As I blogged earlier, my husband went to Congo again for a 2-week missions trip, this time to work on getting power to a hospital. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of him going--for lots of reasons, mostly all them extremely selfish on my part. However, I stepped aside and away he went. His excitement bugged me. Hey, I did warn you that I am honest with my thoughts. Anyway, during the 2 weeks that he was gone I tried hard to stay busy--clubs, friends, family, lunches, shopping, etc. Anything I could do to make the time go quicker--I did.
Of course, during those 2 weeks, every type of weather known to man hit the Cleveland area. We had temps in the 70's and then we had snow. We had wind gusts that sounded like my little house was going to blow down and then we had beautiful blue skies. Extreme weather at it's best. How did it affect me? Well, I had to walk our little 9-month-old puppy 5 times a day, morning, noon and night. That isn't an unusual feat for me, other than, if it's bad weather or very late at night, my husband will take over that duty. He's very helpful that way. So, imagine a crazy little puppy trying to go potty in windy snowy conditions. She was afraid of her own shadow! Around and around the block we went, she pulling and tugging at her lead, too afraid to relax and let nature take its course. Ugg. A simple doggy walk sometimes took way too long. And as I was out there in the elements walking my pup, I would proceed to get madder and madder that life, in general, was falling in on me. And then I would proceed to have myself a little pity party.
By the time 2 weeks had rolled around I was ready for the other half of this relationship to come home. I wanted someone to carry half the load of this life we had built. I was tired of going it alone. Coffee alone in the morning isn't fun for me, dinner alone every night isn't either. I noticed that I wasn't even laughing at sitcoms and also, wasn't yelling at the TV when people picked the wrong house on House Hunters. In other words, life was not fun for me. Yes, I was ready. Ready to be a couple again. I needed my other half.
And then the phone call came. Weather. Bad weather. Stormy weather in Congo had grounded their plane, and he was now going to miss all his connecting flights. As I sat on the phone listening to his troubles, huge tears began to roll down my cheeks. I had so many plans for the next few days--for us. I didn't want to do them alone--not anymore. Maybe others can relate. Maybe some can't. I know that every marriage is different. Some aren't as closely intertwined as ours. We like to do most everything together. So this was a blow to both of us.
For several hours the team tried hard to reschedule their flights. Finally, I received a text message--he'd be home 2 days late. It is what it is though, so after hanging up I had myself a good cry and tried to concentrate on praying for their safety. What he didn't tell me right then was that at first he was told he couldn't get a flight out until the following week! And also, that he had contracted malaria and was coming down with a bad cold. He didn't want to worry me. However, we don't have that kind of marriage, we tell each other everything--good or bad, we don't keep secrets. So, he wrote me a long email and filled me in on the details. After another good cry and a lot more praying I finally went to bed knowing that he would eventually make it home, just not on my time--but God's.
Thankfully I have some awesome friends who kept tabs on me--they called and prayed with me, and sent me texts and emails. My kids kept me busy, and I kept up with normal daily living. I prayed a lot. The fact that he had malaria really bothered me. The next couple of nights I had trouble sleeping and would just lay in bed and pray.
He was almost home when I received another phone call. After 4 flights, and only 1 to go--his last leg was canceled due to weather. He was stuck in Chicago. So close and yet...
There were no flights to Cleveland on any other airlines for 2 days! 2 more long days. He was done! I could hear it in his voice. It's funny how when one is down and out, the other steps in to pick up the pieces. There I sat all alone in Cleveland with him just a mere 6 hours away--talking him off the ledge (so to speak) and telling him it would all work out. He wanted to rent a car right then and drive those last 6 hours home--at night, in a snowstorm. No, I don't think so. I insisted he get a hotel room, rest up, shower and rent a car the next morning.
About an hour later my phone rang again--I'm on a plane going to Detroit. Detroit? That way I'm closer to home. His plan was to spend the night in Detroit, rent a car the next morning and drive for 3 hours and be home. It was all working out! That is when he realized that he didn't have his drivers license with him. He'd left it home--who needs a license in Congo, right? Anyway, it was just another item that might get stolen. No license, no rental car. He felt trapped. He almost sounded panicked which scared me a little.
I really believe that for both of us, that moment in time was the hardest part of the entire trip. 3 hours from home, in the middle of the night and no way to get home. I begged him to check into a hotel and call me the next morning and I promised we'd work things out. In my mind, I was just planning on driving to Detroit and picking him up. In his mind, he was already making plans to book another flight--no matter the cost. I thought we had a plan. I thought he'd go to sleep, but no--at 1:30 in the morning my phone rang again--I have an early morning flight to Cleveland, pick me up at the airport.
Oh my goodness, at this point, I thought the guy had left all his marbles in Congo! Go to sleep I said--go to sleep! You sound crazy! He promised he would, so we hung up and the next morning I was at the airport and picked up my nutty husband. He looked a little manic--I'm not going to lie. But, he looked so happy to finally be home. His normal 30 hours of travel time to Congo had turned into almost 60 hours of travel to get home.
Yes he has malaria, yes he has a bad cold, and yes he's extremely tired. But, he's home, and our little family is now reunited. I will take care of him, make sure he takes his meds, and make sure he sleeps.
This is the saga of traveling to Africa. It's always something, right? For us, though it isn't half as bad if we travel together. Plain and simple--we don't like being apart from each other. Maybe this will end up being his last trip to Congo, maybe not. Maybe I'll go next time--if there is a next time, maybe not. I learned that I have absolutely no control over my life or the lives of others. I've learned that God has complete control and that I have to rely on Him for all things. So, I will. I'll pray and go on living this awesome little life of mine. And for a few weeks at least, I'll savor these times with my husband. And I'll hope that for awhile--well, that he won't bring up going back to Congo until I've fully recuperated from this little excursion. Yes, I did just say that. Until I have recuperated. You see, he doesn't have to recuperate, not really, for his heart is there--in Africa, with the people of Congo. I just hope he waits awhile before going back. It's hard on me. It really is.
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