Military families move. A lot. So it would make sense to say that we have a problem staying still. But even in my own home, I have trouble staying still. MarvMan’s most frequent refrain is, “Woman, sit down!”

And we have two teenage daughters, so that’s saying something.

Last week, Ruchi Koval put up her weekly Torah Parsha video, wherein she spoke about creating a space for Gd in our lives. The portion, Terumah (Exodus 25:1-27:19), contained in it all the specifics about building a specific, sacred dwelling space for Gd. Ruchi spoke about how even though Gd is everywhere, that specific sacred space is necessary.

This week’s Parsha, Tetzaveh, talks about the initiation process for the priesthood, but also about the specific garments the priests are supposed to wear, as well as the olive oil required for the everlasting flame.

I’m not a rabbi. I’m not nearly as educated as other Jewish friends of mine, and nowhere near the sort of eloquence and insight with which Ruchi Koval blesses our community. However, these two readings… resonate with me. And if you’ll bear with me through the spiritual side of things, maybe you’ll find something that resonates with you as well.

We’re getting ready to move again. There is a lot of anxiety and there are so many worries that go into a Permanent Change of Station (PCS). Now my inability to sit still at home is thrown into overdrive because I have to do our pre-PCS decluttering and purging. There is research to be done about our next duty station. Appointments to be made. Errands to be run. Phone calls to make and emails to send…

All to pick everyone up and move – this time, physically.

We will be going through so much. The kids will be in upheaval. MarvMan will be getting settled in a new command. A new house will need to be set up. New school. New area to explore. A lot of new things.

We’ll be bringing a lot with us, though, and much of it will be that which we carry in our hearts. The things that we deem too precious to let the movers handle. Our siddurim, our Tanakh, jewelry – much of which is Jewish in nature – tallit, those tangible spiritual items. We will bring our prayers, our rituals, and we will say and do these things even while traveling. There is no way that we will be able to be perfect at any of our practice, but we can still try.

In those moments of fear and anxiety so heavy it is a lead ball in my stomach, I can turn inward and create my own sacred space, pulling peace from chaos. I can remind my kids of the familiar, comforting words and melodies.

And I can find those things in my morning routine. When I choose what to wear. In the way I wrap my hair. The care that I put into it, taking those moments to remind myself that it doesn’t matter where we go in the world.

It is possible to be that sacred space.

And I’m finding strange comfort in that idea. It’s small. I will struggle. But reminding myself that I can either panic and freak out, or I can turn inward and find sanctuary in my own soul, somehow brings me a sense of calm. I’ve got PTSD and anxiety, so that’s big.

I have many, many reasons to be anxious throughout the move, some of which I will discuss in more detail. But the idea that I have a temple and sacred space in my mind that I can tap into does help.

So does the Zoloft. And a host of other human-created things, such as our siddurim and jewelry. The key is remembering that I have these things and am capable of accessing and being a sacred space. Not just for myself, but to ensure our family makes it through PCS in as close to one piece as possible.

And with, well… the majority of our mental faculties still in tact. It won’t all be peace and mindful breathing. There will be mishaps and I will have to choose to roll with it or dig in my heels and create more hang ups. I will have to choose between tears or laughter, and I am praying I will choose to cry from laughing too much once the tears of leaving have dried.

When it comes down to it, it’s about the choice. Reminding myself that I do have choices. I can laugh or cry. I can become angry or breathe. I can do both. I can take time to grieve.

I can find stillness even while in motion.