The Lost Generation

Syria. What a fucking mess. Worst humanitarian disaster of our time. This photo {quazi} woke up the world when it went viral. It's probably going to be "too much to see" but Jesus, is this what has to be seen for us to realize what's going on? The body of 3 year old, Aylan, washed up on shore, face down in the sand. He drowned trying to flee his God forsaken country in a boat with his mother and brother who also died when the boat cap-sized.

What's eve worse, is children, elderly, and people in general are dying every day in desperate need of escaping the worst civil war in our time. 7.6 million people have fled Syria since March 2011 while we sit on our ass looking at new ways to decorate the living room. What a disgrace. Are we that self absorbed?

Between Syria's civil war, and the rise of Isis, the world is in the worst refugee crisis since World War II. Over 11 million people are displaced because of it and roughly 240,000 have died.

But we don't care, do we? We'd rather browse Facebook to see what our friends are doing this weekend, and catch up on the latest drama. The bars and the beaches are flooded this Labor Day weekend with people enjoying a day off. Let's not forget about the people who haven't had a day off in over four years out of fear they will be killed. This little boy was born into the same war that killed him. His 3rd birthday was surrounded by refugees instead of friends, whatever he could find to eat instead of cake, and gunshots for candles.

May God bless what's less of that mess.

Taken from A Holy Experience, these are some of the things you can do to help: 

–> Mennonite Central Committee
–> World Relief (donate to provide backpacks for resettled children here)
–> World Vision
–> Samaritan’s Purse
–> Doctors Without Borders: Has three rescue ships in the Mediterranean, on Tuesday alone they rescued 1,658 people
–> UNICEF
–> Hand in Hand for Syria: Working within Syrian borders to provide aid. Donations are made via British currency but these are easily converted from US donations during the transaction.

If you’d like to help Syrian refugees stranded on the Greek Island of Lesvos, see the list below, and mail to:
Hellenic Postal Office of Mythymna
℅ The Captain’s Table
Molyvos 81108, Lesvos, Greece

ITEMS TO SEND for SYRIAN REFUGEES on GREEK ISLAND OF LESVOS:

Sneakers, gym shoes for men, women and children (all sizes) are a HIGH PRIORITY
Sweatpants of all sizes.
Briefs/underwear for men, women and children (all sizes)
Men’s trousers (small, medium and large) and shoes
Baby powder milk
Any non-perishables like nut butters or other long-lasting foods.
Diapers
Feminine products
Sleeping bags
Plastic to cover the floor/for shade
Tents/tarpaulin
Mats (camping or yoga mats)
Hats and caps for sunshade (adults and children/light colours because of the sun)
Electric Plug for multiple devices (european voltage)

When it's all said and done - PRAY. Pray for these children who will be lost forever in a world who won't save them. For the girl forcing a smile, for the boy who put his hands up because he thought a camera was a gun, and for the little girl who doesn't think her baby doll should see it all. Who's covering her eyes? 

Let's uncover ours. 

Make sure your love runs deep enough to affect your hospitality, empathy, fidelity, and contentment. 
Hebrews 13:5 

Life in Alaska

"You can kiss your friends and family goodbye, and put miles between you. But at the same time, you carry them with you in your heart, in your soul, in your stomach. Because you do not just live in a world, but a world lives in you." -Fredrick Buchner

Last night with the fam. Totally normal. 

Two summers ago, I met Pat down in Mexico. The way he described where he lived in Alaska made me want more. I made it a personal goal to visit but never did I think I would be working and living here. Flying over the lights of Anchorage Friday night, I knew I belonged in Alaska. I can't explain the feeling I have being here and who's to say for how long, but for now, Denali is home.

One thing I love is how present everyone is. No one is ever on their cell phones, but instead enjoying the scenery and people around them. It's a lifestyle people in the city can't appreciate anymore. Being "connected" has taken over being present and alive.

Saturday morning, a crew of us including Pat, Molly, Kyle, and Vicki (another couple who just moved up here from AZ) went on a hike into Portage Pass which starts in the town of Whittier. Whittier is very... interesting. It's a port town for the Alaska Marine Highway and the population is under 200. All of the city lives in one building and I'm pretty sure weird stuff happens there. Pat and Molly wanted to start us off at the low end and insist we can only go up from there.

