One Week...and counting

It has been one week and about 30 minutes since I rolled into Laughlin AFB. In some ways it is hard to believe that it has only been a week since I rolled in, ready to pee myself. And yet, this week has all but flown by. It is in fact a blur. One week ago I knew absolutely nothing at all. Now, I have a place I have pretty well settled into, at least two guys who I would call friends, food to eat, beer to drink, an idea where most things are here on base, and a general feeling for Del Rio in general. I have been kayaking on the Rio Grand, been to a new church, eaten at Harold’s, and picked a place that I will undoubtedly be a Sunday regular at (I haven’t the slightest idea it’s name, but it has GREAT breakfast burritos). I’ve gotten used to showing up in the transition office, and I’m beginning to recognize people. I’ve started to get a feel how things around here are supposed to function, will hopefully get at least some money by Friday and have three trips out of here already planned, with a fourth in the working.

Not only this, but now, one week into this new adventure, I finally had a moment of excitement about being here. I’m excited to get into an airplane. I am excited to learn how to fly. I am excited about the relationships God will give me. I’m even excited to get going on my “day job” here, go to ASBC and IFS. I’ve been here a week, and I am pretty much done with my in-processing junk, having only a seven hour mass brief on the 23rd. The fact of the matter is that as of right now, I do not have any great stories to share with people. I am not flying; I’m not even working. The most exciting thing to have happened was going kayaking on Saturday. Putting off down at the Pekos river, we ventured down into the Rio Grande, and from there headed to a “cave.” Now, when I was told that there was a cave I had an image in mind. I would pull up my boat and hike up to this little entrance somewhere above me. I would walk in and would need a flashlight to see where I was going (yes, Matt did bring his flashlights). There would be a big chamber and on the walls of that chamber would be these Indian paintings we had been told about. Well, my picture was not exactly correct. Rather, as we pulled up to the little dock and looked to our left, we saw what was not a cave, but a big indent in the rock. Yes, we could get off the kayaks and go walk around, but it was hardly a cave. Yes, there were some Indian paintings on the walls, but they were barely distinguishable. I will never forget the plaque which stood in front of these paintings. It read something along these lines: Though we cannot accurately date these paintings, we believe them to be about ten thousand years old.” I laughed out loud. So did the guys. After about 15 minutes walking around this “cave,” we hoped back on our kayaks and headed back into the Rio Grande. After another 30 minutes paddling into the wind, we decided to turn around. Of course, this was only after a couple fishermen told us there was nothing to see for the next 13 miles. No thank you. That my friends was my first adventure on the Rio Grande. Hopefully it was not my last.