The drive was long and tedious at times as the rains and darkness slowed down the last half of the drive. As we drove the tiny roads and crossed the many, very high, un-railed wooden homemade bridges it dawned on me that these guys really like to surf. And as I looked around, there was only one other guy in the group, over 40, who had just started surfing this last year. Everyone else in the group had been surfing since childhood, so either we were idiots or we were brave, time would tell.

Pavones, or turkey town, is a very small village, a couple of tiny stores, some local surf shops, and a couple of places for non-surfing, non-sleeping surfers to grab a bite. No pavement, no ATMs, no Walmart, just a spot near a beach for world class waves, and that was all we needed. We all stayed in a house that was converted to rent to loco surfer’s such as ourselves, some on beds, some in tents, couches, floors, anywhere away from the mosquitos and the rain, cuz we knew we just needed a place to keep our boards and to nap.

The first morning we were all tired, pulling in well after 10 pm excited for an early rise. There were many among us as giddy as schoolgirls before their first dance, unable to sleep. At 5 am the floor started creaking, bodies started moving and the coffee was being poured. As the sun began to rise, boards were being prepped, waxed, new fins attached, leashes made ready and the anticipation of the sun too much for us to bear. Qucikly, men starting walking the 200 yards to the beach to get a taste of a world class wave. Overcast skies, and offshore breeze, huge slow breaking waves greeted us all as we tip toed over the rocks seeking the quickest way to the shoulder.

Personally my arms turned to jelly on the swim out to the waves. It seemed like never ending strokes attempting to reach a mirage way off in the distance. Even the seasoned vets had to take a break before attempting to catch one of these endless waves. It was gratifying to watch man after man as they found they peak of the wave, stroked quickly, slid down the wave and rode on for what seemed like hours. Four hours later, stomachs grumbling, the waves subsiding just a little, we decided it was time for the eat portion of our trip.

During breakfast, exhaustion seemed to overwhelm us, or our adrenaline had abandoned us, because men were dropping where they sat, some with plates on their laps, forks in their mouths, or coffee in their hands. But as quickly as they fell they again rose looking for the next wave. Me, Lyle and Mike F. decided to try and find our boys who were surfing a secret spot. We had loose directions from Marcell, and set off on an adventure. Unable to find them, we went down a trail by some cabanas. As the trail became overgrown and jungly, we decided it was best to turn around, so we stopped and Mike ran ahead to see if there was an opening to turn around. We should’ve know by the way he bulleted back to the car that something was up. There were waves, big long waves he exclaimed, in short panting breaths. But the best part, no one, not one person was in the water. You can make it, he exclaimed, it opens right up. Open up was a very loose word usage, as we had to dodge Lyle’s car between trees, under branches and to the beach to get to the waves. But it was worth it. He was right. There were big long waves and we were the only three people on the face of the earth that day that got to surf those waves. It turned out to be the best 3 hours of surfing we would have on that trip, and possibly in our entire life. Wave, after wave, after wave of rides 100 – 200 yards long, with only each other to take turns with. No wind, no chop, just rideable wave after rideable wave. In all honesty, it has probably ruined surfing for me from that day forward, and I truly wish my skill level was better so that I could’ve rode the waves for quite a time longer. Unfortunately I have no photos for we were all in the water.

So that’s how the trip went, eat, surf, eat, sleep, surf, eat, surf, on and on and on. Our muscles were tired, our body’s were aching. Some of the waves were too big to ride, some were too crowded to ride, but every wave caught was better than any wave we could catch back home. Ben got barreled and Jeremy rode the longest waves of his life, by far. And because of this trip I now know how to eat, surf and sleep, and although it is certainly not as easy as it sounds, I can’t wait until I get to do it again.

Sunrise

So the Costa Ricans have adapted well, especially the outdoor workers, such as construction crews. Right now we have two new buildings going up in our area, and on both buildings the concrete starts pouring, the hammers start hammering, and the drills start drilling at 6 am sharp. The sun is in full bloom and it is time to start the day. Now these aren’t the over achievers, these aren’t the Wall Street moguls, these are the everyday workers, from the machete wielding brush clearer, to the electric company crew.

