It was a time for a friend to speak things into my life, and some of those things were difficult to hear. It seems funny that I would need to drive 700 miles south to learn and hear some things that were essential for me to know as Phoenix. Mixed into the frustration of my shattered hike is also the awareness that each event of the summer has been a piece of the whole picture of what this journey is about.
August 10, 2010
What was originally planned as breakfast ended up being lunch, and the fault was mine. I am the lifetime early riser, the man who can't stay still to "sleep in", even on a quiet day off. This morning I woke up at my normal 5:30 am, spent a few moments in prayer and giving thanks for good friends and a good nights sleep. Since the house was still quiet, I lay my head back on the pillow and tried to stay silent so I wouldn't disturb my hosts. The next thing I knew it was 9:30!
Since we had spent yesterday exploring the Greek community around Tampa Bay, Bruce and Lina picked this morning to help me discover the Cuban culture of the area and sample some of their authentic foods. We ended up eating lunch at a famous place on the main street of Ybar, a Cuban community in the greater Tampa/St. Petersburg area. We feasted on sandwiches made with Cuban bread, supplemented with Stuffed Potatoes (a deep fried mashed potatoes coating that surrounds a mixture of ground meat and spices rolled into a giant ball), and some kind of giant spicy crab cake. We then drove around an area that once was the home for over 200 cigar factories, all producing hand made Cuban cigars. The workers would sit for hours at long tables wrapping and pressing cigars while someone sat in an elevated chair reading out loud to them from a newspaper to keep them awake, focused, and informed. Today the factories are turned into offices and community centers, but the culture and climate of the neighborhoods remain the same.
Today was the day that pulled this part of the trip together. Bruce and I may not have spent a lot of time together over the long years since school, but our bond of respect and friendship has only been strengthened with the passing of years. We spent the afternoon and late into the night driving around Tampa sharing music, memories, and ministry. It was a time for a friend to speak things into my life, and some of those things were difficult to hear. It seems funny that I would need to drive 700 miles south to learn and hear some things that were essential for me to know as Phoenix. Mixed into the frustration of my shattered hike is also the awareness that each event of the summer has been a piece of the whole picture of what this journey is about. The lessons of today could only have come from another minister who had walked the path and earned the right to speak into my life. It involved the difficult challenge of how to handle and dispose of the old ashes we have risen from and how to take the ashes of our past and turn them into the story and testimony of today.
There is one other thing that I need to share. My hike is not over! I guess I have known that for these last weeks, but wasn't able to face it completely. I knew that I felt unsettled and didn't like to think of ending my journey by the side of the trail sick and exhausted. It also seemed that the purpose of the hike was not yet completed. I know that I cannot hope to finish the entire trail at this point. In practical terms, my resources may only allow me a short period of time to find that completion. As someone told me; it's about time to shave the beard, buy some clothes, get my head together, and get a job.
Right now, there doesn't seem to be a job. I believe that's partially because it's not the right time yet. When the journey is ready to end, there will be more direction and provision waiting, I am sure. Until then, I will be spending these next few weeks getting myself back into condition to hike, turning some additional basement treasures into cash, and picking up some extra funds through several short term offers for work I have received. When the temperatures drop with the changing season, I will be ready to hike once again. Somehow I believe that I will still cross the river into Harpers Ferry with my Dad and Highlander right there with me.
(One of the pictures I am posting is of Bruce and I wearing our "Gob Hats". These vintage hats go back to the Vietnam war days and were used for everything, including carrying water. Bruce has kept two of these treasures, and has invested his spare one into my safe keeping as I move on. I am deeply grateful for not only the hat, but the many acts of kindness and love that he and Lina poured out upon me these past few days.)
What was originally planned as breakfast ended up being lunch, and the fault was mine. I am the lifetime early riser, the man who can't stay still to "sleep in", even on a quiet day off. This morning I woke up at my normal 5:30 am, spent a few moments in prayer and giving thanks for good friends and a good nights sleep. Since the house was still quiet, I lay my head back on the pillow and tried to stay silent so I wouldn't disturb my hosts. The next thing I knew it was 9:30!
Since we had spent yesterday exploring the Greek community around Tampa Bay, Bruce and Lina picked this morning to help me discover the Cuban culture of the area and sample some of their authentic foods. We ended up eating lunch at a famous place on the main street of Ybar, a Cuban community in the greater Tampa/St. Petersburg area. We feasted on sandwiches made with Cuban bread, supplemented with Stuffed Potatoes (a deep fried mashed potatoes coating that surrounds a mixture of ground meat and spices rolled into a giant ball), and some kind of giant spicy crab cake. We then drove around an area that once was the home for over 200 cigar factories, all producing hand made Cuban cigars. The workers would sit for hours at long tables wrapping and pressing cigars while someone sat in an elevated chair reading out loud to them from a newspaper to keep them awake, focused, and informed. Today the factories are turned into offices and community centers, but the culture and climate of the neighborhoods remain the same.
Today was the day that pulled this part of the trip together. Bruce and I may not have spent a lot of time together over the long years since school, but our bond of respect and friendship has only been strengthened with the passing of years. We spent the afternoon and late into the night driving around Tampa sharing music, memories, and ministry. It was a time for a friend to speak things into my life, and some of those things were difficult to hear. It seems funny that I would need to drive 700 miles south to learn and hear some things that were essential for me to know as Phoenix. Mixed into the frustration of my shattered hike is also the awareness that each event of the summer has been a piece of the whole picture of what this journey is about. The lessons of today could only have come from another minister who had walked the path and earned the right to speak into my life. It involved the difficult challenge of how to handle and dispose of the old ashes we have risen from and how to take the ashes of our past and turn them into the story and testimony of today.
There is one other thing that I need to share. My hike is not over! I guess I have known that for these last weeks, but wasn't able to face it completely. I knew that I felt unsettled and didn't like to think of ending my journey by the side of the trail sick and exhausted. It also seemed that the purpose of the hike was not yet completed. I know that I cannot hope to finish the entire trail at this point. In practical terms, my resources may only allow me a short period of time to find that completion. As someone told me; it's about time to shave the beard, buy some clothes, get my head together, and get a job.
Right now, there doesn't seem to be a job. I believe that's partially because it's not the right time yet. When the journey is ready to end, there will be more direction and provision waiting, I am sure. Until then, I will be spending these next few weeks getting myself back into condition to hike, turning some additional basement treasures into cash, and picking up some extra funds through several short term offers for work I have received. When the temperatures drop with the changing season, I will be ready to hike once again. Somehow I believe that I will still cross the river into Harpers Ferry with my Dad and Highlander right there with me.
(One of the pictures I am posting is of Bruce and I wearing our "Gob Hats". These vintage hats go back to the Vietnam war days and were used for everything, including carrying water. Bruce has kept two of these treasures, and has invested his spare one into my safe keeping as I move on. I am deeply grateful for not only the hat, but the many acts of kindness and love that he and Lina poured out upon me these past few days.)
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