Unfinished Business

So, as some of you know, I've decided to accept the offer of interrupted service. I'm not sure yet when I'll be coming home, nut I'm already starting to wrap things up around here. I've been going through my stuff, deciding what will go to whom, cleaning and organizing like mad, preparing to battle my landlord this morning. My housing contract states that we agreed upon a rent price for 2 years, but that if I decide to leave the house I must give 30 days notice. So, I'm going to end up paying through August 4th, but that's fine. My landlord just requested that we go to the police together at 11 today so they can mediate. They witnessed the original signing of the contract and I really hope all goes smoothly so I can leave here on good terms.

Anyway, I'm pretty frazzled at the moment, so I'm not feeling so creative. I did happen to find an unfinished blog draft from a while ago, so I'll share it now:

"Walking around in sandals, covered by yards of fabric, I sometimes feel like one of the felt board Bible characters from Sunday school when I was a kid. Times like today when the rest of my service here stretches out ahead of me like an endless walk to town on trash-filled streets. The hot wind kicks up, bringing the smell of rotting carcass to my nose. I do the one-finger-bookshelf-dust-check in my ear and find a layer of grit so tangible that it rolls into a thin brown wad on my finger. I don't even want to think about the lines on my neck (or what my ankles look like, for that matter). I wonder what it was like for Jesus, wandering around the desert as a human. Could he really have known everything and still have been human? Isn't part of being human dealing with disappointments, surprises and unexpected changes of plan? Did he ever have a sick day where he just couldn't make it out of bed to do the miracle he'd planned? Or an off-day where he got ripped off at the market, and then no one would listen to his speech. Or maybe they listened but didn't pay attention. Maybe some guy in the front row stood up and left half-way through to see about a new camel saddle. Did he ever go home after a hard day and close himself up in a room to cry and pull out his hair? Did he ever trip on a rock and break his sandal, forcing him to walk the rest of the way with one bare foot on scorching sand? Or step on a thorn so big it punctured all the way through and made his foot bleed? What word escaped his lips at the sudden pain?"

I think what I was trying to get at is that I have a very different perspective of Biblical times, having lived in a harsh climate so similar to what it may have been like. With this new understanding I've been re-reading the stories of my childhood and really putting myself in their places. It's fascinating. Ironically enough, as I read Exodus, the story of Israel's escape from slavery in Egypt, the plagues (8 of the 10 can be found here from time to time) and Pharaoh's final release... I find myself once again living a somewhat parallel story. Okay, so not that grandiose or miracle-filled, but think about it--I've at last been given a pardon of sorts that lets me escape a land of oppression and plagues to a homeland filled with milk and honey.

Now all I've gotta do is cross the Red Sea.