When I parted ways with the mission team I traveled with to Belarus, it felt abrupt. We had just exited the shuttle taking us from the plane on the runway to the baggage claim area and I realized that connecting flights were in the opposite direction from where the team was going. We all hugged and I took the escalator up until the ten Americans (well, one Mexican) were out of sight. The finality of the loneliness I felt was unexpected, and it slammed into place like stone walls around me. Thoughts of "I'm the only person I know on this side of the world" kept bursting and reverberating in my skull, and it was all I could do to keep walking and begin searching for my terminal. This thought wasn't even accurate, as I had friends in Ireland and France, but a panicking mind skirts around such major details in the name of making a body unhappy.
I made it to my terminal alright. I made it from the airport to my B&B alright (though $41 lighter). I made it from there to the bus stop alright. And finally, I made it to Dublin to meet with the family of the doctor I work for. And in the midst of my panicking about not having a place to stay that night, with St Patty's Day driving prices to five or ten times what I would normally be paying, kind people made room in their home for me.
And now a couchsurfing host has replied to me, so I have places to stay in Glasgow (and Belfast, before I go on to Scotland). I may have a chance to meet some members of a band I fancy called The Youth And The Young as well.
All is well and I am excited for what The Lord has in store for me in the coming minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months.
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