The Northwesterners Versus The Mid-Atlantic Weather

We have been in the Washington DC area for over a week and the heat and humid weather have not let up. We have managed to visit everywhere we planned, but it has taken a toll. Nearly everyday around 3 or 4pm we lose our ability to walk, stay motivated, and most of all stay awake. We find ourselves packed in mass transportation (the Metro) like little sweaty sardines. Actually, we have walked great distances each day, as there is something neat to see wherever you are. No matter your location, when you look up, you see either monuments, the Capitol, the Washington Monument, the Pentagon, and so much more. Also, we have never seen so many men and women in military uniform just casually walking about the city. It is strange to think that we are around the most powerful people in the world, in the most powerful place in the world, as we run around in flip flops and t-shirts!

We arrived at BWI (Baltimore-Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport) on Wednesday evening (July 23rd.) We were picked up by Nicole's cousin, Andy and his friend Victoria. He took us on a short tour of downtown Baltimore before taking us on a tour of his very cool, old, brick townhouse.

We were starving so we elected to walk to a famous (on Wednesday nights only) baked potato place called Birches. At around the halfway point Andy made it quite clear that we were not only going to get poured on...but a huge storm was coming in fast.

Not less than two blocks later the sky slammed us with lightning bolt after lightning bolt and the interval between them was no more than 30 seconds at the most. Our walk turned into a hurried scamper as the rain started to come down.

Two blocks away a cab pulled up at the intersection and Andy had the quick mind to stop him and we all jumped in. As soon as everyone was in the cab it POURED. Even though it was a two block trip, it was the best 3 bucks we ever spent for a taxi.

Despite being dropped off at the restaurant doorstep, we still ended up getting soaked from the rain. From the inside we could see the wind blowing on the restaurant's outdoor umbrellas and the sky flashed electric constantly for over an hour.

After riding a lightning bolt to the front door, we found ourselves in a quaint, candle-lit, very cozy little brick restaurant. Birches offers a baked potato bar every Wednesday night-with a menu of about 50 different potato toppings. If you are a regular, they keep track of which toppings you've tried, and when you've tried all 50, you join the famous "Baked Potato Club" and get a t-shirt. It was a very neat, old place and it seemed like the servers knew all the people eating there. It was Cheers-esque.

As for the rest of our time in Washington we have visited several of the Smithsonian Museums, the Iwo Jima Memorial, and all the suburbs near Arlington. I don't have time to write about everything that we have done so far, but I hope to add to this when we are on the road.

Next stop Cleveland?

Video From Mexico

I want to say thanks to Ryan who put this together. Video editing is one of those things to a "not-knower" would seem to be the easiest thing in the world. Those of us who have put video together (especially from hours of video footage) know that something like this can take weeks or months. Ryan managed to finish this in record time.

I'd also like to note that not only did he shoot video while in Tecate, but he also was there every step of the way hammering, cutting, and sweating with the rest of us. One second he would be on the roof nailing down plywood...the next he would be shooting video...moments later he would be right back up there hammering away. I am truly grateful for his double duty...without him this below video wouldn't be possible.

Direct Link Here: http://www.vimeo.com/1398644


Below is the embedded version...which may take a while to preload depending on your connection speed


Tecate, Mexico, Summer 2008 from Grace Missions on Vimeo.

Seattle To Portland (The Long Way)

After having a traumatic evening the night before (see this entry) we decided to make up for it by taking a creative way back to Portland. Originally we considered driving from Federal Way to Yakima to Goldendale to Portland but thought that it would take way too long considering that we checked out at 12:01 pm.

View Larger Map
Instead, (after a wonderful breakfast/lunch at Poverty Bay Coffee Company) we headed east to Auburn determined to travel to Portland on back roads behind Mt. Rainier and Mt. Saint Helens. We stopped briefly for $50 worth of gas (around 12 gallons) in Enumclaw where we purchased a necessary map of Washington.

I had always wanted to go this way ever since I read the account of Kenneth Arnold when I was a little boy:

Kenneth A. Arnold (born March 29, 1915 in Sebeka, Minnesota; died January 16, 1984 in Bellevue, Washington) was an American businessman and pilot. He is best-known for making what is generally considered the first widely reported unidentified flying object sighting in the United States, after claiming to see nine unusual objects flying in a chain near Mount Rainier, Washington on June 24, 1947. Arnold described the objects' shape as resembling a flat saucer or disc, and also described their erratic motion as resembling a saucer skipped across water; from this, the press quickly coining the new terms "flying saucer" and "flying disc" to describe such objects, many of which were reported within days after Arnold's sighting. Later Arnold would add that one of the objects resembled a crescent or flying wing.

Unfortunately, we saw no UFOs on our trip.