The building behind the sign is where the entire town lives

...and this is where they used to live... 

The hike on the other hand was out of this world. Along the path were footprints for a lynx and we searched everywhere to find it but apparently  it didn't want to be found. We were consistently in shin to knee deep snow and the sun finally broke through by the time we reached the glacier.

Getting to the glacier, we had to walk across the frozen lake that wasn't so frozen in some spots. Molly reminded me that Pat, being on Alaska's Search and Rescue Team, has a higher tolerance of sketchiness than most. Regardless, he tested the depth, gave his approval, and we went for it.

Kyle, Pat, Molly, Me 

Once we got to the glacier, I realized then just how small I was. Looking at my surroundings, I couldn't help but wonder about everything else around me. What was behind that glacier, and behind that even? It seemed as if we covered so much ground and saw such a huge piece of earth, yet when I looked at the topo map back at the house, we covered nothing. Alaska is huge, and so much of it has yet to be explored.

On the plane I watched, "Secret Life of Walter Mitty." I loved the quote and motto of LIFE Magazine that was consistent throughout the movie. I hope to live out their motto while living here in what I consider God's country.

"To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life." -LIFE Magazine

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith would be made stronger in the presence of my Savior." -Hillsong United

The Good Life > American Dream

The American Dream. What is it? Living the good life. What does that mean?

I've lived the high life, making plenty of money, going on weekend getaways, enjoying happy hour three nights a week, going on 10 days of vacation because that's what my "good job" allotted me. All I needed was a sexy husband and two kids, and I was living the dream. Oh, the American Dream, it's what we all strive for.

Except, I don't want the American Dream, I want to live my dream.

I want to live the good life, finding beauty all around me. Seek love, and hold on to it. See the world, and share it with those around me. Let God speak to me through nature. Be drawn to tears in awe of the magnificence we call earth. Breathe in clean mountain air. Sleep outside. Share conversation with a stranger. Invite the world to change me so I can change the world. Do things that make me feel good. Isn't that the good life?

For the next 6 months, Alaska is where I'll be. Welcome to Denali.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul." Psalm 23:1-3 

Nature's Lullaby

I haven't had much to report since I'm not traveling, but this is what came out of my pen while I was laying in my hammock watching planes fly by, wondering where they were traveling to, (and wishing my hammock and I were back in Mexico).

The hammock swings

I feel the breeze

The airplanes pass me by

I hear the train

And songs of birds

It’s nature’s lullaby.

The air is dry

The sun is bright

The sky is free of clouds

I feel the warmth

I see the sun

I praise His name aloud.

The water runs

The palms, they blow

With all these combined

For all of us to feel His love

It’s nature’s lullaby.

Those with sight

May never see

The beauty in this place

With ears to hear,

They’ll never listen

To the sound of mercy and grace.

The train gets louder

The breeze blows stronger

Planes fly high and by

The sun gets brighter

My heart beats faster

For nature’s lullaby.

________________

"The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent." 

                                                                                      - Exodus 14:14

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not." 

                                                                                                                          -Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Giving Up On God - Vinny {Part 2}

I wasn't going to write more than I already had regarding Vinny. Then Sis called and told me people want to follow his story, the good, and the bad. So here it is...

Monday night, I left Lauren's show in Orange County at 11pm. I got to the Blaine offramp in Riverside at 11:45pm. I was tired, but my mind was wide awake.

There he was. In the same green shirt, same black hat, same blank stare I'd seen before. Opposite of me, his body was awake, but his mind was tired.

I got the green light and drove by, waving a peace sign to him. He waved back, with a weak, "Hey Bec." Dolly was with him, the new girl on the streets, and I wanted to meet her anyway.

To the 76 station I went. Looked for the attendant to tell him I was parking to go see Vinny, but he was long gone. It was midnight by now. Not many people were out.

I had almonds, but he only has two teeth and can't eat them so I walked over empty handed, full hearted and ready to talk. He didn't even move when I got there. Just kept standing there, leaning on the guard rail, with his sign reading, "Betcha can't hit an old vet with a quarter!"

