It's 4:30 p.m. here in Hoi An, a town in central Vietnam.  For some reason the sun is hiding behind clouds, and the usual summer assault is momentarily replaced by a breeze.  It's times like this when I'm enchanted by overseas life.  At the moment, all seems perfect.  I've just had a nap and I'm at an outside cafe with no other customers.  I'm drinking freshly-squeezed orange juice and reading Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible.  I'm trying to drink without sucking down the gnat that perished in my juice.  The things around me capture my attention, invading my reading with their natural charm.  I'm surrounded by all sorts of green plants and trees of Southeast Asia. 

Three ladies work to tidy up the place—their brooms slashing the ground in a harmonious pattern, as though they've practiced their rhythmic sweeps.

One lady wears a dress that looks like a tank-top from the 70s, but the bottom hangs down past her knees.  It swirls with white and red stripes.  Another girl in her 20s wears a pink shirt with tight beige pants.

A little boy, about two years old, stares at me through the wooden-slated fence 15 feet away.  I seem to be some sort of strange animal on display in the zoo.  I wave and he turns shyly, running with a fury, as though the terrible white beast may charge after him.  But, the white beast prefers to sit and drink his fresh juice, not in the mood for a little-boy meal.

It's peaceful, and Southeast Asia is showing how perfect she can be at times.  I've had more than a few rough days in Vietnam, like when two men sideswiped me on their motorcycle, knocking me off mine, and fleeing the scene without saying a word.  But it's days like this when I see the beauty of God's creation, how that he can give me peace anywhere in the world. The ants down at my feet march to a divine cadence.

My northern-trained ears find this central accent odd.  It sounds like the Vietnamese I'm familiar with but with sort of a Scooby Doo twinge.  The people of Vietnam are still strange to me, like when they wear their pajamas in public.  But they're less peculiar now after two years. 

A seven-year-old boy over to my left pulls on the ear of a black dog.  With a swift move, the dog escapes his young torturer.

A tall tree close by has large lumpy green fruit.  I think it's Jack Fruit.  This land has some fruit that seduces the taste buds...what freshness, what wonder there is in the fruit.

The small jar of incense at a nearby tree reminds me that these people still walk in darkness.  May God keep lighting torches to shine in these hidden worlds of shadows and spirits.

May 2002