The last words I have from my daughter speak volumes. The text read, "I am sorry I didn't get chance or time to see everyone or to say goodbye, we are on our way to the airport and we will be back in 3 weeks."
Not even a phone call. And with that, on her 23rd birthday, my daughter and grandson flew off into the clouds, to New York City, on to Ghana, then to Liberia. Her home.
In the few weeks since then, the Ebola virus has exploded in West Africa, overwhelming health care workers and creating an international crisis. And I have been through almost every negative emotion you could possibly imagine. Anger. Hurt. Hatred. Outrage. Bitterness. Condescension. Envy. Anxiety. Fear. Terror. Sadness.
Once, just over a decade ago, I also flew into the face of disaster. I went against the good advice of most anyone with an ounce of common sense. The words of the consul at the US Embassy still ring in my head, "WE HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU PEOPLE NOT TO COME HERE!"
I had been trying to tell her not to go there. To at least leave the baby with us. But my ounce of common sense was not welcome in the wake of a family member's death. It was a chance to see her "real" family, a chance to show off her beautiful baby boy and engagement ring. A chance to go home. What do you say in the face of that? Nothing, because the phone calls and text messages will all go unanswered until it is too late to be persuaded not to go. Nothing, because I know what it is like to want to go home.
She has never really believed that we always love her, whether she agrees with us or not.
I must admit, I wallowed in my negative state. It is so much less painful to be angry. But there is nothing to be gained from it except more brokenness in a relationship that already holds plenty of scars. Convicted, I prayed for forgiveness. I prayed for a softening of my hurt and bitter heart. I prayed for humility so I wouldn't have to be right. I acknowledged the longing of my heart to be there in the middle of it all DOING SOMETHING. I prayed for the people in the country I love, who suffer so much already and now are dying in the worst way imaginable. And for those putting their lives on the line to help, to heal, to stop this unspeakable thing in the midst of a population who refuses to believe it even exists.
So here we are. Sunday I learned that they are actually scheduled to return on August 11th - Four weeks instead of three. Surprise! Monday Junior's boss showed up at their apartment asking why he wasn't at work - apparently he told them three weeks also. This is not the time to forget how to read a calendar! Who can predict what another week will bring? We have no address for where they are staying, no phone numbers that work.
My daughter and her family are unreachable, in Liberia, in the rainy season, during an Ebola outbreak. No one has heard from them for days. I don't know where they are. I don't know if they are sick. I don't know if they are going to be able to fly home. I don't know for certain whether I will ever see them again.
In the middle of all of that - I am at peace.
There's no understanding that.
"The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:5-7
Not even a phone call. And with that, on her 23rd birthday, my daughter and grandson flew off into the clouds, to New York City, on to Ghana, then to Liberia. Her home.
In the few weeks since then, the Ebola virus has exploded in West Africa, overwhelming health care workers and creating an international crisis. And I have been through almost every negative emotion you could possibly imagine. Anger. Hurt. Hatred. Outrage. Bitterness. Condescension. Envy. Anxiety. Fear. Terror. Sadness.
Once, just over a decade ago, I also flew into the face of disaster. I went against the good advice of most anyone with an ounce of common sense. The words of the consul at the US Embassy still ring in my head, "WE HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU PEOPLE NOT TO COME HERE!"
I had been trying to tell her not to go there. To at least leave the baby with us. But my ounce of common sense was not welcome in the wake of a family member's death. It was a chance to see her "real" family, a chance to show off her beautiful baby boy and engagement ring. A chance to go home. What do you say in the face of that? Nothing, because the phone calls and text messages will all go unanswered until it is too late to be persuaded not to go. Nothing, because I know what it is like to want to go home.
She has never really believed that we always love her, whether she agrees with us or not.
I must admit, I wallowed in my negative state. It is so much less painful to be angry. But there is nothing to be gained from it except more brokenness in a relationship that already holds plenty of scars. Convicted, I prayed for forgiveness. I prayed for a softening of my hurt and bitter heart. I prayed for humility so I wouldn't have to be right. I acknowledged the longing of my heart to be there in the middle of it all DOING SOMETHING. I prayed for the people in the country I love, who suffer so much already and now are dying in the worst way imaginable. And for those putting their lives on the line to help, to heal, to stop this unspeakable thing in the midst of a population who refuses to believe it even exists.
So here we are. Sunday I learned that they are actually scheduled to return on August 11th - Four weeks instead of three. Surprise! Monday Junior's boss showed up at their apartment asking why he wasn't at work - apparently he told them three weeks also. This is not the time to forget how to read a calendar! Who can predict what another week will bring? We have no address for where they are staying, no phone numbers that work.
My daughter and her family are unreachable, in Liberia, in the rainy season, during an Ebola outbreak. No one has heard from them for days. I don't know where they are. I don't know if they are sick. I don't know if they are going to be able to fly home. I don't know for certain whether I will ever see them again.
In the middle of all of that - I am at peace.
There's no understanding that.
"The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:5-7
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