"Hi, I'm Becca. You must be Dolly," I said to the blonde lady sitting on the ground.

Vinny told me the week before about Dolly. He told me to look for her. She was blonde, late 40's, new to the streets and he was showing her the ropes. Someone stole her backpack that previous week and she was feeling low, so he wanted me to give her words of encouragement whenever I did see her.

"I am Dolly! It's nice to meet you, Becca." She gave me a light smile, then laid down, put a fleece blanket on the ground, then covered her entire body and head to keep the crickets from jumping into bed with her.

I walked over five feet to Vinny. Still staring out to an empty offramp.

"Hey Vinny," I said slowly.
"...hey"

::silence::

His eyes got teary, he wasn't looking at me yet.

"So... my bike got stolen today," he said as he slowly turned his eyes to me.
"Oh Vinny," I said, "AGAIN?"

Dolly jumped up from her bed, shaking her hair out, battle lost to the crickets, "Wait, it's already happened?"
"Yeah," I told her. "That's two times this month."
I looked to Vinny again, getting teary myself, "Vinny I'm so sorry."
"That's okay, at least they cut my bags off before taking it."

{God, please give me the words to say to this man. Or send either Pastor Eric or Johannes to come save me with their words;  however I know that's impossible at this hour for either one of them to be conveniently coming off this ramp. Back to my original prayer. Please give me the words to say. Please. Amen}

::silence::

"Ya know, all we gotta do in this world is live and die. Sometimes, I just wish it would hurry up."
{What is he saying, why is he saying this... Ohhhhh God where are you?}
"I just don't want to keep on living like this. I think Jesus loves to pick on the miserable because I am absolutely miserable. Why does He keep doing this to me?"
"Vinny..."
"No, you know what, I think Jesus is running from the battle He has with Satan. He's a COWARD! Why doesn't He just end it all? End it all right now."

::silence::

"Vinny... He won't give you more than you can handle. He picks on the strong, not the weak."
"Yeah well, what's the point of me praying anymore anyway. I ask, he never answers."
"He always answers, it's just not always what you want to hear."
"I don't want to be here anymore."

::silence::

"I tell you what, I didn't pray for that man to steal my bike, nope. I'm a good man, and bad shit just keeps happening to me and I'm tired of it."

::silence::

"And no one gives a shit about me. You think my family is out there looking for me? Hell no, I wouldn't want to see them anyway even if they did."

::silence::

"And why do the rich have everything? They're evil, all of them. I have nothing, and keep being thrown to the ground."
"Blessed are the-"
"I don't give a rat's ass. Jesus wants to keep making my life miserable. He's a coward. So one man sinned, and we're all sinners living in misery for the rest of time? That sounds selfish if you ask me."
"Vinny, I wish I had words."

He stopped, looked at me with tearful eyes, and he smiled.
"That's okay. Sometimes the best listeners are just that. You don't have to say anything. I'm thankful you're here."

{Thank you}

"That's the spirit. Hold on to the good in life. Look at Dolly. You have a companion now. Look at your stuff, you still have that. Look at Stacey and I, we love you. And whether or not you believe it, Jesus hasn't left you."
"...yeah I guess so. I'm just tired of it sometimes. I'm okay though, and I'll get another bike tomorrow from a friend."
"Then I'd better get you a bike lock," I said jokingly trying to lighten the mood.

We both laughed, but inside we were both desperate for a change. I left that night, feeling defeated and totally heart broken. I was afraid to leave him, in fear he might take his life. I prayed for words, and God gave me silence. Maybe there was a reason for that.

Hopefully we'll find out soon.

_____

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." -Phillippians 4:6

"Answer me when I call to you, O my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; be merciful to me and hear my prayer." -Psalm 4:1

"Some of God's greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers." -Garth Brooks

Conviction Meets Calling

Three months ago, on June 2, 2013, my life was changed forever. All because of one man.

Stace and I had just gotten out of church to meet my dad for dinner. We were running late, and she wasn't paying attention when she rear ended a limo driver who spoke very little English. Frazzled, she spoke with her insurance while I kept the man in good spirits. 

