Panic Attack Abroad

Two months ago I went to the Bahamas. That same week before my flight, I was already anxious I could feel a full blown panic attack coming on. Normal people would be excited (to say the least) about an impending vacation. But not me. The silent torment and fear I felt was all I could bear, I contemplated on cancelling the whole thing. But I kept telling myself -I will never be able to do anything outside of my daily routine if I let this fear control me.

I kept asking God for a sign to stop me from going. No answer, So I went. Once inside the new DFW terminal I started to feel better. Nice restaurants serving a good choice of breakfast foods! This was my first time to fly out of the new terminal, it reminded me of the Hongkong airport-huge and nice but not quiet.

I was leisurely eating my ham and egg and sipping on my capuccino while talking to my friend in New Jersey. After we hang up I made a concentrated effort to convince myself that it is ok for myself to have fun--to enjoy this trip! I don't know when I picked up this baggage of feeling guilty everytime I am having fun. But lately, I discovered that my panic disorder came with a bonus--I just could not enjoy anything (whatever it is) without feeling guilty. I need someone to slap me over the head and tell me softly or loudly --it's ok, you have my permission to enjoy yourself. Why is that? My psychiatrist didn't get to answer this question because after our first meeting and he told me that I need to see him once a week at least for the first 2 months, I decided I was not that screwed up after all. Eighty dollars a week so he can look at me cross-eyed and pronounce me crazy?

On the flight to our stop-over in Fort Lauderdale, I was "normal" again and I wanted to preserve the feeling by watching a documentary about China, narrated by this solo traveler named Justine. See, she's a solo traveler too! I tried to encourage myself. I found that my portable dvd player can rescue me from pesty seatmates and/or upcoming panic attacks.

When we landed, I went to buy lunch. Why is it that it is either food or pills before I can feel comfortable in any given situation. I was not hungry, I just felt that it was time to take my food. I paced back and forth by the gate because I could see that the airplane taking me to the Bahamas was smaller than what I have been used to. This was my first time to fly on a small airplane. There were two flight attendants; a white woman and a male who looked Middle Eastern but his accent betrayed his looks. This also being my first time to go to the Bahamas, I was unfamiliar of a Bahamian accent. I was in a mix of frustration from trying to understand what he was saying and fear thinking he was Isaac's militant fanatical cousin. Oh, dear God, he's going to blow up this plane and I could not be identified by my dental records because as my stepson once told me he has more college degrees than I have teeth.

The sound of the airplanes' engine trying to get off the ground and act like it could not, made me pray more seriously. Lord, in between the choices of this plane crashing because of engine failure and being blown off by a terrorist, let it be the latter. At least, I will have the chance to try and have a scene with the hijacker then I can call and tell my daughter Chat some stories that she can relay to the news media. And knowing her, she would make up real good ones. Though posthumously, someone will see my name in print since I have been unlucky with publishing companies to get my book published. Lord, I am not asking for much, If I have to go down in flames, I want to make it loud too.

I was so focused in my prayer I did not notice the man seated next to me was drooling on my shoulder. Nor did I hear him snore. It made sense why his wife sat 2 rows away from him.

When we landed at Nassau, all I could think of was run to the counter of American airlines and see if I could get back on the plane and fly back to Dallas. I was by then not only very sad, but very anxious- I could feel I was about to black out. But I pressed on. I tried the breathing technique, I applied mind manipulation. Neither one worked. I got to the hotel and went to look for a restaurant - time to take my food. But the rice and the fried conch did not have power over my pounding and racing heartbeat. I held out taking my pill - telling myself instead, I can do this. I called my daughter and made her promise me that the next time I plan on another trip to make sure and tie me to a post and leave me there for dead.

With Gods' providence I managed my panic attack to a comfortable level. Also with Gods providence I got on the wrong bus. I was going to the botanical garden, instead I got on a bus going the opposite direction. (One thing about travelling alone, you can do just whatever you want to do.) The bus driver asked me if I wanted to go with Ava, his sister in-law who was also on the bus, after all, this was a Sunday. Thank God my shorts were not that short because Ava introduced me to the Pastor and he introduced me to the whole congregation. Look what Ava drag in here. I spent the whole day worshipping (and mostly eating) with them.

