I wrote this earlier today on the plane – so while the news is a smidge old, I have GOT to go to bed since I need to be awake and functioning in about four hours.

Later, interpeeps!

Right now we’re in the air somewhere between Belgium and Uganda (I say this as if it happens every single day for me, as if this is somehow normal) and I seem to have been afflicted with a touch of the conjunctivitis. It was flared up yesterday morning when I left Alabama, and the prescription eye drops I have seem to make it better – but only until I go to sleep.

Because after I sleep, I inevitably wake up looking like someone who spends her spare time standing over hot stacks of toxic smoke.

Which is exactly the look I’ve been hoping for.

This particular flight is on Brussels Airlines, and may I just say? The people at Brussels Airlines could teach the Americans a thing or sixteen about air travel. The plane is immaculate, and the flight attendants are courteous and cheerful. Plus, they have really cool accents and make announcements in French and stuff.

And get this: we had barely taken off when the flight attendants handed us headphones. Then came a “refreshing towel” and something called Sky Bites: Fab Savoury Crackers.

Believe you me, internets: if a cracker is in fact “fab,” then I will most certainly have me a pack or ten. Because how I am supposed to resist a “fab savoury cracker”?

Personally, I don’t know how I possibly could.

So this was the scene at our house this morning around 7 o’clock:

That’s the little man. Playing SORRY with his grandmother.

And he won, by the way.

We had a very cheerful goodbye; he made a big show of acting like he was going to block the door, and then he threw his arms around my neck and said, “BYE, MAMA! LOVE YOU!”

And then he made some loud WHOOSH-ing noises and ran back to the kitchen.

There were no tears at all. That’s what you call the power of prayer, oh internets.

So I’m about to board the plane for Chicago. And apparently – or so I hear – I’m heading all the way to Africa.

Go figure.

Internets, I have to tell you: I will never be able to adequately thank you for all of your wonderful, encouraging, uplifting emails. I cannot even begin to express how deeply your words have touched me.

In fact, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that our entire team is being covered in prayer, and I know that because I am actually sitting upright and TYPING WORDS ON THE COMPUTER as opposed to lying in the bed with my fingers in my ears while shouting “LALALA NOT GETTING ON A PLANE FOR A FULL DAY OF TRAVEL LALALA.”

I’m telling you: it is nothing short of a miracle.

Alex is doing great with the whole Mama’s-going-to-Africa thing. He’s actually really excited because my mama is coming to our house tomorrow, and he will have her all to himself for the next six or seven days.

Which means he will also have unlimited access to a wide array of sugar-filled, carbonated beverages, and really, what more could any four and half year-old want?

(Except unlimited access to ice cream, of course. And truth be told, he’ll probably have that, too.)

My husband has been an absolute champ about this entire trip, and we are coping with the prospect of being separated for eight days in a way that practically screams “HELLO, WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR OVER TEN YEARS NOW.”

Which is to say that today we went to eat Mexican food for lunch and didn’t talk about the trip at all. We did, however, talk about his work stuff and the Presidential race and how we really do prefer roasted tomato salsa to regular salsa and hey, you wanna walk over to Lifeway after lunch and look at some CD’s?

We bought this one, by the way. I could tell you that we were not influenced by the fact that Christy Nockels sings on it, but that would be a lie. And I could also tell you that I haven’t cried while listening to a song called “The Only Thing,” but that would be a lie, too.

And, as we all know, lying makes God sad.

So, to sum up: we’re sort of business as usual around here, just with a lot more unfolded laundry on our bed and a whole lot of packing to do tomorrow. But we’re good.

And I guess if there’s anything that gives me pause, it’s when I see something that reminds me of the people we’re going to meet in Uganda. I’ll catch a glimpse of our picture of our Compassion child, Sharon – who is three and has the sweetest face you’ve ever seen – and I wonder if she’ll be able to understand how much we love her.

Or I’ll fold one of the receiving blankets that some of the girls in my Bible study donated for the Child Survival Center, and I’ll imagine the little baby who’ll be swaddled inside those yellow and green polka dots one day.

Or I’ll see the letter that some friends of ours are sending to their Compassion child, Ssekwama, and I think that for less money than I spend on diet Coke every month, those friends of ours are going to be able to change that little boy’s life forever.