We were on our way after 20 minutes or so, had dinner, laughed it off with my dad, all was fine. Except Stacey was still beating herself up for having been so oblivious to the car in front of her. 

It was late, we were tired, both in need of a mood lifter. 

That's when we saw a homeless man, sitting on the ground, not really paying much attention to people driving by. All day, every day, someone is standing on this corner begging. This man couldn't be bothered. He didn't even look up. 

We got the green light. "Whew" is usually the sigh of relief for most people. No one likes to be the person stopped at the red light next to a homeless person looking you right in the eyes, hoping for something. Not us. This was what we needed. 

Stacey looked over at him as she drove past him. Then she looked at me. 

"I feel like we need to get that guy something," she said. 

"Yeah? Like what?"

"I dunno, let's go to the gas station." 

{As a side note: I am a total softy when it comes to homeless people. You might disagree with this next statement, but in truth, I simply don't care. My Nonnie taught me that God put that person in front of you to give; not to judge. Whatever they do with it afterwards is between them and God. It's not your sword to swing, you did your job. Take that however you want; it's not for everyone} 

We parked, picked up some red vines (because who doesn't love red vines), water, and some other random things we both thought we'd want if we were on the streets. We asked the attendant if he wouldn't mind us parking at the gas station for a bit while we walked down the street. 

We were on our way to see the homeless man, in hopes to maybe pray over him and shed some light on a dark, lonely evening.  We were not prepared for what happened next. 

He appeared to be on the streets for a while. He was in his late 50's sporting a massive beard, long grey hair, a hat, and a serious runny nose. 

He was happy to see two young ladies heading his way, and we... well we were all of a sudden in a hurry to get out of there. He spoke fast, but not jibberish. He was educated. Very educated. Clearly he was on something, but we didn't know what. "I LOVE red vines!" Well, at least we nailed that one. 

We gave each other the "let's give this five minutes and get out of here" look, but he just kept on talking about this and that. He told me, "I bet you don't last 20 minutes talking to me because by that time, this snot will reach the bottom of my nose and you'll be so grossed out, you'll run." 

He was right. It was gross. But something happened. We stayed. We listened. We quietly prayed. 

An hour later, the snot reached well beyond the bottom of his nose. He was becoming very passionate about his rants and with every word, I would just stare at it... waiting for that slimy goo to come flying across and hit me in my own mouth. 

We found out his name was Vinny. He was 57 years old and had been on the streets for 26 of those years. We wanted so badly to just pray over him, and be on our way, maybe to catch him again on a sober day. This wasn't turning out the way we had planned... does anything? 

Late turned into really late, and we needed to get going. That's when a friend of Vinny rolled up on his bike. His name was Randall. By this time, Vinny was tired of talking to us, so he want back to his post, sat down, and continued rambling to himself. 

Randall was well kept, very sober, and didn't appear to be homeless (he told us later he has a place to stay, but that's about it). With his bike and cigarette in hand, he asked how - and what - we were doing in the area. 

We explained our night, how we saw Vinny, and felt the pull to come meet him before heading home.

"Vin Dog is a real good friend of mine," he said. "That man needs a lot of prayer." 

Stacey looked at me, with eyes lit up. 

"Actually, that's why we came over here. We were hoping to pray over him," she said. 

"Well," he replied, "why don't we do it now?" 

Wow...

Stace and I looked at each other, completely taken back by his response. 

"Absolutely," we both said. 

Without hesitation, he put his bike down, along with his cigarette, grabbed both our hands, and he prayed right there with traffic flying by us. I squeezed Stacey's hand in disbelief. 

"Dear God, I thank you for this night. I thank you for all the beauty in this world and for people like Stacey and Rebecca, for stopping by and spending time with Vinny. He needs your help and we ask for you to watch over him." 

We were both weeping. I don't even remember what else he said in his prayer, and it didn't matter. I was blown away.  We left, moods beyond lifted, knowing we'd be back to visit Vinny, even if he didn't remember talking to us. 

Two weeks later, Stacey passed him off the freeway, with red vines in her hand ready to pass off. 

"Hi Stacey!!"  

No. Way. He remembered. 

