As previously mentioned, I had planned to be back home before my birthday and wedding anniversary, but the coronavirus made that impossible. It was the first anniversary that I would spend apart from my wife. My plan was just one of billions that coronavirus had left in ruins.
Birthday
Years before I ever dreamed of going to Angola, I was on Easter Island for a special birthday vacation. It was a solo trip and the only time I had ever been out of the US on my birthday. On my way back home from Easter Island, during a long layover in Miami, Florida, I rented a car and drove north to Hobe Sound Bible College to propose to my then-girlfriend Carmen. I was exhausted as we walked to the fountain at the center of campus. Normally brimming with clear, flowing water, on that day it was only a trickle from a garden hose and some green slime at the bottom. My timing was off. Undeterred, I mumbled, “This is as good a place as any” and popped the question. She said yes.
Fast-forward a decade, and I was now married to that wonderful woman and on another solo trip. Once again I was away from my home country on my birthday, but this time, it was unplanned. And I had a wife and four children waiting for me. But there were compensations.
On Easter Island, I had met a few North American expats who helped me celebrate my birthday. But in Angola, I had a big group of about 15 people from several African nations to help me celebrate, and they were intent on making it memorable. I was greeted at the breakfast table with a song and a beautiful Angola birthday card they had made with pictures from my visit and messages from the students and leadership. That evening, the dining table was beautifully arrayed in the Angolan national colors. After the meal they brought out a cake topped with sparklers. We all paraded around the table as I held the cake up. It was the biggest birthday celebration of my life.
My timing was still off, but just like in Florida, the end result was the best that I could have hoped for.
Happy anniversary to me
It was a unique anniversary for me, but then again, every day in Africa held unique experiences. Though I was stranded, at least I was surrounded by friendly people, coronavirus was still far away, and I had plenty to keep myself pleasantly occupied. My dear wife, Carmen, on the other hand, was having a much different experience.
Shortly after I left, officials in my state had issued a request that people stay at home as much as possible and limit gatherings to 10 people. Carmen carried the strain of trying to get me out of Angola, while coordinating communications between me, my extended family, and various government officials. And all this time, she was taking care of four young children and trying to keep their spirits up while I was away. She was unsure what impact my prolonged absence would have on my job, and she was struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy for the kids. On top of all that, she was scheduled to start two classes for her almost-completed degree in elementary education. The long nights and compounding stresses were too much. Despite the underlying feeling that I was not in danger, and in fact sensing that we were at that moment in the center of God’s will, the sheer strain was affecting her physically. Carmen started to have debilitating stomach pain and cramps.
Her parents came to our home to visit and ended up taking her and the children to their house. Carmen and the kids stayed there a little while, which gave her the chance to rest and recover a little bit. On the day of our anniversary, she was determined to go back home, partially because a strict Stay At Home order was about to take effect. As she was packing to leave, Carmen lamented to her sister that this was our anniversary. Amidst all the excitement, nobody had remembered the date.
That afternoon, she sat in our packed car with the kids in the back, ready to go home. The children were rather subdued, seeming to pick up on the somber mood. Carmen reflected on the events that had forced her to spend this special day far from her husband. In the quiet car on a silent street, without her partner, and not knowing what lay over the horizon, she rested her head on the steering wheel and softly sang only to herself,
“Happy anniversary to me, Happy anniversary to me…”
And drove home on empty streets.
I had tried calling her several times that day, but her misbehaving phone was not showing her any calls, so I left voicemails. Near the end of the day we finally connected, and we shared a few moments on our anniversary. There was tiredness in her voice, but no sense of self-pity. We were both disappointed at being separated but content that it would pass and satisfied that God had a plan for it all.
Welcome to Angola 