I had a baby last week. My third. Grocery shopping has now become a fear of mine. Not because I'm afraid of germs or crabby cashiers, but because I don't know how to transfer three wiggly, rambunctious, disruptive kids through a store with only one butt-holder per cart.
But you have to do what you have to do. So today I "manned" up and went out while the oldest one was in school. We left later than I wanted to. So in a rush, I buckled my little ones in their car seats and drove off, worried that the baby would NEED to eat in the slot of time we were there. Of course I can't modestly accomplish that task while walking the aisles. So the alternative is to let her cry it out while all the non-parents in the store glare us down like we're Iraqi rebels.
Regardless, we needed cereal. And milk. And other obnoxious things that shouldn't run out as fast as they do.
So we arrive. I haul the 97-pound infant carrier and guide the reluctant, wandering-sheep-of-a-two-year-old across the parking lot and into the doors where we're greeted by Ray.
Ray is a half-toothless, short, stocky, white-haired man who never fails to shout out his usual, "And how are the three of you today?" Of course the number in his greeting fluctuates based on the number of children tagging along. Sometimes the question is followed by a comment about the weather, and sometimes the conversation dies, leaving an awkwardness while kids get situated for their trip through the store.
Today I snapped the baby into the cart, plopped the toddler into the basket (with a firm warning about staying seated) and brushed past Ray, as he squeaked out a "May I?" We jerked to a stop. I peeled my mind from its focus on speed, precise efficiency, the list, and getting the heck out of there before the baby woke up. And since I was already nearly through the doors, I rewound my steps until I was standing by Ray. I was feeling a bit impatient, but everyone deserves to take a gander at my perfect baby, right?
He started pulling back on the crocheted blanket I had draped over her. And as her face became easier to see, I heard a lady behind me let out the typical "Awe," and I knew she was in on the peep show. I proudly declared that she was "one week old today." It was at that point I realized that he wasn't really looking at the baby at all, but at the blanket.
"Oh, my mom made that for her."
He nodded his head in affirmation. He said he could tell by the skill that it was hand made by someone who loved her. He said it's the colors that were chosen and the stitches that were sewn that tipped him off. His wife used to make things like that all the time, he said.
"I just lost my wife."
Suddenly all my cares about the shopping trip or the potential to have a screaming baby in the store completely dissipated. It didn't matter if my baby was one week old or five years old.
His eyes were glazed with a sad fondness. My expression must have given away more than I was intending because he quickly reassured me that it's a good memory and something great to be reminded of. His compliments to my mom.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
GKB Folder
I hate when I have hang-ups with God. I already know who's right and how it's going to end. I wish sometimes He would just hit me upside the head with some baseball bat of acceptance, replacing emotional turmoil with healing, physical pain. But He doesn't work that way. Boo.
It's been about a year now that I've been unable to put a certain issue to rest with God. It's something I was never personally faced with until then. For the most part, I had accepted it and tucked it away under the file "God knows best" (GKB) and moved on.
It resurfaced itself last weekend, and I was surprised at the amount of emotion and bitterness it pulled from my heart. Usually things in the GKB folder are safe and laid completely to rest. They're matters I've encountered, dealt with, and identified as being out of my control and simply in His hands. People can challenge my thinking, but if it's there, it's sealed.
Sometimes I wonder even, if I can credit myself with the gift of faith/trust because it comes so easily to me. I don't have trouble believing God will pull me through anything. I know my plans aren't His. I know that He knows (and wants) what's best for me. He's proven His love and trustworthiness to me over and over again. So even if I don't understand why or how things happen, why doubt? He's got my back.
This morning, while we were singing in church, I was reminded of another thing I wrestled Him on several years ago. I pined over it, but He continually told me to wait, rest, and trust Him. He never did give me an answer or a reason for His decline of my request. It too had been sorted into the GKB section of my life. And when it crossed my mind today, I became confused all over again, and asked the dangerous (and often un-answerable) question "Why?"
I began to think more about that GKB folder. How many things could I really fit into there without it tearing or bleeding out? Did I really trust Him?
Can I really trust Him?