She called me and told me to go see him. So I did. And he was sober. 

He apologized for that night, and he opened up to me about his life growing up in Huntington Park, his daughter Heather (somewhere out there), the day his cousin offered him methamphetamine in his teen years to kick a migraine, and how he wished it never happened. He hates when people drive past him just to yell at him to get a job, he loves mixing every kind of cereal he can get his hands on, pouring milk straight into the box, and eating it just like that. He told me he'd rather have 20 minutes of conversation with someone than $100. 

I've seen him a number of times since then, and the gas attendant now knows who I'm going to visit, bringing him a few of his favorite things, and meeting some of the other guys (and girl) in the neighborhood. He lives right behind Sandals Church, and my hope is to one day have him accept my invite to a service. 

Today, I went to the Woodcrest campus and it was the most powerful service I've been to in years. God reached right into my heart and tugged on the strings. So much so, that I wept the entire time. It was a service of prayer. Pastor Matt asked us to write down a name that only we can reach (Philemon 1:4).

I wrote down Vinny. 

He told us to pray for the following: 

- Make God real to them, no matter what it takes.

- Block the enemy from them (God doesn't change hearts, he only softens them).

- Ask God to help me pray for them. (2 Corinthians 4:4) 

This man is the focus of my prayers, and if you see him standing on Blaine off the 215S, tell him I said so. 

"In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work, we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

Acts 20:35

To Be Broke, Brown, and Barefoot

Recently the conversation came up with my mom about the title of my blog. She asked when it started and I laughed, remembering exactly when it happened.

In 2009, Costa Rica was home base and I was traveling up to Nicaragua for a quick, one-week trip. The day before we were supposed to head back to CR, the border shut down. Fantastic.

I had $5.00 to my name until the border opened up three days later (no ATMs in Popoyo, FYI). In the meantime, I snuck into the internet cafe to assure my family I was safe, the surf was pumping, and I had plenty of money (uh-huh that's right).

Business was done, I snuck out, got halfway down the dirt road, and heard a man yelling after me, "You pay, you must pay!!!" All I could do was yell back "I'm soooorrrryyyyy!!" as I ran down the road in my bare feet with such guilt that I stole two minutes from this man's internet cafe.

While guilt struck, yet laughing, I realized I was literally broke, brown, barefoot, and I was happy. I spent the last $5.00 on a bottle of Flor de Caña (which I shared with the hostel staff in exchange for meals), got some of the best waves of my life and I wouldn't have done it any different.

The End.

"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." -Ralk Waldo Emerson

The Day I Used AAA... Twice

By far, the highlight of my last couple days was building a successful fire in less than 10 minutes. I've become a total dirt bag and instead of buying a bundle of wood for $5, I walk around the other sites and take wood people leave behind. Dontjudgeme. I've been loving Oregon and being able to sit outside and journal under trees larger than life. Beauty is all around me!

I made it about ONE mile out of Newport, OR when my truck decided she had other plans (it's a she because she's moody). I made it to the side-ish of the road and called AAA and I think the lady was more interested in hearing about my road trip than being stranded on hwy 101 needing a tow truck.  Three hours and $400 later, I was on the road.

Clockwise from top left: Sea Lion Cave, Beverly State Beach, Devil's Punch Bowl, and Spencer Creek Trail 

After 12 hours of driving, my bank account being bullied, and my nose only getting snottier from a cold I somehow acquired, I put away the camping gear and pulled into a cheap hotel. When the man asked if I had AAA, I could only look at him with an exhausted smile on my face as I crammed a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth. Why yes. Yes I do. Thank you for the discount... and the extra cookie.

When life hands you lemons, give them back and eat the free cookies.

Santa Cruz and Sonoma Coast

I'm writing from the Co-Op in Gualala, where I've been greeted by every person who walks by. While sitting here at the window, drinking my vanilla latte, a homeless man walked by, stopped to make sure he got my attention, smiled, waved, and kept walking. Before here, the lady at the fair trade gift store, gave me a tour of the entire shop with stories about where everything came from. Apparently when your town population is under 200, a tourist is the highlight of any day.