One other thing that was present in my mind was the road/valley on the way to Mt Rainier. During every television "sweeps" period in the Seattle Area, there seems to be an in-depth story on the risk of a Lahar flowing from Mt. Rainier to the Seattle area. Wikipedia uses the canyon that we drove up to Rainier as an example:

A lahar is a type of mudflow composed of pyroclastic material and water that flows down from a volcano, typically along a river valley. The term 'lahar' originated in the Javanese language of Indonesia. In Hindi 'lahar' means 'wave'. Lahars have the consistency of concrete: fluid when moving, then solid when stopped. Lahars can be huge: the Osceola lahar produced 5,600 years ago by Mount Rainier in Washington produced a wall of mud 460 ft deep in the White River canyon and extends over an area of over 130 sq mi for a total volume of 0.55 cubic miles.

As we made our way to Sunrise, Washington I was surprised how "climbable" Mt. Rainier seemed to look. Of course 14,411 isn't exactly a day hike no matter how easy it looks. Also the mountain is famous for it's many crevasses which were visible from our location at 6400 feet. Even at this elevation the summit is still over a mile (7711 feet) in vertical elevation.

We drove down the mountain and managed to find yet another traffic jam. This time it was just past the Yakima turnoff toward Packwood, Washington. The construction seemed to go on for miles and miles and we felt sorry for a large group of motorcycle riders that had to drive over the gravel portions on their shiny Harleys.

As we approached Packwood I thought about another childhood curiosity...Bigfoot. Growing up I had studied Bigfoot as most 4th graders did and knew that we were in the heart of Sasquatch country. One story in particular has always peaked my interest:

1924: Fred Beck and four other miners claimed to have been attacked by several sasquatches in Ape Canyon in July, 1924. The creatures reportedly hurled large rocks at the miners’ cabin for several hours during the night. This case was publicized in newspaper reports printed in 1924. The Ape Canyon area has long been held to be a bigfoot refuge. Tribes in the area have believed that this is a home of the bigfoot. Ape Canyon was reportedly the site of a violent encounter in 1924 between a group of miners and a group of Sasquatch. Their account was publicized in several July 1924 issues of The Oregonian.[2] One of the miners, Fred Beck, claimed the miners shot and killed one of the creatures and that night a large group of Sasquatch attacked their cabin and tried to break-in. William Halliday, director of the Western Speleological Survey, claimed in his 1983 pamphlet Ape Cave and the Mount Saint Helens Apes' that the miner's assailants were actually local youths. Until the very last summer of Ape Canyon's existence in 1979, counselors from the YMCA's Camp Meehan on nearby Spirit Lake brought hikers to the canyon's edge and related a tradition that the 1924 incident was actually the result of young campers throwing light pumice stones into the canyon, not realizing there were miners at the bottom. Looking up the miners would have only seen dark moonlit figures throwing stones at their cabin. The narrow walls of the canyon would have served to distort the voices of the YMCA campers enough to frighten the men below. However, Halliday's explanation may fail to account for several factors:

• Beck claimed that the "apes" were seen clearly enough to note that they were not human;
• Beck claimed that one of the "apes" was shot and killed, but its unclear if Halliday claims that one of the stone-throwing teenagers was shot and killed in 1924.
• According to a series of 1924 articles in The Oregonian, multiple reporters and other eyewitnesses saw damage to the cabin, and enormous footprints at the scene of the "ape assault", and it's difficult to imagine how stone-throwing teenagers might have caused these details.

And An Interesting Missing Skier Story From Ape Canyon

In 1950 a skier named Jim Carter was with a group of other men from The Mountaineers club, but went off by himself to film the group as they went down the hill. He was never seen again, despite a massive 1 week search. One of the search team members said he had a chilling feeling of being watched the entire time. Carter's ski tracks seemed to indicate that he took off at a very high speed, making tremendous jumps that no experienced skier would make unless he was frightened beyond reason or being pursued. His ski tracks led to the edge of a cliff, but a search below never produced his body.


For the nearly 9 hours we spent in the car from Seattle to Portland, we saw some incredible countryside in some places so remote that we didn't pass a car for an hour and a half (this was behind Mt. Saint Helens.) The drive, though long, fulfilled a curiosity that I have long held since I was a boy. . .

We're off to Washington D.C. for a couple of weeks followed by a cross country trip back to Oregon.

10 Minutes In A Scary Motel In Lynnwood, Washington

Authors Note: I thought that this story (though part of our 24 hour Seattle Visit) deserved a separate entry. Just in case you have ever considered staying in a place because the price seemed like a good deal, or you were too tired to look for a better place or you just had to go to the bathroom, take our advice...never EVER second guess your gut instinct (in fact here is a link to 2 great books all about trusting your instincts: The Gift of Fear and Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. Nicole and I have read both of these and credit them for our decisions 9 minutes after checking in.

