LANDING IN LIBERIA: PROVIDENCE PREVAILS!
Dec. 3-4, 2015
In the chalice of my being I could not contain my joy! Ripples of laughter flowed across the vast ocean from Brussels to Africa as my new friend and fellow passenger Margiah and I joked about the comedy of errors that brought us to this space. Providence had provided me with a seat on the final flight to Liberia, right next to a wonderfully entertaining Liberian woman!
Margiah wore a festive skirt called a Lapa and a headdress which only accentuated her colorful personality. She told me she lived in Houston but was returning to her homeland for the holidays. Since neither of us could sleep we giggled away the miles like two school girls on Christmas break! I felt warmly connected to her spirit and the peace that flowed heart to heart. In fact, I felt at home among all the passengers the majority of whom were African.
Exhausted, exhilarated, excited-so many emotions welled up inside of me as we approached our final destination and the conclusion of a nearly two day pilgrimage from New Orleans to New Jersey to Brussels to Sierra Leone and finally to Liberia.
As we began our final descent through the pitch black night I noticed through the window tiny flickers of light drawing us to the small airstrip where my son Johnny would be waiting.
What a journey! Logistical issues, Ebola...everywhere I turned there were roadblocks. Six months ago I wondered if I'd ever make this trip. “I’ve been waiting for more than six years to do an experience with Johnny,” I said in frustration to Albino the Italian gentleman who runs Comunita Cenacolo in America. “Yes,” Albino replied. “And when you go it will be a very good experience!”
I knew Albino was right but the wait tested my patience and my trust. Now-at this moment all those challenging years melted away and I understood the wisdom in the wait. “I have hit the jackpot of experiences,” I thought to myself.
We landed at a small airstrip about 2 hours outside of Monrovia, the capitol of Liberia, in the middle of the “bush.” “I won’t need this sweater,” I mumbled to myself, as I stepped out of the plane into the December heat.
A man directed me to wash my hands at a barrel with a spicket that contained water and chlorine and then a woman pointed a thermometer at my temple to check for fever before allowing me to enter the airport building to retrieve my bags. “Ebola precautions,” I whispered to Grace.
Miraculously my five suitcases arrived along with the luggage of Grace, Joe and Mitch. God had protected our providence and our travels!
“Wow,” that’s a shock, I laughed when I spotted my handsome son Johnny sporting long blonde hair and a beard. “We’re doing a play tomorrow and I’m Jesus,” he laughed as we hugged tightly. “Thank you God for this beautiful gift,” I whispered to myself.
Johnny introduced me to his friend Marlin, the missionary surgeon from Costa Rica who had requested the medical supplies and then we loaded up the SUV with the luggage, and exited the airport down a rocky, winding road to our final destination 2 ½ hours away.
“What’s this?” My heart skipped a beat when I saw the roadblock. Johnny smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry mom you just have to know how to speak to the Liberian people.” He leaned out of the window and said, “Hey man we have no money today, we are just coming from the airport…next time…yes next time.” Johnny was confident, kind and respectful. I was impressed.
The roadblocks were set up by local authorities who were conducting security checks and in some cases by locals who were trying to score money. An Archdiocesan decal on the side of the vehicle gave us instant legitimacy and so we sailed through at least seven different roadblocks with no real problems.
We passed through overgrown shrubs, palm trees and a scattering of small mud homes with tin roofs, through the outskirts of Monrovia and eventually into the mission compound just past midnight.
What a glorious, joyful welcome! The guitar playing missionaries were lined up outside serenading us into the kitchen for cake, pizza and old fashioned fraternity! It was surreal! I have never received such a warm welcome anywhere and my eyes brimmed with tears at this special anointing!
The missionaries and the children sleep bunkhouse style however, as the mom I was given a private room with a private bathroom. A mosquito net covered my bed and screens and bars covered my open windows. There is no air conditioning or hot water but there is filtered water for drinking. None of the sacrifices mattered to me and I made a mental decision to ignore the heat and to concentrate on the gift of this profoundly personal experience.
Before leaving America, I fielded a lot of questions from people who couldn’t understand why I would go to Africa, especially after Ebola and with all the unrest in the world. A close relative warned, “If you disappear I’m not coming to look for you!” “And I wouldn’t," I replied "because you won’t find me.” I honestly did not fear the destination, though I was grateful to be traveling with other people.
Physically exhausted, I lay down on the top of my sheets just before 2 a.m. and as I drifted off to sleep I felt deep within my core that God had personally called me to Liberia and I couldn't wait to experience why!
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