First, you see it in the news.

Earthquake. Hurricane. War. Famine. 

The numbers grow. 

Dozens dead. Hundreds missing. Thousands fleeing. Tens of thousands displaced. Hundreds of thousands impacted.

When you start seeing these numbers in the news and the photos that go with it, you know there will be an ask for help. A quick glance at the next month of your life to make sure you’re free, and you know you’re ready to go.

Then the phone rings. “Can you leave tomorrow?” 

And just like the people got thrown into the midst of disaster in an instant, so did you. It’s just that you had the advantage of being kept safe and being able to plan going forward. It’s a big advantage, and one you don’t take lightly. 

What should I pack? you ask yourself. A quick scan of the local weather, cultural customs, and type of disaster helps dictate what to bring. Warm weather clothes, cold weather clothes, varying degrees of raiding the medicine cabinet and personal supplies for creature comforts, and you’ve got yourself a bag packed in a few minutes. You probably got it mostly right, but I guarantee there’s something you’ll wish you had brought with you. You’ll have to learn to live without it. It’s ok; the people you’re serving are learning to live with a whole lot less. You’ll be fine.

It’s time to tell people that you’re leaving. You call and text family and friends and let them know. That’s when you remember that upcoming coffee you scheduled with someone; guess you’ll have to cancel that now. They ask lots of questions, many of which you don’t know the answers to. “How long will you be gone? Where will you be staying? Is it safe there? Will there be electricity? Can you call home?” If you know half of those answers then you’re already well ahead of the game. You probably know more answers than the people you’re serving do. You’ll be fine.

Usually when people ask, “What will you be doing while you’re there?” the answer is either, “I don’t know,” or, if you think you have an answer, you follow it up with, “But that could change.” Because that’s how things go— today’s urgency becomes yesterday’s news, and tomorrow’s needs aren’t known yet. 

In the few hours before you leave, you mentally wind down everything in your life. You make sure bills are paid, checks are deposited, items stored away that won’t be used for a month or more, errands either completed or decided to not be important enough to finish. Life at home hibernates while life in the disaster awakens from slumber. 

That awakening from slumber propels you forward to your new location. Even though you haven’t left home yet, your mind is already in the hurricane or earthquake or war. Start getting tunnel vision— your mind is already in the new place. You try to keep your mind focused on the precious things at home— the people, pets, and things that mean a lot to you— but you’re already trying to navigate a place you haven’t even stepped foot in. Because once you do, you’re running. 

Finally it’s time to board the plane. You settle in and read what you can to start preparing for your new life that you know nothing about. You know that the plans will change by the time you have internet connection again. But that’s ok; the people you’ll be serving have had a whole lot more of their plans change. You’ll be fine. 

Once you land, there’s too many directions to go in this choose your own adventure story for me to keep writing about. But for now, you are boots on the ground. You’re ready to go. You’ll be exhausted. You’ll be frustrated. You’ll be emotionally spent. But so are the people you’ll be serving. 

You’ll be fine.