Right now I have few words–just a stillness as I arise into the sunset, above the tinted pink clouds… I have come though a rapid night and a rapid day. Before my feet touch planet Earth again, I will come through another night. Less than 24 hours of chasing time zone to time zone will have passed.

I’m far away from anyone I know and love, but I am not alone. I feel certain that God brought me to this very window seat in this very plane, and for a reason. Didn’t He bring the details together, just right? And just as He brought me, so He is with me. That knowledge gives me peace as I fly into the unknown.

The last few days play through my mind–saying goodbye to my sisters and watching them travel to Cambodia together; going on a road trip with my mom while she intermittently gasps and instructs me how to drive, just like she’s done ever since I was 16; sitting in a little crepe shop in Harrisburg, sipping tea with friends, while Ben sketches a picture of me on the chalkboard painted table… Yesterday, an hour before I had to leave my home of 24 years, I went on a walk in the September golden air, drinking in the golden rod and tasseled corn and familiar country road. I won’t be there to watch the leaves turn orange and then the snow start to fall.

I have been blessed richly. So much to miss means there’s so much I love. Right now, though, I’m at one with this aircraft, racing forward to meet new adventures, accepting the joy and pain of flying far away from all I love to a place I will come to love, with the grace of God. I know God holds this airplane in the palm of his hand. I feel certain that God stuck me on this window seat, on this plane, and for a reason.

Bangladesh, I am excited to meet you, happy to serve your people however I can, with whatever nursing skills God has given me, and I expect to gain love and knowledge from you as well. Thank you,  God for bringing me here… Regardless of what experiences You bring my way in the next half year…

****

I wrote that on my last flight… I now sit in the domestic terminal at Dhaka, Bangladesh, waiting for my next flight that will take me to the town where I plan to live and work for the next half year.

I am already a wiser individual. I lost two dollars to a man who without being asked pulled my suitcases together at baggage claim–a length of about 2 yards. I also was turned down without sympathy when I wanted to exchange money. Ink stained money is apparently not a temptation, and there are no rules here about discriminating against handicapped US dollars.

I am already becoming used to being chattered at, and looking clueless and helpless, and having people wave me along as if to say, “Helpless American girl, who can’t even understand my very good English…”

A good outreach effort in this airport would be to hand out pens like we do tracts in the states. There are lots of forms to fill out, pens aren’t supplied, and I have already loaned mine to two fellow travelers who practically grabbed it from me when I couldn’t understand what they wanted my help with…

I am definitely not in America. Hello, Bangladesh, it’s nice to meet you!