Hard Stop
Saturday:
I have nothing profound or deeply spiritual to say
today. We have been travelling for
almost 24 hours. Everything has been
amazingly smooth (with a couple of small exceptions) and unusually beautiful at
times. We arrived at the Indy airport to
find almost no one in the ticket line - amazing to me given that Spring Break
has sprung in Indy and it's Easter weekend.
My travelling companion is Lisa, Carlos’ school teacher. The rest of our team flew out Thursday. Due to teaching and other scheduling conflicts,
Lisa and I left Friday. True to mission
trip form, we both had our full allowable luggage load – two full-sized
suitcases and two carry-ons each, all loaded to or sometimes just above the
weight limit of 50 pounds with our minimal personal items and as many donations
as we can stuff in. Check-in is always a
dance of shifting items from one bag to another until each one skims in under
or at the weight limit. Sometimes the airline
personnel are gracious and helpful, other times impatient and rude. I won’t name airline names, but those of us
who have flown more than once know which airline is which.
Yesterday, God gave us an angel at check-in, literally. Angel was the very nice gentleman who checked
us in and then allowed us no less than 15 minutes to weigh, unzip, switch,
repack, rezip, and reweigh a couple dozen times. My wonderful husband was the muscle who
lifted those 50+ pound bags off and on the scale all those dozens of
times. In the end, with Angel allowing
us 50.8 pounds and 50.6 pounds on a couple of bags, we were within weight limit
on everything, sacrificing only one ream of computer paper to the weight
restrictions. Angel said, “I hope you
are going on mission?” I laughed. Yes. I
can’t imagine any other reason that would merit this luggage tango. He then informed us he had been to Ethiopia
himself on a mission trip with his church within the last year. I love divine appointments.
We had lunch with our precious families and then made our
way to our gate. Arriving 5 short
minutes after the boarding process had begun, we were almost left behind
because everyone else was already on the plane and ready to leave. We left 15 minutes early for O’Hare, a relief
as almost every flight out of O’Hare is delayed.
We boarded an enormous Boeing in Chicago, headed for
Frankfurt, Germany. Pulling away from
the gate at the exact departure time, I was amazed at how well this trip was
going. As we taxi’d leisurely to the
runway, the huge plane suddenly slammed to a stop. I actually thought we had hit something,
although I didn’t hear the crunch of metal you would expect with an
accident. A voice somewhere in the plane
screamed out, “Oh, my God!” The pilot
announced that another aircraft had cut us off and he’d had to slam on the
brakes, an odd experience in a huge airplane.
We taxi’d a bit longer, and then the pilot came back on and told us that
two flight attendants had been up and about during the incident, had been thrown down, and were
injured. We had to go back to our gate
so they could get medical attention.
Yikes. We now needed two new crew
members. Where does one get those on
short notice? One hour later, we pulled
away from the gate again, a new crew member on board and on our way with no
other issues.
As we flew over the Atlantic, in the middle of the night, I
watched a three quarter moon rise over what looked like the ocean, but was actually a sea
of clouds. Occasionally the clouds would
part, and I could see the moon reflecting off the water below. It was magnificent. I was reminded of God as Creator, the maker
of beautiful, wonderful, indescribable things.
We landed in Frankfurt with too many hours to kill, despite
our delay. Neither of us cared for
the Frankfurt airport – sparse, old, and unfriendly - but were soon off on our
next 8 hour flight to Khartoum, Sudan. I
don’t relish this part of the trip. I am
never comfortable in Khartoum. I’ve
flown through there 3 or 4 times now, and I’m better than I used to be, but I
don’t enjoy it. Sudan is not on my list
of places where I want to hang out. We
landed with another hard stop. The
runways in Khartoum are apparently very short.
I swear I heard the tires squeal.
However, I watched the sun set over Sudan today, and it was
stunning. Khartoum sits in the Sahara
Desert, and everything in and around the city is brown – desert, buildings,
roads, open fields. The only color is an
occasional brightly painted building of turquoise or yellow and a green
patchwork quilt of irrigated land running along either side of the Nile. As we taxi’d to the runway, the setting sun
turned all the buildings a glowing orange, and as we took off, the sun sank
halfway behind the horizon, sky blending with ground until you couldn’t
differentiate the two, a huge blazing ball of red fire sinking lower into the
darkness as we climbed. The sun turned
the wispy clouds skirting the whole horizon neon orange, rosy pink, and
bright, metallic gold. It was
breathtaking. Once again, God’s glory
emblazoned for all to see.
The stop in Khartoum was short, and as I type, we are now on
the last 1½ hour leg to Addis Ababa.
Five airports and over 24 hours after departure, we’ll be in Ethiopia. I have to say, this trip is hard. It’s long.
The changing flights require miles of walking (or what seems like miles)
bearing carry-ons that are much heavier now than they will be on the way
home. The flying requires many long
hours of sitting in cramped space. Time
shifts by 8 hours, and you can’t sleep, at least not comfortably or for long
periods. The food is edible, but not
healthy or delicious. And getting into
Ethiopia takes almost as much time as getting there. Not really, but it sure seems like it. The visa line, customs, waiting for baggage,
x-raying baggage, dragging everything out of the airport by yourself until you
finally see the precious faces of dear Ethiopian friends waiting for you behind
security lines in the parking lot. It’s
long and exhausting.
And yet, as I imagine walking out of the Bole’ airport and
looking out from its hilltop view over the city, breathing in the cool African
night air, seeing faces of those I’ve come to love, thinking of the tender care
we can give to precious women and children, some sweetly familiar and others
new, I think, “It’s worth it.” Whatever
it takes, it’s so worth it.
So thank You, God, for the moonrise, and the sunset, and
Your protection as we travel. Thank You
for this place that has become a part of me.
Thank You for friends half way round the world. And thank You for the privilege of serving
the ones You love.