A new cafe being built near us.

new house in our neighborhood.

The buses start rolling at about 5:30, sucking up workers on the side of the road like Pacman, and depositing them at their area of work for a long hot day. Personally, I think they prefer to get most of their work done before the midday, because from noon to three, it is a little toasty outside. In fact it is not uncommon to see a whole fleet of road workers, or cable techs, or any outdoor crew taking a nap alongside the road during their lunch hour; and they come prepared with mats, and hats to cover their eyes for their afternoon siesta. They worry not about the snakes, mosquitos, ants or scorpions, or any other critter, for they know that the critters are far too smart to be out that time of day. Perhaps this is the secret of dealing with the midday heat. I will be unable to tell until I give it at least a one year test, so check back in a year and I will let you know.

sunset

sunset

My troubles have shrunk, my fear has subsided, my love increased and my faith stretched. I am amazed that so many come to serve and amazed at how many in this tiny portion of this big world have need. I am also amazed that despite their situation, they praise, they worship and they believe. Their possessions are small and their faith is large. Each and every one we served shared a story of prayer and faith and belief that their needs would be met, and that we were their answer of prayer.

I have listened to many missionaries, I have seen countless slide presentations and videos, I have fought back the tears and I have given to the cause. But until I went, until I smelt the stink of the dump and the unwashed, until I have tasted the sandy grit between my teeth, until I walked into their “house” and saw the dirt covered, smashed thin foam single mattress for the whole family on the floor, until I had looked into the live ,glistening, often red eyes, of the dirt streaked faces on the kids, I could not fully understand the need. They became more than a story, more than a video, they are real people struggling every day to survive.

Now that I know, I pray that I can continue to go and to make a small tiny difference in the vast field of need. For I know of no humbler, awe inspiring feeling than when you are told that you are an answer to prayer.

Short slide show: The Eyes of Cristo Rey

The family we built a house for today.

The shy son

Dorian and Dad making paper airplanes

The first activity of the day was to make and color a paper airplane. Our plan was to teach them how, which was quickly abandoned because of the sheer volume of tiny, tanned, dirty faces surrounding the table reaching out for just a bit of attention and love. It was if we had food to give and they were starving;tiny dirty fingers poking and prodding all over, ” no tengo” they would squeek, pointing at a blank piece of paper as if it was a small treasure. So we made paper airplanes for them as fast as we could, and they colored them to make them their own. A story of Christ’s birth was then shared before moving on to snack time. Snack time was the quietest most peaceful time of the day. My theory, they had been trained already by the daily provided lunch, sit quietly, patiently and you will be fed.

Prepping for VBS

The VBS building, the nicest in the area.

faces of Nicaragua.

The crew

One of my favorite little girls

At times it was chaotic, it was always loud, and it was hot muggy and uncomfortable. Even the kids were saying they were thirsty. But similar to yesterday you could see the joy in  the kids eyes and the excitement and glow in their faces. It was not easy to look past the ill-fitting filthy clothes, or the dirt stained faces, but the smiles and their eyes really brought a level of warmth to my heart. I could not take enough pictures of their faces. But my heart still hurt for the hundreds of kids that were not able to attend. It still felt like this was a band-aid, just a temporary fix, and it left me longing to do more.

here she is again

begging for an airplane

Katherine loving on a little boy

loving her balloon animal

There were some fantastically bright shining moments such as when I told them that they had done ” my bien” or very good coloring their airplane. they would repeat it to themselves and tell their friends, smiling ear to ear. And quickly show me any more improvements for another tidbit of praise. Or they joy they took looking at the myriad of photos I took of them. Or the simple things like when one of the teen girls with us washed their hands, and afterward they smelled their hands in joy. I know these are small things, and to me they don’t mean much, but it is what we can do and I have to deal with that. Perhaps, in time, I will be able to do much more, but for now I must just enjoy the moment for what it is, a memory for them and another life changing moment for me.

