The passenger looks like David Beckham and the app says his name is Jesus. I feel little silly asking "are you Jesus" as I pick him up, but he nods and hops in.
It is a young Saturday morning, the time of the day when the rides range from Lyft-of-shamers to exercise fanatics on the way to Bootcamp. Jesus did party the night prior, but only in moderation, since he likes to get up early and volunteer at the hospice at Laguna Honda hospital. He tells me how life-changing volunteering at the hospice is and how great the people who work there are. I tell him how I always wanted to volunteer in the maternity ward with preemies that need to be held but are too fragile to be released from hospital—the pre-cute stage of babyhood—since the very beginning of life is fascinating and the preemies look so outworldly. In fact both the entry and the exit point of life are fascinating, Jesus and I agree, it’s everything in the middle that’s a bore. We both laugh and pause to appreciate this non-boring moment from somewhere in the middle, called The Right Now.
It is foggy as the car climbs up the driveway of Laguna Honda Hospital and I drop Jesus off, and get out to take a picture of this lovely Florence Nightingale statue by David Edstrom. I have always admired Laguna Honda from afar, it has a film noir feel to it, but this spot is even better close up. The front of the building is open west to the Pacific, and on this particular morning the view is nothing but seamless gray of fog and water, with Florence at the edge of the world.
I don’t say this every day, but thank you, Jesus, for taking me here.
It is a young Saturday morning, the time of the day when the rides range from Lyft-of-shamers to exercise fanatics on the way to Bootcamp. Jesus did party the night prior, but only in moderation, since he likes to get up early and volunteer at the hospice at Laguna Honda hospital. He tells me how life-changing volunteering at the hospice is and how great the people who work there are. I tell him how I always wanted to volunteer in the maternity ward with preemies that need to be held but are too fragile to be released from hospital—the pre-cute stage of babyhood—since the very beginning of life is fascinating and the preemies look so outworldly. In fact both the entry and the exit point of life are fascinating, Jesus and I agree, it’s everything in the middle that’s a bore. We both laugh and pause to appreciate this non-boring moment from somewhere in the middle, called The Right Now.
It is foggy as the car climbs up the driveway of Laguna Honda Hospital and I drop Jesus off, and get out to take a picture of this lovely Florence Nightingale statue by David Edstrom. I have always admired Laguna Honda from afar, it has a film noir feel to it, but this spot is even better close up. The front of the building is open west to the Pacific, and on this particular morning the view is nothing but seamless gray of fog and water, with Florence at the edge of the world.
I don’t say this every day, but thank you, Jesus, for taking me here.