have no problem getting a room there as they have several bases all together and hotels on each and every base, even though they take Airmen/Soldiers on orders for TDY’s and such first, there is almost always room for extras (that would be us)…but yet, day before we are leaving and we receive the email saying they have no rooms! They were completely booked up b/c of the hosting of the World Football Cup (soccer). Neither Joe nor I being sports fans, this really, really miffed us.

Okay, 1 day to go, no hotel that’s okay, we’ll try looking around the immediate area and see what we can find off base, albeit it is going to be paid for in Euro’s instead of dollars and be up to 3x’s more expensive, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Phone is still on hiatus, but we have for now what we need, later when we return we will worry about making amends with the stinkin’ phone bill. (oh I do have to add the few times Joe was able to call to pay the phone bill, each time the American side of their debit machines was DOWN! and everytime he WAS able to make it to the British post office, it was closed!)

Through all this, it is still raining sheets. I couldn’t wait to get out of the rain. I have adjusted to the clouds and the “usual” misty rainshowers, but not sheets of downpours everyday for near a month. I needed some place to dry off and de-prune my skin.

The night prior to our departure I was also in the ER. The virus I’d had the week before had morphed into some sort of sinus/ allergy/congestion thing in my head. I had been trying to take decongestants a bit worried of cabin pressure, but nothing really helped. Then the night before, 12 hours before we leave my sinus’s were so bad I could not hear out of my left ear and was in intense ear and head pain. I told Joe we either go to the ER here in the England, or on the other side in Germany. It is not an issue of not going, it is an issue of where we are going to be seen. I was in the ER here on base in Britain from midnight to 3 am the night before we are to depart (Joe and the girls slept in the car beause i was unlable to drive myself) Somehow the pressure of my sinus’s had become so bad it had pulled my eardrum in on itself. Yes! It was very, very painful. ER doc had nothing to tell me, besides sending me home with a few other decongestants in hopes of clearing my sinus’s would clear the pressure thus easing the eardrum back to it’s normal state. That and a recommendation to take Tylenol for pain. I went home, very tired and discouraged, very much dreading the cabin pressure, but more determined than ever to go to Germany! I’ve overcome too many hurdles dangit!

We awake the next morning on 2 hours of sleep and begin rush packing. I had the girls and I done, but Joe, being booked with teaching his classes and tracking down and defending blue bin garbage cans, hadn’t had a chance to pack yet. It is raining, again. The car needs to be gassed up for the hour long drive…etc, pull out pounds for the trip over and to pay for airport parking. A few errands to run at the base and we were off.

Traffic was heavy for the hour drive to this particular London airport, due I am certain, because of the unusual amount of water on the roads, and windshields. We race and finally we make it to the airport. I am sick and nauseous, but just trying to push through.

We drive to the parking lot to find they are listed alphabetically. All parking lots are closed and we are referred to “Lot X”…yes, there really is such a thing and no I am not making this up; this was the parking lot’s true identity. This could SO be in a movie I am not kidding! Can't you just see this poor family overcoming major hurdles to get to the airport only to be reported to "Lot X"....anyone see any forboding in this besides me?

On our search to find Lot X, going through more roundabouts on a nauseous stomach, and negotiating extra large shuttle buses we finally find it. We race out knowing we have 1 hour before take off and we need to shuttle to the airport and check in. I begin unbuckling our 2 preschoolers, Joe begins negotiating 2 carry on bags, 2 toddler carseats, 2 checked pieces of luggage, and 2 strollers. (we have found the double stroller does not work very well for large public places with a lot of human bodies around us) I buckle kids in…it is still pouring sheets. The one time I forget to bring blankets for them.

Joe is strapping and un-strapping bags together,

 *clickity click click* 

we switch backpacks and our carry-ons,

we each have a stroller to push

and a bag to drag

and a bag to carry

and the carseats to manage.

The girls are crying. Bundled and buckled they have no way to shield their faces from the onslaught of rain in the 40 degree weather, they have no choice but to just cry out.

We have no choice but to let them.

The shuttle bus is about 30 feet away, as we begin the “Luggage Limbo”: Every 3 feet a bag would drop, or a stroller tip, and we’d have to stop and start all over, picking up said bag, strapping it back on, or dropping everything to veer said stroller from completely overturning into the puddles under our feet...thus the "luggage limbo" 

The rain continues mercilessly, in sheets.

The wind, as though on cue, picks up in gusts.

