Sitting on top of the world at a world-famous Mayan site. To me as a Christian it feels like Holy Ground. But then, it’s all God’s Holy Ground. Read on, Jitterbuggers.
And the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living soul.”
— From Genesis,
Look it up
You get pretty postcard pix with breathtaking views for your Lenten thoughts today.
And speaking of breathtaking–let’s reflect on breath and breathing a bit.
The view from the top of Belize, from the Xunantunich Mayan ruins.
Follow me up yonder to the top of El Castillo where we’ll have lunch with a breathtaking view of not one, but two Central American nations.
So I’m heading to Texas tomorrow for the first 2013 Jitterbug “Home to Texas Tour” (be sure and buy your tour-stop t-shirts) for time with family, friends, church business and (gad) taxes.
Tuesday morning, I found myself starting to really stress over all the travel planning involved in simply getting from San Ignacio to the bus station for the three-hour ride on a crowded chicken bus to Belize City (half that time in a 4-wheel vehicle but I do as Belizeans do), and then getting my favorite Belize City cabbie Lincoln to link up and get me to the airport 20-plus miles away.
And then there’s the stress of customs to look forward to at Bush Intercontinental Galactica Airport, and getting out of there at night (flight arrives Houston at 7, we can only hope on time) and living to tell about it with my lifelong homeboy friend “Big Hal,” who will be scooping me up and hosting me at his Huntsville home for the night.
All this if things go according to plan. But you know what they say about God and our plans.
Once the stress started seeping into me, a mysterious voice spoke to me, saying, “To hell with this–pack a picnic and go up to Xunantunich and kick back a few hours. It’ll all get done. It always does. But remember to wait to get there to the ruins around noon when all the rush hours of morning tourists are wore out and heading back across the ferry to catch the buses back to San Ig.”
I don’t know about you, but I this mysterious voice talks to me sometimes, although, more often than not, only when I’ve had a mountain of Mayan Nachos piled on a plate at the Mayan Prince Restaurant here in San Ignacio and I’m verily screaming, “Oh God, too much!”
/////
Well, this time it spoke to me Tuesday morning when I was stressing, so I relaxed and looked forward to a picnic and relaxing time atop a Mayan ruin where one can sit and see miles and miles of Belizean mountains and rainforests, not to mention miles more of the same in Guatemala.
One’s stress level reduces to near zero when you live in Belize, where you’re forced to accommodate yourself to that languid B.T. (Belizean Time).
But that’s not to say that I and other expats who grew up and thrived on Western time and efficiency aren’t driven at times to madness by third world ways.
I have two great Canadian expat friends I get together with often and we tend to start out our visits by complaining to the high heavens about all the inefficiencies and crazy, counter-productive ways of life, the government bureaucracy, the long lines and long waits for service promised yesterday–all the downsides of Belize that can make life even in paradise stressful and hard. If you let it–if you don’t go with the wonderful B.T. flow.
When our griping and whining starts getting too intense, one of us will snap out of it and say, “Wait a minute! Look around! We’re in Belize for God’s sake!”
And then another will remind, “And above ground!”
Above ground–alive, and breathing, that is; and breathing clean, fresh air, no less, of the sort that God gave us to breath (and that must make Christ weep over our polluting of it).
And we’re complaining?
In ministry I constantly remind people that God is as close as our next breath. So when you’re stressed out, breath in, breath out, right where you are–at your desk or stuck in freeway traffic in your car or on top of Belize–mindful of each breath in, each breath out. Because God is in every breath and life is breathtaking wherever you are.
lunch companion
In foreground: Ancient Mayan Keens; best way to trod Xunantunich is barefoot. The grass feels good and the stone steps won’t hurt you
Across the Mopan by ferry and back to the motorcycle for the ride back home, de-stressed.
Welcome back to Texas and taxes!
Call if you get a chance! Would love to catch up on all your adventures!
Thanks, birthday girl. Would love to see you but my dance card for the Wed-Sunday next week on Dallas leg of the journey is pretty full and promising not much to lots of people I’d like to see up there. Thinking I’ll probably make another Magical Mystery Tour to home late May when youngest born graduates from A&M. Another big wingding. This Sunday is grandson’s first birthday and couldn’t miss that wingding.
Ah, yes, the old crowded chicken bus to Belize City. Nothing quite like it, or so I hear.
I can picture the crowded chicken bus. In Thailand I rode buses with chickens, pigs, and some unidentifiable stuff.
well i’ve actually ridden in much worse chicken buses in travels in third world; worst was central china to a far off village, by myself, not an English speaker on board. But they very nice and smile at me all the way after as their roosters and stuff crapped on me. don’t really see many chickens on belize buses but did go 40 miles to Belmopan once, standing in aisle the whole way (bus capacities are 60 and they pack us in like literally sardines during rush times) with a mangy dog breathing on me the whole way. And then there’s the mothers who drop tops of their dresses to feed their babies in your face. Totally freaked me out the first time. I don’t even notice anymore. Just laugh at freaked out tourists when it occurs in their faces.
Yes, a short bus ride of 10 miles like I made constantly form village to town was always enjoyable and not bad except for the crush of boarding and getting off which is always a good way to get stampeded to death. But to Belize City with a stop to pick up everybody on the highway who waves their arms for a ride, plus those who board at a thousand highway speed bumps where bus stops are–or bus loaded with kids going to school (kids pay for transportation to school and so do teachers and that’s a crunch in the mornings and after school–will, a 90 minute ride by car or motorcycle is 3 grueling hours. And especially when it rains and they close the windows and you can’t breathe. Makes you appreciate breathing that I meditated on in this post, you know?
And I’m sure Thailand buses in the days when your were there must have been a lot like my China bus or ones I’ve seen in India though I’ve never been there. And the bus station in Belize City is horrible and crowded. It’ll make for an exhausting 12 hour day of travel–if plane’s on time. (did I say I got de-stressed? It’s creeping back already just thinking about it. Lord, help me.)
Yes, I can picture sitting in that bus after an hour or more, just imagining how fresh the air will be when you’re finally able to get out and take in a breath.