Eric's Beijing Diary

Last night, as I was sitting on a quayside bench between the palm trees, feeling a light, South China breeze off the bay, I thought of an old chorus from my days at Hillcrest:

Today is mine, tomorrow may not come.
I may not see thee the rising of the sun.
When evening falls, my work may all be done.
Today is mine, tomorrow may not come.

Strange to think of how many tomorrows have come and gone since those years. And every new day is one more opportunity to follow God's divine purpose. Never could I have imagined during those days that I would be sitting by the side of Xiamen Bay in South China, still taking one day at a time and wondering what the future holds. It's an accepted axiom among Christians. You're supposed to say it. But it bears repeating--God is so faithful. He may lead us through things we would not have chosen for ourselves, but He never, never lets us down.

This morning, as I was standing by the window of my hotel room watching the sun come up over Xiamen Bay, I was struck by an odd thought. I have not seen as many sunrises and sunsets since I left the trucking industry. I think over-the-road truck drivers probably see more sunrises and sunsets than any other group of people. I don't know...I guess maybe farmers see more, but not as many different kinds. During the seven years that I was in the trucking industry, I saw many, many different sunrises and sunsets. It's amazing how sunrises and sunsets stick in your mind. Like the time I was heading out of West Yellowstone one cold morning, and squared up with a bull moose, silhouetted against the western sky, his lone figure brightened by the golden sun behind me. It was a beautiful picture, but not one I wanted to see quite that close. Fortunately he moved just in time. It would have been messy.