Simple Special Moments

Colorado. My first time skiing in 10+ years. The day is ending. I get off the chairlift and start my way down the slope. Remarkably, no one is in front of me for nearly as far as I can see. Just me and nature; I’ve been given a gift. Carving through powdered snow, I feel free. The cold wind against my chapped cheeks, I feel alive. I can't stop smiling. My spirit is content. I don’t want the experience to end.  

The Atlantic Ocean. Traveling on the Africa Mercy from Gran Canaria, Spain, to Conakry, Guinea. Open ocean. No ships, no land in sight. Sometimes the water is choppy, sometimes still as a glass of water. Occasionally we spot wildlife: dolphins, whales, turtles. For the first time in my life, I sense the vastness of the earth. I am in awe. Filled with wonder. 

Senegal. This week, Monday. The sun is setting. Rooftop pool all to myself. I start with the crawl, my favorite stroke. Then flip to my back, turning my face to the sky. A beautiful view fills me with serenity. Whisps of clouds make a stunning pattern. I don’t want to break my gaze upward. Hands cut through the surface of the water, one stroke after another. I feel alive. My joy is immense. I wish I could hold tight to this moment forever.

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In recent years, I’ve realized just how much nature captures my attention. Renews my spirit. Draws me closer to God. My quality of life is enhanced 10-fold by having easy access to outdoor recreation and the sights and sounds of nature. 

Searching for a place to live in Belgium. I visit a family in Etterbeek that has a bedroom for rent. The window overlooks the small backyard. My interactions with the family are positive; I have a good vibe about the place. Walking to the metro afterwards, I come across Parc Cinquantenaire. A large green space on the outskirts of Brussels. In that moment, I know I have indeed found my new home.

Guinea. On board the Africa Mercy. People pay hundreds of dollars a night for a hotel room with an ocean view. My home is on the water. Between the end of rainy season and before the dust of the dry season settles in, nature displays some of the most stunning sunsets. Watching them I feel euphoric. I take pictures, always hoping to capture what my eyes see, but an image produced with technology still can't compare. The vivid colors have to be experienced and appreciated in the moment. 

Virginia. Enduring the pandemic like the rest of the world. My saving grace for sanity: a trail a few blocks from my house. It cuts through a slightly quirky beach neighborhood and heads into a wooded state park. Pedestrians get in for free. I frequent it often, sometimes with a good friend. While so much of life is restricted, outdoor recreation remains an option.

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Watching the clouds shift gradually across the sky on Monday, I was inspired to write. Hence this blog.

Dakar 2019. Preparing for the Africa Mercy to arrive. Those of us who enjoy swimming searched for a pool to use for exercise, to relieve stress. I went to a recreational facility a few times but ultimately decided the pool was too dirty for payment. Some colleagues occasionally visited a high-end hotel pool on a Saturday or Sunday, but the price was high for non-guests. Walking and running thus became the norm for fitness. 

Dakar 2021. Before I arrive, my colleagues are looking for a place we can call home for the next few months. Meanwhile, a 5-year-old named Paul is praying for our team to find lodging with a pool. He felt that a pool would be important for us. Knowing the challenges of finding housing with a pool, my colleagues appreciate the prayers but don’t get their hopes up. The search continues for a couple weeks. They visit apartments that are too expensive, too noisy, too gaudy, too far away etc. None with a pool. Then, thanks to a walk through a neighborhood and some random networking, my colleagues get an appointment to see furnished apartments in a very convenient part of the city. And lo and behold, there is a pool and large outdoor space on the roof (floor 7). In that instant, everyone senses that this is the place for us. The pool is not very big - 12-15 leisurely strokes across - but it’s far above and beyond what we could have ever imagined. We give Paul a lot of credit. Childlike faith; it's powerful. And in that way, I wish I hadn't grown up. 

Harkening back to our days on the ship, we affectionately call the roof  "Deck 7". On the Africa Mercy, Deck 7 is not the location of our pool but rather the deck where patients have outdoor time each afternoon. It will be so sweet when they fill the space with games, chatter and laughter once again. 

Note of thanks to my team and especially Valerie for sharing the story of Paul and the apartment search