My partner in crime is no where to be seen; his blanket folded neatly as always, placed by his air filled camping pillow. As I look at his side of the air mattress it's as if he is pretending we will have another night on our little island that will lead to another morning. I would be perfectly fine with that. Reality hits and I stretch and yawn and reach to the back of the double mattress and pull the plug. The release of air stirs the room and I am lowered to the tile floor.
My eyes pan the room. Twenty five other mattresses line the floor and are occupied by some of the sweetest souls. As good as my own bed will feel later tonight, I will miss having all these roommates. Their spirits are energetic and excited still, but the work and service throughout the last ten days have tired their bodies.
I have a few errands and responsibilities beyond packing a bag and zipping a suitcase, so I get ready quickly. I take a sip of Michael's coffee when I find him cleaning the kitchen. I wake the three kids and make the promised "Good Morning!" call to the room full of team members.
I have a few errands and responsibilities beyond packing a bag and zipping a suitcase, so I get ready quickly. I take a sip of Michael's coffee when I find him cleaning the kitchen. I wake the three kids and make the promised "Good Morning!" call to the room full of team members.
Before too long the pile of carry-ons and suitcases begins to take shape outside the gate of our beloved community center. Team members begin to clean and do the last minute chores. My biggest responsibility is to get two gals down to the airport for an earlier flight. The Lipscomb teams have swelled in number over the years, and one little WinAir flight can't seem to contain us any longer. We now occupy one full flight and a few seats on two additional flights.
Hannah and Erin and I laugh and reminisce about our ten day stay on this little island. We are thankful for one last proverbial taste of the Saban sun and sea breezes. When we arrive at the airport, we encounter the traditional hiccup or two with the flight details. After I insure they are set, I head back to the car for the short trip back across the island to turn in the keys, load my bags, and gather a few more souls to prepare for departure.
I begin to hug the switch backs coming up from Flat Point. When I am by myself in the rental cars on Saba I tend to go a bit faster. It is greater than any roller coaster there has ever been. Twists and turns. Sudden down hills and drops. The dip that causes you to catch wind and flips your tummy. All that "The Road" is missing is a couple cork screws.
As I top the hill and turn the last couple of curves to bring me into Upper Hell's Gate, I am forced to slow. A local man is driving a bit slower than this "crazy American, wanna be Saban" lady is in the mood for this morning. At first I fret a little, worried this will put me behind in what needs to be done back with the team.
But then my focus turns to the reason the fellow is driving slower. I see the sandy dark blonde, almost brown tuffle of hair peeking above some cargo in the back of the truck bed. It is almost like the owner of the tuffle of hair was just waiting for my eyes to find him. Just as I make the discovery, one of my little friends raises himself to perch upon something that gives a good amount of view from his carriage.
I love this kid's name although I am unsure which kid it is. This little fella has a partner; a twin. One of the pair is named John Luis. The other is named Luis John. The two are almost exactly identical. Mix that with their reversible names and I am forever confused.
My friend reclines back on the rear wall of the cab and lets the sun hit his face as the breezes from the water below and the rolling of the truck keep him cool and comfortable. I know the hint of salt is settling on his skin as he looks out to his right over the sea that surrounds him. His hand lifts to has mouth, holding some sort of island fruit. After taking a big bite, his mouth curls with a smile and he wipes the juice from his mouth with his arm, never taking his eyes off the sea. I take in his every move, but he is too much in the moment of just being to notice that he is being watched.
I envy this child. If I could, I would switch places with him. Wait. No, I would not. If I could, I would just join him. He is wiser than most but many do not see it. He probably doesn't even know it. And more than likely somewhere between puberty and adulthood, he may loose that wisdom. I pray he does not.
Somewhere along the way he may trade in the truck bed for the passenger seat, and then the driver's seat. He will probably feel the anxiety in his stomach to get somewhere at some time so he can do something for someone. My friend might one day scratch his bare skinned arms and face and not even think twice about the salt has settled from the sea. As his days roll by he may not give a second thought to dwelling on a dormant volcano and the grace that is given to do so. Somewhere along the way the fruit may not taste as sweet; the view not be as beautiful; the days not go as slow.
From David, the Psalmist...
"But I calmed and quieted my soul, like a child..."
I continue to follow the beat up island truck along the road. I study each and every move he makes. Not once does he make eye contact. He is calm and quiet with his fruit and his Sunday morning drive and his island; all a part of his Sabbath.
We search for purpose. Almost our entire lives it is a question in our heads.
This question comes to my mind...
Enjoy life and take the Sabbath and let God do what He has planned for you while you are being who He created you to be. Just you being you. John Luis, or Luis John, was doing just that and filled my morning with much. Him, his truck bed ride, and an island.
The truck eventually turns off the road and my little friend finally notices who was following him. He smiles and waves big. He has made my heart happy this week; my observance of him this morning has been a treasure. As I keep turning the curves I wonder how much he will grow and change in the year between Marches.
I eventually make it back to the Sunny Valley. I finish with my tasks and I watch as my week's worth of roommates pile into the beloved "Cool Bus" one last time. Before I know it I am hugging necks, wiping tears, and handing over my boarding pass reluctantly.
