When Life Pukes On Your Parade

We are out of the jungle on break right now. Well, we’re out of the jungle, anyway. Since arriving out at our mission center, our family has spent the last 12 days battling a stomach virus that has been waging war on multiple fronts. It’s been mainly a losing battle. The enemy has taken control of food intake as well as output, and has wreaked havoc with both. Our clothes and bedding* have been liberally soaked with food and drink, in various stages of digestion. Men, women, children…the carnage transcends description.**

Anyway, we think we might be finally coming out on the other side of this mini-epidemic, so it’s OK. Of course, that conclusion is predominately based on my desperate desire that it be true, rather than on empirical science. As I type this, Griffin is asleep on the floor, partially dehydrated from prolonged diarrhea, and Rochelle is collapsed on the couch, talking like she thinks a relapse is coming on.

But, like I said, it’s OK. Everything is fine. I mean, it’s not like we were COMPLETELY DESPERATE for some R & R, or anything. It’s not like we were expecting to get emotionally and physically rejuvenated while we were out here, or something silly like that. No, good thing for us that when we Callahans go on break, we’re mainly looking to drink and puke out Gatorade in an endless cycle of family fun. If we’re really looking for a good time, then we make sure to have the kids wake us up several times each night needing help with gross, labor-intensive activities that require us to change our clothes afterwards. If I’m not having to watch where I step to avoid bio-hazard in my vacation getaway, then I’m not having fun!

If you are one of those people who is skilled at “reading between the lines,” then you might be sensing a subtle underlying tone of dissatisfaction in my prose right now. I’ll shoot straight with you, this whole thing is kind of bringing me down. I know sickness is an unavoidable reality, and I know that it isn’t good to have too many expectations fixed on a specific event or experience, but we were dead beat when we left the bush a week and a half ago, and we’re really having trouble thinking about going back into that pressure cooker*** in less than a week. It’s been a fairly demoralizing blow.

I know you haven’t heard a lick from us in a pretty long time, and this is kind of a lame post after months of silence, but this is where life is at right now, so I thought I’d give the current family status before I did any recapping.  I’ll try to bring you up to speed on the last couple of months in another post later on. For now though, it’s enough to know that we are sick. Sick and tired and in need of a break…from our break.

Thanks for praying. 😛

[P.S. Rochelle says that this post is too whiny and not “uplifting.” Just two hours ago I witnessed this same woman wiping someone else’s diarrhea off of her foot, so though I get where she is coming from, I feel that this post is carrying the appropriate level of encouragement. If it helps, be encouraged that you are far away from us and our disgusting problems.]

*Actually, the bedding belongs to the guesthouse. Good thing they gave us our own washing machine to use, or the house help might have quit. 😛

**I’m telling you, it was bad. My sphincter’s performance became so erratic at one point that I resorted to using a feminine pad in my boxer-briefs as added protection…and what’s worse, it proved to be a wise decision.

***Originally, I was using this as a metaphorical allusion to the stresses of remote, cross-cultural church-planting efforts, but it is also an apt description of the meteorological environment of our jungle swamp.