What’s Brewing – Reflections from Spain #1
As Bud and I have just returned from our trip to Rota, Spain, the next few weeks of blogs will reflect the beauty of being there. Because, sometimes what we remember most is not the picture perfect postcards, but the imprint of story.
The flight was short, and the tickets were cheap, so Bud and I headed for our seats one row apart from each other. It didn’t matter. We were leaving Germany and on our way to Spain. As I strapped myself in I said a quick hello to the plump little man next to me. Then I did what I always do before a plane takes off; I scanned the empty seats around me picking out the one I’d rather be in should no one care to claim it. Just before the doors closed a very old man carefully lowered his skeletal frame into the seat I hoped would be mine. And there I was; a woman stuck between two men.
I don’t know why I feel indignant about such things. Pettiness doesn’t become me. Then the moment of reckoning. The plump little man next to me held both ends of his seatbelt in his shaking hands struggling unsuccessfully to connect them. Frustration burned through his shame. I patted his arm and motioned to him with a gesture that crossed all language barriers. He surrendered the buckle to me and allowed me strap him in. With my hands closer to his hips than I wanted to be, we ceased to be strangers on a plane.
Twenty minutes later the flight attendants pushed their clunky carts down the aisle and handed us our lunches. I looked over the tray of mini-sized foods, all sealed in cellophane, and pulled open the little pouch that held my tiny sandwich. Before I could take a bite I noticed the old man across the isle from me. His nimble fingers were barely able to hold his sandwich let alone open it. The helpless expression on his face told a story too painful to read. I patted his arm and motioned to him with a gesture that crossed all language barriers. He flashed a grateful smile as I handed him his sandwich. I was surely sitting in a very good place.
There is a language that speaks louder than words. It’s the language that springs up from the heart of God and flows through us like clear running water on a hot day, giving cups of compassion to needy souls in unexpected places. As our bodies shrivel and die, when we feel alone with nothing but memories of who we used to be, His language reminds us that the person in the body is greater than its frame. Created for His pleasure. Built to last beyond the dust of death.
And every once in a while He hands a cup of Living Water to us and says, “I have a friend I want you to meet and message I want you to deliver. Just say yes and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Yes. And so began our trip to Spain. More later.
Love and joy, Sandy.
What’s Brewing – Reflections from Spain #1 was first posted on September 20, 2014 at 8:11 am.
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