Needless to say, I managed to enjoy my weekend stay there even without anyone's permission. But Chat and I concluded that I don't have to spend all that money to have a panic attack abroad; for a lot less I could do it here locally. As often as I don't want it.

Tragic Comedy

When I tell people I don't watch tv because I don't have one, they don't know how or what to take me for. My reasoning is this, " What do I do with all that information?"
I scour the web for news that interests me, and most of the time I find that there's really nothing that I need to know. But even though 95 percent of the news I read on the paper about Cebu irks me, to say the least, I still try to scan the headlines at least once a week. Just so I know if a typhoon came and flushed my apartment to the river. Today, the above picture and caption below made me chuckle.
"Firefighters, assisted by 10 residents, had to push one of Oslob’s firetrucks to the scene of the fire, 50 meters away, so that it could pump water to put out the blaze."

Oslob is a town south of where my apartment in Cebu is. An old church built in the late 1800 was gutted by a fire that could have been prevented if they had a fire truck. And why don't they have a working fire truck? The mayor said the clutch was needing repair. I could not get mad anymore, and I could not afford a laugh, I can only chuckle. Corruption happens in all levels of life whether it is in Cebu, Sudan or America so I should not waste my breath lambasting the corrupt politicians in the Philippines anymore. Remember, I am tired of politicians.

But Filipinos are different. We are the only culture that takes a lot and forgets too soon. Spanish colonization? That's ok, at least we inherited the "mestizo" look. Japanese bayonet? Ooh, but at least we got Toyota surpluses.

Corrupt politicos? Shhh...they gave us a can of sardines in exchange for our votes-- remember?

Silda Spitzer and Us

For the life of me I could not ride on the bandwagon of "Take the kids and run Silda" as what some of Mrs. Spitzers' friend's are telling her. I read comments like, "she wasted her time on a fraud, why is she standing by his side inspite of what he has done?" Pleeees--I am so sick of this people trying to act sanctimonious. Why is it that people are so quick to pass judgement or give advice? Another comment says- " I can't believe that she gave up her career to support this husband who cheated on her." What an idiotic comment!!! How many of us get married and predict exactly how that husband or wife will turn out? If machineries break down and gives us trouble, so does live human beings! Come on idiots! What could be a better career than to run a household, and manage your husband? Is there anything better than raising children and training them in the way that they should go? (Even though some of them chose to become head gangbangers instead of becoming the PUS) Everything in life is a choice and a gamble. (Except the choice to accept Jesus as your Savior) You work for a company and become a CEO, make millions in salaries and bonuses, make the company grow and make more millions or you could work for a company and get fired before you get to buy the perfect picture frame for your desk. In everything we take a chance, but I think I would rather take a chance on a more meaningful endeavor, like massaging human beings not stocks and figures. But then again, that's just me.

Silda's so-called friends are advising her "to leave the scum." What I have observed about people who are quick to give advice to people who are in a tight situation, is that they are the same people who would not know what to do when put in the same situation. Only Silda knows the real Eliot, only Silda knows what's good for her and her children. Only Silda knows what she is capable of. Silda is a trusted aide of Eliot -and he claims that publicly, reason that he gave her an office next to his. And she was one of the few in his inner circle to advise him not to resign in haste. And I think the same tactic she will use in her marriage--if and when she leaves him, it will NOT be in haste. I don't feel sorry for Silda, I feel sorry for her friends. She hasn't lost her mind yet, her so-called supporters already has. But this I say of a true friend, you stand alongside and shut up. When asked of your advice, you give them your opinion or better yet, give them a parable like Jesus did. But then again, that's just me.

Why are we so interested in the sex lives of our politicians? Why are we awakened, if not catapulted to think everytime we read or hear about someones philanderings? At work, I talk about the rising gas prices and the dollar driving south, and everyone just gives me a courteous but hardly audible " I know." As if saying, aw shut up, what can we do about it? But when I said, "The governor of New York hired a prostitute" everyone's head craned to look at me " Reaally? When?"

Is it the sex or the politicians? I thought we are tired of politicians, reason we don't vote anymore. Bloggers and columnists are busy keeping this Spitzer thing alive. And almost all of them are saying the same thing, Silda, leave the jerk and move on. But there's a hidden or subconscious motive to everyone's writings and opinions on this matter --to find meaning to Silda's predicament in the hope that we too can find meaning in ours.

