Friday, July 3, 2015

Flying to Lodwar

It's early Saturday morning and I've been up working on my blog since about 4:30 am. I feel strangely refreshed despite only having the equivalent of one night's sleep in 3 days. It's either the malaria tablets, or prayer. Guessing the latter.

My big frustration is so much is happening and I only have little slivers of time to blog, not to mention spotty connections and an uncooperative mobile blogging platform. I'm already behind. How did David Livingstone ever finish his blog? Maybe if I just stop whining and get to the point.

So we walked onto the tarmac in the darkness and boarded a smallish turbo prop. (Note to self: change to present tense.)

My fellow pastor, Gary, and I are in Row 4. It is the Emergency Exit row. I have the window seat. The stewardess explains in her delightful Kenyan lilt how I am to open the door in an emergency. "Just pull that little handle down, and push the door.” It is a very little handle, indeed, and I hope the guy who designed it didn't get C's at university.

A few minutes later, the huge propellers mere feet from my face start to whirl frantically. We taxi toward the runway at a good clip and pick up speed into the curve before going full throttle. Airborne.

It's still dark, but daytime comes rapidly near the equator. As we start our climb to 14000 feet the vast African veldt opens up underneath me (I told myself I had to use "veldt" at least once on this trip). We break through a thick blanket of white. In the gloomy distance, Mount Kenya, the second tallest peak in the country, rises prominently above the cloud layer. As the sun rises, she kisses the mountain in a gorgeous display of affection. My camera clicks and I wish I can share the moment and the image immediately with the world -- or at least my two loyal blog readers.

All poetry aside, I feel so blessed of God to be here.