a trip up the coast

Published by bryan | Filed under journal entries

February 24th

I’m trying to be more intentional about including God in the every day. Previously He was good cop/bad cop, and I’d talk to Him about sin. That got old, as you can imagine. So I started praying differently, asking God to show up, to let me know whether I should buy something, to help me let go of the things (ie agendas, material possessions, anger, bitterness) I was holding on to and feel, in the letting go, that free-fall sensation one gets when he jumps from some height.

I’m an agenda guy. I like to work, to be honest with you. Many of my friends are in my line of profession, creative types, publishers, publicists, artists, this sort of thing. I notice I bond best with those who are on a similar journey. But I’ve been wondering if, ultimately, this is going to be fulfilling. I mean what if I wake up when I’m old and regret how little I gave myself to the fun I could have had in life apart from work, if I will regret not listening to friends, not walking a bit slower, not living slightly more sacrificial.

Yesterday my literary agent and I were in San Diego, and appointed some time to talk about future projects. Kathy is a gem of a human being, and while she’s the best at what she does, she’d rather talk about horses, or her daughter, or sunrise, or poetry, than work. I’ve always appreciated this about her, and have always felt a bit convicted that I am self focussed, as is obvious when I want to talk about work and she wants to talk about what dolphins eat. So yesterday, instead of walking to a coffee shop, I prayed God would be with us, and we would get done what He wanted to get done, not what I wanted to get done. On a wild hair, I decided we should take the rental car (a convertible, not by choice, but through the rental car agency not having anything else) up the coast. Kathy needed to make a quick call before a contact in New York left the office, so I pulled off the freeway a bit earlier than I wanted, and Kathy made her call while we drove through some backstreets. Remarkably, we ended up in La Jolla, parked the car, and walked along the rocks, the ocean looking so green and perfect, the sea grass ebbing in the tide pools, the clams and mussels (sp?) clinging to the fungus rock. There were worlds in the tide pools, worlds Walt Disney dreamed of, plants made of flesh, antennas like teeth looking as though they would bite you if you stuck your hand in their water. We walked along the rocks, under a sky God gave to Mexico as reward (San Diego benefits from proxemity, as God paints with a wide brush) and let the salt water rise up into our nostrils. We didn’t talk about books, and I thought to myself how wonderful it was to have a God who cared more about His people than His kingdom, and how in His mind, perhaps, the two were not inseparable. Kathy and I continued down the beach until we found a small cove, originally built for children to play, but now taken over by seals. The cove, a kind of paradise, was inhabited by two mothers, two fathers, and two pups each riding their mothers backs, swimming so playfully through the rock maze, in under the grasses, up to the emerald surface of the water, where the pups delightful gasp for air let out a goat-like bark that sounded exactly like the infant utterance “momma.”

Kathy and I leaned against the railing, with fifty or so other tourists, for nearly an hour, Kathy commenting that she couldn’t be more delighted.

As we drove back to the conference we were attending, I wondered how good it was to take God with us, and how hard it was to let go of our agendas so we can feel what it is that He wants us to feel, rather than pine away for what I want to accomplish, tricked into believing it will make me feel something God has already given free of charge, no work involved. It was a good day.

Don

p.s. no time to edit this. sorry for the type-o’s.