Why can't we leave Silda Spitzer alone? Meghan Daum in her column with LA Times says it well.
" No wonder we keep searching for meaning in a story whose real meaning is something we don't exactly want to know."

I crossed 50

I don't even remember my password to get in to my blogger account. Yeah, it's been a while. I did not want to write anymore and still don't. But today, I feel that I have to start again. But what do I want to talk about? Let's start with how I feel about turning 50, well, it is not "turning" anymore because it arrived 8 months ago. In my previous blog I talked about turning 50 and how much I looked forward to it. I said that because I had fun in my 40's. Even with my conversations being peppered with words like peri, menopause and hormonal avalanche, I had more highs than lows. It was a mentally and emotionally challenging years but momentous nonetheless. But now everything is taxing - physically, emotionally and mentally. I have slowly accepted the fact that Victoria can no longer hold my Secret. Thongs still fit but only if I wear it in between my toes. Regardless that I adjust the strap all the way to my shoulder to pull them totoys up, they still like to race as to which one would get to the knees first. My friend Lynn used to offer me her daughters used clothes, now she offers me hers.
Four years ago, my doctor told me to start doing exercises that builds muscles to avoid thickening around the waist. I reasoned that I need to sleep more than I need to squat and besides, I need fat for padding for when I round them corners carelessly. I should have listened because now, I can't turn a corner without strategic planning. Not only does my knees crackle, my hip needs 2 weeks advance notice before it will even turn.

So what am I trying to say? Fifty is definitely different. It makes me rethink of my position in life. I no longer think so much of where I should live (Philippines or Texas) but where I should be buried. Only a year ago, I wished for a husband to enjoy the days of travel and food adventures with me. Only a year ago, I imagined a husband to cuddle up with on cold nights but now, I get panic attacks just thinking about sharing my 600 count bedsheets and not being able to sleep diagonally across my king size bed.

But really, being 50 is not all bad. Fifty is the springtime of the second half of our life---euphemism for menopause. At 50, I have become more philosophical to which I can do things I am not supposed to do or skip the things I am expected to do. All can be explained away by saying, "Well, you know, since I turned 50, I don't retain much information; the only thing I retain now is water."
When people say nasty things about me, I have a hard time putting together who said what and when.
And when I am praised or given a compliment, I don't get a big head--I simply grin and silently say "of course, because I'm perfect."
As Dr. Christiane Northrup says : Menopause is the perfect time to download who we are and play it out loud.

In search of Home

From my journal of 2006 - when I was in Cebu

After a long and agonizing flight from Dallas, I landed at Hongkong airport with a renewed energy. I say agonizing because when I left Dallas I was sad leaving behind friends, a boyfriend and my 30-year old daughter who was bawling after she dropped me off at the airport. On my lay over in San Francisco waiting for my flight to Hongkong, I contemplated on canceling the Asia leg of my flight and just turn around and go back home. But where is home? All my earthly possessions were in storage and some are on the belly of the Boeing 747. The sadness I felt was paralyzing but there is no looking back, I have let go of my apartment in Dallas to travel around Southeast Asia and try living as a female nomad then eventually settle down in my country of birth; the Philippines.
We landed ahead of schedule in Hongkong so I had more time to roam around but the only place that was open was Starbucks. I was glad to see it but after considering a cup of regular coffee which costs as much as feeding a family of 15 in Cebu, I decided to exercise my legs instead. I then took pictures of the planes against the backdrop of early morning sunlight beaming the cap of the mountains. A Filipino man approached me and offered to take the camera from me and took my picture with the planes and the mountains behind me. I asked where he came from. He would not tell me; all he would say is that he is a nomad. I did not like him already because of his evasive answer. A Filipino vagabond? I don’t know of a Filipino vagabond except the ones’ roaming around the streets in Cebu in tattered clothes and sleeps on the sidewalk. Proudly, I told him I live in the US even without him asking me.

