At 3pm on Monday Oct. 12th, dear
friends scooped our suitcases and our family into their cars and caravanned to
the airport. With the Cubs hitting some bizarre streak of luck this year, there
was an unexpected game at 5 that night, so we fretted the whole way there that
the traffic would make us late (we’re just not used to the Cubs still playing
this late in the season…). But an easy hour later we were at our check-in
counter at O’Hare, double-checking our suitcase count and parting ways with
prayer and not a few tears.
Over the next couple hours, Teresa tested every single water-fountain in the airport. You’ll be delighted to know they are all in working order. She also managed to cute her way into free juice at the taco restaurant in terminal 5.
We had anticipated Teresa sleeping for most of the 13hr 40min overnight flight (fools, I know…), but flight attendants are nearly as helpful as nurses, poking and prodding and flashing lights and brushing past every hour or so just to liven things up. The cabin lights didn’t dim until roughly 11pm CST, and therefore neither did Teresa. She did, however, scream bloody murder from 9pm on just to alert all peoples in the stratosphere that it was in fact past her bedtime.
Over the next couple hours, Teresa tested every single water-fountain in the airport. You’ll be delighted to know they are all in working order. She also managed to cute her way into free juice at the taco restaurant in terminal 5.
We had anticipated Teresa sleeping for most of the 13hr 40min overnight flight (fools, I know…), but flight attendants are nearly as helpful as nurses, poking and prodding and flashing lights and brushing past every hour or so just to liven things up. The cabin lights didn’t dim until roughly 11pm CST, and therefore neither did Teresa. She did, however, scream bloody murder from 9pm on just to alert all peoples in the stratosphere that it was in fact past her bedtime.
For the past year of her life, she has been very strictly a
daddy’s girl. Either daddy puts her to bed, or she simply will not sleep.
UNTIL WE GOT ON THE AIRPLANE. Mommy had a Teresa-shaped sweat/drool stain down her front after holding/wrestling the little demanding diva for the whole night. No sleep for momma.
On a side note, Emirates gives these great toiletry bags and kid toys out on every flight, which is a huge bonus since they strictly weigh their carry-on bags, thereby reducing the amount of kid paraphernalia we were able to bring ourselves.
Tuesday about 7:15pm Dubai time (10:15am CST), we found ourselves on the tarmac in Dubai, thinking some mixture of “Dear sweet heavens it is hot” and “Praise the Lord for solid ground.” We received a series of conflicting instructions from multiple people at multiple points in the airport (which is massive and beautiful) regarding where and how to catch shuttle to the hotel. Up the hall, downstairs, ‘round the corner, go to that counter, no go to that counter, now wait outside for the shuttle with the lovely German couple who missed their flight, whoops go back inside to the designated chairs to wait because the shuttles only pick up people who are escorted by their personnel from the chairs, now wait another half hour, now click your heels 3 times and sing the hokey-pokey, and PRESTO!
The hotel was wonderful, especially in regards to the two large beds that we pushed together and sprawled out on, and the complimentary buffet that included the best paneer I have ever eaten (high praise). Teresa popped up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 2:45 am, long before our 6am wake-up call, so Daddy took her down to play in the lobby.
Fun story: David’s watch battery ran out some time ago, which is no big deal to fix, but is complicated significantly by the fact that the little knobbies that you use to change the position of the watch hands don’t work anymore—you can only move them about 10 min worth in either direction. He brought it with him on our journey anyway “just in case,” but basically, he needed to have his watch battery changed at precisely the time shown on the watch.
Which was, serendipitously, 2:45.
Thank you, dear Lord.
Wednesday morning at 7am Dubai time (10pm CST), our shuttle picked us up and deposited us back at the airport. We held our breath as Emirates weighed our carry-ons (again), then scurried up to find a place in line to go through screening and find our terminal. We chatted with a wonderful Australian couple who had opted to forego a wedding party in favor of a world-travel honeymoon. We swapped stories until it was our turn to talk to the very stern lady at the counter, who looked at our boarding passes and passports for half an eternity before pushing them back at us and, instead of waving us through to the other side, with no explanation as to why, directed us to “the fourth office down the hall,” which was labeled something to do with customs, passport issues, and fees. Yum. Again, we waited as the lady in front of us was fined $300 for some unknown transgression, then nervously waited while our boarding passes were reviewed, stamped, and returned to us.
Finally, at the very furthest terminal, we collapsed in some squeaky airport chairs and waited for boarding. Teresa made friends with two other toddlers, an Indian girl and an African boy, all of whom galloped like a herd of wild horses around and around the terminal. At one point the girl’s mother asked me if my kids were twins, which was confusing until I realized that Teresa was scurrying around so much that the woman thought there was two of her.
And finally, around 4pm Lusaka time (9am CST), we stumbled into the airport in Zambia, waited through the visa line at immigration, grabbed all 9 of our bags (which all arrived safely and intact), and hugged the Colvins with all the exhausted sweaty airplane-smelling sleep-deprived joy we could muster.
A couple nights in Lusaka to tie up a few loose ends, then a long journey north truncated by another night with another truly delightful missionary family (by a lake so big and beautiful and ethereal that it hardly seems possible), then finally, finally, Home.
