Day 1 of our 3 Month Travels: Two Worlds
Yesterday we took a taxi to the airport. I’m so glad we did. He took us the long way right through the center of town. And I’m really so glad he did. We got to see Prague one more time before leaving for 3 months. The city had never looked so beautiful. Bryan and I sat their beaming at each other in pride: “This is where we live.”
When we got to the airport I pulled out a present my friend Carrie had given me before we left. It was a piece of Prague – a rock from one of the city sidewalks. I looked at the rock and made a small vow to myself that I would carry it with me in my purse where ever we went on this trip. Then I read Carrie’s note – I hadn’t read it before and had been so busy before we left this was the first time I had to sit down and read through it. Thank you, Carrie! I will be praying the same for you.
The flight was smooth, nothing really eventful. I started a new book – a beautiful story. I particularly liked this quote from it: “’I can see the two world I am between,’ she said, unheeding, ‘although why the second one chose to rise up and snatch me I still don’t understand’” (from the book The Blue Sword).
When we arrived in the New York airport it finally hit me. And I cried. I hadn’t really had time to think about and process and allow myself to feel much about the trip the last few weeks. I kept my heart sort of on a short leash knowing that there was too much to get done and if I let her out she would overwhelm me and I would never get it all done. But, then I couldn’t keep her at bay anymore. I couldn’t stop myself, in a small deserted bathroom at JFK I sat and cried. I wish I could have cried longer and harder but again I had to pull myself together – there were things to do and people to see.
Now its morning and I’m sitting awake in Ryan and Joanie’s apartment - tired from my trip, conscious of my untended heart, aware of my two homes (my two worlds) and very grateful for the generosity of friends on both sides of the ocean.
Rejoicing in the journey - Beth Stedman