Late that afternoon I packed and "watched" the final minutes of the final game of the Cricket World Cup on the television that George had carried to my room from another on the morning I arrived. The game was on both the channels. Fuzzy picture.
When I went to bed, I slept well. I know I've said that before -- but it was on a bed that was too hard with a pillow that was too flat in a room that was without air conditioning and I just shouldn't have.
Swam early again the next morning and recognized many of the people there doing the same. George took me to the airport at 8:45 and I had money to tip him and to get both a beverage and a meat pie at an airport kiosk after clearing immigration and security. I sat for less than an hour before boarding my Air Jamaica flight for home.
So, I went to Jamaica with an agenda. I had a plan for 48 hours of R&R and was so sure I knew what I needed that I set simple but rather solid expectations of what that time would look and feel like. I knew I needed to connect with God, and I was telling God what I wanted Him to do and how. I was, even in my seeking Him, not submitting to Him.
Looking back, I see His great grace in making my first hours in town miserable -- and in messing up my money and credit card stuff -- and even in the sunburn that really was not that bad. None of that was pleasant at the time, but it was a kind of discipline. Not punishment, mind you. Discipline.
God didn't want me to invite Him to go along with me on my vacation. He wanted me to go with Him.
He wants me.
He wants me to trust Him with the little stuff and the big stuff of life -- without doubt. He wants me to love Him more than I love the wonderful things He has given to me. He wants me to depend on Him. To lean on His strength and wisdom. To long for Him.
Thankfully, I have a lifetime to learn how to do this well and a very patient Lover.