Never could I ever have imagined the magnitude of sheer joy that could come from something as simple as a house. We’re across road from both the clinic and the preschool (could that possibly be any more perfect?). I’m in love with the curtains in our sitting room. Teresa slept through the night for the first time since Monday (because Home). There’s a mango tree in our yard (which does not appear to be producing anything, but I love its scraggly little self anyway), and a house full of kids next door (two of whom have already played with every children’s book and puzzle that we own), and the stars!
Oh, the stars. They are only vaguely familiar to me, like the edge of a memory, or a dream you’ve all but forgotten when you wake. But I sit on the corner of our porch and wrap my fingers around a hot mug of tea and breathe in deeply the smell of the earth while my daughter runs and plays with the other village kids, and the disquiet in our souls that has refused us rest these past few years lays at peace, and though we are neither nursing nor teaching in any capacity at all yet (or even fully unpacked), we know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we are right where we are supposed to be.
UNTIL WE GOT ON THE AIRPLANE. Mommy had a Teresa-shaped sweat/drool stain down her front after holding/wrestling the little demanding diva for the whole night. No sleep for momma.
On a side note, Emirates gives these great toiletry bags and kid toys out on every flight, which is a huge bonus since they strictly weigh their carry-on bags, thereby reducing the amount of kid paraphernalia we were able to bring ourselves.
Tuesday about 7:15pm Dubai time (10:15am CST), we found ourselves on the tarmac in Dubai, thinking some mixture of “Dear sweet heavens it is hot” and “Praise the Lord for solid ground.” We received a series of conflicting instructions from multiple people at multiple points in the airport (which is massive and beautiful) regarding where and how to catch shuttle to the hotel. Up the hall, downstairs, ‘round the corner, go to that counter, no go to that counter, now wait outside for the shuttle with the lovely German couple who missed their flight, whoops go back inside to the designated chairs to wait because the shuttles only pick up people who are escorted by their personnel from the chairs, now wait another half hour, now click your heels 3 times and sing the hokey-pokey, and PRESTO!
The hotel was wonderful, especially in regards to the two large beds that we pushed together and sprawled out on, and the complimentary buffet that included the best paneer I have ever eaten (high praise). Teresa popped up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 2:45 am, long before our 6am wake-up call, so Daddy took her down to play in the lobby.
Fun story: David’s watch battery ran out some time ago, which is no big deal to fix, but is complicated significantly by the fact that the little knobbies that you use to change the position of the watch hands don’t work anymore—you can only move them about 10 min worth in either direction. He brought it with him on our journey anyway “just in case,” but basically, he needed to have his watch battery changed at precisely the time shown on the watch.
Which was, serendipitously, 2:45.
Thank you, dear Lord.
Wednesday morning at 7am Dubai time (10pm CST), our shuttle picked us up and deposited us back at the airport. We held our breath as Emirates weighed our carry-ons (again), then scurried up to find a place in line to go through screening and find our terminal. We chatted with a wonderful Australian couple who had opted to forego a wedding party in favor of a world-travel honeymoon. We swapped stories until it was our turn to talk to the very stern lady at the counter, who looked at our boarding passes and passports for half an eternity before pushing them back at us and, instead of waving us through to the other side, with no explanation as to why, directed us to “the fourth office down the hall,” which was labeled something to do with customs, passport issues, and fees. Yum. Again, we waited as the lady in front of us was fined $300 for some unknown transgression, then nervously waited while our boarding passes were reviewed, stamped, and returned to us.
Finally, at the very furthest terminal, we collapsed in some squeaky airport chairs and waited for boarding. Teresa made friends with two other toddlers, an Indian girl and an African boy, all of whom galloped like a herd of wild horses around and around the terminal. At one point the girl’s mother asked me if my kids were twins, which was confusing until I realized that Teresa was scurrying around so much that the woman thought there was two of her.
And finally, around 4pm Lusaka time (9am CST), we stumbled into the airport in Zambia, waited through the visa line at immigration, grabbed all 9 of our bags (which all arrived safely and intact), and hugged the Colvins with all the exhausted sweaty airplane-smelling sleep-deprived joy we could muster.
A couple nights in Lusaka to tie up a few loose ends, then a long journey north truncated by another night with another truly delightful missionary family (by a lake so big and beautiful and ethereal that it hardly seems possible), then finally, finally, Home.
Never could I ever have imagined the magnitude of sheer joy that could come from something as simple as a house. We’re across road from both the clinic and the preschool (could that possibly be any more perfect?). I’m in love with the curtains in our sitting room. Teresa slept through the night for the first time since Monday (because Home). There’s a mango tree in our yard (which does not appear to be producing anything, but I love its scraggly little self anyway), and a house full of kids next door (two of whom have already played with every children’s book and puzzle that we own), and the stars!
Oh, the stars. They are only vaguely familiar to me, like the edge of a memory, or a dream you’ve all but forgotten when you wake. But I sit on the corner of our porch and wrap my fingers around a hot mug of tea and breathe in deeply the smell of the earth while my daughter runs and plays with the other village kids, and the disquiet in our souls that has refused us rest these past few years lays at peace, and though we are neither nursing nor teaching in any capacity at all yet (or even fully unpacked), we know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we are right where we are supposed to be.
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