Why would He hide things from me? I am His bride, His love. I have given my life to Him, and He gave His for me. Would He really just demand that I "suck it up" when I don't like what He's doing? As His beloved, that seems cruel.
While I was scanning these thoughts (and consequently crying like a child), they sang one of my favorite songs: "How He Loves." And nothing, no trace, of my mind doubts His enduring love for me. How can I believe so solidly in His love and yet deny its truth all in one breath of emotion? I'm still stumped.
Then I thought about how He's also my Father, which opens a completely new perspective. My 4-year-old doesn't necessarily deserve to know (nor would she understand) my reasons for every thing I do or don't allow. That concept resonates easily with me.
THEN I remembered that He's majestic and holy. And what business do I have demanding answers from Him? That concept always shuts me up.
Add to all that the grace He has extended to me. My friends, house, life, kids, health, marriage, talents, on and on. All that in addition to my forgiveness and eternity promised with Him?
"And all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory."
That is a line from "How He Loves." The song also talks about Him being a hurricane, and "I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy." It reminds me of the conversation Rodney and I had with our valet driver in Puerto Rico about the ocean being analogous with God's love-- always, constantly coming at us, leaving us powerless to stop it.
I wish I could say that today's encounter cured me of the big hang-up I'm shoveling through. That my mind and hurt have been super-naturally healed. In fact, facing these thoughts surfaced more issues that I have placed with trust into the GKB slot. I have a feeling that's the enemy though.
The funny part is that this was all throughout communion. The time in my life where I thoroughly and honestly search my heart for resentment or bitterness toward anyone. Never would I have thought He was the one I would need to hash things out with.
It was interesting to me to learn that while I'm His love, I'm also His daughter, and I'm also simply part of His total creation. It's almost like a trinity of my own existence. They're all part of me, but they serve different roles in my communication with God. Maybe the next leg of this journey is to see how they can and do all work together. We'll see what kind of blog post THAT turns out to be :)
It's been about a year now that I've been unable to put a certain issue to rest with God. It's something I was never personally faced with until then. For the most part, I had accepted it and tucked it away under the file "God knows best" (GKB) and moved on.
It resurfaced itself last weekend, and I was surprised at the amount of emotion and bitterness it pulled from my heart. Usually things in the GKB folder are safe and laid completely to rest. They're matters I've encountered, dealt with, and identified as being out of my control and simply in His hands. People can challenge my thinking, but if it's there, it's sealed.
Sometimes I wonder even, if I can credit myself with the gift of faith/trust because it comes so easily to me. I don't have trouble believing God will pull me through anything. I know my plans aren't His. I know that He knows (and wants) what's best for me. He's proven His love and trustworthiness to me over and over again. So even if I don't understand why or how things happen, why doubt? He's got my back.
This morning, while we were singing in church, I was reminded of another thing I wrestled Him on several years ago. I pined over it, but He continually told me to wait, rest, and trust Him. He never did give me an answer or a reason for His decline of my request. It too had been sorted into the GKB section of my life. And when it crossed my mind today, I became confused all over again, and asked the dangerous (and often un-answerable) question "Why?"
I began to think more about that GKB folder. How many things could I really fit into there without it tearing or bleeding out? Did I really trust Him?
Can I really trust Him?
Why would He hide things from me? I am His bride, His love. I have given my life to Him, and He gave His for me. Would He really just demand that I "suck it up" when I don't like what He's doing? As His beloved, that seems cruel.
While I was scanning these thoughts (and consequently crying like a child), they sang one of my favorite songs: "How He Loves." And nothing, no trace, of my mind doubts His enduring love for me. How can I believe so solidly in His love and yet deny its truth all in one breath of emotion? I'm still stumped.
Then I thought about how He's also my Father, which opens a completely new perspective. My 4-year-old doesn't necessarily deserve to know (nor would she understand) my reasons for every thing I do or don't allow. That concept resonates easily with me.
THEN I remembered that He's majestic and holy. And what business do I have demanding answers from Him? That concept always shuts me up.
Add to all that the grace He has extended to me. My friends, house, life, kids, health, marriage, talents, on and on. All that in addition to my forgiveness and eternity promised with Him?
"And all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory."
