Coming away in a boat

  • Going off on the big cruise. I don’t so much want to get away. I want to come away.

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    The apos­tles gath­ered together with Jesus; and they reported to Him all that they had done and taught.

    And He said to them, “Come away by your­selves to a secluded place and rest a while.” (For there were many peo­ple com­ing and going, and they did not even have time to eat.)

    They went away in the boat to a secluded place by them­selves. (Mark 6:30–32).

    On Wednes­day night, I was up till 3 fin­ish­ing my work. On Thurs­day night I was up till 1:30 with the last of the pack­ing, clean­ing and the myr­iad chores that accom­pany a big trip.

    Four hours after I fell into bed, I got up again, pulled myself together as best I could, and we left on the series of flights to bring us here to Dublin. So busy, so infer­nally busy on the days get­ting ready for this big trip. The cab­bie who picked us up after we’d col­lected bags and gone through cus­toms was sympathetic.

    He asked how long it took us to get there, and when he found out it had been about 18 hours, includ­ing stopovers and shut­tles, made an impressed grunt. “So yuzz are fairly knack­ered then?”

    And so we are. It’s not the travel, though that has taken its toll. It’s all the days and months lead­ing up to it. Greg and I have got­ten so busy with the new busi­ness and all the other respon­si­bil­i­ties that there never seems like any time for any­thing. Not for prayer, not for eating.

    And so I’ve been think­ing about the verses from Mark. It may be ridicu­lous to think that a cruise ship can have the same viv­i­fy­ing effect of a quiet fish­ing boat, but it’s what I’ve got to work with. I’m hop­ing that this cruise will help me hit the reset but­ton. Like Martha, I have been anx­ious about many things. I want to come away, to go where the high-pitched lit­tle demands of life can’t find me for a while.

    There are other things I want to get out of this trip. Because I just can’t turn off my Cul­ture Watcher side, I’m curi­ous to see what things feel like in “post-Christian” Europe. But that’s just a sort of side dish. The main thing is to shed my fatigue. That’s what I’m hop­ing for.

    And by the way, I can say that tonight’s din­ner brought me one step closer, in a lit­tle way. Good Irish tea with the RIGHT amount of milk and sugar.
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    Ahh­h­hhh…


    Related posts:

    1. BTW, my boat’s not on fire
    2. Chicken Lit­tle says: The flu is com­ing! The flu is com­ing! (cough, cough)
    3. Cruis­ing: But then again …
    4. Death and vacations
    5. Back “out­side”

    May 23rd, 2009 | Grace | 3 Comments |

3 Responses and Counting...

  • Word­mama 05.23.2009

    I am glad I was not born before there was tea.
    – Rev­erend Sid­ney Smith

  • Grace

    Amen and amen.

  • Grace

    Actu­ally, a bet­ter rejoin­der would be this sen­ti­ment, which I saw in a teashop in north­ern Eng­land: Plead tem­po­rary insan­ity, sit down and have a pot of tea.

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