i first wrote this post a week ago, september 3, 2010.  the next day i went on a retreat with my church.  then spent the latter half of labor day unpacking.

 
as an addendum to the previous post: with regard to housing, am staying with my newlywed friends while i look for a “permanent” place; there ain’t no party like the transition party and the transition party (apparently) won’t stop.
 
without further ado, my post-awakening reflections. . . 

Terminal
5, the home of jetBlue, at John F. Kennedy International Airport in Queens, New
York, serves as my mobile office today. With the free Wi-Fi, plug-in stations and food delivery, I don’t mind
the eight-hour layover for the one hour flight from NYC to DC.

Amenities
aside, I came rather undone during the Awakening in Clondalkin (just outside of
Dublin), Ireland so I welcome the long suspension of time and space as a way to
put off the return to “reality”. And as
any World Racer – past and present – will attest, an eight-hour layover is a
drop in the bucket of a travel day.

 A year
ago from this past Tuesday was the last day of my World Race; Wednesday was the
anniversary of my return home. I flew
jetBlue from Boston to New York and I remember how unreal it all felt when my
brother picked me up from this terminal.
 
I
finished my tenure as a paralegal last Friday and stepped full-time into my
role as communications coordinator last Saturday when I made my way to the
Awakening. Dave Chappelle remarked in
his movie Dave Chappelle’s Block Party
that what musicians and comedians share in common is a great sense of
timing. And if Dave’s telling the truth,
then God must be the ultimate comedian and musician.
 
Not only
was the timing of this. . . words kinda fail here. . . experience uncanny but
the name fit perfectly.
 
Jonathan
David Helser
and band were the worship facilitators for the Awakening and the
first night, Jonathan shared this story (from the liner notes of his album The Reward):
 
In 1732 a Dutch ship left the Copenhagen harbor bound for
the Danish West Indies. On board were
the two first Moravian missionaries ready to sell their lives into slavery to
reach the slaves of the West Indies with the gospel. As the ship slipped away, they shouted over
the harbor to their families and loved ones a cry that would one day become the
rallying call for all Moravian missionaries, “May the Lamb that was slain
receive the reward of His suffering.”

 
As he
told this story, I closed my eyes and imagined that day. In my mind’s eye, it was before dawn and it’s
foggy. Then I see myself in that boat,
calling out to my family and friends, and mostly to myself, that He’s worth it. I sing along and I can’t sing anymore so I
begin to pray through those words. They
weigh on me and I skip the tears and end up sobbing like a little kid.
 
That
night, I knew that God had Kathy Hindes sit in the same row, next to me, and
I’m so thankful.
 
Thank you
Jonathan, that story and your song inspired thereby have wrecked me, too.
 
And Patti.
 And Sydney. And two ladies from (I think) the July 2010
(P) squad
. And Melissa Helser. And Chuck Magnet who I only got to meet
briefly but in my spirit know that he’s legit (that seems to have become my
favorite word du jour). I heard His
voice in their words, at different points of the week.
 
What He
said to me and what I danced and prayed and sang and shook and shouted for Him those
four days are what keep me sailing beyond the harbor again, toward deeper
waters and new lands. May my life continue
to be the reward of His suffering.