We do the luggage limbo, on the 3 or 4^th stretch of things falling and dropping and kids crying, it begins to hail! I am not kidding. It begins hailing, we are all freezing and drenched, our bags are still falling and I am just waiting for the shuttle to leave us.

Did I mention it was full of people, nice and dry? Just watching. You know, for their entertainment and enjoyment, watching a young couple struggle with 4 bags, 2 strollers, 2 carseats, 2 crying babies, a now crying preggo momma, in the rain and hail? And they just watch as we continue to struggle.

By this time I have had it. I am so tired. I don’t feel good. I am sick to my stomach, I am wet and cold. My poor babies are crying and are wet and cold. I feel guilty I forgot to bring blankets to cover them. It took an hour for our clothes to dry just from traversing those 30 feet from our van to the shuttle!! Just 30 feet! A pair of helping hands would have been worth gold. But of course, no one helped. No one wants to get out in rain and hail. Even the British have their limits.

We finally make it to the shuttle and I am so upset and so cold and so frustrated b/c the whole past 2 weeks have been this way. Never getting a break. I wanted out of England so bad. At some point during the luggage limbo, I think shortly after the hail began falling, my backpack fell and almost tipped a stroller over. I kicked the bag, screamed, and began yelling explicatives about England lol. This I do say while laughing, because such a thing is very out of character for me, usually. Well, under “usual” circumstances anyway.

The crying didn’t stop when we reached the shuttle, if anything it picked up. All the people being suddenly very occupied with their hands in their laps left me very angry. The explicatives came out again. I was so tired of England and English people I didn’t care if they knew it or not, I wanted out. I didn’t care if it was Germany or the states or hungaria, I just didn’t want to be in England. I didn’t care who won the world cup, as long as it wasn’t England. I just was done and even more ready to get a break!

We arrive at the airport. Do the luggage limbo to the nearest counter for our airline. They inform us, at counter N, we need to go to counter J. (once again, real names here, I am not making this up) We do the luggage limbo (which is if you remember, we drop a bag or kid, every 3 feet and have to resettle everything/everyone all over again) to counter J for them to tell us it is closed now and we need to go to Counter Q.

I look at Joe like you’ve got to be kidding me. Hurling into their laps crosses my mind, and certainly was a doable feat, but something tells me to wait. I try to choke it back down.

I walk over to some chairs, dragging everything, no longer worrying of carrying. I wanted to cry again but held it in. Somehow I just knew it was over, even though our plane did not take off for another 40 minutes. He gives me a big hug and I melt. He says, “I am going to go find this place, stay here, I will be right back with what I find out. I’m leaving the bags with you.” I shake my head and pull him closer to me and say, “whatever they say, I am NOT paying more money.” He shakes his head and is off.

I fall into a chair next to a couple talking in dutch, I think, either that or French, but that was a nice change of pace at least. Anything but English was fine with me at that point. The children have stopped crying, but their hair is wet and matted to their foreheads, there are raindrops (or tear drops, not sure which) on their cheeks. There are still small pieces of hail in the hoods of their coats. Megan sends me a beaming smile. Even through it all, she is happy to see me. My heart breaks. I am so angry at what we’ve been through and so upset they had to go through it too. I wish it could have been better for them. I want better for them than to be rained/hailed on with no ways of shielding themselves. I wipe their faces and unzip their coats. Julia says, with a HUGE grin on her face, “we’re going to Germany mommy! I see the airplanes! I see the airplanes to Germany! And we’re going to get on them!!” I can’t find any words to say to her, just a deep sinking feeling in my heart that no, we won’t be flying anywhere, even after all we’ve been through.

 I manage a weak smile. 

I dig in our bags to find a few Dum Dum’s I had saved for the cabin pressure for them. Megan was delighted, I felt a bit better, Julia wanted “red, not pink” I only had pink and told her it was pink or nothing, she was content with nothing. I put it back into the soaked bag and vowed I’d eat it later.

Before long Joe returned, not looking happy and in fact I see anger in his eyes for the first time since this whole thing began. He says that in spite we have plenty of time and the plane is still here and has not starting boarding, they will not let us check in. They said they will keep us on “standby” for the next flight at 8pm (Ummm, 6 hours in an airport with two toddlers does not sound good to me. Arriving in Germany at 10 pm with no place to stay is even less appealing) but we would have to wait for 4 people to cancel to get 4 seats, there is 1 guy ahead of us already, AND they want an additional $120.00 per person to do it! I said no way!! I managed to get out something to the fact of “I am NOT putting one more God Damn red Penny in this country!!!...(I made certain to say Penny and NOT pence for emphasis) I begin crying again and just ask him to take me home. Just take me back home. He asked several times if I was sure, he knew how much Germany had meant to me, but I just couldn’t take anymore at that point in time. If it hadn’t been raining, if my children and I were not shivering, maybe we could have waited it out and taken on a more adventurous spin on it, but for what had transpired those few weeks before…I still can’t hear out of my ear, my head is still aching from the night in the ER, my stomach is churning, my babies are cold, we are all sleep deprived…I just didn’t have it in me to do anymore.