That is a line from "How He Loves." The song also talks about Him being a hurricane, and "I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy." It reminds me of the conversation Rodney and I had with our valet driver in Puerto Rico about the ocean being analogous with God's love-- always, constantly coming at us, leaving us powerless to stop it.
I wish I could say that today's encounter cured me of the big hang-up I'm shoveling through. That my mind and hurt have been super-naturally healed. In fact, facing these thoughts surfaced more issues that I have placed with trust into the GKB slot. I have a feeling that's the enemy though.
The funny part is that this was all throughout communion. The time in my life where I thoroughly and honestly search my heart for resentment or bitterness toward anyone. Never would I have thought He was the one I would need to hash things out with.
It was interesting to me to learn that while I'm His love, I'm also His daughter, and I'm also simply part of His total creation. It's almost like a trinity of my own existence. They're all part of me, but they serve different roles in my communication with God. Maybe the next leg of this journey is to see how they can and do all work together. We'll see what kind of blog post THAT turns out to be :)
Friday, April 1, 2011
April Fool's Blessing
April 1st. The nemesis of my happiness. The only day of the year that is intentionally set up to ruin peoples' day and make them feel stupid. And by "them" I'm referring to myself. I like being tricked, or "fooled," like a momma bear likes people messing with her cubs.
I do like seeing other people get it though. Like the year my sister-in-law handed a positive pregnancy test to my I'd-rather-cut-off-my-member-than-have-another-baby brother. *evil snicker* Or the year Google said they'd print off all our pictures for free with the "catch" of including ads on the back. Those stinkers.
Well I had an idea this year. I don't remember who came up with it, but it was several months ago, and I've been very excited to do it.
If you don't know, I'm due to have a baby tomorrow. I set my alarm to wake up at 2:30 this morning so I could post this on Facebook:
It's the ultimate "misplace your keys circumstance." Long story short, we didn't make it to the hospital. Baby was in a HURRY. And not a girl either! Healthy, hardy, Beck Hannity Holum was born at 1:12 am-- at home. We measure him at 23-1/4 inches. We're going to get some rest before heading to the clinic for weight and all that jazz. Please no phone calls for a bit :)
I even typed it up last night so all I would have to do is copy and paste it into my status and head back to bed. Did I mention I was excited? :)
But I laid in bed, restless. For one thing, I know how much I hate being duped. Secondly, have you ever heard the line from the movie Big Daddy, "We wasted the good 'surprise' on you!"?
In addition to that, I know my friends and family. And they're awesome. They'd be praying. They'd be planning meals. They would offer to help. They would look at sacrificially rearranging their schedules so my family could be cared for.
Around 1:30, I shut my alarm off.
God has put some incredible people in my life. I'm undeserving and selfish. Thank you all for sticking by me despite my quirks and junk :) I am SO very loved-- which isn't at all how I expected to feel on April Fool's day.
I do like seeing other people get it though. Like the year my sister-in-law handed a positive pregnancy test to my I'd-rather-cut-off-my-member-than-have-another-baby brother. *evil snicker* Or the year Google said they'd print off all our pictures for free with the "catch" of including ads on the back. Those stinkers.
Well I had an idea this year. I don't remember who came up with it, but it was several months ago, and I've been very excited to do it.
If you don't know, I'm due to have a baby tomorrow. I set my alarm to wake up at 2:30 this morning so I could post this on Facebook:
It's the ultimate "misplace your keys circumstance." Long story short, we didn't make it to the hospital. Baby was in a HURRY. And not a girl either! Healthy, hardy, Beck Hannity Holum was born at 1:12 am-- at home. We measure him at 23-1/4 inches. We're going to get some rest before heading to the clinic for weight and all that jazz. Please no phone calls for a bit :)
I even typed it up last night so all I would have to do is copy and paste it into my status and head back to bed. Did I mention I was excited? :)
But I laid in bed, restless. For one thing, I know how much I hate being duped. Secondly, have you ever heard the line from the movie Big Daddy, "We wasted the good 'surprise' on you!"?
In addition to that, I know my friends and family. And they're awesome. They'd be praying. They'd be planning meals. They would offer to help. They would look at sacrificially rearranging their schedules so my family could be cared for.
Around 1:30, I shut my alarm off.
