Driving to Africa?

Tuesday 20 April

Yesterday when I was saying good-bye to a friend he comments on how brave we are to be making this trip.  Brave?  I never thought of us as brave.  Lucky?  Yes.  Blessed?  Sure.  Adventurous?  To some extent.  But brave?  Hmmm.

 We packed up the car with everything we will need for the next three months.  We have one large suitcase for the next week as we travel to Connecticut, New York and DC.  Then we have two smaller carry-on bags for our two months in Africa.  Another large suitcase will wait for us in the car full of stuff for the beach when we return to the states.  Surprisingly small amount for three months. 

 I looked around the house as we left.  There is a still lot of stuff in the house.  If we don’t need it for the next three months do we really need it at all?  I thought about that most of the day.  Then I began thinking of things I had packed that we really didn’t need to have along.  What do we really need in life?  How much “stuff” do we have just because we have it, not because we need it or maybe even want it?

 When missionaries come home to the US after serving in other countries the most common reaction I have heard is how overwhelmed they are in the grocery and the store by all the choices and all the “stuff”.  This will be interesting to see what possessions I miss, what I wish I had with me, what I brought that goes un-used, and finally what I end up cherishing.

 Of course we all know that in the end it isn’t the stuff that is important.  I was reminded of that again as we drove through Pennsylvania.

 We stopped just into PA at a Love’s to get gas.  The usual pattern is that Jack fills the car and I go to the restroom.  But when I came out of the restroom I found Jack just standing by the counter with blood all over his shirt and dripping from his eye.  It took a minute to register.  He was holding bent up eyeglasses in his hand as he tried to explain.  He tripped on the gas hose and fell on the concrete between the car and the gas pump.  Both knees were skinned, both upper arms scrapped, one cheek bleeding and there was a huge gash in his eyebrow where his glasses had evidentially slashed him.  His right wrist was already turning black and swelling.

 We had been working with a personal trainer at the YMCA for the past month.  One of the things she was helping us do was strengthen our core muscles.  She said it would improve balance.  In fact, Traci said, “If you ever feel yourself start to fall remember to tighten your core and it will help you regain your balance.”  So as my bleeding husband is trying to explain how he fell with his sandal flying ten feet behind him in the parking lot, his glasses ending up under the car, blood dripping down the car door, I stand there in the first aid aisle of the convenience store and ask, “Did you remember to tighten your core?”

 Looking back, I am not sure that was the right question for that particular moment.  He went to the men’s room to wash up while I bought some Band-Aids and Neosporin.  Suddenly the two of us heading to Africa for two months does sound like a brave thing to do.  Isn’t there something about a fine line between brave and stupid?  Hmmm.