Counting Down

This morning I show back up at the house with blood dripping down. My name was called out on the gravel road and I turned to look. Shoe went up against a rock and lost my footing. Down I went...again. A swollen foot, a sore right side. A hobble around. A run cut short. I prayed twice to stay on my feet and couldn't. I prayed for humility. I keep getting it. I may stop praying for it.

Hours counting down. Suitcases wide open, half packed. Lists running long. In another day a rehabilitated grandmother will embrace two half-haitian little ones. In a day this mama will trek across the ocean and three states on airplanes to make it to the gray brick building where airplanes land, BBQ smells in the air and a sign that reads Welcome to Memphis. Then to the familiar front porch and inside another place where the word home rings true and feels true. We'll gain grandparents and lose a Papi in the same day. The day starts tomorrow in the dark with a friend taking us from the rocky road to the small airport where suitcases line up and people of all colored skin say goodbye and embrace. Another adventure. An opportunity to make memories. Little trips make a big one.

I thought the girls would be counting down. They teach me. Lilly says, "do we leave today?" I answer that we still have another day and she goes on to teach me to live in the moment. Not to fret about tomorrow or what it will bring.

We say goodbye to those around us. Finding the suitcases still half packed but my heart filling up. Video taping Lilly playing guitar for her friends one more time for the summer. Telling the ladies in my study I will keep praying. Watching the girls hug their "big friends" named Miguelson, Vladimir, and Alex. Telling the women in the kitchen I'll be back with new aprons. I wonder what it feels like to go home and to come back to home. Dreading three weeks away from the Farmer man and hoping he doesn't wear himself thin in the fields.

I tell Charles I'm looking forward to seeing people. Not starting over each week. Picking up where we left off. Knowing each other's history and going from the present. Easy time together. Depth. I miss it here. I meet people. Start going deeper and their five days is up. Back to the airport. Relationship cut short. I crave the depth. The hard parts in life that don't come with introduction. I'm grateful for a break in hosting. We host every week. About 26 days a month. I am anxious to sit at the table with no knock on the door. Or put the girls to bed without an interruption. But even so, we will miss the dark faces and big smiles that make Haiti home for us too. We will walk out the front door and miss the mountains and the 'bonjours.' I will forget I don't have to check shoes in the closet for spiders and go to the water tank for water. As Haiti and the States swirl together for me today I say a prayer that we will be all there wherever we are these next few weeks. I pray I keep learning the life lessons that are changing me and that a break from here brings refreshment to our souls.

On our way ...