The flight from Hongkong to Cebu takes less than three hours and after flying for 13 hours from the United States; this feels like a skip and a jump. An American friend of mine who now lives in Malaysia told me once that he feels like kissing the ground every time he lands in Asia from a trip abroad. This is how I feel everytime I land in Cebu. But this time I had mixed emotions; I was not happy nor was I sad. The ambivalence bothered me. I hold an American passport but I don’t feel American when I am in America, yet as soon as I land in Cebu, I could not wait to hand my passport to the immigration officer so he would see that I am an American. And that I am proud to be an American. This makes me realize that I don’t know who I am anymore. In Texas where I have lived the last 20 years, I always say, “ I want to go home” every time I think of going back to Cebu for a visit. But once in Cebu, I don’t feel I am home. When I see the word “Balikbayan –1 year” (returning Filipino permitted to stay 1 year) stamped on my passport I don’t know what to think. Should I be glad that I am permitted to stay that long? Or should I be mad that I am now told how long I can stay in my native country?

My friend Julie married an Australian and lives in Australia; she comes back to the Philippines every year. Her husband retired from Qantas Airlines and has travel privileges with the airline, he complains that Julie does not want to travel to other places but comes back to Cebu every year then complains about everything when she is in Cebu. I asked her where she considers home. She shrugged her shoulders, “I wish I know.” We talked about the pollution and population explosion in the island. The island is dirty, the politicians corrupt and the vehicular congestion topped off by the Filipinos affinity to diesel-powered vehicles. So why come back? The answer reminds me of what this actress said when asked where she likes best, Dallas or New York. (She was from Dallas and now lives in New York) “ Dallas is like, you have to go there because your mother lives there,” she says.
Connie married an American and has lived in so many countries because her husband worked for an oil company that makes him travel all over the world. She now lives in Malaysia for the last 15 years where I visited her recently. She owns a beautiful and spacious home there, one of the very few homes I would like to have. She makes this home for her husband Ron; she gets involved in every community affairs and knows almost everyone in the island. Her sister and son lives with them and yet, she is building another home in her hometown in the Philippines, with the intent of “one day going home.” Ron wants to be buried in the Philippines because he said that he wants to be where Connie will be; he is certain that is where Connie will live once he dies.

Don is buried in Cebu with the thought that Cebu will be most likely the place where I would ultimately park my old bones and I want him close by me. But Chat is in the US, and I don't feel I should be anywhere but near her. Choices.....it depresses me.

So where is home? Jesus said He is preparing a place for those who trusts Him and that one day He will come back to welcome us to Himself. There's the answer-thank God.

Enriched and Hollowed out

I watched Anthony Bourdain as he was leaving a jungle village in Malaysia and he said something that reverberated in my bones. " I don't feel like I belong here, but I also don't feel like I belong back in New York anymore-- is it possible to be enriched and hollowed out at the same time?" He said that with this look in his eye that seem to say he was deeply pained. Or was it just my imagination, knowing that it is me who was pained by the statement.

I want to live in Spain, in Malaysia, in Cebu or wherever just as long as it is different. I say that all the time, but when I think about moving to another apartment outside of the same area I am used to, I dread and I fear. Confused? yes. Restless? yes.

When I travel, I travel alone and that's the way I prefer it unless it is with a boyfriend or husband. I have no problem getting on a plane( alone) and go to another totally foreign country but at home, I go to the same gas station, same restaurant, same grocery store. Outside of that familiarity, I don't venture out because I don't do well if I do. I have tried to analyze myself on why I do what I do. I could come up with an acceptable excuse but not a valid answer. I don't think a psychiatrist is necessary because I feel that as long as I want to analyze myself, then I must still be ok. I need a psychiatrist to write prescriptions to knock me out of my lunacy sometimes but even that I am hesitant to do, because someone said (was it Willie Nelson) that he is glad to be crazy because "it keeps him from going insane."

This question of "sense of belonging" has haunted me constantly. I know that God created us with this need to be needed, the need to feel wanted and the need to belong. When we don't feel any one of these needs, then we are in trouble. Hardness and bitterness will set in if we lose the right perspective on these things. God has granted me the favor of being well liked by most people, but I have to tell you, before I developed a personal relationship with Jesus, I did not accept this favor, this gift from God. So I walked around with this chip on my shoulder, feeling sorry for myself, unwanted and mad at everyone. I do not want to go back there, but every once in a while, I feel the old self resurfacing and this happens mostly when I feel trapped by financial restrictions. I only have 2 vices -travel and spa treatments, oh and food. As long as I am able to do these things, I don't feel trapped, thus I am happy.