 I stayed in Sonoma County last night after spending two days with Mike in Santa Cruz. Surfed both days and thought my life was over when I mistook a seal for a shark. Other than that, the cold water was bearable and the waves were pretty fun! Photos below are of 26th street where I had the better of two days surfing and Mike putting air in my tires which pretty much captured his personality at it's finest.

The drive up through Sonoma was so pretty, it was hard to keep my eyes on the road. From lush trees near Samuel Taylor, to the Tule Elk Reserve at Pt. Reyes, over steep cliffs through Sonoma Coast State Park, I'm overwhelmed with the beauty of this coast! 

"I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes." - E.E. Cummings 

Mexico Wrap Up

I've been home for two weeks and have been taking my sweet time posting the last four weeks of our trip. So the cliff note version is this: Mark and Andrew fished for crocodiles, we went to a funeral and wedding in the same weekend, and finished the trip at the Copper Canyons which are said to be 6 times larger than the Grand Canyon and the part of the trip I looked most forward to.

Before all the craziness, we stopped at Chacala for endless hours of cards, backgammon, beach volleyball, stray dog lovin, and down time.

So here we go. Yes, this actually happened. Mark spotted a crocodile and pulled over, told Andrew to get the fishing pole, then God knows why, but he casted and CAUGHT THE CROCODILE. It was probably 8-10 feet and it was splashed around like crazy until Andrew broke the line. What were they thinking? We never know with them.

Once we pulled up to Jose's house (for the second time since October), he told me his father passed away the night before and the funeral was in an hour. The coolest thing about that funeral was the burial. The family buried him there (cement and all) instead of leaving it for the cemetery officials to handle.

At the burial, the widow of Jose's dad told us her son was to be married the following day and we were invited. It was awesome for two reasons. The first because the same group of people we saw mourning on Saturday were in celebration on Sunday. The second because they invited us the day before the wedding unlike American weddings where you can't show up unless you have an invite. That family is the most loving, giving, gracious group of people I'll ever meet.

From Aticama, we headed to El Fuerte for the beginning of our week in the Copper Canyons. El Fuerte is an old Spanish Colonial town and it holds a lot of beautiful history. From there, we took the train to Creel and at one of the stops, Tarahumara Indians come up to the train to sell their baskets made of pine and apple empanadas.

In Creel, we ventured for a family hike to a 900 foot waterfall and a view that reminded me a lot of Yosemite. We walked down and hung at the water pool at the bottom, then hiked up and around the rim. We bought some Pinole and souvenirs then headed back to Divisadero where all the views were.

Our last days in Divisadero were what I'd been waiting 6 months to do. Andrew and I started our Mexican journey in September and slept either in the van, or tent. Spending our last nights watching the sun rise and set over the canyon from a hotel room was quite the finale to our trip.

I read the book "Born to Run" a few years ago and since then had become obsessed with the idea of visiting these canyons. Over 60,000 Tarahumara Indians live in the canyons and run with sandals made of old tires. They run 60-100 miles per day. They are shy people and you wouldn't know a house unless you were sitting right on top of one. They trade corn for wool and live on the most basic amenities. Most of them don't speak Spanish; they have their own language. Their smiles are contagious and cheeks are permanently rosy from the cold air. Their energy is spread throughout the canyons and hiking through them was an unforgettable experience.

It was bittersweet leaving Mexico yet some memories will never leave me such as mangy dogs, topes and pot holes, military check points, dirt roads, "todo derecho," and the music - so loud... why so loud? I already feel homesick for that ugly beautiful country, but when I saw Jayme running down the driveway screaming for her Bebba, I was happy to be home. In the end, there's no place like home and until I get another itch, memories of Mexico and the company of family will keep me happy.

Groms, Kooks, and Creepers

Pascuales.
Big, heavy, hollow, fast, did I say heavy yet?

This wave is not for me but I've enjoyed watching Andrew and 10 year old "Pols" and his friend Alan.
Where Pol's name originated:
Rolando
Rollie Pollie
Pols

Yes, that's right, two 10 year olds surf this wave and I want nothing to do with it unless it's small (still throws me on my ass).

