a lot of love, a little late, a long night, a blessed life

Forgive me in advance for this extremely long entry. I´ve got a lot of ground to cover.

It was Tuesday afternoon, May 2nd , and I was driving to the airport with my friend Lesley to board a plane that would eventually bring me to Managua, Nicaragua, where I would be spending the next 3 years of my life. My dearest friends in all the world were there to see me off—Cara, Judson, Karen and Shannon Pappas, Lexi, Byron, Helen and Mike. Like all grand adventures, there was plenty of drama before I even got through security. First, both my checked bags were overweight, so I had to pay a fee to check them. Then, after a round of hugs and a prayer and a few words of love, I approached the security checkpoint, only to be told that I had to go back and get my carry on backpack approved. I hadn't cried much up until that point, but the unexpected has a way of bringing out latent emotion, just looking for an excuse to show itself. What happened next is all a blur to me—all that stands out to me is every one of my friends jumping in to help me in some way. When it was all over, my tote bag was full, my backpack was checked, my laptop was secure, and I was finally ready to go. I took a long look at everyone's faces as I made my way through the security line. Right after I got through I walked to the left so I could see back to where they were standing. All of them were right there, watching me, waving. I finally turned away, and as I walked a little further, suddenly there was a loud yell, “We love you Pam!” from across the room. I turned and smiled at my amazing friends through my tears, and kept walking...slowly.

When I got to the gate, I sat in silence for a few minutes, unable to do anything. I took out an apple someone had given me and slowly ate it. Then I decided to look at the scrapbook Lesley had compiled for me with the letters my friends had written to me to send me off. Reading the words of encouragement, love, and support contained in the beautiful book brought me to tears again. There is something truly overwhelming about realizing how much you are loved.

I put the book away, just as the airline personnel informed us our flight to Houston would be delayed, due to bad weather that had put the plane we were to board behind schedule in coming to San Antonio. We landed in Houston around 5:20pm, and knowing that I had a tight schedule, I booked it across the airport, hoping that they would hold my 5:45pm flight to Managua for me. By the time I got to Terminal E, I was heaving. The woman at my gate told me that my plane, which was still sitting at the gate, had already pushed off, and I had been rebooked on the next flight (Wednesday). For the second time Tuesday, I burst into tears. As emotionally ready as I thought I was to leave the country, I wasn't ready to spend another day alone in the States. My body was wracked with sobs as I realized that, for the next 24 hours, I was homeless. The man at the Continental counter took my boarding pass for my missed flight and handed me my new one. As I continued to cry, he said to me in a matter-of-fact way, “Ma'am, people miss flights like this every day, but you seem awfully upset. Is there something wrong—something we should know about?” I was still crying as I said, “Yes, sir. I just left all of my family and friends in San Antonio, and I am probably not going to see them again for 3 years. Forgive me if I am a little emotional. I'd appreciate a little understanding.” At this he took great offense. “Ma'am, that's why I asked. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't care.” It was like something out a personnel training handbook—the guy knew the right things to say, but had no grace in his demeanor to demonstrate his sincerity.

Finally I was downstairs waiting for my hotel shuttle, drinking my Sprite and trying to see the good in this drastic change of plans. Here I was, stuck in Houston, with nothing to do, no one to see, nowhere to go. All I could really do is rest and reflect. There is great comfort in finding a silver lining to the clouds in life...and when I had found this one, I found an immense sense of comfort, not loneliness or despair. Even if I didn't have a single change of clothes.

I slept a bit fitfully but was thankful for a comfortable room and a nice bed. Wednesday morning my FH placement rep S. shared a story with me about his own experience with bring short-term teams back and forth from Nicaragua, and at one point how exhausted he was, and how much he hoped for a break. At that moment, on one of his flights, there was apparently some overbooking, and he wound up in First Class. He shared how that brief reprieve made such a difference to him, and how much he hoped I could see this as that kind of gift from God as well. That he knew once I hit the ground in Managua I would be in high demand and full speed ahead. That maybe there was something God wanted to tell me, or maybe He just wanted to give me some rest before that stage of the journey. Based on all of my delayed emotional reactions over the last 24 hours, I have to agree with him.

I lay in my hotel bed until close to check out time trying to rest and listen to what God might be saying to me. I can't say I heard anything profound, but I have a strong sense that God really was trying to give me something good, and wanted me to recognize it as such.

I walked outside the hotel to catch my shuttle and when the driver turned around to ask me and the other 2 passengers which terminal we needed, I was shocked when the gentlemen behind me said, “Managua?”. I turned around and asked in Spanish, “Are you going to Managua? That's where I'm going!”. You can imagine all of our incredulity in this moment as he and his wife and I realized we were headed to the exact same place. In the ensuing conversation, I learned that Senor and Senora Mendoza were Nicaraguan naturalized citizens of the U.S., who had lived in California and Phoenix for the last 22 years. They were both pastors of a large evangelical church in east Phoenix, and their son was the pastor of one of their daughter churches. They were headed to Nicaragua for a week of vacation and meeting with other pastors and churches in northern Nicaragua. I was able to share with them that I was moving to Nicaragua to be a missionary for 3 years, which they found impressive (as well as my fluency in Spanish, amazingly), and that the organization I was serving with had its US headquarters in Phoenix! My new Nicaraguan friends were so gracious and gave wonderful advice about being careful in Managua, famous landmarks in the area, the signature dishes of the country, and some unique palabras nicas.

Truly, if there is one thing I have been reminded of over the last day or so, it is that all things do work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose. So I drank my last Starbucks frappaccino, read my last hard copy of a U.S. Newspaper, and waited peacefully to board my flight to a new home. Aleluia.