Comfort

I had a day yesterday. It was non-stop busy starting too early than I want to think about. Back-to-back-to-back meetings, with a class thrown in the middle, and an event to close out the day. I don't think I stopped moving for a minute.

Needless to say, I was beyond exhausted by 7:30 when the event finally ended. And when I'm exhausted, I am more emotional than I am normally, and normally . . . I'm very emotional.

Last night two of the nicest people I've ever met were at the event, Chaplain Randy Kitchens and his wife, Sherri. They are both from the south, Georgia specifically. The chaplain is also a colonel, and works out of the USAFA headquarters rather than in CW. Which means I rarely see him. Someone asked him who I was last night, and he answered, "this is one of my favorite people on earth," in his strong southern accent. He put his arm around me in that way only a chaplain can. His wife was standing behind us, came up on the other side of me, put her arm around me also and said, "and one of mine too." 

In my fragile state of exhaustion, their kindness nearly brought me to tears. I smiled, and thanked them. For the next couple hours they would smile at me as I walked by, checking to make sure all was okay with the guests at the event. 

As everyone was making their way to the front to say goodbye to the commandant and his wife, the hosts of the event, Randy and Sherri found me in the kitchen. "Honey," Sherri began, "is everything okay with you?" My first reaction was tears, huge tears filled my eyes. "Yes," I assured her. "Oh honey," she sighed and pulled me into her arms. Randy was right behind her. "If you need to talk, you know you can always call me, right?" she said. 

I backed away, brushed away my tears and apologized. "Whatever for?" she asked. I explained that I hoped I hadn't seemed upset throughout the event, after all it is my job to put on a happy face and make sure the guests enjoy their visit.

"No," she answered, "your face is smiling tonight, but your eyes are not."

Oh great, more tears. "I'm exhausted," I explained. It was a tension-filled day, and that's what happens to me. She pulled me back into another hug, and told me she'd prayer for me. Randy reiterated that he'd pray for me too, and with that, I felt immediate comfort.

While everything else was going on yesterday, word came over that the academy is essentially dismantling my program in terms of what it looks like now. My contract ends in July, and I had no intention of rebidding, or applying if the position turned into a GS/civilian position. Instead, they are putting the trainings and events on the squadron commanders, with oversight from an advisory officer. I'm not sure of the specifics of all of it, and I may have some of the information wrong, but essentially that is what is going to happen. On the surface, I say I don't care, but I've been some part of this program almost since it's re-inception. It is a good program, and a necessary one. I hope those making these decisions believe in it enough to give it the attention it deserves, although I am doubtful.

Today dawned a calm and beautiful morning. I have work to catch up on, particularly for the launch of AND THEN YOU FLY on Saturday. I have to pack for Phoenix, and run some errands for the trip. I don't have any time-sensitive deadlines, except that certain things need to be done today, and I got a good night's sleep last night. 

There is still an underlying feeling that all is not right in my world. I don't like change, and in the next few months, on a professional level, life will change. I face it with trepidation-filled optimism, and hope it will all work out. I see the door closing, but am looking for another to open. It may not be the one I expect necessarily, but I know there will be one. It's the patience part of the equation that I, along with most people, find hard to manage.