Stay Close

Crossing the street in Lima is an art. Pedestrians do not have the right of way. Is there a breath in the steady stream of cars--Yes? Then move. Now.

Yesterday, I stood on the side of the road. Michael saw the breath and proceeded forward. He was on the other side of a busy impasse before I knew it, and I was still standing in the same spot... waiting.

Fresh Start. New curb. I decide to be a bit more ambitious. I see the break. I speed across the street with stellar, clumsy force. Michael meets me on the other side, amused:

"This is an art," He coaches, "You don't miss an opportunity by waiting too long for a perfect moment. But you don't panic like you're being chased. You watch carefully. You study patterns. You seize your moment. You move at a resolute steady pace."
"Ok, ok, " I breathe deep, only half-listening, because I'm glad to be done for now.

All too soon, we try again. He's watching. I see his eyes scanning the lanes. We stand on the edge of what feels like a cliff. It's a curb. Whether cliff of curb, I imagine one hasty step and my story ends the same.

He's firmly gripping my hand.
"Go," He starts moving.
"What?" I stall.
"Come. Now." He's guiding me off the curb, around the front bumper of a momentarily stalled taxi. I see that there is nothing but oxygen between me and the host of oncoming skillfully-maneuvering, battered taxis. Michael has this way of signaling his intentions by how he squeezes my hand and in which direction he does so. This time, I'm signaling intentions of my own. I run for my life, and am safely on the new curb with time to spare. I am bewildered that he's still steadily moving forward with just enough time and space. How can this be? How can he know the rhythm and know this street-crossing art already? After all, I am the artist-- and isn't this an art?

"I was nearly hit!" I resolve.
"You were nowhere near being hit."
"Your point?"
"Crystal, Look. I never change my pace. I know exactly what to do to lead us both. Stay close to me."
"That makes you pretty near amazing. But I would say I'm pretty near fast."
"You don't need to be. You just need to stay close."

Crossing the street in Lima makes one, certain demand: Stay close. Stay close to he who leads. I question and I banter. I love to rant and rave. But to wander is to be willing to risk total separation.

Tonight I'm anticipating the brevity of jumping into an isolated, unknown-to-me jungle community where ours may be the only white faces. It feels like a cliff. But it's only a curb. The Mastermind behind all things created: both cliffs and curbs, the jungle and her mysteries, makes an art of it all. I know not the rhythms nor intricacies, but I know the Creator. He makes one, certain demand. Stay close. To wander is to be willing to risk total separation. Stay close.

Stay close.