God has put some incredible people in my life. I'm undeserving and selfish. Thank you all for sticking by me despite my quirks and junk :) I am SO very loved-- which isn't at all how I expected to feel on April Fool's day.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sunday Mornings
I live in "Central" time zone. That leaves me 6th from the end. When my clock displayed 12:00 to start today, part of the world had already been in this day for 18 hours.
I could go on a deep tangent about how people there have made mistakes today. Mistakes I could learn from and change my day to fix. A "turn your destiny" kind of thing. But it's irrelevant, and so I won't. But it's interesting. To me :)
Anyway, each day runs pretty much the same. By the time I start my job, other people have gone to work, come home, and are back in bed. Granted, some people are vacationing or traveling or at home sick. But for the most part, people are working the entire 24 hours-- somewhere. Yes, yes, there are factories and hospitals and 24-hour places just here in the US. It only adds to my point that people are constantly working.
I recently re-joined a church with a congregation around 1,000. I have thought many times about what it's like to sing with that kind of number and about the kind of glorified freight train-ish roar heaven will sound like. I've also considered how many other churches are full of people singing worshipful praise to our King at the same time.
I think about how that makes God smile. For Him to see us proclaiming the love we feel all week but keep to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I don't walk around my house saying "Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me." But to be able to say those words and reflect on His goodness and how undeserving I am of it is a healthy sort of searching. And declaring things aloud like "You're beautiful," or "I adore You," pushes me to channel further into my heart and immerse myself in truths I'm usually too busy overlooking. AND it's singing! In a quick search of just the words "music, song, sing, and instrument," over 400 references pop up. God LOVES music.
And God loves people. So put together His people making music just to thank Him for being Him (some peoples' singing may be a stretch to deem "music" to our ears :) ), and I really think we've got a good thing going Sunday morning.
Here's the kicker.
By the time I start work any given weekday, people around the globe have been working for 18 hours. So by the time I'm sitting in my first service Sunday morning at 8:30. . . people around the globe have been singing praise for 18 hours. Eighteen straight hours of praise to the King of Kings!!! People complimenting my Daddy :) And it continues for 6 more!
People in China risk sacrificing everything to meet together in secret for His Name and the spread of His love. What higher honor could we give our King?
It's like Father's Day every Sunday for Him.
So this Sunday, whether your alarm goes off or your kids jolt you from sleep or the dog drapes his leash across your face, try to wake up thinking about how God's day is going. Know that you have the opportunity to join in heaven's eternal song to Him and earth's one, ongoing day of praise.
I could go on a deep tangent about how people there have made mistakes today. Mistakes I could learn from and change my day to fix. A "turn your destiny" kind of thing. But it's irrelevant, and so I won't. But it's interesting. To me :)
Anyway, each day runs pretty much the same. By the time I start my job, other people have gone to work, come home, and are back in bed. Granted, some people are vacationing or traveling or at home sick. But for the most part, people are working the entire 24 hours-- somewhere. Yes, yes, there are factories and hospitals and 24-hour places just here in the US. It only adds to my point that people are constantly working.
I recently re-joined a church with a congregation around 1,000. I have thought many times about what it's like to sing with that kind of number and about the kind of glorified freight train-ish roar heaven will sound like. I've also considered how many other churches are full of people singing worshipful praise to our King at the same time.
I think about how that makes God smile. For Him to see us proclaiming the love we feel all week but keep to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I don't walk around my house saying "Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me." But to be able to say those words and reflect on His goodness and how undeserving I am of it is a healthy sort of searching. And declaring things aloud like "You're beautiful," or "I adore You," pushes me to channel further into my heart and immerse myself in truths I'm usually too busy overlooking. AND it's singing! In a quick search of just the words "music, song, sing, and instrument," over 400 references pop up. God LOVES music.
And God loves people. So put together His people making music just to thank Him for being Him (some peoples' singing may be a stretch to deem "music" to our ears :) ), and I really think we've got a good thing going Sunday morning.
Here's the kicker.
By the time I start work any given weekday, people around the globe have been working for 18 hours. So by the time I'm sitting in my first service Sunday morning at 8:30. . . people around the globe have been singing praise for 18 hours. Eighteen straight hours of praise to the King of Kings!!! People complimenting my Daddy :) And it continues for 6 more!
