My body often moves to a rhythm that's very different than the ones that others around me have. Now I'm in a completely different time zone, to make this all more interesting.
On Saturday we got up very early to go to the airport to do the big family trip that we do every so often, this time to Hawaii. What made this time less stressful is that we all went on the same plane: no worries about one of us missing a connecting flight or being significantly later than planned. No, instead we could all sit on the plane for 3 hours at the gate, waiting to take off.
It could have been worse. When I looked across the airport to the crew that was sitting near my family, one of the crew members was stretched out on the floor, having a medical emergency. I thought that might be the quick end to our trip, but another crew member was able to come, and eventually our plane got fuel (the pilot said the refueling apparatus on one side of the airport wasn't working at all), and eventually, after a flight that was over 11 hours, we landed.
This year, my spouse and I no longer live in the tropics of South Florida, so a tropical locale for a family trip is even more appreciated, especially by my spouse who has been longing for sun and warmth. This week, the weather here will be perfect for him.
I am thrilled to be at a week where I can concentrate on reading for pleasure. I read much of Chris Bohjalian's new novel, The Lioness, yesterday. That man knows how to tell a good story; in fact, I've never been disappointed in one of his many books.
The characters in The Lionness are in the Serengeti, deep in the heart of Africa, and I am half a world away from my home base, where things are so familiar (we've been to this island and this resort once before, and Kauai earlier) and yet so different. Yesterday my spouse's clock was off too, and we went for a walk at 4:30, local time. I'm pretty sure we saw the Southern Cross yesterday. I was puzzled, because it looked sort of like the Big Dipper, but it was off. I will likely walk every morning in the hope of seeing it again.
As we drove away from the Honolulu airport on Saturday, I saw the interesting shadows made by the sun over the verdant mountain ranges and a bit later, the fiery red sunset. Yesterday I watched the clouds rolling over the mountains, changing their shape each hour (both the shape of the clouds and the mountains). It's really different than the Florida coastline or the North Carolina mountain ranges. When I'm on the other side of the world, my home side, I forget how gorgeous this Hawaii landscape is.
I think of how the trip feels so arduous, and I think of all the people in past centuries making trips far more arduous than mine to get here (or to stumble upon the place). As I sat for over half a day on a plane, I thought about how future generations might see this plane and shake their heads at how we trusted our lives to such a slender vessel--much the way I do, when I look at those early boats that made it across a vast ocean.
We left a Christmas climate of severe cold to come here, but Christmas found us here. We listened to part of the Christmas Day service at the National Cathedral, yes, from the city (DC) we just left. The music and the sermon were so wonderful (go here to watch for yourself). Throughout the day, people at the resort wore festive clothes and hats, and we ordered Christmas themed cocktails. We created a Christmas tree out of a piece of green cloth and a paper star on top--I'll create a post with pictures later. It was a delightful Christmas. But I'm a Christmas person, so I always find Christmas a delight, even when it's mixed with some sadness.
It's interesting, approaching the Advent and Christmas season with a bit more knowledge from seminary. I understand many of the reasons why the earliest church focused on the resurrection. I am distressed with the ways that the Church through the centuries has focused on the cross. I mourn the lost opportunities that we could have been a Christmas people instead of an Easter people. Life out of death as our Easter message--is that more powerful than the Christmas message of God made flesh, born to walk here with us? I could say more, and I probably will, but not today.
Today, let me wander outside to see if I can locate myself in relation to the Southern Cross--and in relation to all sorts of mysteries greater than myself.
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