faltering

Slept much better. Woke to a kitty sitting purring on my chest, staring intently at my face. Nice. Did I exercise? No. Did I do any of the good things I intended to do? No. Did I waste time shamelessly on computer games? Yes.

Fortunately I had a mid-morning meeting, so the passage of time and necessity finally forced me to stop my wanton ways and get ready for productivity. A little more faltering after the meeting, and then I left the house for lunch and time with God.

Trying, trying, to shake off the malaise of my illness.

Lunch. Had to wait, wait, waaaait. Impatience began building. They apologized. Had to make parts of my food from scratch because they didn't have any already prepared. Then it came, and yummmm. The difference a fresh batch makes. Impatience melted away, replaced by a feeling of foolishness. I munched and savored.

Time with God. Wanted to be distracted. Play Angry Birds. Judge the people sitting around me.

One foreigner. I fear he was the Proverbs simpleton. Older man, tutoring a young national. Female. I know how culture prescribes that she should act, dress. It all seemed improper. No, not from a Western standpoint. Pretty natural for a young western co-ed. But not here. Warning signs, red flags. She showed so much leg. She gazed so intently. She giggled and flirted. Middle-aged man. Loving it, probably with purely humanitarian motives, rationalizing his involvement, but loving it anyway. Her drawing him in, inviting, offering. Old fool. Praying for him to flee. For her not to sell her soul for a false hope and future.

A few weeks ago I saw a prostitute actually drawing two tourists to her. I saw her, spike stilettos, one-piece tube dress that barely covered what it needed to. Broad daylight. I glanced out the window and noticed her—she assaulted the eyes—briefly wondered why she was walking so fast, fell back to my reading. Turning a page, I looked out the window again. She was still there, now walking at a painfully awkward, slow pace. Why, I wondered? Oh. She had managed to get herself in front of two men, wandering maps in hand. Only when she came almost to a stand-still so that they had to stop to avoid her, did they notice her. But it worked. They asked directions. I saw her point to the maps; exchange words, glances. Off they walked, now a group of 3. Amazing.

I do not pity those three. It was so obvious, so blatant. I worry for these two in the coffee shop. Subtle. So easily rationalized, justified from either side. All the more dangerous. God help them.

And I wonder why it is hard for me to see beauty into people. Do I read in ugliness when it isn't there?

Maybe sometimes.

Do I know how to be a light here?

Not at all.