People in China risk sacrificing everything to meet together in secret for His Name and the spread of His love. What higher honor could we give our King?
It's like Father's Day every Sunday for Him.
So this Sunday, whether your alarm goes off or your kids jolt you from sleep or the dog drapes his leash across your face, try to wake up thinking about how God's day is going. Know that you have the opportunity to join in heaven's eternal song to Him and earth's one, ongoing day of praise.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Walking Amongst the Lampstands
This morning my quiet time brought me to Revelation chapter 1. To be honest, I was reluctant to read it. Revelation is a heavy book shrouded in mystery that cannot be decoded with any certainty. But I figured I would read it anyway. And guess what. At church this morning, the sermon was from Revelation chapter 1. So maybe I should be listening.
The author of Revelation is John. He was closest to Jesus' heart and ministry while He was here. Even so, when Jesus approached him to communicate the revelation, He was in His glorified form, and John couldn't handle it. Verse 17 says that John "fell at His feet as though dead" from fear.
Let me take this opportunity to point out that we take Him too lightly.
John describes what Jesus looks like, but also notes that He was "among the lampstands." This picture has a lot of Old Testament temple history behind it, but he tells us that the lampstands represent 7 churches. A few sentences later, we're told that the churches are represented by 7 stars as well.
We see light from lamps at night. We see light from stars at night. It is dark at night.
So where then should the church be shining? We get together once or twice a week and brightly illuminate each other in a big room. Is that why we're lit? Or could it be that we're to search out the darkness with intent to pour healing light over it? And do we need to find sinking abysses of darkness to be effective? Or could it be that the person in the cubicle beside you can't see her hand in front of her face? What about the haggard mom holding up the line at Wal-Mart?
That isn't to say that we shouldn't come together with other believers and "trim our wicks" or sharpen one another. God longs for us to have that kind of community and has even built into us a need for it. But the challenge is to step away once we've been filled and pull someone else up from their pit. What the heck, why not just climb into the pit with them to help? After all, even Jesus ate with "sinners." Maybe His followers should give it a shot. Myself included.
The author of Revelation is John. He was closest to Jesus' heart and ministry while He was here. Even so, when Jesus approached him to communicate the revelation, He was in His glorified form, and John couldn't handle it. Verse 17 says that John "fell at His feet as though dead" from fear.
Let me take this opportunity to point out that we take Him too lightly.
John describes what Jesus looks like, but also notes that He was "among the lampstands." This picture has a lot of Old Testament temple history behind it, but he tells us that the lampstands represent 7 churches. A few sentences later, we're told that the churches are represented by 7 stars as well.
We see light from lamps at night. We see light from stars at night. It is dark at night.
So where then should the church be shining? We get together once or twice a week and brightly illuminate each other in a big room. Is that why we're lit? Or could it be that we're to search out the darkness with intent to pour healing light over it? And do we need to find sinking abysses of darkness to be effective? Or could it be that the person in the cubicle beside you can't see her hand in front of her face? What about the haggard mom holding up the line at Wal-Mart?
That isn't to say that we shouldn't come together with other believers and "trim our wicks" or sharpen one another. God longs for us to have that kind of community and has even built into us a need for it. But the challenge is to step away once we've been filled and pull someone else up from their pit. What the heck, why not just climb into the pit with them to help? After all, even Jesus ate with "sinners." Maybe His followers should give it a shot. Myself included.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Happiest Man on Earth
Rodney and I are in Puerto Rico right now (which everyone knows RIGHT NOW, but won't if they ever look back to read this). We flew in last night and walked around the beach some. But we woke up this morning and both ran to the hotel window with Christmas morning passion to see the ocean in daylight.
We got ready and strolled down to breakfast and watched waves lick the sand while we casually ate our bagels and sipped Puerto Rican coffee.
At that point in the morning, neither of us felt ambitious enough to swim or do the touristy things we're looking forward to doing, but we still wanted to drink in some warm ocean air. So we decided to bask on the front steps of our hotel. He with his laptop, and me with my journal. We spent nearly 2 hours sitting on those steps.
