Wednesday, August 06, 2008
I have the packing woes. I am tired to death of packing, ready to be there, already! BE there! Be anywhere but in this state of disarray. My head is full of details, car rentals, shuttles, passports, boarding passes.
Suitcases. Extra bags, overweight? What does it cost? Have they changed the rate?
Currency. Which will I need? What is the rate?
Will the flight be late? How long are we in Sao Paolo, anyway?
Say goodbye, try not to cry. Smile big hold each one near. My heart is full of emotion for those left behind, not knowing when , or if, we will see them again. And yet, the same traitorous heart skips a beat in sweet anticipation for those loved ones we will soon be with on the other side of this trip. How can one heart be so divided?
Sleep? I doubt it will be, not for a few days yet. Oh, I'll lay my head upon a pillow tonight, or upon a shoulder in an airport or aboard the long flight, but my head will be racing of thoughts of what is to come and what has been left undone.
Prayer for peace. A sweet restful peace, knowing all is in my Father's heavenly hands, but right about now, I am wishing I were a Yanomami Indian, ready to set out on a new jungle path with my nomadic tribe. Time to leave? Pull down my string hammock, stuff it in my handwoven back pack. Grab my one cooking pot and stuff a live turtle or two in for a meal along the way. Grab my paddle and a can to use as a hand made lantern...and I am off! Pick up my machete and head out for a day of walking to new adventures.
Yes, that sounds good right now as I weigh my suitcases, label, divided, discard. However, when I arrive, I will no longer wish to be the Yanomami! I will want my treasures by me! And so, back to my packing...