Coming to Armenia--Sept. 22, 2005

Sleeping has always been something I've loved to do, yet found little time to do so. At home, my days are long, filled with keeping promises made to people to do this or finish that, always striving to conquer every challenge placed before me, to be perfect in everything.

I knew when I awoke Thursday morning and crawled out of my cozy bed in Baraboo that it would be the last time for six months. After searching for my "misplaced" passport for almost six hours on Wednesday, I was behind on my schedule of tasks to accomplish Thursday. And the evening was promised to the Town of Baraboo Planning Commission with its two public hearings, discussions about Tranquility Subdivision and ordinance amendments. By the time the meeting ended at 10:30 and I could make my way to the only open department store at that hour of the day, I was both stressed and getting excited. Naturally, there was no sleep the rest of the night as my nephew, Zachary, and I tried to cram a million pounds of donated shoes, toothbrushes, clothes, soap, paste and my own clothes into the suitcases.

By dawn on Friday, I was ready for a little break and attended my final Friday Morning Men's Coffee discussion. Zach came along and, for about 45 minutes, we listened to a potpourri of topics bounce around the table. Finally, the clicking clock and more tasks to accomplish--worrying about no piano player for the church, who would direct the chimes choir, whether Herb Messer would get enough people to ring the Salvation Army bells, if I could remember to grab all my notes of stories yet to file, invoicing and on and on--were too much. We left to finish the awesome task of piling me into my mother's van for the ride to Chicago.

When 9 a.m. donged on our living room clock and I still had things to sort through, I knew the final hours would be hectic. It wasn't until I gave Gary a final kiss and hug, and I closed the door to my office and home that the reality of the situation hit home. I was leaving for six months. While the Internet would allow me to keep in touch with friends, this was the last time I would stand in what my neighbor calls "the convention center" to see my piles of kept cards, scraps of information for my imagined completion of this great novel or wonderful story, photos of kids or by kids, little treasures here and there.

A sense of panic swept over me. For days, I had come to realize that because we leave one place for another, life does not stop. I knew it when I went to the town dump on Saturday morning and saw Clarence Lehman sitting in the little shed. I told him of my great-aunt's funeral in Milwaukee just the day before and my impending departure for Armenia. We said a few jokes back and forth, and then he said he was ready to die. To go home to his Lord and to be with his beloved wife, Connie. We both realized that I could return in March and he may not be there. Or, March could roll around and I would not return home due to some fatal accident. Life goes on.

A quick stop by Dawn Carignan at Seneca Foods to drop off a couple items I hadn't had a chance to give personally to other people slipped by. A final hug and her wise words, "You know, if you can't do the whole six months, you can come home early. No one will think anything of it other than what it is." Sometimes, I do need permission to not be perfect. I appreciated her comments and knew that, if this turned out to be the case, everything would be fine. Life goes on.

At Summit Credit Union, I withdrew the money that I had worked literally night and day to earn for this mission trip. Combined with money donated from several church members, family friends, two clients and my mother, I realized how precious each dollar was and how much spiritual support each represented. It was awesome.

Finally on the road, I looked around through new eyes. I was leaving and wanted to remember this place and how it looked now, as well as all the memories of living here for 23 years that were wrapped up in each scene. Life would go on, but I would be frozen in time, this time of departure.

After an interview with a UW-Madison veterinarian so that I could send back a calf health story to an ag newspaper, I handed my cell phone over to my mother. She, Zach and I stood inside the O'Hare airport terminal 5 and, for a few minutes, lingered in hugs. Holding hands and bowing our heads, we together recited The Lord's Prayer. It gave us strength and a bond in the greater essence of ourselves and what was about to start. It is the source of support for us all.

And as the plane landed at the Yerevan airport some 22 hours later, I thanked God for delivering me safely to this place, for the love and support of family and friends back home, and for the mission experience He was about to lead me through.

Lead me. Use me. Help me to do Thy will to your glory, whatever that task may be that is not written into my UMCOR volunteer job description.

Peace! Pam

September 27 -- I had a few technical problems, and I finally got online to my site tonight!! Lusine from UMCOR MIS and her husband, Sarghis, along with their three-year-old son, David, came over tonight and rewired our apartment line. We replaced the dial phone with a touch-tone one and loaded up an Internet access card code. Here I am!! FINALLY!!! I will write more and post it by this Saturday morning, October 1—right after we vacuum this week’s crop of cockroaches, dust out the inch of sand that seems to settle everywhere in this city of 2 million…and water the poor plants.