The road to Cristo Rey

this is where many of the kids "work"

Some local housing

Our home base for the week is a nice bunk-house called La Quinta Shalom. They specialize in providing housing and food for missions trips, and they are great hosts. The coffee is always on and they now have WIFI! Our missions mission on this trip is to build four houses for four families in an area near the dump.
Now I use the word house very loosely, because what we are building is an 11×11 concrete pad surrounded by pieces of tin, smaller than my shed. However, they are very humbled and happy to have anything that protects them from the rain better than the current cardboard and plastic bags and other pieces of trash adorning their current abodes.
The drive out to the location is an hour-long,eye-opening trip. The roads are swamped with vehicles, 2,4, and 6 lane highways, motorcycles, buses, crazy cars, and even the occasional horse and cart tramping Down the middle of the road. In amongst the roads are patches of green, and in those patches are families with mattresses and hammocks and the fortunate ones have a black trash bag to cover their heads. And this is just on the way to the dump.

waiting for his new house to be built

me and some of the local Nica girls who were watching the show

It is easy to tell when you are getting close to the dump as the roads , which are already smattered with trash, become more and more covered, until you pass fields that look like crops of colored cotton candy growing alongside the road. As you draw nearer you realize it is just fields of old plastic grocery bags. The neighborhood we were working in was a newly established area covered with minimal shelters, many us Americans would not feel good enough for our pets. Yet not only do they live in them, they are happy and feel fortunate to have them. They are pieced together with wood, tin, plastic and more trash collected from the nearby dump. Any severe wind or rain would render most of them useless.

After initial meetings and being introduced to the local pastor we broke up into two building teams and began to build. Our building plan was as follows: dig post holes, make a wood frame, slap on a tin roof, pour a concrete floor, slap on some tin walls, put in a door and give them the key. There is no key, because there is no lock because there is no door handle. It is a truly sobering and humbling experience to participate in.

Laying the concrete pad, back-breaking work

a kitchen

At lunch time I was fortunate to enjoy the daily lunch service the local church provides to 200 hungry kids. They reported to us that for most of these kids the lunch they provide is their only meal of the day. These people are true missionaries,living amongst those kids and feeding them every single day. The meal begins with a prayer in Spanish and is followed up with multi lingual worship songs while they eat their bowl of rice and fruit. The lunch room is a covered concrete pad adorned with colorful plastic tables and chairs in an attempt to brighten the hot and dusty atmosphere. But the stars of the meals are the kids themselves, ranging from 1-10. They are full of smiles, love to have their picture taken and love to hug you, hold your hand or just touch you. They are kids and they act like kids. But I was brought to tears by these kids. I was moved by the simple pleasure of having a hot meal at an actual table. Moved by the fact that they got to wash their hands. And truly moved to tears as older brothers and sisters, 4,5 or 6 years old spent their lunch time feeding their younger siblings, neglecting themselves. In those kids you could see it in their eyes, the need, the desire to be a kid, taken care of, fed and free to grow. It was those kids for which my spirit wept. They knew, they were not oblivious to the world around them, they knew that they lived among the truly poor in the world, scraping daily for a meal, praying for a way to stop the rain from dripping on their dirt floor, and praying mostly for their family. The burden of life was already written on their tiny tanned, mud streaked face, and it was impossible to hide.

many of the kids have stomach infections which causes bloating.

Although we finished two ” houses” today, heard testimony from both families that they prayed for this miracle, and one even saw a vision of a bunch of gringos coming to help her, despite all this the long bus ride home was a solemn quiet ride home. I couldn’t help but wonder how I could not help more, there is so much need, so much suffering and so much left to do. And as I impatiently waited for my turn in the shower to wash away the stink of the day, it struck me that most of, if not each and every person I saw today would not being taking a shower, and probably had never ever taken a shower. A simple refreshing way to wash away the worries of the day, a pleasure that most people reading this will have experienced with the last 12 hours. I think perhaps today my life was changed. I think perhaps my perspective has forever changed.
Tomorrow we will go and we will build two more houses, tomorrow we will conduct a kids Bible school and then we will come home and we will wash away the stink of the day.
Please take a minute to give thanks for all that you have and please take a minute to pray for those who have not, and pray for us that we may do more than we have set out to do, that we will make an eternal difference in not only our lives but theirs.

a finished house........

a grateful family

praying of the family and their new casa.

