Day 2: Part1

"A thankful person is thankful under all circumstances.
A complaining soul complains even in paradise."
Baha'u'llah



Sunday. 7am:

So I was standing there in front of the wall to wall mirror in the bathroom of the Ramada Inn. Can't decide if the lighting is especially bright to show up all imperfections or to just wake up weary travelers.

My hair wasn't looking so good. I knew the TSA had a requirement of 3 oz. bottles. I knew they were supposed to be tucked into a 1 quart ziplock bag. What I didn't know was that you were only allowed 1 of these bags. Yes, I was trying to pack minimally, but a girl still needs way more than ONE little bag to hold her cosmetics, shampoo, creams, lotions, pills, sunscreen, bug spray, etc. (Normally I wouldn't be carrying bug spray but it was on the list of things to bring. I'm really hoping I don't need it but who knows, maybe Oklahoma mosquitos haven't heard yet that the seasons are a changin'). Before I ever left my home town, my ziplock bags were stuffed even fuller than before and my hair care products were disposed of. In the spirit of love sharing, Sweetie agreed to let me use his shampoo.

Back at the Ramada, I prepared myself for the day with all the tee-tiny little bottles of citrus smelly things. My hair is clean and I smell like an orange. But without mousse and Boost and spray, I really hate how my hair is behaving. Then I remembered I'm about to embark on a mission trip where the children I will see may not have any of the things I take for granted. I have never seen real poverty up close and personal. And I'm hoping that the place we we're going to is not as bad as pictures of orphanages in Haiti or Africa. Still, I told the woman in the mirror with the uncooperative hair to chill out and remember the purpose of being here was not to look good but to love good.


Before leaving for church, I happened to notice Sweetie's opened suitcase. It became clear to me that the reason he can fit so much more stuff in his carry on bag is because he rolls his undies, his socks, his shirts into little tubes and secures each with a rubber band. His shoes are in bags. I do fold my clothes, and try to use the limited space efficiently, but I've never banded them just so. I should be careful about what I say because I know he'll read this. However, according to my friend Amy being organized is a way to lessen your stress, and since I'm way more stressed than my Sweetie, I'm betting he has a schematic tucked into a compartment in his briefcase of where each item of clothing goes. Me, it's more like toss it up in the air, and when it falls in the suitcase, shut it quick.His


Hers



To be continued....

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