My Home

My Home

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Finite

Finite is the word of the week here.  It is the hope to which I cling.  There is a finite length of yarn to be woven into my hammock I'm making and which I need to finish before I can leave.  There is a finite amount of laundry I am behind such that soon I can just do the clothes I wore the day before each night and keep up (this is falicy, I know...)  There are a finite number of papers I need to scan, shred, send home or otherwise deal with.  There is a finite amount of items here in Honduras that I need to relocate back to the US, a finite number of items in the storage unit in Nashville that likewise need to be relocated to Kansas City so that at some point in the future my stuff will all be in the same zip code again.  Probably not the one I'm in, but progress.  I need to feel that each thing taken care of moves me to the place where the to-do list at least doesn't keep growing faster than I can check things off.

I am getting things done.  Other things are slipping.  I tell myself that I'm making progress.

Last night I went down to the restaurant here at the hotel for dinner.  I usually don't eat at night, but I was hungry and tired of being hungry.  The waiter here speaks some amount of English.  He likes me and trys to have conversation.  It had the usual reasult.  He kept saying he had one question for me.  He said this for over an hour, in many ways.  I'm still not entirely sure if the question was about inviting himself up to my room, or inviting me to church.  I do know he was being very heartfelt and sincere about whatever the question was about.  At some point a Babtist missionary from Tennessee kept being mentioned, so I decided it was about church.  They will be praying for me, the two of them, pretty much without ceasing, this weekend.  I'm still not entirely sure about the one question even now.  I have educated guesses, and I'm not counting out the original idea.  This is how a lot of my conversations with local Hondurans goes.  It is always friendly and sincere, but I'm never really sure the two of us are discussing the same subject at any given time.  Then again, it's not all that different when I'm talking to someone who shares the same language as I.

1 comment:

  1. You know if you are into finite, it becomes infinite. . . And you are correct about some people even though they speak the same language are not on the same page.

    ReplyDelete