I've become quite fond of Pols, who is Kiwi Dave's son (the guy we're staying with). Dave is from New Zealand, married a Mexican and Pols is fluent in both languages.
Right out of a nap, Pols will stumble sleepily over to his bow and arrow, and when he's bored with that he'll come over to me and say in his kiwi accent, "Boom Boom Becca, do you want to go surfin' board ridin' or body wompin'?" Every day, he paints his face a different color with all 8 Zinkas we gave him.

Top: Pols, Andrew and Alan (10 years old!)
Bottom Left: Pols playfully snaking Andrew
Mid Right: Andrew being selective
Bottom Right: Pols and his war paint 

The rips here are unreal and they don't take long to sweep you out. The other day, Pols and I were swimming when I heard the whistle blow and I looked to the beach to see Pol's 16 year old brother sprinting towards the water with the other two life guards. I looked out and saw two guys being swept out to sea so I yelled at Pols to go in, then sprinted my way over to the guys
...on a full stomach and rum 'n coke. Fail.

I swam out to Juna (Pol's brother) and he told me to grab the guys arm and this guy just had a look of terror on his face when I told him we had to go "abajo" because two set waves were about to hit us.
I'd never been gripped onto so tightly.

Once we got them in, they told me it'd been 6 years since going to the beach and they weren't the best swimmers (ya think?) The lifeguard Carlos and I gave them a quick lesson on swimming out of rips and I tried not to throw up.
Don't want to waste a good rum n' coke.

I never realized some people don't know how to swim in the ocean (thank you, Mom for teaching me about rips at a young age!)

The thing about rips here, is they're super wide so it takes awhile to swim out of them. On my evening "body wompin'" session with Mr. Pols that same day, he got swept out super quick and I swam after him. Somehow, he scorpioned his little body out of it and passed right by me. By the time I got out, we were both exhausted but laughing about the irony of me saving someone from a rip earlier, then being taken away myself. Humility at it's finest as the ocean reminded me of it's unpredictable nature.

Top: Mexican fisherman, Dave and Pols
Bottom: Creepers watching me take photos, Lifeguards Simon and Carlos

I haven't left a quote or Bible verse at the end of my recent blogs so I'll leave you with one of each! Hasta luego amigos.

"If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there'd be a shortage of fishing poles."
-Doug Larson

"Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds." - Matthew 6:25-26 MSG

Happiness

Currently, Andrew and I are en route north at Playa Ventura somewhere between Huatulco and Acapulco. I'm watching the sun rise with a cup of cinnamon coffee, listening to the waves and Marc Cohn, thankful as ever. Pelicans are flying by, low over the ocean. Up, down, side to side, they are in perfect, effortless unison. What a life that must be.

It's funny though, how I have to watch this morning routine of theirs in order to appreciate my own blessings in life. I'm sure somewhere, someone has watched me in the ocean, early in the morning, wishing they had my life as they drank their cup of joe.

In his book, "The Age of Absurdity," Michael Foley translates Jacques Rousseau's vision of happiness: "if you have it, you can't be aware of it, and if you are aware of it, you can't have it." He also makes the point of happiness sometimes being recognized only retrospectively, after it's lost.

It's easy to look in my memory bank to remember some of life's greatest times, but to be present and happy in the moment sometimes slips away from me. Always trying to make something what it used to be, or what it could be, when in reality, I'm going to look back at this morning and realize how perfect it was.

It's a good thing the morning isn't over and I still have time to appreciate it. Life is good, and I'm as happy as I've ever been. Now it's time to swim with the pelicans.

"God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing."- C.S. Lewis

Rainy Days

Today, I woke up home sick. Nothing in particular sparked it, but I felt so far away from home, I actually started crying. I didn't know how to get ahold of myself so I went for a walk and asked God to come with me. Different prayers came to the surface of my thoughts and all I did was embrace the storm passing through. 

I thought of my little sister who just got engaged to her high school sweetheart. I thought of my niece, my best girl, growing so fast and prays for me every day on her own as she says, “Bebba, safe, Mexico.” I thought of Sis who is two months from giving birth to my nephew and two weeks from moving into their new home and needs me now more than ever. I thought of my little brother who is doing amazing things with the church and taking risks going to Juarez to share with the people of Mexico. I thought of my parents who worry about me more than they need to. All I could do was cry. 

