jakorte's blog

Sunday, March 16, 2008

So, I got slammed on the way down. Hard. Hurtful. Painful. I decided to take myself off this trip.

Earlier in the morning on Sunday, as the luggage from our Franklin over-night was re-packed away in the truck, only one bag did not fit in. That one bag was mine.

It got put into the Jeep I was traveling in, and I took that as a sign. I had my bag. I could break away easily and quickly. My luggage became my temptation. I had to compress my lips tightly to not ask to be dropped off at a roadside diner so I could call a taxi to the airport and take my angry, sad, disillusioned, miserable, alone self back to Michigan and admit my failures. There hadn’t even been enough room for my real luggage, so I doubted there would be room for this new additional baggage I was carrying.

I began to believe that the struggles I had to overcome to even join this particular March mission in the 1st place, had been GOD trying to tell me that I wasn’t supposed to do this.

Every gas stop and every rest stop, I frantically dialed phone numbers in secrecy, searching for a reasonable flight from Louisiana home. The airlines were not being reasonable, at all. Much like the travelers in Trains, Planes and Automobiles, I considered desperate alternatives. Unfortunately, neither, trains or buses would get me home any quicker than staying the rest of the week in Slidell, and they weren’t that inexpensive, either.

I struggled Sunday and all day Monday in all kinds of ways; mentally, physically, spiritually.

By Tuesday, I was suddenly so busy that I couldn’t afford to put any energy towards leaving, or struggling.

jak