In Which I Am Exceptionally Unprepared

Hello. I’m not sure that we’ve met. My name is “Drastically unprepared for a potentially life-altering trip half way around the world.” What an absolute pleasure!

But for real. I’m nowhere close to being ready for this trip.

These past two weeks have been an absolute blur, and that’s probably the understatement of my whole life. I’ve had more commitments this month than I think I’ve ever had ever, and I’m pretty sure I’m losing. my. mind.

The madness began the second week of February, and we haven’t taken our foot off the gas since. That week, we had our travel group over for dinner, and Lilly came down with strep. Then Tim caught it and spent three days home from work. We had Bible study and Tim had choir. (Yes. Choir. But I digress.) The following week, we had meetings at church, finally bought our airline tickets, and spent the Valentine’s weekend traveling and sourcing/accumulating travel supplies. So far this week, we’ve had two dentist appointments, one ladies get-together, and a rather painful trip to the gym in which I pulled a very valuable calf muscle. I’m away tonight for a retreat, Tim has an obligation tomorrow evening, we have church and Bible study Sunday, and another dinner in our home Tuesday. Add to all of that two full-time jobs, two kids, an utterly and disturbingly unkempt house, grocery runs, last-minute errands, and one pedicure appointment (don’t judge), and that’s basically my life.

And then we leave Friday.

I’ve got a mound of medications on the kitchen counter that I’m supposed to be taking at specific intervals to prevent my catching malaria, typhoid, tetanus, hepatitis, and who knows what else.

Because since I can’t keep the rest of my life straight, I should definitely have no problem keeping to a rigid medication schedule…

Have meds, will travel...

Today, for example, I walked out the door without deodorant and had a nervous breakdown on my way into work at 5:30 a.m. when I realized that we have never written a will. Because who gets custody of my children should I die in a foreign country on the opposite side of the planet is the first thing I like to consider that early in the morning…

I’m freaking out about whether the cotton capri pants I’m bringing are “modest” enough to wear among the natives or whether I should drape myself in a camping tarp to avoid any misconceptions altogether. I’m worried that my hiking shoes aren’t boots and that my glasses, which I left in Asheville last weekend, won’t get back to me on time and that I’ll be roaming around half blind. I’m worried about the money I won’t be making for the time I’m taking off unpaid and about how the girls will handle our being gone this long. I’m worried about our future and about Tim’s work contract that expires while we will be traipsing through the mud and rain half a world away, about the next step in our story.

I know in my heart that all of these trivialities are serving as nothing but distractions from my main objective here, which is ultimately to bring hearts to Christ. I know that. And I know that ultimately all this stuff will sort itself out, and it won’t be because of anything I did or didn’t do. It’s just the way He rolls. His hand is in all of my preparations. And I have but to be still. (Still. What an hilarious notion…)

But it will all sort out because in the eloquent words of George Michael, "I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith..."

J.