I spent a lot of time the past few months talking with Jesus. I discovered that language is a luxury, helpful, but not a necessity. We saddled horses together, played soccer together, climbed trees, fixed leaky hoses, harvested bananas, shot the breeze -- all with minimal mutual vocabulary. Jesus spent even more time talking at me than I did at him. And he seldom slowed down to ensure my comprehension.
I'm back, feeling rinsed off by three months at the end of the road in southwest Costa Rica. Airing out for now in Indianapolis, recalling the summer days of my childhood, and sorting through the insights that piled up while I was away.
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