Sitting among 400+ other crew members piled in the international lounge to hear what we knew would be important, but not knowing what that might be. We knew something was about to change, but I didn’t know what. There were people standing in the back and in the isles and sitting on the floor in the front (where I was…obviously). Tears started streaming down my cheeks as we were told that this field service would rapidly be brought to a close. So many questions…what's going to happen? What about the patients currently onboard? What about the all patients who were supposed to have surgery between now and June, when the field service was supposed to end? Will we not be allowed to leave the ship? Are we going to pull out? Where would we go? When will this end?
Praying as a crew for the pre-op patients currently at the Hope Center who would be told later that day that surgery would not be happening anymore. I totally lost it when they started reading off the names one by one as we prayed for each. They weren’t just names, but people…patients…our patients. After the prayer a small group of us made cards for each of those patients, but what could a card really do to communicate how we felt? At least it felt like doing something. We found out as we made those cards that the ship had gone into full lock down and no one was allowed to come or leave anymore.
Looking down on the dock from deck 7 at 11pm. It’s usually quiet and still at that hour, but that night is was a hustle and bustle with all the managers and the essential day crew moving into the now empty tents on the dock so they could stay in the quarantined bubble with us. Their willingness to sleep in tents and down in the wards to help us pack up and finish was so kind.
Standing in the hallway as kids and teachers and crew members streamed in and out of the little cabin that one of our teachers has lived in for the past decade. They carried out trash and items for the boutique as she packed to leave the ship for her own safety because of her health and age. We all pitched in to help because at least it felt like we’re doing something, but we were in shock.
So many rushed goodbyes as crewmembers decided to leave as flights became available! And on the flip side, preparing our hearts for others who would leave, whose flights then got cancelled. SO MANY GOODBYES. We thought we still had months together, which then turned into days or hours. Watching my littles hug each other. Hearing the ship whistle blow in honor of those departing. Waving as tears streamed down our faces until we couldn’t see the cars any longer.
Having daily meetings with updates about countries locking down, airports locking down, who would leave and who would stay. Wishing for the days when we had overhead announcements about the vacuum system being down and hot work needing to cease instead of never knowing what the next overheard announcement would bring and how it would change our lives. It felt like our lived were a jenga tower, still standing, but constantly having integral parts taken away!
Working in the galley, cutting tomatoes, because we didn’t have enough crew left to cover the shifts. Disinfecting door handles the day they cancelled school and divied out the teachers to different departments to help with the pack up effort so we could sail out.
Watching our dock space grow smaller and smaller as we finally sailed out of the port of Dakar. It felt much too soon and simultaneously so long in coming! It felt like intense sadness, and utter relief that we made it to sail day without anyone getting sick. It was two weeks to the day that we were told the field service was wrapping up that we sailed out, having packed up the four tents on the dock, discharged patients (each with individual care plans), released all our daycrew and over half our onboard crew, secured for sail, stowaway searched, sail briefed, and drilled for an at sea muster.
Worshipping on the bow! We were told that the waves were too choppy for worship on the bow, but come Sunday, God calmed those waves for us because He knew we needed it! We stayed on the bow from 3pm when it opened to 9pm when they made us leave…sitting, talking, squealing in delight at the sight of dolphins and sea turtles, huddling under blankets, eating dinner in our camp chairs propped on the deck of the bow, running in to get mugs of tea and hot chocolate for each other…processing and just being together with others who had gone through those last three weeks as well and understood.
Speaking of “just being together,” what a blessing is that?!? We must be one of the largest groups in the world who get to quarantine together right now and God knew to put me in that kind of community. I am blessed to be quarantining with 238 others, having movie nights, pub trivia nights, music concerts, dance parties, games nights…living all the hard and all the beautiful together. I am blessed to be teaching in a school that feels like it's one of the only ones in the world still in full operation. I get to spend large chunks of the day with six year olds who pray for the "sickness" to go away and then don't talk about COVID again! It's therapeutic in this time and space to hang out with six year olds and talk about loose teeth and legos! God knew right where I needed to be during this!
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| Irish Pub Sing-a-long for Saint Patrick's Day |
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| Key of Sea giving a rather impromptu mini concert before some members flew away |
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| Yoga on the bow...that's our captain on the right! |
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| Bienvenido Sail-In Party |
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| AFM Quarantine Olympics - Gumby Suit Relay |
In January, I decided that my theme song for this year would be “Into the Unknown” because of some big life changes coming up for me this year (which I haven’t had a chance to write about or tell many people about yet, because I had no idea when I said that, what kind of unknown was actually on it’s way! I truly feel like I’m heading into, and already in so much unknown…
-I don't know when I'll be allowed off this ship
-I don't know when airports will open
-I don't know when I’ll be able to get home
-I don't know how long this virus will last
-I don't know if my family will get sick
-I don't know if I will get sick
-I don't know where I'll be able to go when I do get back to the USA
-I don't know if we'll be able to finish the school year on the ship
-I DON'T KNOW!
But there is one thing I do know. I know whom I follow and that He is with me. I know that He knows. And that’s all that matters. All that unknown wrapped up and completely engulfed in the only known that really matters.
