Re:Entry
Mud was still dropping from our trucks as we pulled into Eiley’s folks’ driveway at noon on Thanksgiving Day. Most of us hadn’t showered in a week; many hadn’t slept well in as long. Some were recovering from colds while others were trying to fight them off. The lure of a hot shower, the enticement of a Jacuzzi, the promise of a bountiful Thanksgiving dinner beckoned us out of the wind, rain, dirt, and poverty of the hills east of Tijuana. The contrast was poignant, and I wondered if we would feast into oblivion all that God had done in us over the past week. iPods and cell phones came out; football games were tuned in on the High Definition TV; kids lost themselves on Grandpa’s computer and the Wii. The return was too easy for me, too. My computer came out as I began transferring 1,200 pictures from camera to laptop. Then I noticed a simple e-mail from my Mom: “We do not learn from experience. We learn from reflecting upon experience.” And surrounded by the aromas of turkey