I leave in 13 days to move thousands of miles, once again, to a tiny island in the heart of the Caribbean where natural disasters reign supreme. I'm going to the land that once tried to swallow me whole, to teach children to sing, to love music, to hear the song in their lives, in the streets, in the wind. I have no certain plan. No outline to bring me comfort or settle my soul.
I have a God, though. The God. The one who held me up beneath the rubble, who cradled me in his arms and whispered words of comfort in my mind.
Strangely enough, the place I am going does not frighten me, it is the task that is daunting. What if I fail? What if I am incompetent, or fumble? What will I do if I go all these miles only to fall on my face in shame?
Yet still I go, because the adventure, the unknown is far too intriguing to back down simply from fear. And like I said. I have God.
