12/07/2009

A Lasting Impression


Monday morning at 04:00, Meg and I woke up to do a "swimmer watch." As we are one day away from setting sail for the Canary Islands, security has been increased during this past week to prevent any potential stow-aways from coming onboard our ship.

We were stationed at the aft end of the ship and I took the responsibility of operating the torch and radio, naturally. What we had to do was keep an eye out for people climbing up the mooring lines and monitor fishing boats that float close to the ship to catch tiny fish.

Early-morning fishermen

The mooring lines


The watch technically only lasted until 06:30, but we stayed up until 07:00 to see the sun rise. It was an uneventful three hours (fortunately), however, watching the sun appear over the humid ocean was a great, final, lasting memory for my time here in Benin.


The remainder of the day felt odd. It is exciting that we are leaving, but my heart is sore nonetheless. Benin has been a part of my life for nearly an entire year.

As I walked down the dusty road outside the port one last time this evening, I thought back to the first time I wandered out there and how overwhelmed I was. I have experienced and seen tremendous pain, suffering, and sorrow here. But the reverse of those things has also been felt. I have laughed regularly and deeply, I have developed life-long friendships, I have witnessed the might, mercy, and compassion of our Heavenly Father, and I have found love, in His arms, and in brothers and sisters with whom I share a love for Yahshua.


This year has been momentous. I have grown and changed considerably. I have left with far more life-experience and wisdom than I could have ever hoped for. On top of that, I leave with a person who has come into my life unexpectedly and who is going to be around for a long, long time, I'm certain.

Psalm 117

1 O praise YHWH, all you nations; praise Him, all you people.
2 For His mercy and goodness is great toward us, and His truth endures forever and ever. Praise YHWH.

Meg