Humiliation Nation Goes International - Part 1

It's time. I am so overdue at sharing something completely humiliating. It's what makes me tick.
Not really, but who doesn't enjoy a good laugh? Plus, it sure does help keep me from taking myself too seriously.

I was on my very first international missions trip. It was such a huge deal for me. A dream I've had for years. One I still possess. I had packed my suitcase with great care. Including my Pepto-Bismol. Something I never left home without and usually the first thing I packed making any trip.

On the final night I realized that I managed to make it through the whole trip without a single, um, digestive problem...if you know what I mean. I used to have a very sensitive stomach and was very concerned that I would be plagued throughout the trip with numerous runs to any available restroom.

Which given the country, there weren't going to be a whole lot of options when we were out. If I was lucky (or should I say blessed since this is about a mission trip? *wink*), a communal outhouse would be available.

When I reached the end of this trip without any issues, I was thrilled. And thankful. You can question my faith, I just know that this was a reality for me for years. Throw on top of that an extremely sketchy food and water system and some unsanitary and unsavory conditions. Then add other team members afflictions and you can't help but wonder if you might be next.

I was thinking on this personal "miracle" as I dressed for a special goodbye service at our host church. And that's when it hit. I started having abdominal cramping and knew what would soon follow. I informed my roommate (a very dear friend of mine) that I was not feeling well and quickly moved to our hotel bathroom. Where I remained for the next twenty minutes.

I could hear the rest of our team gathering outside the hotel to load our bus and my roommate was urging me to make haste. Not exactly something that I felt was in my control. I prayed. I cried. I writhed as only one on a toilet can writhe.

By this point, the whole team, all 20 or so blessed people, knew my "condition". Several other team members gathered to encourage me to just get on the bus. They all knew. Twenty men and women knew I was stuck on the pot. I was mortified.

To be continued...