It's Time

It's time.
At breakfast today, my mom asked me what I'd write about the last few days. I told her that I didn't know. I never know what I'm going to say until I actually sit down and start typing.
Well, it's time.
I'm lounging on a red lawn chair, looking through the yellow fence at the noisy waves of the Atlantic ocean. The fence is for my "protection" - it keeps all of the vendors out. If I want to buy anything, I simply have to go over to the pavilion by the pool. It's full of wooden carvings, manned by a man who grew up up north on the Mali boarder. What he doesn't have, he's happy to go find.
But I think I'm done shopping. I can't fit much else in my suitcase. I had to sit on the top to get it zipped this morning, and I've still got to squeeze my bathing suit in.
I've enjoyed these last few days at the beach. Breaking doctor's orders and sitting in direct African sunlight, walking deep into the bowels of the marche to get mom a birthday pedicure (and causing the whole marche to temporarily lose electricity), eating a demi-poulet avec frites for one last time...
But it's time.
It's time to wrap it all up and stick it in a carry-on. It's time to change out of my bathing suit and into my travel clothes. It's time to begin the long journey home, and the difficult transition back into the world that has become my reality.
At least for the time being.
Pray us safely back to the States, please.  It's a tiring trip. And pray for Mom and Dad as they begin the next phase of their ministry - whatever that may turn out to be.
Godspeed!