The hum of the WinAir twin otter is a joy some days; a harsh reality others. As always, I board last, taking one last look at Saba. She elegantly sits in the Caribbean Sea; a crown of clouds on her brow with red, white, and green houses adorning her as jewelry. I take my seat and the cabin door is shut. The pilot takes us out and in seconds we are lifted, dipping at the end of the short and tiny runway.
She disappears from the view of the plane. This peaceful place of serenity...a place of unspoiled beauty...a place untouched by industry and commercialism...clothed in nature and peace...a modern day Eden. Does a place like this really exist? Or has it been a figment of my imagination or a place I only travel to in my dreams?
With that thought, I close my eyes. Before I know it, I am in the bed of a truck, the salt on my skin, fruit juice on my chin, wind in my hair.
I feel a nudge pushing my arm up and my eight year old Sadie nestles into the curves of my waist for the fifteen minute flight. I come back to reality and kiss her forehead. And begin a year long journey of just being.
As I top the hill and turn the last couple of curves to bring me into Upper Hell's Gate, I am forced to slow. A local man is driving a bit slower than this "crazy American, wanna be Saban" lady is in the mood for this morning. At first I fret a little, worried this will put me behind in what needs to be done back with the team.
How will I get everything finished? I will be pushed.
I love this kid's name although I am unsure which kid it is. This little fella has a partner; a twin. One of the pair is named John Luis. The other is named Luis John. The two are almost exactly identical. Mix that with their reversible names and I am forever confused.
My friend reclines back on the rear wall of the cab and lets the sun hit his face as the breezes from the water below and the rolling of the truck keep him cool and comfortable. I know the hint of salt is settling on his skin as he looks out to his right over the sea that surrounds him. His hand lifts to has mouth, holding some sort of island fruit. After taking a big bite, his mouth curls with a smile and he wipes the juice from his mouth with his arm, never taking his eyes off the sea. I take in his every move, but he is too much in the moment of just being to notice that he is being watched.
I envy this child. If I could, I would switch places with him. Wait. No, I would not. If I could, I would just join him. He is wiser than most but many do not see it. He probably doesn't even know it. And more than likely somewhere between puberty and adulthood, he may loose that wisdom. I pray he does not.
Somewhere along the way he may trade in the truck bed for the passenger seat, and then the driver's seat. He will probably feel the anxiety in his stomach to get somewhere at some time so he can do something for someone. My friend might one day scratch his bare skinned arms and face and not even think twice about the salt has settled from the sea. As his days roll by he may not give a second thought to dwelling on a dormant volcano and the grace that is given to do so. Somewhere along the way the fruit may not taste as sweet; the view not be as beautiful; the days not go as slow.
From David, the Psalmist...
"But I calmed and quieted my soul, like a child..."
I continue to follow the beat up island truck along the road. I study each and every move he makes. Not once does he make eye contact. He is calm and quiet with his fruit and his Sunday morning drive and his island; all a part of his Sabbath.
We search for purpose. Almost our entire lives it is a question in our heads.
What am I am going to be when I grow up? What talent do I have? Am I an athlete, a musician, or a scholar? What is my major? Where will I work? What will I be?
It's exhausting.
What if we just be?
Just be the mom.
Just be the friend.
Just be the wife.
Just be the encourager.
Just be the teacher.
Just be His follower.
Just be.
Enjoy life and take the Sabbath and let God do what He has planned for you while you are being who He created you to be. Just you being you. John Luis, or Luis John, was doing just that and filled my morning with much. Him, his truck bed ride, and an island.
The truck eventually turns off the road and my little friend finally notices who was following him. He smiles and waves big. He has made my heart happy this week; my observance of him this morning has been a treasure. As I keep turning the curves I wonder how much he will grow and change in the year between Marches.
I eventually make it back to the Sunny Valley. I finish with my tasks and I watch as my week's worth of roommates pile into the beloved "Cool Bus" one last time. Before I know it I am hugging necks, wiping tears, and handing over my boarding pass reluctantly.
The hum of the WinAir twin otter is a joy some days; a harsh reality others. As always, I board last, taking one last look at Saba. She elegantly sits in the Caribbean Sea; a crown of clouds on her brow with red, white, and green houses adorning her as jewelry. I take my seat and the cabin door is shut. The pilot takes us out and in seconds we are lifted, dipping at the end of the short and tiny runway.
She disappears from the view of the plane. This peaceful place of serenity...a place of unspoiled beauty...a place untouched by industry and commercialism...clothed in nature and peace...a modern day Eden. Does a place like this really exist? Or has it been a figment of my imagination or a place I only travel to in my dreams?
With that thought, I close my eyes. Before I know it, I am in the bed of a truck, the salt on my skin, fruit juice on my chin, wind in my hair.
I feel a nudge pushing my arm up and my eight year old Sadie nestles into the curves of my waist for the fifteen minute flight. I come back to reality and kiss her forehead. And begin a year long journey of just being.
No comments:
Post a Comment