Wednesday Morning, 5:27 A.M. A Bright New Day.

Let’s see, what happened of note to write about?

Morning devotions was led by Toyia, a single gal who gave her testimony about how God led her to Kona, she started off by saying “Would you all pray for me because confidence is not a part of my makeup, yet.”

She has done the best job of anyone so far, clear, precise, pertinent, funny and spiritually very helpful.

I told her she was totally awesome.

She struggled to believe me.

I ate at home so I didn’t have to get in the holocaust line.

I worked…really hard, and fast.

The rhythm of work has become easy; I’ve found my grove, my sway.

I work out at the gym on my morning break, much easier than stopping and starting.

I work out at the gym on my lunch, much easier than stopping and starting.

I work really hard and fast.

I lay down on the cement on the Ohana Court (worship center) behind the kitchen for my afternoon break, the cement feels cool, and I rest, and do back stretches.

After work we don’t get in the holocaust vans to go home and come right back up in an hour and a half for dinner, we lay around the campus pool, swim, nap, and I start my “Movable Feast,” Earnest Hemingway’s first and last book, of his early life in the Paris of 1921, the city he loved.

I’m trying to learn to write, so I read good writers.

Beat the other Builders to dinner, Grilled Cheese sandwiches and Tomato Soup.

Buckwheat, Toyia and I walk home, the cattle vans pass us.

We stop on a Lava Rock wall and watch the most beautiful sunset.

We attend our Tuesday night Mission Builder meeting. Ron, the Canadian leads us in fun music. A single girl from some “Stani” country gives her testimony, pretty wild.

Everybody eats cookies, I fast, for I’ve found a better model for making work easier…eat very little, eat healthy, do a little exercise, do more resting type of stuff, instead of all the rushing.

Its 5:41, I’m going to read a little out of the bible before our Builder devotions on campus.

Love to all who post love notes on my blog, to all you others, a curse on your right big toe.