I’ve been on a journey since Saturday that I hadn’t expected to take. For the first two days it was a roller coaster that at one point literally had me on my knees in prayer.

Two years ago I traveled to Kenya on a fellowship. I was there for a month and fell in love with the country, the people, the food.

My husband had traveled to various parts of Africa in his lifetime and talked about his travels there all the time with me and the kids. It always seemed so spiritual, an amazing adventure.

Both he and I have always hoped our children would some day have the chance to visit the continent. So when my oldest, Trey, applied for an internship to Kenya this summer we were elated. Ceaser died before Trey got the green light on the internship, but I was determined to make sure he went and he was determined to go. He called it a chance of a lifetime. I agree.

We scrapped together some savings, got the ticket, his passport, visa and shots. I made contact with friends I had made during my fellowship and they arranged accommodations for him there.

On Saturday I put him on a plane. He would fly from Kansas City to Atlanta then to Amsterdam and on to Kenya, where he would pick up one of those throwaway phones and a wifi card. Until then, once he left the U.S. we would be out of contact.

That didn’t seem like much of a big deal at the time but for the past two days I have been going crazy with worry about whether he had made his flight connections, was there someone at the airport to meet him, did his bags make it there?

He called from Atlanta. His flight was delayed. Then early Sunday morning he called from Amsterdam on an airport phone to say that flight was delayed too.

Monday morning he still had not arrived in Kenya and no one there knew where he was. I was a wreck. Where the heck is my child. I can sometimes be a bit over dramatic. I started having visions of him having been lured away by a sexy exotic-looking woman working for smugglers and put into a life of human trafficking, working in diamond mines or worse.

I started praying that he was safe. I called on angels and prayed out loud. Then got bossy with the angels telling them they should surround him and protect him and follow him everywhere. The sad part is I didn’t have anyone here to reel me back in. To calm me down and tell me it would all be fine.

This was supposed to be his journey, his adventure, his learning experience.

I was supposed to use the time to do some house rearranging, yard work, relaxing working later and chilling out with friends. Instead all I’ve done is worry about the kids, miss them and wish they were here. The youngest is visiting family.

I know they are safe. Trey made it to Kenya and even though no one was at the airport to meet him he got a cab to his destination and is doing fine. He eventually called two days later.

But now I have to deal with me. This is the first time I’ve been alone. What do I do with myself? Besides the house work, I know there are things about me that need attention, that I’ve been putting off. And I’m learning new things about myself every day. As moms and wives sometimes we get so wrapped up in our families we forget about ourselves and we let a lot go. We don’t look at ourselves. When suddenly you are alone for a few days, weeks, months you see yourself and what needs fix’n.

And then you have to decide whether you want to immerse yourself in house work to ignore the being alone and self awareness part. Or explore, take a journey with yourself.

I’ve decided to take the plunge. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.