WEDNESDAY, JULY 7, 2004.  2257

You know what?  Praise God.  I keep thinking back to that last letter I sent and how negative-focused most of it was, and wondering what the snot's been up with me for so long.  Actually, maybe not that last part, because I really was in stinkloads of pain in the very midst of an extremely difficult transition.  But in the past two days, though some of the pain is still around (much less since all the stitches have fallen out) and my lips will most likely have a scar on them, and even though the transition has been hard still, I've gained loads of new perspective (or at least refreshed) and am back to my me self again.  That is, lots of prayer and lots of work and lots less stress, and God is faithful in providing His strength and His joy.  And His conviction.  Which is a wonderful, wonderful thing -- to be made a better person by God while the Navy makes me into a sailor.

One of the newer perspectives came really full circle today.  See, maybe 4 days (or a week max) after arriving, we were marching, and I march near the front partly because of being yoeman.  And my female petty officer was walking a little ways in front of me/us, talking to a chief from another division.  And the chief was talking about not being able to find a yoeman in his crowd, and my p.o. says, "Well, my yoeman thinks she's the RPOC" and went on to contrast me with your typical yoeman -- they're shyer, would-be-wallflowers, etc.  And then the stinger, she was saying something about not being able to find anyone else qualified.

I figured out maybe a week or two ago that perhaps the conversation wasn't quite as cut-and-dried as all that, and perhaps some of what I didn't hear was BIG FAT important stuff for my understanding of the fact that I am a strength to this division in not being a typical yoeman.

Fast forward to today:  I was sitting at the "yoeman's table" with the yoeman from our brother division, while our divisions were at Classifications (where we get some finalization on our job and our training school), and one of my RDC's came over to say I'd be carrying the cutlass home.  I figured, I'm the yoeman, I carry everything for everyone, I guess RPOC just has other responsibilities.  (The cutlass, btw, being the sword RPOC's -- and maybe other divisional leaders outside bootcamp -- carry as they lead the division in formation.)  A while later, the same RDC came over to say, "You know what that means, right?  You're driving the bus home!"

The bus is our division.  He meant I would be leading the division, making all the calls on the street and whatnot.  Oh, stinkin' snot!  Were they insane?!  So my whole division was really supportive and could tell I was anxious (in a silley way) about it, and saying things like "Our friendly yoeman!  Driving the bus!" like a parent making a big deal out of their oldest child's first day driving.

So, I put on the cutlass, and because I march near the front normally, I knew most of the calls that're made while standing there getting ready to march, and knew most of them during the march, too, and had my ROC's there helping me anyway.  The whole experience, starting out, was nerve-wracking.  But then it was fun beyond what I would have believed, and I'm excited about spending some time training to be a backup RPOC in case ours is out of commission during an inspection.

Some things are still really tough about being here, but in all things, Praise God.