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The coolest place I have ever been to was a village called St. Denys in Guyana.  This was nestled in the interior of the country, right smack dab in the middle of the jungle.  I went here to do some HIV/AIDS development work and it was definitely the experience of a lifetime.  It was a rough lifestyle compared to our western standards of living.  For example, there was no shower, no toilet, and no electricity.  Bathing was done in the local creek, where people also went to the bathroom, and did their laundry.  The mosquitoes were horrendous; I believe I have scars on me that will last a lifetime.  And oh yes, we had tarantulas on our ceilings that were pets.  A scary concept for some, but for us, we just got used to it.  So after that description, what made this the coolest place I have ever been to?  It was the challenge—pushing myself to the limit and doing things I didn’t believe I can handle.  St. Denys was such a cool place because it taught me more than I ever knew about myself.

What’s new with me?  Well basically, at this moment, I could pee my pants.  Why you might ask?  Well I recently started a new job a month ago working as an administrative assistant, and well, today, I am nervous.  This is because it is the first time that my boss has asked me to come into his office to discuss some work he would like me to complete.  I know what you are thinking, it doesn’t sound that bad.  And in reality, it probably won’t be that bad.  I mean, it’s not even as though my boss is this horrible creature.  He might be a little bit bipolar—but so far, I haven’t had to suffer his wrath.  But the anxiety I feel right now is a little too much to bear.  A billion thoughts are running through my mind.  Will it be awkward?  What will the rapport be like?  Am I to try to make conversation about other topics as well?  How am I going to exude confidence and professionalism?  Wish me luck folks, wish me luck.

Sometimes I pause in wonder, and many, many things give me pause.  One imaginary trip I take is with a piece of food – my favorite is a fruit like an orange or a banana.  I just hold it and look at it, and I wonder who many hands have held or transported it, and how many times, beginning with the moment it was picked – by hand or by machine.  Just at my own end, I picked it up in the grocery store, put it in the basket, took it out of the basket and put it on the cash register conveyor.  The clerk picked it up, scanned weighed or priced it and put it at the other end of the counter where the bagger picked it up, put it in the bag and put the bag in the cart.  Then I put the bag into my truck.  Then I took it out of my truck and into my house, where my aunt took it out of the bag and put it on the counter.  Then I picked it up again, put it in my lunch and put that back in the truck – and I took it out again, brought it to lunch, put it down, and finally ate it.  Imagine what all happened to that orange or banana BEFORE I met it!

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This was the last book I read and it was exquisite!  I do not normally like books written as a collection of notes and letters, but this one was just perfect.  Understanding the personalized history of the German occupation of Guernsey during WWII was a great benefit of reading this otherwise marvelous and witty account.  This is literary people-watching at its most skillful, for the reader feels for each character and gets to know them.  The plot and story are woven of a tapestry of daily life in extraordinary circumstances.  The romantic outcome is exactly as it should be, so that the book is very satisfying all the way around.

I do not know the names of the best things I ever ate, but I know where and when I ate them – and I know that telling about them will demonstrate all too well that I have a sweet tooth and a love for carbohydrates.  One of the things was some kind of dark chocolate confection that was shaped like a ball about the size of one used to play Lacrosse.  I had gone off on my own (not so smart) when I was spending a week in Rome, and had wandered in to a cafeteria-style restaurant where no English was spoken.  I pointed to pasta and maybe a side dish, and to the ball of chocolate.  I have no idea what was so different and so good about that cakey, velvety dark brown ball but that was thirty years ago and I can still close my eyes and taste it.  The other, somewhat similar, taste experience was a casserole in Istanbul, also in a cafeteria where (this time with a group – smarter) we pointed to things we wanted.  We went there several times and each time I ordered a larger serving of it.  I do not know what it was.

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My daily schedule is insane!  It is never the same two days in a row, and it often doesn’t go according to plan.  The constants are taking my dogs out nearly as soon as I wake up and right before going to bed at night.  I spend an awful lot of time here at my computer both for work and for pleasure.  Sometimes I attend meetings, sometimes I have serious visits with the sick or the dying, and sometimes I am out looking for small gifts to hand out at a major holiday.  I might be studying, reading, phoning, writing or creating a presentation at any given moment.  I have never learned to go to bed when I am tired, and consequently morning makes me grumpy: I go from there.

The Evangelist, Billy Graham has been one of my heroes since childhood.  He has faded now from the public spotlight given his fragile health and the loss of his wife back a while.  I do not even know whether President Obama has met him, and if not he is the first President in many decades not to have Mr. Graham’s counsel and confidence.  He has always served with enormous integrity, commitment, and devotion to the Gospel.  He has never been caught up in scandals over sex, power or money.  He has worked tirelessly for the good of the world Christ came to save.  I would love to shake his hand and to say thank you to him.

I am an Episcopal priest, and have been in my present church since 1988.  It is hard, though, to call this a “job” and it is nearly impossible to count the hours of working.  Sometimes I have to count the time because I am compensated for half time and that supposedly means 20 hours per week.  But I will never get used to the idea of being paid to worship, to listen to people, to be with them in their darkest and saddest hours as well as in their greatest celebrations.  So yes, I like my job, but don’t ever try too hard to get me to tell you exactly what it is or how much time it takes.