Liberia Catholic Church

Needless to say, it is better to park and walk when you need to do some serious shopping. Now I am like most men and I don’t enjoy shopping. I don’t mind buying, I just don’t like shopping. I can hike for 20 miles, through marsh, alders and mountains looking for a deer with tiny little antlers, but 10 minutes in a mall and my back feels as if it requires immediate surgery. However, I have found a new joy in Liberia. I have found these discount stores that sell stuff from all over the worlds, knock offs of actual products, and the best part, they are translated from Spanish, to English by Chinese. This makes for a great time as I search diligently for new and improved translations. It is almost like hunting, and the best part, I don’t have to spend any money. It is my own personal treasure hunt. I have a few here I would like to share with you.

Costa Rican ingenuity

I have always wanted to find the best welcome gift for children

Hmmmm, this looks familiar.

Look on the bottom right corner, this is a deluxe racing sport.

Infinite pleasure, that's a pretty high standard. I still play with mine!

This one simulates a true style radio control car. So it isn't a radio controlled car, it is a car that simulates a radio controlled car that simulates a real car?

This is a mouthful, but the best part is that the antennae is already broken, so that's one less thing for the kids to break.

Now if you have the pleasure of knowing Nick, you know he has a touch of ADD, he is a bit of a busy body, always moving, always doing something making things happen. So for him to take months and months of his life to write, play, sing and produce an album was likely not an easy task. I know he spent hours studying, reading and learning, hours upon hours of mixing, remixing and producing, most of which I imagine involves sitting still for long periods of time, or near torture for Nick. It likely helped that he produced the album during the midst of the deepest darkest part of the Alaskan winter.

The album is a Christian album “churcy” as it has been called. But don’t be fooled, Nick likes his electric guitar and the album clearly reveals that; right at the open of the first song with a rocking little electric riff to open up the album on SHAKEN and followed up with NO MORE ROOM a catchy drum driven praise song heavy on the guitar. Even in the softer side of MAYBE, with the acoustic lead you can clearly hear Nick ripping it up with some electricity in the background. The lyrics all come from Nick’s heart, as most of them were written by him. Songs like HAVE YOUR WAY are reminiscent of a rocking prayer, while MAYBE is a heartfelt cry for faith, and strength. Nick even includes his version of P’WER IN THE BLOOD, an old hymnal classic, an acoustic, soft harmonizing, unplugged sweet intro, that, in Classic Nick form, rocks it out in the end. But the cherry on top is that essential Nick song, ECCLESIASTES. It’s like everyday Nick got to come out and play, it’s quirky, it’s funny, it’s even catchy, it’s Nick, and I laugh every time I hear it, contrary to the album title, typical Nick. Who mentions Tupac in a “churchy” song? Nick does. And show me another Christian album where the closing line is ” Somebody get me some money!”

No Laughing Matter Amazon

I know I downloaded it because he is my friend and because it is for a great cause, but I also know that it is now part of my most played playlist, and the catchy rocking tunes fit great into a workout playlist. So at the very least go to itunes or Amazon and give it a preview, and remember when you download it you are giving to a great cause. Now somebody go get me some money!

Livy helping to hide the eggs.

Wolfy, sneaking a peek at the eggs pre-event.

Jake taking notes for later.

Raffle for missions.

Dave bringing the pre-open pep talk and prayer.

This was the events sophomore year, and although I was unable to attends last years event, it would be hard to imagine it going much better. There were approximately 100 kids, and most of them brought at least one of their adults with them. There were great games like the Sponge Bob sponge toss, the Spiderman Castle, soccer kick, frisbee toss, Jonah and the whale fishing and on and on. There were fantastic arts and crafts, face painting, balloon animal creation, and magical egg designs. It was slightly chaotic at times, hot all the time, and fun, fun,fun.

The main event, the obstacle course bouncy castle.

Mike the balloon man getting ready for business.

Bud and Brock taking a moment from their labor to pose.

Soccer kick in action.

Dorian working the frisbee toss

Daniel and Dave making the rounds.

