Bonne Courage.

The last several weeks have been a whirlwind of lists. "Things to Do" lists, "Things to Buy" lists, "People to call" lists, "Bills to pay" lists, "Subscriptions to cancel" lists...I need a list for all of my lists. A small piece of advice: if you are planning to leave the country for two years, perhaps it would be wise to give yourself more than just a few weeks to prepare.

Regardless of how much stuff there was to take care of before my departure, it is finally done. My bags are packed (and well within the weight limits, thank you), my tickets are bought, and I am ready to go. Now, in my last couple of hours in my hometown that I have not left for longer than a couple of months, things have finally calmed down, and I finally have time to really reflect on what it is that I am about to embark on...and everything that I am leaving behind. Aside from the obvious, like running water, electricity, and - yikes - flushing toilets, there is a vast network of people that I, sadly, do not get to carry with me in my luggage.

In all of the excitement over being able to follow a dream all the way to Africa, my mind has not allowed me to begin to comprehend how much I am going to miss everyone. I can adjust to a life without lightswitches...I am far more worried about adjusting to life without my friends and family. I am leaving behind an amazing family that, in spite of all of their doubts about my decisions, has stood behind me 100%. I am leaving behind the best group of friends that I have ever had in my 22 years of life; they have been an integral second family to me. All of these people have been my support structure...my backbone...my heart. And now I must cope with my heart being in two different places.

Fortunately, I have a small amount of practice in coping with this. With each new thing I learn about Africa, I feel a tug on my heart. Every time I read an article about the problems faced by African people, there's a tug; every time I see a picture from anywhere on the continent, there's a tug; every time I start one of my rants about injustice, tug...my heart is pulled to Africa. Now I finally get to go, and, ironically, I am sure that I will feel the tug in the opposite direction from the people who have come to mean the world to me. But my heart knows that it is time to go.

I have several requests of the important people that I am leaving behind. One: don't forget me! I know two years is a long time, but I will be back! Two: keep in touch! Write me letters, write me emails, send me pictures, whatever. I will do the same for you. Three, and this one is the most important, I will need you to send warm wishes my way, but do NOT wish me luck.

I do not need wishes of luck. Luck is fickle, and luck is fleeting...ask anyone in Vegas. I need wishes for resourcefulness when I discover that I am working with much less that I am used to. I need wishes for open-mindedness when I encounter something new and different that will require a self-adjustment. I need wishes for strength when I start to get homesick and I am missing everyone so much that it hurts. I need wishes for perseverence when I feel as though I can't possibly be making a difference, and I need to keep on going, keep on trying anyway. Luck will not bring me through this experience; these things will.

In all my years of studying French, teachers and professors always wrote "Bonne Courage!" on the blackboard before we began exams, or oral presentations, or rédactions. I always thought it was funny that they never said, "Bonne Chance" (Good luck), because a wish for luck is such a typical precursor to any big event, but now I think I get where they were coming from. When life throws you into a new situation, when you are tested, strength and courage will bring you through it. So if you'd like to wish me something, say "Bonne Courage!"

That is my wish for everyone I am leaving behind. I love you. I will miss you. I will see you all in 27 months. Until then...Bonne Courage.