Across the Waves

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Before we even finished breakfast, a backhoe showed up to help remove the dead palm tree stump that Dennis and Roger removed the branches from on Monday. The inside is so rotten it smells like sewer and we were actually worried that the backhoe had damaged a sewer line or a septic tank when he was digging. But the smell was just from the decomposing palm. Apparently there is some type of worm that was accidentally imported from India that has wreaked havoc on the palm trees here in Spain, killing a lot of this palm species here. It is really too bad since they are gorgeous trees when alive. The backhoe operator made quick work of the job and even dislodged a few rocks that we were going to need to remove later on, saving us some labor.

Devotions this morning by me from 2 Corinthians 5: 16 talking about being a new creation in Christ. It is a good thing Christ is still alive in us because our bodies are dead tired today. I’ve been fighting a cold, Dennis and Roger neither one are feeling too well. Debbie seems to be the only one with much energy. Nonetheless, we cut down two more trees today and did some more mulching of the branches. We now have a huge tree that is full of thorns to run through the mulcher. It’s not going to be much fun, if you get the point.

Dennis prepped the top of the cargo container that acts as the tool shed so we can apply tar and some reflective roofing to it later on in order to seal some leaks. There is no shortage of work but our bodies don’t want to cooperate. So when Stuart asked if we would like to drive into town and grab a cup of coffee and see a few sites rather than work more after lunch there wasn’t much argument. In fact Dennis was content to simply snooze and relax rather than even go on the jaunt.

At a wonderful outdoor café on a pedestrian street near the center of town, I had a small “Spain Spanish” lesson when I ordered a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “Juice” here is called “zumo” not “jugo” like in Latin America. After the spectacular OJ, coffee and a wonderfully warm croissant, I was pleased that Ingvar drove us home via the Mediterranean oceanfront.

The surf was higher than I’d expected and the waves crashed hard against a steep beach. I was told that they actually spend a lot of time and money pumping new sand onto the beaches every year because it gets washed away. Lots of people doing some casual fishing from the shore, but I couldn’t spot examples of their catch. We stopped on the beachfront near the ruins of an old guard tower and I was able to dip my toes in the salt water, if only just briefly. Water temperature was cool but not frigid. Maybe I’ll have to go for a swim, just to say I did. I’m not sure it will be warm enough to be pleasant.

I could just watch the waves for hours and found myself looking across the great expanse towards the lands where the name of Jesus is rarely heard except on the radio.

While sitting in the compound tonight, I wonder what harvest is being gathered across the waves from here. And smile at the pun.