And it blows my mind just a little bit that these children, these people I’ve never met in person, are already inextricably tied to my heart. I cannot imagine what it will be like to see them, to hold their hands and hug their necks and look them straight in the eyes.

But I’ll tell you this: I cannot wait. And I’ll update y’all just as soon as I can when I get to Chicago Sunday afternoon.

Oh, and one more thing: Ephesians 3:20-21.

Over and over again.

Oh, I was going to be all efficient and business-as-usual this week here at the blawg. I was going to post regularly and not miss a beat and maybe even record another podcast.

Clearly I have been delusional.

Because I’m nowhere near ready to, you know, GO TO AFRICA this Sunday. Plus, I have an inbox that is filled to overflowing, and for whatever reason it is very, very important to me that I conquer Email Everest before I leave.

Given that, I’m going to step away from the blog for a couple of days. I do have a giveaway set to go up tomorrow – a $100 gift card from Ann Taylor LOFT Maternity – so if you stop by to enter, just pretend like I’m lurking around in the background, serving you a cold diet Coke and offering you some Captain Rodney’s dip.

You won’t even know I’m gone.

And on a completely unrelated note, I am currently in the midst of a deep-rooted hair color crisis.

I won’t bore you with the details (yet), but suffice it to say that my hair would appreciate your prayers if the Lord should bring it to mind.

Thank you and have a lovely afternoon.

Apparently I leave for Uganda in less than two weeks.

I am feeling a smidge overwhelmed.

And by “smidge,” of course, I mean that I am mere moments away from getting back in the bed, pulling the covers over my head, and staying there until at least Thursday.

I had this coming, you know. I’ve been all calm and rational and level-headed about the trip. I’ve said things like, “Oh, I just know all the details will work out” and “I’m not going to stress about what to pack” and “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure out what adapters and cords and converters and blah blah blah I need – it’ll all be FINE.”

Then, about 3 o’clock this morning, I heard Alex crying in his room, and when I went in there he told me that he had a dream that I left him and he couldn’t find me and “IT MADE ME VERY SAD, MAMA! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?”

And I thought, “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, because in a little over a week I’m going to VOLUNTARILY LEAVE YOU FOR EIGHT DAYS.”

Then I buried my face in his hair and inhaled for a full ten seconds.

So in the interest of releasing the anxiety, casting all my cares upon Jesus as well as the internets, and trying to GRAB HOLD OF THE REINS, ALREADY, I would like to share my concerns / prayer requests / SUDDEN, MIND-NUMBING, CRIPPLING FEARS with you.

They are as follows:

1. Separation Anxiety

HOW CAN I LEAVE MY BABY FOR EIGHT DAYS? I mean, I know I can. But as I just told the husband, I really think it would be better for everyone if I could somehow temporarily shrink the four year-old, put him in my pocket, and hold his sweet little hand the whole way to Africa. And back again.

This makes perfect sense to me.

2. Sleeping (or lack thereof)

I have been concerned for a few weeks about how well I’ll sleep while I’m away. That concern has now elevated to something akin to full-on panic. So I’m definitely calling my doctor this afternoon and getting a prescription for something to help with that.

I’ll leave out the part about how it makes me a little nervous to take something for sleeping because what if I fall so asleep on the plane that no one can rouse me from my coma-like state and I miss a connecting flight and before you know it I’m landing in Hong Kong and it’s just like that episode of Alias where Sidney Bristow wakes up and boom! it’s four years later and my baby is eight years old and CLEARLY THIS WOULD BE QUITE TERRIBLE.

I’m incredibly rational when panicked, as you can tell.

3. Words

Bottom line: I’m scared of writer’s block.

Or “writer’s” block.

Whatever.

I’m scared that the words won’t come. I’m scared that I’ll sit down to write about all the things I’ve seen and heard and felt, and all that will come to mind is, “Hey, does anyone know the score for the State game?”

Because as y’all know, I can write post after post about Walmart, fried chicken, television and basketball. But I struggle when it comes to articulating my feelings about The Big Stuff. And I’m going to be surrounded by The Big Stuff while we’re there.

So.

If any of these things come to mind over the next couple of weeks, I would really appreciate your prayers.

And I’m going to go cook something now.

Because if I can’t get back in the bed and stay there, then I guess I might as well fix something good for supper.

Something like fried catfish covered in fried onion rings topped off with fried dill pickles.

With a hearty dollop of Ranch dressing.

I’m think I’m feeling better already.