This morning I sat dutifully eating my bran rich morning cereal, and 'helping' my daughter eat the last of her applesauce. Scott looked up from the computer,
"Jess has been released!" He stated excitedly. Something like sunlight spread through my chest,
"What!" I gulped down a mouthful, not really believing that an end had been brought to what seemed like an impossible and unending crisis.
He started reading the BBC report about her rescue. A group of Navy Seals (the same that executed the Osama mission) raided the compound where she was being held captive by Somali pirates and pulled, my friend, Jess Buchanan, and the colleague who was also being held for a ransom of 38 million, out of captivity.
I've thought about her on and off in the past three months since she was taken. Scenes from kidnapping movies have popped into my head. Where does she sleep? What does she eat? Is she okay? I remember standing in the bathroom at my dad's house on Christmas and thinking about her. Looking down at the white tiles of the counter and wondering how her family was doing. Did she even know that it was Christmas? Could she see the sun that day? Could she even pray?
I wonder now where she is exactly, in the hospital? Apparently Obama pulled the trigger because her health was failing. What was wrong? Has she seen her husband yet? Will she quit her job with the Danish Demining Group? Will they move back to the US or Sweden, her husband's home country. Will this make them angrier and more determined to stay?
Where do you go from here?
This is one of those things that makes life stop. Makes all the things that our lives rotate on seem petty and meaningless. Our jobs. Our accolades. Somehow all that seems to matter are family and friends. The people that love us.
I think that sunlight I felt was hope. Hope that even in a world where people do horrid things that there are people that fight. People that fight well. People that win. Those people are on my side.
I am so proud of our president and those Navy Seals. All throughout this ordeal I felt powerless. I certainly can't go to Somalia and bust in on some Somali pirates and free my friend all Rambo style (pause for a moment and just picture that, remember that I am six months pregnant, it works best if I am holding an ak-47 and have a bandana on my head) Could I write to someone? Do they already know? Who knows? Does the president know? Does he even care about the life of one US citizen?
Apparently he does.
There were repeated kidnappings when I lived in Nairobi. This is actually the second time where I know the person. Every morning at six am when I went for a run I wondered if this was the day that I would be taken. When I ran when I was nursing I wondered how my husband would feed my baby. I was never taken. Thankfully. You wonder what would happen, if your family would get you back. How they would get you back. If your government would care?
Apparently they do.