Monday, February 4, 2008

Departure




    
For some reason I was significantly more anxious when I set out for Tanzania than I have ever been before when heading overseas. I found myself feeling anxiety over things left undone at home, anxiety over whether my medical skills and knowledge would be adequate now that I was finally going out with skills that could be called upon to significantly impact people's well-being, anxiety over the gaps in logistics of getting to Mwanza, anxiety over what I am going to do about the mountain of student loans that I have accumulated over the years, and anxiety regarding how I have handled certain relationships in my life. To make matters worse, as my departure time neared a large snowstorm bearing down on Chicago promised to add to the number of things I felt compelled to wring my hands over. On the morning of my departure I awoke with a knot in my stomach and all of these worries swirling around in my head... but I found great comfort in coming across Psalms 4 and 5, "In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You alone make me dwell in safety," and my fear slowly turned to excitement as the words of a Sandra McCracken song sunk in: "In the arms of a good Father, you can go to the deep water where the questions we have left unspoken come out in the open. We will find shelter here. So I lay down what I cannot hold in my hand. Every sorrow and hope springs out of control, here I find sweet resolution comes in letting go..."
       By late afternoon the snow had started coming down heavily, and even though Christina (who graciously braved the storm to give me a ride) and I left for the 30 minute trip to O'Hare 3 hours before my flight time it became apparent that I  was not going to make it in time after having traveled only 2-3 miles in 40 minutes. At the brilliant suggestion of my sister, Christina pulled into a nearby subway station and I grabbed my bags out of the car and headed for the train. A mere 30 minutes later I checked in for my flight with plenty of time to grab a cup of coffee, watch the snow fall outside the window at gate 22, and wonder... now with more anticipation than anxiety... what the next two months would hold.

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