*Picture and other information hidden for students safety.
Thursday,
June 15, I departed the U.S. on my way to the Middle East-North Africa (MENA)
region. In the days before my departure,
I was blessed to have many of my friends and family pray over me and ask for
the Lord’s provision and favor in the work I would be tasked to complete. I remember, clearly, balking at their mention
of this word “adventure” in describing the journey I was about to
undertake. Over and over again, it came
from their mouths. I dismissed the
thought of any “adventure” with overly serious thoughts such as, “It’s not an
adventure. It’s work...to be done hard
and until finished.” The word
“adventure” came with it, at least in my mind, a connotation of the ‘F’
word. You know...fun.
80 hours
after my departure I had experienced: a four-hour delay on a transatlantic
flight to replace an “engine pressure valve,” a personal tour of London by a Syrian
refugee (with whom I’ve become great friends), a five-hour connection with no
A/C, and 41 degree (Celsius) heat in a land where people drive on the left side
of the road (or as my English colleagues would call it, “the right-side”) and
treat traffic laws as advisory in nature, all with only six hours of sleep. I now have no issue comingling thoughts of
work and adventure. I’m actually quite
worried that I might not, much to my beautiful wife’s chagrin, be able to
disassociate the two.
Fast-forward
12 days. I’ve settled in to my new
surroundings, been acquainted with our office staff, and become somewhat familiar
with the geographical location in which my organization bases its operations. My organization was crazy enough to provide
me a car and as a consequence I’ve experienced numerous heart attacks and
become irreversibly numb to people honking their horn at me. But! I’m here. I’m alive.
I’m incredibly blessed to have this opportunity. And, I’ve been afforded the privilege of
mixing in some work as well.
- Mr. Seymour, 6/29/12
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