D-Day arrived two days early for us this year. The war
between the two hotel properties had been raging over International waters for
the last three weeks. We were now getting daily updates from Travis’s camp but
the updates left us more and more confused; wondering what we were fighting
for.
It had been 21 days since this
battle began and we had been halted in Florida. What was left of our things had
arrived in the Bahamas almost a week ago and the promised call from the
Bahamian Port was not coming. When it finally did, they told us we had 7 more
days to stall before they needed to “clear” the shipment. Clearing it means a
Customs Official has to ransack all of our belongings and assess the duty charge
before it can even be moved into storage. Having someone thumb through our
personal belongings without us there is a thought that I just couldn’t bear.
It
would soon become the least of my worries.
The third week was the heaviest. I thought at first that my constant
empty feeling was the newness of Daytona slowing fading, like our hopes of ever
leaving. Or that my 35th birthday was lying in wait, circling me like
a hungry shark. The Bahamian real estate agent kept calling and checking on us
as our home was sitting empty in paradise. Such a crime! With each call we
imagined ourselves on our patio while Bob played in the yard or ocean. I could
actually feel the weight of the passing days pulling me more and more underwater.
And then our beach was stormed..
During this tumultuous time in Florida, I never allowed
myself to think it was anything but a delay. The thought that we had been led
here for nothing would pierce my gut like a bullet and I knew that I would simply not
survive. I refused to give up hope. I didn’t even notice the Google Alert that
changed our lives forever.
An emergency call at 11:45a. My dumb ass thought: “This must
be good news!” My hopes were completely trampled by the news that this war was
over. Travis’s company had pulled out of the 20-year management agreement with
the Bahamian property and new soldiers had moved in. How could this be
happening? I felt my knees go weak, blood drained from my face. How could this
be happening?!
The calls that followed were frantic. There were three
employees already in the Bahamas (introduced in previous posts) that had been working
hard on this project for the last 11 months, now at risk of losing their visas
and having to vacate in 14 days. They had families and lives and now had
concrete fears and worries; left behind in enemy territory.
There were days leading up to this that I knew with absolute certainty that I would
not survive this news. I simply didn’t want to survive, with this news. But in
some weird way, God had prepared me for this. I didn’t turn to dust when it
happened, though for a brief moment I succumbed to my covers and prayed to not
wake up. It was the most intense pain I’ve ever felt, but I knew He’d bring us
through it.
We have no idea where we go from here...
The air remains incredibly heavy from the smoke of
destruction. There are still many bodies in the crossfire. It’s too early to assess
the damage at this point. It’s in His hands; we’ve laid down our weapons; we surrender.
Read Next: #16- When there's no rhyme or reason, June 20
Read Next: #16- When there's no rhyme or reason, June 20
