Recently we were asked the question, “Where would you
vacation for one week that would give rest to your soul?” My answer was to sit by the ocean. Phil’s was to go to the jungle. Phil and I smiled at each other because the
third week in August, that is just what we did.
And since I didn’t take any pictures, and Phil hardly ever blogs, the
words in this blog describe my experience and the pictures describe Phil’s. Hopefully, it doesn't feel confusing as you see and read about contrasting experiences simultaneously. You will most certainly get the idea that our souls find rest
in very different places. J
Phil went on an exploratory jungle adventure, something he
had dreamed of doing for years. Because
he is such an amazing friend, he decided that his getaway would be even better
if he knew I was enjoying a getaway as well.
When Phil and I first talked about the possibility of me doing this, it
sounded heavenly. An entire week to
rest, read, reflect, pray, sit by the ocean, and not take care of anyone? So Phil asked our friends and family (our
daughter-in-law’s parents) if I could stay in their little condo near the beach
in Tonsupa. Phil would drive me there the
day before he left on his jungle adventure and then he would pick me up when he
got back to Quito. About a five to six
hour trip each way. That’s true love!
Seven days is the longest I have been alone in what, maybe
thirty years? When Phil was getting
ready to leave me and head back to Quito, I had a moment of panic. Trying to act like I didn’t mean it, I said, “Ummm…Don’t
leave me!”
Soon after he started his way
back to Quito he got worried and called from his cell, “Were you serious? Because I will cancel my trip, and we could have a great time spending the week together at the beach.” I
told him that I was only half serious. This would be good for me....
And I most
definitely wanted him to experience his jungle adventure with Rani Borman, a
friend and fellow MK who grew up in the jungle!
Well, it took me a good three days plus to get myself
oriented. At first the fridge didn’t
work, and I had to walk several blocks to purchase ice. The gas stove didn’t work, so I had to ask
the guard for help. And there was no
internet. That actually could be a good
thing for solo time, but it freaked me out.
The day before I had spent five hours hanging out via Skype with our
girls and our son Tully during Tully’s pre knee surgery and post surgery. I know that in reality I couldn’t really
support them from another continent, but somehow not being able to talk and
encourage by phone or Skype felt like I was downright abandoning them. How could I possibly relax on the beach when
they needed me?!
Phil and I had searched for an internet café in the coastal town
before he left, but the only place we found was tiny, hot, noisy, and filled
with adolescent boys playing video games.
I could hardly understand what Chelsea or Tully were saying that day
when we called. I told myself that
surely I would find a better place that was closer to the condo…I never did,
and I was thankful we had found the one.
After spending five dollars my first day on a short, spotty international
phone call, the $1 per hour internet access was a steal. My problem was figuring out how to use the
beaten up Spanish keyboard. I spent five
minutes of dripping sweat just trying to find the @ key. I nearly interrupted the ten year old next
to me playing his video game, but it looked like an intense moment for him. The connection was also very slow, just like
life is slow on the coast. By the end of
seven days, I started to get the hang of it all and enjoyed the slower pace.
Not having a car, I thought it would be great to have a bike
to ride. No matter that it had been
years since I spent any time on one. We
brought my bicycle, the one I had never ridden, a $35 dollar bargain from
missionary friends. It was soon obvious
to me that there were no other 50 plus foreigners riding a bike. In fact, I didn’t see any other foreigners
the entire week, and NO other ladies riding bicycles.
On the first morning I was excited to get some exercise and
decided to ride on the beach to the point away from all the people. A young man told me, “Don’t go further. It is dangerous.” I took his voice as a warning from God to
avoid being robbed of my tiny backpack and immediately turned around to ride
the beach back into Tonsupa. After my
grand adventure on day one of riding for an hour and then carrying a five liter
container of water I had purchased on my back, I couldn’t ride for three
days. Who invented such a tiny, hard
seat??
The main road into Tonsupa was busy, full of cars, people,
motorcycles and taxi motorcycles. I
tried using the standard arm and hand signals to warn traffic when I was
turning or slowing down. But I am not
sure anyone else had learned those signals.
At least my arm sticking out let them see me…and probably wonder what I was doing.
Once hearing a lot of commotion, I stopped to look back and was horrified
to see that a large dog had been hit by a car.
I decided to keep using my hand motions.
Staying alone made me cautious about getting food poisoning
or dysentery from beach food, experiencing a sting ray puncture wound or jelly
fish stings, being robbed or getting into a bike wreck. It took me several days of being on the beach
to brave purchasing fresh squeezed orange juice and fruit. I was all the more cautious because one
adolescent boy stood and picked his nose while holding the cut watermelon he
was selling. Another vendor tipped over
one of the plastic fruit cups he was carrying on a tray, caught most of the
fruit in his armpit, put the fruit back into the cup and walked on his merry
way.
It took until day five for me to
decide that if all the people I saw swimming in the ocean hadn’t complained of
jelly fish stings, I could probably join them.
The ocean was delightful and refreshing.
By Friday night I was very ready for Phil to return. I began to worry when he didn’t call because
he was supposed to be back in cell phone range.
I finally went to sleep praying for him with the cell phone lying next to
me. I was relieved to hear his voice the
following day and disappointed to hear that car trouble would delay him from
getting to Quito until late Saturday evening.
It was a sweet surprise and reunion when he arrived at 9:00 AM Sunday
morning after sleeping only a few short hours.
We ate breakfast at little beach restaurant, walked holding hands along
the shore, and shared stories. Solitude. A beautiful
gift to the soul. I would definitely do
it again. But I have to admit, life is
also fun when it is shared.
Final reflections…Somehow having a whole week alone seemed
like I should be amazingly fruitful, that I should become more spiritual and
grow in my ability to be an intercessor.
What really happened is that I eventually had some sweet moments with
God, but first it took lots of just being, sitting, walking, reading and even
sleeping.
God was patient to sit or
walk or read with me until my mind and heart was quiet and ready to hear His
voice in the fragrant breeze, see His power in the waves, take joy in His image
displayed in others, and sense His love for me when I did nothing more than sit
in His presence and be with Him. Just
be.
Be still and know that I am God...