Parking around San Juan is pretty sparse, so this hotel utilizes valet parking. The driver stands outside the building to help intercept patrons as they arrive. Since he was waiting out front, and we were sitting out front, our 2 hours of leisure activities were interspersed with conversation with him.
His English was really quite good, and he had one of the best, most optimistic attitudes I've ever encountered. He is the self-proclaimed "happiest man on earth." He said someone else could be as happy as him, but not happier.
He is in love with God and is excited to talk about it. He goes to ghettos and the jail and to where the drug dealers and prostitutes hang out to tell them about Jesus and about how there's a better life to be had. His voice broke at one point when describing how these people are caught and stuck and can't see their way out.
He told us that God knew what He was doing putting him in Puerto Rico. He's lived here his whole 56 years and loves the ocean and the sky. He told me that I need to write this analogy down and tell my kids:
The ocean is like God's love. It's vast and deep. Like His love, you can see where the ocean starts, but not where it ends. And like the waves effortlessly and constantly come into shore, His love is coming at us continually. We can't control it or add to it.
Rodney also pointed out that if you saw a guy carrying water from a lake to the ocean or pouring in the purest bottled water because he thought he could improve the ocean, you'd say he was crazy.
The general concept of that analogy isn't new to me. But it's something that he knows. Not just an idea. He has breathed it and truly known it throughout his life.
His passion shames me. He didn't know anything about us or our "religious" background, yet he unapologetically shared his love for the highly controversial God that he worshiped. He wasn't pushy or even bold, necessarily. He was as much like a giddy child as I imagine God would want us to be about Him.
He thanked God for crossing our paths and told us he was blessed to be talking with us. I told him he had that backwards :)
We got ready and strolled down to breakfast and watched waves lick the sand while we casually ate our bagels and sipped Puerto Rican coffee.
At that point in the morning, neither of us felt ambitious enough to swim or do the touristy things we're looking forward to doing, but we still wanted to drink in some warm ocean air. So we decided to bask on the front steps of our hotel. He with his laptop, and me with my journal. We spent nearly 2 hours sitting on those steps.
Parking around San Juan is pretty sparse, so this hotel utilizes valet parking. The driver stands outside the building to help intercept patrons as they arrive. Since he was waiting out front, and we were sitting out front, our 2 hours of leisure activities were interspersed with conversation with him.
His English was really quite good, and he had one of the best, most optimistic attitudes I've ever encountered. He is the self-proclaimed "happiest man on earth." He said someone else could be as happy as him, but not happier.
He is in love with God and is excited to talk about it. He goes to ghettos and the jail and to where the drug dealers and prostitutes hang out to tell them about Jesus and about how there's a better life to be had. His voice broke at one point when describing how these people are caught and stuck and can't see their way out.
He told us that God knew what He was doing putting him in Puerto Rico. He's lived here his whole 56 years and loves the ocean and the sky. He told me that I need to write this analogy down and tell my kids:
The ocean is like God's love. It's vast and deep. Like His love, you can see where the ocean starts, but not where it ends. And like the waves effortlessly and constantly come into shore, His love is coming at us continually. We can't control it or add to it.
Rodney also pointed out that if you saw a guy carrying water from a lake to the ocean or pouring in the purest bottled water because he thought he could improve the ocean, you'd say he was crazy.
The general concept of that analogy isn't new to me. But it's something that he knows. Not just an idea. He has breathed it and truly known it throughout his life.
His passion shames me. He didn't know anything about us or our "religious" background, yet he unapologetically shared his love for the highly controversial God that he worshiped. He wasn't pushy or even bold, necessarily. He was as much like a giddy child as I imagine God would want us to be about Him.
He thanked God for crossing our paths and told us he was blessed to be talking with us. I told him he had that backwards :)
Puerto Rico Facts and Stories
The temperature in Wisconsin this morning was -21. On the coast of the Atlantic, where I'm sitting now, it is 93. We woke up this morning at 7:00 to the blazing sun slicing through our white curtains like they were no more than cellophane.
I journaled this morning, and it was physically difficult write out the word "January" while sitting in the humid air, filled with the voices of birds and the swish of palm trees. I felt like I was lying to my own journal. I misspelled the word, in fact.
