Jamaica Grace

This is one cup of coffee that technically should not have been french pressed for my consumption. Let me explain... 

I kind of ran things on two levels in Jamaica. I had back-ups for everything. Phone, credit card, iPhone charging cord, travel documents, and personal hygiene products--learned from being stuck in Quebec/Toronto last Christmas vacation for two extra days--to have at least deodorant, toothpaste/brush, and floss in both my carry-on and checked baggage in case my travel bag didn't wind up in time where I was. Boy, I had never craved flossing so much in my whole life.  

These items were in two different locations at all times. Financially in particular, one set of credit and cash on my person, the other stashed deep in my travel bag behind lock and key. So, if I got robbed, then I could put in place the back-up. Turns out, that wound up being a misplaced fear.  But, I wanted to be prepared. The downside of prepping  in such a manner had little cost. Besides feeling convicted that I assumed the worst of the people.  

On one of my days in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, as I sauntered and jogged my way down the mountain about 5 miles to Strawberry Hill (a high-class Jamaican Resort owned by Chris Blackwell of Island Records fame--Bob Marley, U2, and a multitude of other musicians), I had my American Express from Costco and 5 American dollars, as my fiduciary resources. AmEx sounded like a good choice. I never use the card since Costco switched to Citibank Visa, so if I got rolled, no big deal. Cancel card, move on.  

Well, I had not checked the expiration date of the card. The individual at the gate of Strawberry Hill informed me that the card was expired. Shit out of luck as it is said. The prospects of reversing the journey uphill without having some fine Jamaican coffee distressed me greatly. As I turned back to begin my coffee-less ascent, the attendant waived me to go in without paying.  

As it was, I spent a lovely hour on the grounds with the rich and famous, or at least the rich. It has only recently been opened to the public. I sat at the bar and drank this fine cup of coffee down and consumed copious amount of cool water to prepare for the long trip uphill, which was going to take at least two hours. I was supposed to have been able to have a complimentary beverage with my $25 admission fee which put me in an odd position with the restaurant manager who asked me, "You paid the admission fee, no?" when I asked to pay for the coffee with my measly five dollar bill. 

I hemmed and hawed, really trying to avoid implicating the staff person who let me in gratis. I croaked something along the lines, "Well, I was supposed to."  She got a very confused look on her face and walked away. This was just one of several instances in Jamaica where individuals in position of authority looked the other way and cut me a break which I had not deserved. It was also not the only time where the person who granted me grace was placed in a difficult position had his/her generosity been discovered by their supervisor. There is always a cost to compassion. And in a labor market as difficult as Jamaica, I deeply recognized the risks that people were taking for me.

I acted humbly (not bossy). I tried to not defend myself or implicate them for the circumstances that I had mis-engineered. I expressed true appreciation for the willingness to spare me the consequences. As I read through the Gospel of Luke while in Jamaica, I was reminded that Jesus just wants us to come clean and admit we are sinners...in need of grace. He is so generous to those who admit their need but oh so hard who don't. So my posture to the Jamaicans was be merciful to me, a poor dumbass.    

After drinking the coffee, I set my face back to the guesthouse way up the road. Soon after I hit the gravel, a car pulled aside and asked me if I needed a ride. It was a full car, driven by a Jamaican lady, with her two nieces and nephew from Miami inside. I told her that I had no money and she laughed. She wasn't looking to be paid. When we got back to Mt. Edge, the guesthouse where I was lodging, they wanted to take a selfie. It was just one of those wonderful yet brief crossing of paths that redeems my hope for humanity and a better world for all.

Luke 18:13, 14

13 But the tax collector stood at a distance, unwilling even to lift up his eyes toheaven. Instead, he beat his breast and said,‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man, rather than the Pharisee, went home justified. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted