My favorite get-ready-for-the-mission ritual is ironing: 10 shirts, a few pairs of pants. Korla, who's 23, told me she's maybe used an iron 5 times in her life. This is definitely one of those generational things, but I love the ritual and the smug satisfaction of having a clean shirt ready for every day of the team's visit. I have the additional advantage of not having to pack my ironed shirts - I can just take them over to the retreat house we're staying in on Saturday. Tonight the perfect accompaniment for ironing was a good episode of Law and Order, which runs just as often here as it does in the U.S.
But the best part of today was taking a copy of our franquisia to the customs office at the airport. This is the first time I've ever had it early enough to give them a head start, and we were all pleased. I don't know if this will mean less time standing around on Saturday night, but I'm hoping so.
Meanwhile, up in Oregon, Washington and Alaska, folk are packing up, ironing (or not), Kathy is checking over the tubs and duffel bags, car pools are assembling for the trip to Seattle. Tomorrow night (Friday) is packing night, when everything gets put together at the SeaTac hotel, and on Saturday our team will begin a very long day before the crack of dawn - a day that will end in Candelaria, El Salvador, probably close to midnight. We're all ready!
I can't speak for the folks in Oregon and Washington, but here in Alaska, Norm was packing up, and I was ironing for him, something I seldom do. (Thank you, G*d, for a liberated husband!) Ironic to read this post, because as I ironed, I thought how silly it was--certainly only the wrinkles would be crisp by Sunday morning...yet this ironing was my prayer for him, for the mission team, and for the people I met in El Salvador in the mid '80s. They changed my life forever, and so I offer them, for a week, the best thing about my life...a brilliant, liberated, disciple wearing lovingly ironed shirts.
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