I have found it difficult to write about the beauty of this place because I'm so distracted by it that I can't focus on a paper page. I love being wowed by our Creator.
The people here are incredibly nice. We haven't engaged in conversation with locals just strolling around. Everyone we've met has been working at the places we patronize. But they're wonderful. Not rushed, but smiling and patient with our communication barriers. And they're not slow by any means either. It's as if we're authentically guests everywhere we go.
Despite the kindness we've encountered, properties are walled off with razor-wire-topped cement, often 8 feet tall. The area is also laced with a STRONG police presence. We've traveled around the US a lot, and we have never seen so many emergency vehicles or heard such a stream of sirens.
I asked someone about it, and he credited drugs. He said that when he was a boy growing up here, people would sleep with their doors and windows open and think nothing of it. He mentioned that he could leave his bike outside and it would stay there. But once drugs move in, they bring out a whole new group of people. People to deal them, people to use them, and people to commit crimes to get them.
On a lighter note, when we first came into town, we passed a place called "Steak and Sushi." Rodney commented that it sounded good, and my CFO-of-the-trip brain said it sounded expensive.
Last night, about 9:00 local, we decided to go out walking in search of food. I had forgotten about the place by then, but he walked us straight to it. I knew that if I said "No," he would hound me all week. So why not get it out of the way?
First off, there were no forks or knives. That turned out to be okay, because there was no steak-- or beef of any kind. Instead, we were given menus filled, front and back, with sushi. Everything from spicy crab or tuna to octopus and even spider sushi. I managed to find a non-seafood avocado salad. An avocado is $1, and my salad was $8, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. But i really like raw avocado, and it seemed like a better option than $15 sushi I would hate.
Off subject, everyone here only serves bottled water. I was a little concerned, but after talking to someone who spoke English well enough to ask, I learned that Puerto Rico's drinking water is indeed safe. So now you know.
Our food came quickly, and Rodney got down to business with his sushi. My bowl of lettuce and avocados DOUSED in teriyaki waited for me to try outsmarting the tiny wooden sticks in my hand. I think I cut years off the non-arthritic life of my hands trying to eat my distasteful, small, overpriced salad that I didn't even finish.
We walked from there to a Taco Bell where we were preceded in line by a pile of drunk, American teenagers-- maybe college age. They were trying to be funny, but in so doing, I think they insulted the sweet kid behind the register. Their ring leader then noticed the kid wearing plastic bags over his shoes and asked why. His English was poor, so he simply pointed to the kitchen floor and tugged up on the legs of his pants in a gesture one would make if walking through muck. None of us completely understood, so he bent down and slipped off one of the Taco Bell bags to reveal the crisp, black Pumas he was protecting form kitchen gunk. The Americans let out a simultaneous, universal "Ahhh" of understanding. We later snapped a picture of the bagged cashier. It was pretty funny-looking :)
I recommend getting a GPS with your rental car, if you visit this paradise. I have never seen people drive like they do here. It's still on the right side of the road, like home, but the understood rules are just a little different. For instance, when turning left, it is common to see people pull out and completely block all traffic while waiting for the far lane to open up. Also, windy roads have dashed lines. And people pass cars without visibility of more than a car-length ahead. Add to these types of changes the fact that you don't have a clue where you're going or what the signs say/mean, there are no exit numbers or road signs, and a GPS becomes what we might call useful.
Restaurants around here are primarily outdoors, and they cook with wood.
San Juan has never been above 100 degrees or below 65. A few weeks ago, a "cold front" came through, angering the ocean and knocking the temps down to 75. The guy we talked to said that was considered "cold" around here.
We were told about ferries that you can pay $3 and ride to the Virgin Islands.
The rain forest is nice, but it requires lots of hiking up and down, so at 30 weeks pregnant, we will need to let that wait for a future trip.
There is snorkeling, jet skiing, bioluminescent cave exploring, parasailing, kayaking, and so many many other things to do here. We do not have enough time to do or see the things we want to. This is a place I would recommend to anyone-- but plan for more than 4 days :)
I journaled this morning, and it was physically difficult write out the word "January" while sitting in the humid air, filled with the voices of birds and the swish of palm trees. I felt like I was lying to my own journal. I misspelled the word, in fact.
