Our 2nd Season

She brought us lemon snaps.

To be fair, she also brought fresh berries from the farmer’s market so that we could ‘snack’ on our drive to Atlanta.  

Seeing her smile brought me back to the moment we saw her smile the first time.  She was mowing her lawn, on a riding tractor, and hopped off to greet us as we pulled into her driveway.  

“He, y’all.  I’m Talin – like Coleen, with a ‘T’.”

She thrust out her hand to welcome us to her home.

“You’re the ones heading to Africa, right? I’ve been looking forward to hearing more about that.”

“C’mon down and we can chat!”

And a friendship was born.

It was cemented with lemon snaps.  An old fashioned southern delight. As we left we hugged each other and promised to stay in touch.  But, as Talin mentioned, we are heading to Africa.

The past twenty-three days have been a whirlwind tour of ‘good-byes’ (through many are quick to say that we should say ‘farewell’, not good bye).  But Africa is a very long way from home. And to make matters worse there are few direct ways to get there.  On a recent trip home from one of the Mercy Ships it took forty-one hours from gangway to my front door.

For those of you who have followed our journey, it has been months in the making.  We applied and were accepted to volunteer on the Global Mercy (a hospital ship) in Sierra Leone.  We were able to visit the ship for a month, and then I got the chance to see the second ship in action in Madagascar.  But the commitment we made was to serve for two years.  And we knew eventually our very American life would be placed on pause as we launched like an Elon Musk rocket, hoping not to explode.

We packed our furniture, we sold our car, we put our house up for rent and we traveled across the country.  We even got new driver’s licenses in South Carolina (a post for another day). But the real challenge was always going to be saying good-bye.

Mercy Ships has an amazing orientation program (called on-boarding) in Linvalle, TX.  One of the classes spoke about how to say good bye well.  For us, that meant identifying key people who we would sit down to share a meal, a cup of coffee, or even a week in the spare bedroom.  People who needed to know how much they meant to us.  And with no ‘clock watching’ we made those precious memories.  Marci had coffee with a group of friends she is so close to they met for coffee again the next day.  Tears flowed when saying good bye to the best neighbors we ever had.  And Marci asked me to drive by one last time as we went out of town for ‘one last squeeze’.   

We had lunch with my boss and mentor.  We had dinner with a friend of thirty-six years.  We had deep conversations with family members, some decades overdue.  We broke bread, sipped hot drinks, laughed, and cried.  We both looked at our aging fathers, knowing that they would not be the same men in two years, because they were not the same men from two years ago.

It was particularly hard to say goodbye to our granddaughters.  Aniyah seems dumbfounded by why we are even considering such an adventure.  Chloe broke our heart when she, out of the blue, pleaded, “I don’t want you to go to Africa.”

But we must go.  We know, more than at any other juncture in our life, that this is what God is calling us to do.  We are sad, but we are also at peace.  

I write this as we spend our last few hours in the United States.  We will not set foot in our country for many, many months.  We are nervous.  We are anxious.  We are sad.  But we are excited to meet the challenge as well.  The people who make up the real soul of Mercy Ships are incredible.  They love God and serve him with all their hearts.  They have welcomed us and called us to join them.  They are excited to seek the excellence that Mercy Ships so values.  We love our new ship home and look forward to hugging our girls again (Sergine, Natasha, and Alianne).

It seems as if God has placed little gems of people in our path.  Like a surprise mint on your pillow in a hotel, we smile with the simple sweetness of the community being built with and for us. 

Life is an adventure.  As we are called to board the giant plane to cross the Atlantic, we bite a sweet crispy lemon snap, with an image of Talin’s curly hair and warm smile, and whisper ‘farewell’ to all that we have known and hold dear.  She is just the latest in a long line. 

We will see you in our memories, in our dreams, and in person when we return.  

Farewell…