Happy, Grateful Tears

I did not go to church this morning. Wait, that's not true. I went to church, but I spent the hour sitting in the kitchen, in the basement, on my mobile phone. And on this, Transfiguration Sunday, that was the absolute right thing for me to be doing.

Why?

Because I was talking to someone I have not seen since May 1, 1990.

I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Liberia; I was there December 29, 1988 - May 1, 1990. On May 1, I was evacuated with other PCVs. On December 24, 1989 rebel troops had crossed into Liberia starting a war that would last over a decade. On May 1st, I was on a plane- because the US Ambassador declared the situation unsafe and ordered the evacuation of all PCVs and other "non-essential" US employees.

So, one minute I was en route to the airport in Monrovia. Less than 12 hours later, I was in a holding room at JFK airport. After spending 18 months without running water or electricity, I found myself back in the US, staring at a neon sign advertising personal pan pizzas. Talk about abrupt.

Anyway, in Liberia, I lived in a small community not far from the capital (Monrovia)and while there, I became very close to a young girl who lived across the street from me. She was my constant companion and it broke my heart to leave her when I was evacuated.

I lost track of her as her family fled the fighting and I never knew if what happened to her. Awful, terrible things happened in my community after I left, and I knew some had not survived. Had her family made it to Ghana to a refugee camp? Had she made it to the US where I knew she had family?

I have looked for her off and on since 1990, and several months ago found information that lead me to Sunday. When I heard her voice on my message machine earlier that week, I cried. She now lives in Asia and didn't leave a phone number; her message said she'd call again over the weekend. My phone rang as I was pulling into the parking lot at church. Not only did she survive the war, but she is well, happily married, and pregnant!

We talked for nearly an hour. We have since emailed and I'm sending her all the photos I have of her and her community. They remind me of my Peace Corps experience and make me smile. Now they are the only photos she has of her childhood.

It was wonderful to talk to her, to know that she is well, to hear about her family. I look forward to rebuilding our friendship.

But she said something during our conversation that I found startling. She talked about doing short mission trips with her church, hoping to have an influence on someone young- just as I had had on her. Holy cow!

A boy I did Peace Corps with recently shared this quotation with me. I'd seen it before, but it took on a whole new meaning after reconnecting with my Liberian friend: "To the world you are just one person, but to one person, you are the world!"