If I Were James Taylor, I Could Finish This Blog

The hardest part about coming back from a trip that is so wonderful and enjoyable is trying to, as succinctly as possible, share experiences and stories with friends and family and NOT bore them. I tend to swing from one extreme to the other:

Amanda: “So HOW was it??”
Alice: “Well we got there on Tuesday, July 28th at 10:48 AM and when I walked outside of the airport there were 4 ice cold Coke Lights waiting for me. I was wearing jeans, a green top that I bought at Old Navy and NEVER tried on, which was stupid and my tennis shoes. SHINE it was HOT! Then we divvied up all the stuff that was for others, separated what was going to Caye Caulker, packed all the car parts and miscellaneous food stuff in my green duffle – you know the one I constantly borrow from Scott – got in the van and drove around Belize City. I really don’t know why we did that, but we …” (you get the idea).


Nancy: “How was your trip?”
Alice: “It was good. Do we need more paper towels?”

It’s amazing to me that after all these years I’ve yet to master the whole “tell my story in 3 minutes, highlighting just one or two experiences and/or funny stories” thing. You’re either getting ALL my stories or none at all. Even now, I’m struggling to figure out how to sort out even 1/10 of what happened in Belize (which has virtually nothing to do with WHY I went to Belize). Sweet Baby James, where are you when I need you?

So now, for the last 20 minutes I’ve sat here, trying to figure out where to begin. Do I start by telling about the fun times spent in Caye Caulker and the hours of talking and relaxing and soul searching? The paths I think maybe God is leading me down as a result? How a bottle of fingernail polish ended up all over me (with some work, FYI, you can get it out of your clothes)? How each time I said to Jordan Leigh, “Hey let’s go on an adventure over _________” she would end up getting injured but yet was always willing to go on the next adventure? Do I tell about our time down in Punta Gorda and reuniting with old friends and making new ones? The need that was so evident while we were there and the ideas that were formed as a result? How I overcame my fear and jumped (and, regardless of what you may hear, it DID NOT take 2 hours!)? The feelings, emotions and revelations that God gently pressed on my heart? The night of the scorpions? The time spent out at Machaca and the great talks I got to have with guys who so desperately want to grow more in their relationship with God and who really, truly desire to make a difference in their country?

The gallons of Coke Light I drank?
How I managed to avoid rice & beans at every single meal?
Chunky Monkey ice cream in Belize bears no resemblance to Ben & Jerry’s. But is far better.
Storyville is better when sitting on a beach in Belize, talking with a friend, regardless of the amount of grinds (grounds? grunds?) you get in your teeth.

Or do I just bite the bullet and reveal the radical life-changes I think God is leading me to? The dream that is just so big that even thinking about it scares me?

Sweet Baby James would know the right things to say.