|With my other sister who just left the country.|
Driving home took a little longer than usual as the roads were still bad, though not nearly as bad as they were earlier today when a surprise snow squall hit and all the thawing snow froze back on the roads. I'd taken the Quattro I usually drive to the mechanic this morning because a wheel-bearing went bad so I was in my parents 2-wheel drive car with summer tires. Safe to say, I didn't get above 3rd gear the whole 22 mile trip to Corning and had to slide backwards down at least one hill before taking an alternate route.
I finally got home though, only to find that plans had changed and my parents took my sister to the drop-off point an hour and a half early. Instead of arriving an hour before they left, I'd missed them by seconds. So that was sad.
I hope she has a good time though. She's on a mission trip with a group from a church we attended many years ago. She's with some of the best people I can imagine, but still, you should keep her in your prayers.
Certain members of my family were in an uproar about me traveling around the Middle East a year and a half ago but seemed fine with her going to Honduras. I'm personally convinced though, from my extensive––and apparently entirely futile––study of current events, that anywhere that people speak Spanish is statistically about twice as dangerous as the worst neighborhood in Beirut.
Not that traveling in any "developing country" is really that dangerous. In a way I think you're much safer. Governments of developing countries are loath to have Americans get killed. They lose millions of dollars in USAID money whenever it happens.
That's not to say there aren't other reasons your chances of getting shot or raped in Chicago are much higher than in Kabul, but I think it's a reason. What has our government got to lose if you get killed? Only political talking points to whatever special-interest group can best leverage your untimely demise to into the storyboard of their next attack ad.
Anyways, enough with the politics.
Isn't it crazy that two of my sisters just left the country?
Maybe I'm delusionally conceited (actually that's not even a maybe––I'm sure I am––the question is only whether it has any bearing on my present line of reasoning) but somehow I feel like this is all my fault.
I spent a lot of my life afraid to really do anything because I was always told that I had to "set a good example" for my younger siblings. One thing I did eventually do though was travel. So now, to see them doing the same thing, even with much higher purposes than I had most of the time, it makes me wonder if this was somehow my doing.
At least it's not a bad thing. In fact, I'm convinced it's a very good thing.
It's just a lot all at once.