It was hot. Our electricity was out and the temperature in my room was a stifling 89.8 degrees. I had purposefully exited at around 86.4 because anything beyond that is a hazard to my emotional health.
Sitting comfortably on the couch in the library, I opened all the doors and windows to the school allowing the breeze to blow where it may. Wasn’t much of a breeze. But I had my handy battery-operated fan and it was doing the trick. I opened the pages of my Bonhoeffer book and feeling content, lost myself in the story for awhile.
Then it came to me…the cold, rich and creamy goodness of that chocolaty confection known as Dean’s Chocolate Milk. I remembered. I had left a half-quart of it on the door of the refrigerator the night before I departed for the islands. I stared at it thinking, I should drink all of this. It will be my last for 10 months… but I could not drink another drop – it was eleven o’clock in the evening and I had already filled my belly to sheer fullness-of-joy.
Now I’m remembering it. Like that long, haunting melody I Am Calling You, from the quirky film Bagdad Cafe…its a-calling…
I wonder if my friend Amy drank it, or tossed it out? Dairy products are one item scarcely found on an island. It’s way too hot and too far to travel by boat that the whole delicate freshness of it is not lost somewhere after day 3 of transit. But I miss it the most it seems.
I looked up over the rim of my book and glanced through the glass blinds to the lagoon. I imagined what I would be doing if I were still in my old life, before God broke in and stole me away to this marvelous island and its people. I’d be doing the boring, meticulous daily routines of that deadline oriented, high-stress job. Here, I may be hot, hungry (only in appetite), and without certain comforts of my American Heritage, but I’m free.
I can think, move and breathe within myself with ease and joy. It’s truly indescribable.
And I will be all the more enriched, happy and full from my experiences here when I return home. Content knowing that just around the corner there’s pizza available, departments stores waiting and of course, Dean’s Chocolate Milk ready to be twisted open and gulped down; one chocolaty, creaming goodness at a time. And next time, they’ll be no half-quarts left on the door of the fridge.
That is, until God calls again…