Me and TC

Me and TC took the chopper from Cebu City to Tacloban. It was a bit short of fabulous. The only thing missing were some drug runners shooting handguns from 300 yards away and busting a hole through the window.

It was about an hour in the air, flying over a few islands and open water. On the eastern hillsides, trees were blown over like sticks, all in one direction. On the western slopes of Leyte Island, the trees were standing, with all of the palm branches permanently oriented westward like a compass.

This is my Faith

Because he loves me, I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.  He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.
Psalm 91:14-15

Let us hope

Let us hope that I have already made the biggest mistake of my trip, which included leaving my laptop and cash-laden Carry-on bag in the taxi van from the hotel to the airport a few moments ago.
It doesn't much matter whether you realize 30 seconds or 30 minutes too late, when your newly issued local mobile doesn't yet have any minutes and you have no idea who drove you to the airport anyway (how often does one obtain the contact information of one's drivers? Not often enough, I will now always say).
I borrowed a phone from another volunteer, called the hotel, to plead my case to a very nice lady adept at the art of whispering. Excuse me, Cebu blind people who sing at the airport for our small change, let me go outside, dodge the honking horns, and wedge the mobile into my ear canal so that I could just make out that since the hotel did not schedule the taxi, it does not know who took me. Pretty sure I made her repeat this conclusion three times for good luck before finally hanging up in a lightly subdued panic.
Searched old emails and found the name and number for last night's driver, who I awoke (dropping us off at the hotel at 2:30am last night, he had the good sense to be asleep at 6:40am when I called for help). Taximan Pip said he'd call dispatch.
I wait.
Wait.
11 minutes, 13, 17.
I call Pip back, but the mobile network won't connect.
Try again: no network.
Again: no network.
Amidst some fervant prayer, where I commit one of my daughters to a convent, I try again: no network.
21 minutes after hanging up with Pip, 38 minutes after hanging up with the hotel, 41 minutes after realizing my mistake, the unnamed hero, Mr. Cebu Taxi 2013, calls out my name from across the parking lot, and we rush to each other with... Well, nevermind what happened next.
I have my bag, and now await my last flight.