safe in kenya, praying for boston

The last twenty-four hours have had much of the surreality that traveling across several time zones often does for me, this time including strange napping schedules, train malfunctions at Heathrow and weirdly empty airport terminals. But the journey was incredibly smooth, and I settled into bed last night in Nairobi looking forward to finishing off the last leg of the trip this morning. My driver picked me up promptly after breakfast, and he wanted only to stop for some supplies quickly before getting on the road. While he ran to get coffee at Java House, he offered me the two Kenyan papers he'd purchased at the grocery store, and I thought, why not? I didn't at all expect to see the headline about the Boston explosions.

Of course. Who would? I had just flown from my comfortable, idyllic, safe New England home to Kenya. Where my family still worries about me a little all the time. And two bombs exploded four miles from where I live.

I thank God that so far as I have been able to tell (thank you, facebook and gchat) everyone I know is safe. But my heart is completely broken for my city. It's a powerful reminder that nothing about this life or this world is certain.

So while I pray for Boston today, I have plenty else to do as well: I'm on call tonight, and I haven't unpacked anything in my apartment but my computer. And then I should probably touch base with someone on the pediatrics service, so I know where to run to resuscitate the babies tonight.

More to come.