Time...

In the hospital, time loses all meaning.

In the midst of sutures, and saving lives: the clock ceases to matter.

15 minutes…

15 hours…

Inside the hospital, the best medical professionals can make time fly.

Outside the hospital, however, time takes pleasure in kicking our asses. For even the strongest of us: it seems to play tricks – slowing down, hovering, until it freezes, leaving us stuck in a moment unable to move in one direction nor the other.

Today, on the ship, we scheduled a “Blackout Day”. No running water, no toilets, no shower, no washing your hands, no lights…. Nothing! (All of this so that some electrical/engineer problem could be sorted out… don’t ask me for details – I don’t care enough to learn about it.)

In preparation for this day, many crew members had readied plans to be off ship, and I – of course – intended to be at the pool. The blackout was programmed to be from 9am-5pm. (Keep in mind, Mercy Ships is not an business that does things in a timely manor, and if any of you reading this have been involved in any way with this organization – I know you are laughing out loud right now knowing where this “9a-5p” thing is going….)

Anyways, regardless of it being a semi-overcast sky and not one the hottest of days seen here in Benin… the pool was energizing. Had an opportunity to do some chatting online and was capable of downloading some quality music and video from sites blocked via our ship’s internet manager. After having been at the pool all day (which, by the way was only me and one other family from the ship = magnificent), we, as a group, decided to head back to ship about 5:30pm with thoughts that the lights and air conditioning would be back on, and the toilets and showers would be up and running…. Riiiight….WRONG.

After gathering my dinner, in the dark… I wandered about the ship – torch in hand – looking for something to do, someone to hang out with… anything. (Most people were still off ship and in town after arriving back and noticing that the lights and everything else still were not operational.) With nothing to do, I decided to resort back to my old Liberian ways and head out onto the dock.

Megan.



Finally, someone to talk to, to be with, to hang out around. You see, Megan and I both arrived in Liberia on the same flight in 2007. Megan is one of my core people on the ship, one of those people that know exactly where you are and what you’re thinking because they are in the exact same place in their “Mercy Ships Journey” as you are – literally. We climbed up on the wall that separates the safe zone and dry land of the dock from the crashing and roaring waves of the Atlantic Ocean. We sat and chatted for awhile, reminiscing about Liberia and the “Good Ole Days”.

Next thing you know, we are lying on this wall of separation – head to head, laughing – hysterically about Nickelodeon back when it was cool and not all cartoons like it is today. Bringing up fond memories of Family Double Dare, Wild ‘N Crazy Kids, Guts… you name it – it was talked and laughed about. (And yes, the glowing piece of the aggro crag!)



Its remarkable how even in the slowest of times… the times when life slows down, hovers, freezes, and leaves us stuck… in those very same moments – time flies. I’ve not had the amount of fun, nor the laughs that were had tonight since prior to going back to The States in May.

Time waits for no man.

Time heals all wounds.

All any of us wants is more time.

Time to stand up.

Time to grow up.

Time to let go.