Jake in the obstacle course

Events like this don’t just make themselves, it takes months of planning, many volunteers, 50 to be exact, and commitment. But most of all it takes blood, sweat and tears. In Costa Rica it takes mostly sweat. It takes sweat to set up bouncing castles and obstacles that weigh 500 pounds, it takes sweat to pop a dozen raw bags of popcorn, it takes sweat to transfer a dozen wooden games to the venue, and it takes sweat to hide 1200 Easter eggs, lots of sweat. In fact enough sweat that most men came prepared with several shirts for the day, and we didn’t even sweat the small stuff!

GOOAAAALLLLL!

Tracy had one of the most popular games, which led to a lot of work.

Pastor Lyle leading a group game before bringing a short Easter message.

Tired baby.

But every single drop was worth it. Every swipe of the brow, sponged off bald head and wadded up soaking wet t-shirt was all worth it. Kids that have very few activities, kids that do not attend a church, kids that perhaps do not know the true meaning of Easter, each and every one of them heard a message of love from Pastor Lyle, and received some great story books. The best part, they brought their adults with them and they heard the message as well. It was easy to gauge the event by the flashes of smiles, the screams of joy and the sweaty painted faces running through the venue, and that was just the volunteers!

Gathering around for the Easter egg hunt, or gather as is more aptly described.

I think there's one right there.

Gatherer.

Seems like a lot of big kids in the 2 year old group.

We found one!

Look Mommy a pink one!

This guy is in full concentration mode.

little princess.

It was a taxing, tiring, tremendous day. The grand finale, the 1200 egg hunt was a bit of slightly organized chaos. Due to the amount of children, we instituted a 10 egg limit. The limit, much like the local speed limit, seemed to be more of a suggestion than the law that we had intended, as we saw great liberty taken as mounds of eggs departed in mother’s purses and bags. However, we were confident that everyone left with eggs, candy, and memories, some with a little more than others.

Lauren squatting for a better scan.

I think this makes number 10!

Hey daddy, is this an egg?

Daddy doing the final count.

Booty time!

At the end of the day a seed was planted and it was watered with the sweat of our brow. We can only pray that they take hold and grow a little until next year when we can water them once again, and perhaps plant a new field.

Don testing out the bed, and practicing for soccer.

This coffee was stiff,cooked all day, black and awesome, welcoming us to camp.

our small group meeting

Mo happy we got some sheets and showing it!

Morning coffee, Mo, Mike and Dwayne

Pastor Lyle and Mo

The adventure started early, turning a normal 4 hour trip into a 7 hour adventure. The adventure peaked as darkness slid in on us near the end of our drive, accompanied by a thick wet fog. The kind of fog that sparkles and dances off your headlights putting the driver (me) into a trance. This was made even more perilous because we were venturing up a thin road unknown to all of us, a tiny windy road up the side of a mountain. At least we assumed it was a mountain because I couldn’t see past the side of the road. To make it even more adventurous, we were following a giant bus, who had to stop each time an oversized semi truck meet them in the road to ensure that neither would sustain fatal damage. Although we were slightly encouraged by the ” Viajamos con Dios” written on the back of the bus. Our average speed during this portion of the journey, about 10 km per hour. Doesn’t sound scary,but when you consider speeding semis, being passed on blind corners by motorcycles, scooters and cars, and the constant peril of hitting a cow or sliding of the edge of the mountain, I think I forgot to breathe for about and hour and a half.

Mike and Mike enjoying the morning view as the fog begins to lift.

The view as the fog clears.

Breakfast

Lyle and Dwayne dominating the archery tent

I gave a good effort, at least.

Finally after one wrong turn, several scary switchbacks we pulled into what we believed was our destination, Camp La Montana. The bus we followed, pulled into the same location. A group of twenty men all arrived at the same time to check into the camp.

