Two days ago my plane circled the Atlanta tarmac before touching down. In those last few moments of anticipation, I wrote this in my journal.
I’m on the last hour of my flight back into the arms of the woman I love. So many emotions lay under the surface. I am thrilled at the mere thought of seeing her face again for the first time… I’m also a bit scared, just like she is I suppose. Scared because, this time it’s for good. No more one month stay or temporary Jacki fix. There’s no running away or being called back to duty, which helps me segregate my life and problems by geography.
The moment I touch down in Atlanta, my disparate worlds come crashing into one whole. In that moment I will be just Andrew picking up his bags at the carousel and with excitement and trepidation, scanning the crowds for his woman, his partner. I will see her. My heart will stop. I will smile. With the ease of old friends and the unease of strangers, we’ll embrace, kiss awkwardly, and walk out of the airport together. We’ll walk into the sunlight out of that airport and into our life with each other. With all the awe and inexperience of two kids we’ll stroll to her car, put my stuff in her trunk, sit in amazement, then drive away to meet my grandparents for dinner.
After over a year on the field as a missionary on my own, I’ve come back to marry Jacki, get further training and build up connections with people that are interested in partnering with us when we head back out together. At first our plan was to embark in January. We’ve decided though, after much deliberation, to remain in the US for two years after marriage to settle into it and get a little more training in the practical areas that we will need expertise. We will also need this time to travel and connect with friends who will want to partner with us as we set off into life as missionaries in Southeast Asia. Thank you for your prayers and support in this time, we’ve been so blessed to have solid friends and quality insight during all our times of transition over the past few years.