Mercy Ships and arrival in Liberia.

I joined the ship in South Africa in September of 2009. This was not the life of leisure that I was shooting for but I still felt like God wanted me to join Mercy Ships. (At this point I was still participating in all types of debauchery but at least I was listening to what God had to say.) After six weeks in South Africa we set sail for Liberia. Believe me when I tell you I never wanted to come to Africa. This was God's adventure for me.
After nine days of smooth, clear seas we were set to approach Liberia. Before we could see land the water started to change from crystal clear blue to a murky, plastic bag strewn, mud puddle. Then came the smell of 2 million people's waste being washed out to sea. I wondered what I had gotten myself in to. A country that you can smell before you can see it! I was not the least bit prepared. We drifted closer until we could see Mamba point where the US embassy is. I was trying to make some sense of the skyline of bombed out buildings and smoke rising from the streets. Liberian guys in hand dug fishing canoes were paddling close to see this ship full of white people. I can't believe anyone would eat fish from these waters. We were boarded by the pilot that guided us into the port. There was a cargo ship turned on its side and half sunk at main berth in the port. We gently put into our dock, sandwiched by two other half submerged fishing boats. This was going to be a wild ride. Fear and excitement filled me as I wondered what was beyond the port. Little did I know at the time I would call Liberia home for years to come.