Dwayne with arrow in flight

The lake area

rider in the sky

outdoor theater near the lake

Upon arrival we scurried off to find a room. We found two rooms upstairs right across from each other, perfect for our group of eight. The rooms had two bunk buds, and two lower beds adorned with the thinnest foam mattresses available in all of Costa Rica. Also staring us in the face was the fact that there were no sheets or no towels in the room, and no one in our party had bothered to bring any of the aforementioned.  A detail that apparently escaped all eight of us. Next time when they tell us to check the website, I will check the website. But in this case the adventure continued.

don't know, but it was big

flora

more flora

on my way to the top! Looks like the pants are about to split.

After a dinner, which included beans and rice, some kind of meat and something else, we had some worship music, a message and met in small groups. The theme of the adventure was hearing God’s voice. Our small group, the only group from Guanacaste met outside in the evening fog. We were adorned in our shorts and t-shirts, and to a man we were chilled. Sure it was probably 65 degrees our there, but when you live in 90 temperatures, a wet 65 can be a little frigid.

disco ball in the gym, now that's what I am talking about

John and Don on a hike

Why do I always have to be on skins?

Don participating in the soccer match.

Upon retreating to our rooms, and completely exhausted from a nearly 8 hour trip, we thought sleep would be easy. We were fortunate that they were able to dig up fitted sheets for us to use as bedding, and a couple of pillows. Although damp, they were welcomed.

Lyle in action

If I hurry I can kick the ball once!

Mo looks mad, and dangerous. Note Angelo in the back, I think he was a little winded.

Looks like the world cup

Lyle getting jiggy with it.

Dude, are we done yet?

Sleep, at least for me, was intermittent and fitful at best. Every move made on the mattress echoed throughout our room, and the rough cut lumber lining my top bunk kept digging into my back and hip, leading to many adjustments throughout the night. Looking forward to a hot shower to kick-start the day, I was surprised to find that unlike the water in our area region of Costa Rica, the water actually gets cold, very cold here in the mountains. The best part, there was not a lick of hot water to be had. There was a handle for hot water, but no hot water. So my shower was very cold, exhilarating and quick.

View from the field

Mo and John

That day included three more meetings intertwined with some basketball, frisbee, hiking, water slides, water swings, archery and a two-hour epic soccer battle on a field pitted with ankle busting holes. Adventure sprinkled with danger, everything a man could want.

Glenn and John

Dwayne, Lyle and Mike & Mike getting ready to hear the word.

There were a few minor injuries, a lot of sore muscles and more sweat than an episode of The Biggest Loser. The good news is by this time the hot water was working and the spittle that dripped out of the shower had at least blasts of heat.

More flora

Mo and Lyle discussing the days message.

The meetings were great and effective. We got to do a lot of soul-searching, deep conversation and learning helping us all to grow. The meals were an adventure, to keep with theme of course. There was always rice and/ or beans with every single meal. Then a meat product and something else. I say meat product because at least two times we were unable to identify what we were eating. But what’s an adventure without a little mystery. We did not go hungry.

Ben our young worship leader

Sleep was certain for night two, especially after the lack the night prior and the two-hour soccer game. Sleep I did, for about an hour, and then it was back to toss and turn throughout the night, even though I moved my mattress to the ground. The last day began with breakfast, some praise and worship, a short message and testimonies given by attendees sharing what they got out of the conference. The ride home was in the daylight and other than me cutting off a guy in an intersection in San Ramon, and being pulled over for no reason other than to be extorted, it was peaceful. In fact we turned the 7.5 hour trip into a 4 hour trip, and that included a stop for ice cream and gas, and a friendly conversation with a local police officer, and I use that term loosely.

Even had a visit from a coati.

Where's Waldo?

In reflection, perhaps the trip revealed to us that no matter our surroundings, no matter the circumstances or how uncomfortable we are, we can and should always seek out to hear God’s voice. To understand what he is telling us and where he is guiding us. After all, Paul, in Acts, lived in a world of discomfort, adventure and peril and was perhaps the most effective messenger of Jesus of all time. So perhaps it is good for us to have adventure or suffer at times to bring us back into the world of others that suffer daily and still maintain their faith in the midst of it all, and as a result bring us a little closer to him and increase our ability to hear his voice. Which can call out even in the midst of the night and over the din of the mysterious mountainous snorer in your room. Would  I do it again? In a heartbeat!