I have found it difficult to write about the beauty of this place because I'm so distracted by it that I can't focus on a paper page. I love being wowed by our Creator.
The people here are incredibly nice. We haven't engaged in conversation with locals just strolling around. Everyone we've met has been working at the places we patronize. But they're wonderful. Not rushed, but smiling and patient with our communication barriers. And they're not slow by any means either. It's as if we're authentically guests everywhere we go.
Despite the kindness we've encountered, properties are walled off with razor-wire-topped cement, often 8 feet tall. The area is also laced with a STRONG police presence. We've traveled around the US a lot, and we have never seen so many emergency vehicles or heard such a stream of sirens.
I asked someone about it, and he credited drugs. He said that when he was a boy growing up here, people would sleep with their doors and windows open and think nothing of it. He mentioned that he could leave his bike outside and it would stay there. But once drugs move in, they bring out a whole new group of people. People to deal them, people to use them, and people to commit crimes to get them.
On a lighter note, when we first came into town, we passed a place called "Steak and Sushi." Rodney commented that it sounded good, and my CFO-of-the-trip brain said it sounded expensive.
Last night, about 9:00 local, we decided to go out walking in search of food. I had forgotten about the place by then, but he walked us straight to it. I knew that if I said "No," he would hound me all week. So why not get it out of the way?
First off, there were no forks or knives. That turned out to be okay, because there was no steak-- or beef of any kind. Instead, we were given menus filled, front and back, with sushi. Everything from spicy crab or tuna to octopus and even spider sushi. I managed to find a non-seafood avocado salad. An avocado is $1, and my salad was $8, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. But i really like raw avocado, and it seemed like a better option than $15 sushi I would hate.
Off subject, everyone here only serves bottled water. I was a little concerned, but after talking to someone who spoke English well enough to ask, I learned that Puerto Rico's drinking water is indeed safe. So now you know.
Our food came quickly, and Rodney got down to business with his sushi. My bowl of lettuce and avocados DOUSED in teriyaki waited for me to try outsmarting the tiny wooden sticks in my hand. I think I cut years off the non-arthritic life of my hands trying to eat my distasteful, small, overpriced salad that I didn't even finish.
We walked from there to a Taco Bell where we were preceded in line by a pile of drunk, American teenagers-- maybe college age. They were trying to be funny, but in so doing, I think they insulted the sweet kid behind the register. Their ring leader then noticed the kid wearing plastic bags over his shoes and asked why. His English was poor, so he simply pointed to the kitchen floor and tugged up on the legs of his pants in a gesture one would make if walking through muck. None of us completely understood, so he bent down and slipped off one of the Taco Bell bags to reveal the crisp, black Pumas he was protecting form kitchen gunk. The Americans let out a simultaneous, universal "Ahhh" of understanding. We later snapped a picture of the bagged cashier. It was pretty funny-looking :)
I recommend getting a GPS with your rental car, if you visit this paradise. I have never seen people drive like they do here. It's still on the right side of the road, like home, but the understood rules are just a little different. For instance, when turning left, it is common to see people pull out and completely block all traffic while waiting for the far lane to open up. Also, windy roads have dashed lines. And people pass cars without visibility of more than a car-length ahead. Add to these types of changes the fact that you don't have a clue where you're going or what the signs say/mean, there are no exit numbers or road signs, and a GPS becomes what we might call useful.
Restaurants around here are primarily outdoors, and they cook with wood.
San Juan has never been above 100 degrees or below 65. A few weeks ago, a "cold front" came through, angering the ocean and knocking the temps down to 75. The guy we talked to said that was considered "cold" around here.
We were told about ferries that you can pay $3 and ride to the Virgin Islands.
The rain forest is nice, but it requires lots of hiking up and down, so at 30 weeks pregnant, we will need to let that wait for a future trip.
There is snorkeling, jet skiing, bioluminescent cave exploring, parasailing, kayaking, and so many many other things to do here. We do not have enough time to do or see the things we want to. This is a place I would recommend to anyone-- but plan for more than 4 days :)
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