So let me go back to whatever my point of this rant was; being enriched and hollowed out at the same time. Yes, it is possible to feel both at the same time. But right now, I am only feeling hollowed, so I better drive over to some market and be enriched. At least, temporarily.

Problems or Opportunities

My son in-law's uncle came to visit him last week and over lunch with them I mentioned my latest car woes. Trying to empathize with me, he said jokingly, "I am going to get a horse and get rid of my truck, because I too, am tired of car repairs". I started to like the horse idea but very quickly I realized that as long as we are breathing, there will always be costs to pay. Horses will break down too, then you have to make a choice; horsemeat stew or vet bill.

I drive an old Mercury Mystique that I bought three and a half years ago. I paid cash for it because I don't want a monthly bill. The car is clean and runs well until one day it stopped cold in the middle of the road and my mechanic changed the timing belt. It has not been the same since. I got very frustrated and even angry, but I thought to myself that at least it is not my body that got messed up. I have taken it to 3 different mechanics including my favorite ones from Ghana. None could figure out why it jerks, like it is choking.

I received all kinds of opinions and advice, but they are just that. In all of these, I have to thank God that I have friends who are willing to help me. There's Don who got dirty crawling on the ground trying to change my tire. Actually his efforts were spent mostly on trying to figure out how to operate his industrial jack ( he just bought one and wanted to show it off) he did not know how to lower it after you raise the car. I have not operated one myself, but I know it should not be that hard. And he calls me everyday checking on my car. Then there's Billy, he is recovering from a liver cancer surgery and yet happily and willingly took the time to go with me to different garages. And after I casually mentioned to him that I need a better paying job to afford a better car, went on to get me an interview for a job with one of his friends in the electronics industry. Another friend offered a weekend get away to temporarily forget my car woes.

There are days when I could not see the light, all I could focus on is the black and empty space. No hope, no relief and things unraveling in my head. But at the end of the day, I stop and see a glimmer of hope. I recall the past of how God has always carried me through. On days when I could not see Him, I could feel His hand. When I could not feel His hand, I know I could trust His heart. And on real dark days that I doubt His heart, I don't worry because even when I am faithless, He remains faithful.

My car problem is not over yet- I don't know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future. After all, I am in America, a land where "Be all you can be" is not just a military slogan, but a promise of reality to everyone.
I am thankful that I got this car problem, because now, I am forced to scrutinize my spending habits. Am I squandering my time and money? What area of my lifestyle needs to change? What do I need to cut back on in order to be able to save? Money saved is money earned.

At times when I feel sorry for myself for not having a husband or a boyfriend to take care of me, I have to shift gear immediately. Being single carry its' own merit. If I have a boyfriend, I would not have a lot of other male friends who makes me feel special. But on the other hand, if I have a boyfriend, when my car breaks down I only need to make one phone call instead of going down the list. Ah, you just can't have it all.

Them Jews

"We are Catholics" my parents and everyone around me said that. I did not know what that meant, but growing up I was told anything other than that was a cult. And when I did something bad as a child, my parents and siblings would then say " you are a Jew"- implying that I was as bad as the "Jews who killed Jesus." I bet you the Pope's adviser at the time was also the personal adviser of Adolph. After all, Adolph lived closer to Rome while my parents island was just a squigly among the thousands of islands in the Philippines. Yet, that man in the Vatican controlled my household and them Filipinos like puppets. And them hooligans claimed they went to 4 years of seminary schooling, but how come they don't know that although it was the Jews who made the cross and pound on the spikes, it is our sins who killed Jesus that "the scriptures might be fulfilled."

To a lot of Filipinos, Ninoy Aquino is a hero. Not that I would dare compare Jesus to Ninoy. Jesus is a Jew killed by the Jews, ok. Them Filipinos pulled the trigger on Ninoy, so why don't we call our malfunctioning filipino kids " you're a Flip ".


I have learned to love the Jews not because of my late husband, but through reading the Old Testament. If I claim to love God and God is and was patient and nurturing towards them inspite of their being "stubborn and stiffnecked" who am I to do otherwise? When God calls on an individual, God will accomplish His purpose regardless of that persons obedience or disobedience. God is not only long suffering, He is nurturing and forbearing. I want to show a few examples of how God's calling is irrevocable.

