I have figured out that the only time I blog is when I travel. I think it is a sweet craving. A way for me to not feel alone and to share with those who love me with out filling their emails with pesty updates.
This is my second successful trip to Africa since I joined ICDI. I say successful because I tried to come in Feb but due to fog, snow, and technical difficulties I was delayed so long in Chicago that I missed the flight from Paris to Bangui. A flight that only happens once a week. So, this is my rescheduled trip.
Over the past few weeks, I have been relatively nervous about this trip. I have this deep seated fear of loneliness. I fear that I will be stuck in Africa all alone and deeply longing to be home with those I love. I would cry hefty tears over this the past few weeks. Then the Thursday before I left a certain amount of peace came over me. I realized that I was loved, people wanted to hear my story, they cared, and they were cheering me on. I also realized that this is only 3 weeks and I will return home. I need to enjoy this process...enjoy the moment. I still have moments of tears but they feel true and refreshing. Like it is ok to long for something else while enjoying the moment.
The trip here went smoothly. No delays...good seats. A good 7 hour sleep in Paris hotel. I had a few tears as we landed in Bangui...a feeling of I wanted to be home but that passed. Than I went through the maze of security and custom checks. Stood packed next to the belt waiting for the luggage. It was hot!!!! I had my passport in my hand b/c I knew they would ask one more time to see it before I walked out the door. I was wrong they wanted my baggage slips and they happened to be deep in my carry on. So, I put down the passport and pulled out the slips. I handed the slips to the man and was waved on so I moved on but my passport remained where I put it. Of course, I didn't realize this until 3 hours later when we went to register myself at the embassy and I couldn't find it anywhere. The African's dug through the car and went back to the airport asking around but nothing was found.
Idiot is probably the better word for this. It seems almost hysterical that my fear for this trip was being stuck here and I lose my passport. I can't get out without my passport. I was surprisingly calm. I figure I will just go to the embassy tomorrow and begin the process. I shouldn't freakout until I know I should be freaking out. Of course, my dear friend Bob came in and said that this could be a big problem. I immediately started to cry as the emotion of that overwhelmed me. I don't usually cry in front of co-workers but sweet Bob just let me cry and processed through some of my fears and pain. It helps to be real and messy and then look up to see a friend has not run out on your sloppy mess. Another missionary lady, Heidi, will go with me tomorrow to work through everything. She is friends with the ambassador and thinks we can get this all worked out.
My deep prayer is that God allow the passport of this traveling ding bat be reissued or found before the three weeks are up.
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Oh Brooke, I hope you will be posting much much more! A numbers girl, you say, but what lovely writing! I know how much you want to be in Africa, and there you are.
Losing a passport? How many times I have been in your position. That is what my family and friends know as an 'Alison-ism.' You talked about needing to be in the moment, and there you are, living your dream, yet still crying to be home... aha. No wonder the passport got left behind. No better way to get a girl back into 'the moment.' I am so familiar with how that strange calmness takes over in the face of what should or could be a panicky situation. Anyway, cousin, I am again impressed at how many seeming parallels there are in our lives, and eagerly waiting for more posts.
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