The thing about being blindsided in the middle of a conference by cancellation orders from the President of Uganda, folding up the tents and retreating back to our staging area to rethink everything the trip was about, then hearing the orders from the State Department for all Americans to return home immediately, then not being able to get tickets out, then getting tickets but for a flight before you can be ready, then getting ready, then finding out the President has closed the airport only hours after your flight is scheduled to leave…well. Wild ride!

We’re home. We can’t believe it. So many other Americans are now stranded in Uganda, trying to manage a “work-around” arranged by the US Embassy and the Ugandan government that won’t leave until tomorrow, then will have to piece together flights into the US from Qatar to get home maybe next weekend.

We have realized that we are a bit shocky – disoriented. Not thinking so clearly. Stress?…probably.

Not only did we think we were arriving at 9:50 p.m. on Monday even after the pilot’s announcement that we were arriving in the “a.m.,” but we still didn’t believe him until we landed, and they raised the window shades to morning daylight over DFW. We got all our bags, surprisingly had no screening issues, probably because we came from Uganda, one of the few places in the world without the virus until Sunday, the day we left when someone who arrived was diagnosed at the airport.

We slept for 10 hours straight when we got in.

Now we’re sitting here in our living room at 2 a.m., wide awake and looking at each other in wonder about what just happened. We are looking at 14 days voluntary quarantine in our house. We are grateful to our “Bray” family, who sent our daughter and grandson to meet us with our car at the airport and waved at us across the parking lot, grateful to our other son and daughter who filled our larder, grateful to Jesus who parted the sea, grateful to all of you who watched over us in prayer and followed our journey with interest and love.