|Check out that ash plume... I'm trying really hard not to put an exclamation mark here as if this is a good thing - but I AM a rock and geology geek, so this is somewhat awesome and fascinating to me. Fortunately no lives lost here, just incredible inconvenience and hardship for some or maybe a lot, which is a bummer. But it could be worse, right? Just read Revelation. It could. Photo Credit: National Geographic]|
As many of the well-informed (those that actually follow global news) may already know, a volcano exploded in Patagonia recently. I know, I just lost all of you that said you were coming down to visit, didn't I? I know, it's okay. You weren't coming anyway, just admit it. You were thinking of coming, but you didn't really mean it.
As Nat'l Geographic reports on their site,
"...the volcano's five-day eruption has sent a thick column of ash into the stratosphere, streaming across Patagonia to the Atlantic."
I mean, what is it with us and volcanoes? I would like to know.
|Mt. Tungurahua in Ecuador, see it right there? And the kids with their gas masks, aw.|
It seems every time we want to go somewhere and do missions, a volcano explodes near said destination right before we leave. What's the deal, Lord? (and yes, sometimes I talk to God like that. I think He can handle it. I do.)
Because (and bear with me as I ramble, I am going somewhere with this), as I said, I'm a freak freaky kind of mommy. Just ask my friend, I'll call her uh, Alba. Her cackles always ring in my head when the topic of the beach comes up around our house - usually in the form of the kids asking when we're going next. Alba makes fun of me. She doesn't understand. No one does. Least of all myself. So, I just duck and dodge the dreaded beach plea whenever possible. 'Cause there are sharks there. And I don't like the beach. But then we end up going. Because I'm not that selfish, after all. And no I'm not getting in! What are you crazy? It's yucky, and dangerous, and the water is murky. And jellyfish. Blech. They sting your eyes when you go under, you know. And NO, kids, you can't swim in there! Do you really want to swim in THERE?!? Too many sharks. And you can't see your feet, for goodness sake! Why would you go IN that?? I then proceed to absolutely grit my married teeth and pray like the freak freaky mommy that I am as my husband gives them permission (totally vetoing me, can you believe it?!) to go in there. UGH.
I have strange fears. I'm okay with it. Most are not.
So why does the Lord send freak freaky people like me to the mission field? (see, I told you I was going somewhere with this). Least likely candidate in more ways than one, I tell you.
Yes, I can do this missionary thing no problemo ("Wow, Chris is so brave, isn't she?" Uh, no.), but don't ask me to go to the beach. Or climb a tall ladder. Or fly. I HATE flying and I can't believe I have to actually get on another one of those flying tins cans in the sky in a few months! I think my brother, who would never go anywhere for years because of a paralyzing fear of flying (I just laughed and laughed at him back in those days) finally got over his fear and got on a plane (with the help of some little tiny pills) and now wants to travel everywhere - he transferred all those flying demons to me. I'm sure of it. I used to love turbulence. It was FUN. Uh, not so much anymore.
But explode a volcano before we're supposed to go somewhere, and I'm okay with that.
Yep, freak. Freak freaky mommy. I do not understand myself. I've just learned to accept it. Jesus accepts me, doesn't He? My friends don't understand me, neither does my husband. S'alright. I am beyond understanding. I am a woman. I have my redeeming points, I do. Not sure what they are, but at least my husband still loves me and tolerates me. He thinks I'm adorable. I actually cause him great amusement. But he finds amusement in everything. He's shallow like that.
So, back to the volcano exploding.
My dad calls me last night and says, "Christina! Have you heard about that volcano that exploded in Patagonia???"
Uhm, yeah...? Ton-loc watches the Argentine news almost every night, I try to say in my best, loving, patient daughter kind of way. We're pretty up to date on the whole thing, actually. And throw in the expat blogosphere, and we've got live reports and first hand accounts streaming in. Prit-tay cool. We tried to call our friends down there in NoMan'sLand to get the scoop, but they didn't answer. Probably buried under ash somewhere.
"Well, youbetterlookintothisbecausetheysaythiscouldgoonformonths! Like three or four! That thing's spewing ash all over the place down there - it's even reached New Zealand!"
My dad knows everything. He is on top of it. He is. Got a question about something? Ask my dad. Want to know how to do something? Ask my dad. He's really smart, well-informed, and prepared for any natural disaster or economic collapse you can think of. Just ask him about his back up generators and gallons of water and extra gas and stock of canned food and the dry goods in his garage. He is the man. Somewhat high-strung, perhaps, but the man nonetheless. And none of us are perfect, you know. We've already established that I'm not.
So, yeah, we're still going to Patagonia. Exploding volcano or not. And I never did get to the root of WHY I'm actually a freak freaky in this post, did I? - maybe I'll try to unpack that ugly can of worms, or maybe not, when we're down in Argentina, and I'm feeling lonely, with no one to speak English to, and one reminiscent night at the computer I'll
Anyhoo, flights have started up again in and out of Buenos Aires, and good thing we're driving from BA to Patagonialand, because Tony told me last night that things are still pretty shut down in them there parts.
Oh, well, too late now. We got our tickets. September 28th. YAY!
(Can you tell I started drinking coffee again? Huh, huh, can you, can you??
Life IS better with coffee. It is.)