What's in my backpack, what's on my mind

After four and half years of exposure to all that is promising in Sierra Leone (the smiles of healthy children, songs of worship in a language unknown to me, and the simple joy of living found more often, ironically, among the poor), as well as seeing so much that is debilitating to the spirit (the poverty, the lost and exploited opportunities, the callous treatment of people and the environment), I am more comfortable with the trip.

Even though I've had only four brief trips, barely a month and a half in-country, like so many others who have been touched by the people and place that is Salone, there is a part of me which is now familiar with the gentle sights and conversations, as well as being able to witness helplessly, without tears but still with deep sadness, the incredible challenges.

My backpack now reflects a sort of normalcy these trips have taken on: along with a Bible and the same Moleskine notebook I've used as a journal and scratchpad since my first trip in Oct 2005, I am also carrying "The First 90 Days" and a couple Harvard Business Review Classics, so I can work a transition plan for my new job.

What does this mean? With this, my fifth trip, and my daughter just back from Bo--her second trip in a year (which she took with my wife, her first trip), talking about this place is now an integral part of our life; looking out across the next few years, considering trips back to Bo feel as natural as anticipating vacation time, as normal to my family's dinner conversation as discussing school work or the neighbor's new puppy.

Is this becoming casual/run-of-the-mill okay? More later...