12 years later, she circled "yes"

All these thoughts and worries came storming though all at once and I was overwhelmed. Then I remembered a quote I read recently by Freya Stark: “To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.”  Of the 308 million-plus citizens in the United States, 30% have passports (CNN 2011). Everyone dreams of traveling the world, but very few actually do it. I'm one of the lucky few, living the dream. Not the American dream, but my own.

Before walking back to the house, I noticed an old woman in her apron carrying a bucket full of something heavy. With very little effort, she hiked up the hill with a smile on her face. She stopped and looked at me, as I sat on the sidewalk with my head in my hands and tears on my cheeks. She looked me right in the eye and said, “what a beautiful day it is today.” And she left, saying nothing more. 

I realized then how lucky I am to wake up in this foreign town, and the old woman who has probably never left this small town of Jacomulco, was here to remind me of the beauty of this world. Sometimes I get caught up in my own world and forget to look around to see what’s really going on. The world keeps on turning, with or without me and it's a beautiful thing. I'm traveling and that in itself is a blessing. Once home from Mexico, I will have no job, no money, no plan, and that's okay because someone else has it all mapped out for me. Bring on the rain. 

Matthew 6:3-4

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." 

Southbound - With Tortillas

 Where to begin. Sorry for all who have been looking for an update. I have a lot of things written but not blogged yet. We are leaving Campo Lopez and  heading to Southern Baja on October 1st (ish). This whole thing has been an "ish" journey and I'm finding it to be more enjoyable than having a set plan. Me and three  boys - Andrew, Todd, and Chris - are driving our "van de suenos" through Baja, crossing over to mainland on an 18 hour ferry (fml), then heading to Oaxaca and maybe Guatemala if we need to extend our visas for another 6 months. Four months surfing, two months kayaking. Should be nothing shy of an adventure. I'm particularly excited for Oaxaca and hopefully meeting up with my friend Alli. 

The biggest hurdle for me is learning how to do absolutely nothing. All day. Every day. Do nothing except wake up, drink 3-4 cups of coffee on a deck overlooking the ocean, journal, run and/or surf, eat some breakfast, chorble around the casa, surf some more, take a siesta, drink some rum and coke, watch the sunset, and eat a lot of tortillas. Sounds relaxing, but I go stir crazy doing nothing for too long. There are a lot of great orphanages I'd like to visit to break up the routine and do some good for the community. I could always use some soccer and happy kids in my day. 

The next challenge is not getting fat. Seriously, why are the flour tortillas in Baja so good? I have no self control. I eat them whenever I see them. It's a sickness. I can't wait to get to mainland so they're out of reach. I've probably gained 5-7lb and I'm turning into a gordita. Surf more, eat less. I should write that on the bathroom mirror. Hell, maybe on the bag of tortillas. 

We've been loving the disco and dutch oven. Both are cooked over the fire since we're literally one step up from camping. No electricity or gas, but we have running water and a breath taking view which you've all seen so life is pretty amazing here. 

So at this point in my travels, I'm praying to stay healthy, patient, and open minded. I'm really excited for the road to freedom and escape from corporate America. The only real duties I have are keeping a tight budget, saying no to that last tortilla, and making sure Andrew showers at least once a week, which is often times the hardest job! Below is a photo I took of him surfing before he hurt his knee doing this exact same maneuver. He's fun to watch, and the energy he brings to the water is unbelievable- even more so when his dad comes down to surf. 

I don't particularly believe in horoscopes, and hardly ever read them but it caught my attention in the local newspaper this morning: "You have the sense that even though your plans were not executed in the manner you would have preferred at the time, you got something wonderful out of the deal, something you're still enjoying today." 

My life is amazing and only getting better. I've made plans in life and realized I can't ever really plan what's already been laid out for me. When I think I'm in charge, God reminds me, sometimes with the bandaid effect, because it seems that's the only way I listen. Mexico is before me, and I'm going to charge it, making the most out of every day that's been given to me. First thing's first, more coffee. 

_ _ _ 

Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."