In Pleasant Places: R&R in Roswell

Sunday, April 20, 2008 –

At 7 a.m. Mountain time, my sister's cat Cheeto meows at the guest house door to be let in one last time. He settles down on the bed while I drink my coffee and pack for my return trip. I have to leave by 9:30 a.m. Mountain time to make my flight back home which departs Lubbock, Texas at 3:50 p.m. Central time. It's a 3 hour trip to Lubbock from Roswell. My brother-in-law Jim calculates an hour and a half for lunch in between.

Breakfast for me is vanilla yogurt, strawberries, a banana and a sprinkle of cereal and coffee. I have brought to the table a meditation to share on heritage. As soon as I say the word "heritage," my precious sister tears up and I find it difficult to read without my throat tightening up. That's because some might characterize our mutual "heritage" as a little bit of holy and a whole lot of horrendous.

"We are God's love in action. Lives are enriched as family members, united through ancestry or shared life experiences, gather together. Each generation expresses its uniqueness and connects in loving ways with other generations. Picturing this interaction is like looking at a living photo album of God’s love. Babies bask in the loving care they receive. Children share with real and imagined playmates. Adults connect through like interests. Elders share with an understanding that only years of experience can bring to one’s perspective. Whatever generation I belong to, whatever the age differences within my group of friends or family, I appreciate our shared heritage. We are God’s love in expression, inspiring one another, one generation to another. "

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; I have a goodly heritage.” —Psalm 16:6

I have prepared a few notes to myself to tie up conversations that I didn't finish with Jim or Kate. They are patient as I go through my list. There had been so many years of silence between us that I didn't know when I'd get another opportunity for a few shared words. It's important to get it said before time runs out. I remind Kate that in the Scripture God promised to restore to us the years that the locusts have eaten. They ate a lot of years. Kate and Jim indulge me in respectful silence. My face is wet with tears too. We hug. "My sister is a preacher," Kate says. "Who knew?"

We leave Roswell on time. Along the highway we spot hawks high up on telephone poles. They've built their nests on boards that jut out from each pole. We pass windmills and oil wells, neither of which I have ever seen in my life except on TV. Jim pulls over so I can get a shot of one working oil well planted close to the road. We pass sheep and cattle ranches and horse farms.

We arrive in Lubbock in time for lunch at an Italian restaurant and enjoy a family size serving of pasta and individual salads. When we reach the airport, I tell Jim to let me out at the departure terminal. He waits in his SUV while Kate helps me get my bag checked in. I have forgotten the hat Jim gave me and she retrieves it for me before hugs. She waves, "No tears, just all joy," she says and she is gone.

On the plane, I work 3 Sudoku puzzles from the American Airlines magazine in my seat pocket. The ear plugs Kate gave me at her office help me concentrate. It's only about an hour in the air before we land in Dallas. At the security station, I am told that my C-PAP has "given a signal" and I will need to be body searched. Baloney. How can my C-PAP signal the security people to search me? I just know it's because I am wearing Jim's hat. How could they think I look strange with a cowboy hat on in the Dallas airport? A female security officer strip searches me and cannot find whatever it is she thinks she is looking for.

My C-PAP is returned to me and I wind my way to the Sky Train which takes me to Terminal D where my flight supposedly takes off. Ten minutes before flight time, an announcer comes on the intercom to direct everyone back to Terminal A. I barely make it back in time for boarding. It's a 3 hour flight to Richmond where the captain announces it's raining. Jim had told me to look for the circles on the ground that are formed by a radius of water pipes, a grid-like irrigation of the fields. For miles I can see the circles from my window seat - large quilt-like multi-colored patches in shades of green, rust and brown. The land is carved up into neat patches.

When we touch down in Richmond at 10:45 p.m. EST, it's pouring rain, but I am happy and grateful to have make the trip to visit my sister Kate and her dear husband Jim. I so needed to get away and have a few days of R&R.