A Mother on the Edge

Sleep eludes me...for days, it has been the same, but tonight (this Morning - what do you call that in between time?) - it is particularly bad. I stay prone until the thoughts in my head drive me up and out. In 24 hours, I will put my girls on a plane to Costa Rica for an 8 day mission trip....in a foreign country....on a plane....to go far away....did I mention the plane? To Central America? I have employed all manner of thoughts and inner monologues, trying to keep the demon panic at bay. I remind myself that they will be with trusted adults....that they have each other, to lean on....that they are facing the adventure of a lifetime, in the service of our Lord.....That it is only Costa Rica. I remind myself of my friend, who has sent her son to India for the summer - facing it with such calm and good grace, just like she faces everything else (WHY can't I be THAT kind of person?). Instead, I fight to breathe - struggle to relax my body enough to draw a deep breath. My stomach appears to be refusing most food (which is super good for the diet, btw), and my mind....is in hyperdrive.
   This morning, as I stared into the dark, I was telling myself that my own Mother(the worlds foremost  nervous Nellie) survived my big High School trip....I was the same age as baby Girl - a rising senior. I had earned a place in the National Tournament for NFL(speech and debate). I, along with 2 teachers and a couple of other school mates who had also slogged their way into the tourney, would be "up, up and away" - flying cross country to Seattle, Washington. OH, my Mother was in a state (who do you think I get my anxiety from?!). My Mother HATED planes, and in the 70's it was not a common thing for folks to up and travel "half way around the world", but my Father insisted, and off I went, with beautiful new clothes, and the coolest, highest pair of elephant platform shoes you have ever seen! What adventures were had! Flying over the Rockies took my breath away (What little I had left.... for upon takeoff, I immediately joined my Mother in her dislike of flying). I will never forget the feel of the Pacific Northwest air, as it hit my face as we walked across the tarmac after descending the long roll up staircase from the tin bucket with wings (yes, it was THAT long ago - before they had fancy accordion tunnels that lead to the plane). The air was cool and heavy...it tasted green, and exotic....not at all like North Carolina air. My body felt hyper charged, and as I stepped off of the plane, I remember feeling myself grow up a little more - felt myself mystically propelled towards freedom, and autonomy....
   I lay in bed and remind myself of the greatness of that adventure, and smile into the dark at the memory - knowing that my girls must be facing just such excitement....my predawn smile starts to fade, as I delve further into the memory of "my great adventure"...as I recall the snakebite I received - actually not one, but three! We had travelled to an island (on the smallest, rockingest boat you have ever seen, over incredibly turbulent waters - I spent the majority of the voyage - all of 30 minutes, laying on the floor - certain that this bout of motion sickness would be fatal) - for a true Pacific Northwest, Native American feast - wood plank roasted salmon with all of the fixins....The island was replete with Indian Maidens and Totem Poles....and walking trails....and snakes. As my comrades and I stopped for a rest from hiking the trails, we all plopped down on the ground, to take in the amazing view. I plopped on a snake....one bite to the hand, two to the back...as the viper slithered away, we only saw it's tail, and had no way of knowing WHAT kind of snake it was...the panic that ensued is legendary - needless to say, THAT is an evening I still haven't forgotten.(You can relax - it turned out to be a nonpoisonous snake). A few days later, I fell victim to Food Poisoning that was so intense, I hallucinated - called my bedridden Mother, to tell her I was dying, and wandered away from the hotel - burning with fever - alone, in a strange city. The culprit? The steak that was served at the closing banquet....so many kids became ill, that it made the National News....where my Mother heard it from Walter Cronkites own lips....I was rescued by a waitress in the diner across the street from the hotel, who called the front desk, which sent a bellboy to retrieve me.
Still weak and unwell, we boarded the plane a couple of days later for our return flight, only to have the engine break free from it's moorings as we taxied the runway....causing us to disembark, take a horrifying walk back to the airport, miss our connection in Chicago, spend the night in the seediest hotel imaginable (Think Dark lighting and tons of crushed red velvet), and arrive home a day late, in clothes that we had been wearing for 48 hours.....An adventure of a lifetime, for sure....but perhaps not the best memory to soothe a Mother on the Edge. 
  So I pray the same prayer that my Mother must have prayed, for myself and all of the kids facing the adventure of a lifetime.......God before me, God behind me.....God above me, God bellow me...God to my left, and God to my right....God within me....surround my children with safety and love, and bring them home, full of your Good Grace.....