Abraham : For him to leave his country and family to "a land I will show you" an unclear order from God as to where that place is, yet Abraham pulled up stakes and left. But somewhere along the way, Abraham had some doubts about God's promises to him, or he would not have presented Sara (his wife) to Abimelech as his sister because of fear. Also, why give in to Sara's haste of having a child by Hagar if he was sure that God would give him a son from his own body, as He promised?
Then there's Gideon asking for signs (2 signs) before he will do what he was called to do -so he can be sure it is of God.
And what about Moses, explaining to God why he can't be His spokesman to led Israel out of Egypt. As if God did not know his frailties and his strenghts already? Isn't Moses' reluctance and explanation to God a sign that he really was not sure if God can deliver? Did God change his plan and agreed to use somebody else instead because Moses doubted Him? No, He gave in to Moses request to use Aaron but only as his assistant then went on the explain to Moses ; Who made man's mouth , or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord?"
And what about David? Solomon and Peter? I can go on and on, and show how God nurtures and show patience to people.

God put The Jews in charge of the oracles of God. God knows that their stubborness will be useful in His ultimate purpose in the end. His messenger (the Jews) will carry HIS message the way HE intended it to be, regardless that we don't think so. In the end, the Jews will lead us to the perfect blessing from the Jewish Meshia but for now, we should not withhold our love to the unbelieving sons of Israel. Christians are supposed to make the Jews jealous..in the sense that we claim and live out Yeshua HaMeshia as the fountain of life.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem and eat from the heritage of Jacob.

Another Today

As I was going through old photos, cards and letters, I have once again been reminded that life has to be lived in the present only. I have worried senselessly in the past about the future. Today, I started to fret again. I want things to happen but not sure what things. I am mourning the demise of a relationship but also eager to see what's going to open up for me. Doors are opening but my heart keeps yearning for the past and missing the future; what could have been. Why couldn't he love me as much as I loved him? I have not loved anyone as much, but it must not be enough for him.

We love who we love and we should never apologize for it.

I have made a big decision in my life this last week. I was told never to make a major decision soon after an end of a relationship, but I know that this is the only way to proceed. I already got someone involved so I have to go through with it. I may have decided in haste but for now it makes me feel good and it enables me to get up in the morning again with a sense of purpose.

I will be leaving friends and loved ones, but sooner or later, each of us will have to do what we have to do anyway. New beginnings, new sorrows and pain. But nevertheless, it has to be faced.

TODAY

I don't even know who Murphy is but the often quoted Murphy's Law "What can possibly go wrong, has" did happen to me this last 2 weeks. My car, my body, my personal love life has given way to breaking down. What could possibly break down, has.

TODAY, as I was listening to the singing and preaching at church, I realized that repentance about our sins does not come as easily when we want to. Of course we have to want to repent, but most importantly and very necessary is the help of God for us to "truly repent". True repentance only happens from the heart, not from the mind. My mind has told me so many times in my life of the things I needed to repent, but my heart continues to misbehave and do it's own thing anyway.

When things don't go well in our life, we need to ask God why things are happening and learn the lesson that needs to be learned and move on. Some things are not always clear, as to how we should proceed. This is when we really need the wisdom of God.

TODAY, I also was enlightened about prayers. Most of the public prayers I have heard in church are about telling God "how much we love Him, that we will serve Him and praise Him." God knows how and what we feel towards Him. But instead, we should rephrase it and "ask" God to "help us, to love Him, serve and praise Him, in the way that pleases Him."

In the bible, Jesus warned : by their fruits you shall know them. Actions, not words. I have no problem with corporate prayers but my problem is when we toot our own horns about "how much we love God". I believe that corporate prayers should be to petition God to enable us - because without God, we could not even love Him. To arrive at true repentance we need God - to calm and discipline our heart. NO other way will work, and no other work will suffice.

TODAY, also is a red letter day for me. About 2 months ago, when I visited the Holocaust museum, inside by the front desk a sign reads " Remember Darfur". I had no clue where or what is happening in Darfur. I heard of it but resigned it to some political "crap" I thought. Then I happen to read on it again and I started to feel a pang in my heart about it. I said " No, Lord, not Darfur." I am not going to Darfur. Well, how can I get to Darfur? Again, no Lord, not Darfur.
Well, TODAY, the founder of Safe Harbor International spoke in our church about Darfur. Am I going to Darfur? Ask God.