“Pray Continually…” 1 Thess.5:17
I open my laptop, plug in the AC cord and the LAN-line while unshouldering my bag of unfinished work that I was supposed to finish at home. The lights in my work space are off this morning, leaving the subtle ambiance of refracted daybreak to illumine my progress as I start my day. Within a minute I’m logged onto the network and pulling down my email, within a few more seconds I’m overwhelmed with the wave of requests, queries, quandaries and various curiosities comprising my 54 unread messages. This is the start of a new day. My lights are not even on and I’m already behind.
How is it that a moment ago I was enjoying the afterglow of a peaceful moment with a cinnamon-raisin bagel and a French-roast breakfast beverage? Or the quiet moment, right before I got out of the warmed car and stepped into the morning cold, when I had actually taken a moment to read today’s scripture from my One-Day Bible? Where did all that go? My first urge is to close the laptop and go back to the now-congested parking lot, a pseudo-regressive desire to reenter my wheeled womb, that primal scream, “I don’ wanna grow up!” Oh well, harden the heart and move into it, be a man, suck it up…hmmm, I wonder if there’s any coffee made?
And so it goes, another day at work, a ritualistic dance for many of us, a movement of opportunity and challenge that moves us toward productivity, whatever that word means. And how is it a mature Christian man can—in a moment—lose his conscious contact with the Beloved? How can he spend 11 hours a day being “productive”, yet so often be unaware of God’s loving presence? At which moment did my heart close over, or my awareness dim? How do I master the balance of both, starting with holding onto my morning moments of quiet and somehow bringing that into my work day?
Lord, I need you, here in this place.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Gone fishing (I mean bird watching)
Previously my trips to CR has been through a tour guide, and there was a contact person waiting; fortunately I was advised to use the national airport taxi service, because when you step out the door, it´s a meat grinder of cabbies! This taxi manager takes your receipt, tells you to stay close, and basically is your lead-blocker through the lines of arms-swinging-car-keys-yelling-taxi. Somehow if you make it to the curb, the game is that you made it to 'base' and the hopeful hordes turn their attention to the next traveler coming down the chute.
My destination, Hotel 1915, (otél milnovicientoycince) was 2 km away, about a mile and a half, which is why it took 10 minutes to get there... anyone telling you to rent a car in Latin America is a fool-- you are way over your heads here, best to leave it to the professionals who can honk, turn, play the clutch upward on a hill in stop-n-go traffic and do hand gestures to a crushing mass of 4-cylindar vehicles making their way up a narrow, unlined, unmarked corridor of streets (I have yet to see a street sign of any type, and I walked around an hour this morning). The taxi abruptly stops, pops the trunk tells me we are here, and there I stand outside a barracaded storefront...I had to go stand in the street to see the sign, but there it was. After a brief wait, I was allowed into the fortress, which actually is amazing once you get inside.
Only one staff person speaks English, about how I speak Spanish, so once she showed up we figured most of it out... my expedition team were put up in a new apartment complex owned by the hotel a few blocks away.
My roommate is Kevin (19, so. Calif.); the rest of the team includes Marsha (50's, NY), Kirsten (30s, UK), Jessica (Kevin's girlfriend from CA), Monica (17, so. CA) and the guides. We have yet to meet 2 of the team, including main leader, but last night we had supper together and was a good start.
Today we head to our research site after breakfast, so I don´t know what options I will have for email. Until then, Lord bless you.
In Christ, Jim
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