So we began picking up our bags again, preparing to do the luggage limbo back to the other side of the airport. As we begin to leave Julia realizes what is going on and starts freaking out….How do you explain to a 4 year old that despite that we are there, the plane is there (she could see them) that now we are being forced to go back to the rain outside, back onto the shuttle, back for another hour long drive in the car and back to the home where we were so excited to say goodbye a few hours before? How do you tell a 4 year old she can not board the plane she so easily sees in front of her? I still don’t understand it myself.

Even now, Joe laughs looking back, I chuckle, but still shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I am no longer grumbling explicatives towards the British, but I still hold a bit of disappointment for the trip I had waited so long to take, literally being rained/hailed on.

And yes, we still had a good vacation despite it being spent on UK soil.

We rested and took family outings for ice cream with the girls.

We splurged at the bx, Joe let me buy baby clothes and didn’t object to whichever gender stuff I purchased. (which changes with each week, this week I feel it is a girl)

I slept in.

It took a full week, but eventually my eardrum popped back out.

I took the wrapper off and ate Julia’s Dum Dum.

Phone issues were resolved.

Blue bin was indeed emptied.

And there were other little things that happened too, but I can’t remember them all now. It is all kind of blurry. It was the first time in my life I had ever “missed” a flight. Although technically it was more of a missed “check in” period since the plane didn’t take off until we were already on our drive back home, grrrrr. Just a few days ago while talking with some people about our experience we learned that the check in time for that particular airline is very touchy. It seems there is a certain time they will let you line up to check in, and then they will just cut it off. And judging by what these other travelers have told us, we only missed the check-in time by about 5 minutes at most. 5 minutes. *sigh* 5 minutes!! I may say it jokingly, but deep down I am not joking when I tell people you have to be there at 43.5 minutes before takeoff to check in....*sigh*...5 minutes...

 If it had not been raining…if the traffic hadn’t been as it had…if the luggage hadn’t been so hard to manage…if someone had helped us to the shuttle...if it had been any other airline…it if had been back in the states… 

I suppose the “good Christian” in me should look to see God’s provision instead. Now that the initial shock, disappointment…etc has worn off it is easier to do that. Perhaps if we’d made the flight, permanent damage could have been caused to my ear drum. Who knows? Perhaps something would have happened with all the crowds and the hype from the world cup competitions, and it was out of Fatherly protection to His kids? Who knows?

All I know is that looking back I am so thankful Joe is my partner in this crazy scheme called life. No one else I know of would have known exactly how to comfort me when I lost it in that parking lot, or in the days following while working through the various emotions of disappointment. In that moment Joe hugged me. He didn’t say anything, he just hugged me. And it was exactly what I needed. He knows me. Even better than I know myself I think. When I look back, I see the reflection of God in him.

God did the same thing, when everything unraveled with losing our son, when I lost it, He hugged me. He never judged me, He simply held me tight, He hugged me. He knows me. This is what I mean by being real, by being transparent. I am by no means lovely, but somehow God loves me anyway. Somehow He understands and stands on grace instead of judgement. We have had a lot of not so fun things happen within our families since January, and in it all I have found the same thing: A big God whom is still in control and beyond all else, He searches me, He finds me and hugs me. I have been given the true freedom of grace, to be as I am, no pressure to attain, no pressure to behave or react a certain way, but simply to be as God created me. To trust it will pass. To trust I will not go through dark times or valleys or frustrations alone. To trust it is okay to be me and to feel as I feel and those feelings, however negative at the time, will not be held against me. And even when I don’t trust, He still doesn’t leave me, the valley’s still pass, the light still grapples the darkness and sends it fleeing.

That through it all, I will be understood and loved.

In the good or the bad times,

In panic or in calm resolve,

in sickness or in health,

in life moments or in death ones,

in trust or in fear,

in joy or in pain,

God will still love me; I will forever be hugged.

(…Joe, thank you for being a daily, physical, witness to God’s love for me. God blessed me so much simply by sending you to me, and daily teaches me through you. Thank you for committing to love me, even at my most unlovely.)