So Nicole and I went up to Seattle to visit friends and relatives on Wednesday, July 16th because it had been way too long since we had been up there (almost a year.) Seattle isn't on our list of favorite places to stay for a number of reasons (see left.) (Note: Both Nicole and I have lived in Seattle at different times before we met, so it's fun to visit each other's old stomping grounds.) But I had a friend that I hadn't seen for years who wanted to take us out on his boat on Lake Washington.

After spending the late afternoon cruising around the lake, we were dropped off at our car just after 8pm. We had a couple of hotel areas in mind when we drove away from Mercer Island such as University Village, Northgate Mall, Tukwila, and the base of Queen Anne Hill.

We headed north to University Village and didn't get the "vibe" that it was in our price range so we went further north. We stopped at a Hotel called the Nexus, where they wanted $180 plus tax and as far as I could tell it was just a renovated Ramada Inn (see Yelp Review Here) The fact that the guy behind the counter took a call from his personal cell phone before helping Nicole sealed the deal...we weren't staying there.

After nearly two hours of aimless driving we ended up on highway 99 (aka Aurora) and we were getting desperate. Now instinctively I knew that we should avoid no name motels on Aurora especially after putting this web page together a number of years ago when I worked in Seattle. For some reason, a modern looking motel seemed safe...it was made from stucco and looked like a Days Inn or a Motel 6.

This place (which will remain nameless until all of our credit cards have been refunded) had the right price in our time of desperation (under $70) and looked "safe."

From the moment we got out of the car, little situation indicators were telling us "DON'T STAY HERE." On the hotel sign it read "Weekly Rates $250" and the lobby, though clean, seemed sparse (maybe so people couldn't steal things?) The gentleman behind the counter was a very nice guy who, oddly enough, was also folding towels (my brain said that this is how the hotel owner keeps housecleaning staff minimal...later I would find out how minimal it was.) All of these indications and we checked in anyway.

On the advice of the hotel clerk/housekeeper, we parked in the "covered parking" area which was a euphemism for parking under the building. As I parked in one of MANY empty parking spots I saw a man walking slowly around a convertible (the top was down) Mercedes. It was by far the nicest car in the lot and had custom wheels and a gold paint job. This man seemed to be circling slowly with a plastic bag. As we passed another conspicuous car (primary held together with duct tape and garbage bags) the man started to pretended to wax the Mercedes using a napkin from inside his plastic bag.

Nicole gave me a quiet nod to let me know that she felt like this guy was somewhat harmless and we went inside. Inside we boarded the elevator to go up to the third (top) floor. The elevator was all metal inside and every square inch of it had been scratched by keys or knives of various gang signs. I have to say because every part of the elevator was vandalized...it almost looked like a beautiful art...almost.

As the doors opened to the third floor I could immediately smell intense cigarette smoke, which was odd because in the lobby a sign had posted no smoking anywhere on the premises. As we walked down the hall we could smell smoke coming from nearly every room and TVs were blaring. We arrived at our room and this was the first time I saw the key that was given to Nicole.

The key looked like it was made sometime after regular hotel keys (the typical metal ones) and a period before the common magnetic strip key. It was as if we had been handed the "8-Track" of keys. In my mind, it looked like a key that a hacker could mess with so he could open any room...like ours. I fiddled with it to get it to work and our door opened a little too easily.

Once inside the room I felt this overwhelming feeling of dread come over me. The window was wide open, the refrigerator was in the middle of the kitchenette (or I suspect was once a kitchenette,) none of the lights worked, and the floor was covered in stains.

When I say covered with stains I mean that there was more stain than carpet. It was a hyperlink blue color with stains that were lighter and significantly darker than the rest of the floor. In one corner there were freshly cut fingernails. At that point I stopped looking at the floor and told Nicole that we were not staying.

Unfortunately we had been in the car for hours and Nicole needed to use the bathroom. If you want to hear about what was in that bathroom...you will have to ask her. Her story when she got out traumatizes me to this day.

While I had been waiting her I turned on the TV. By pure coincidence, it was tuned a station airing American History X at one of the most gruesome points of the movie. If you have seen the movie, you know the scene. At this point I was getting a little worried about spending another second in the motel.

Nicole came out of the bathroom and we immediately went downstairs (via the stairs this time) which reeked of urine. As soon as we walked into the lobby the guy behind the desk knew exactly what we would say next. He said that he understood and he refunded the money immediately. I could tell by the way he handled the situation and his look on his face that this wasn't the first time people had asked for their money back.

We walked back to the "covered parking lot" to find that same man hovering over the same Mercedes. He was talking to a woman in the parking lot and I decided to take a better look at him. Initially I had thought he was homeless, but it was because of his haircut and unshaven appearance. When I took a closer look, his hair was intentionally feathered in a mullet fashion simialarly to how Chuck Norris looked in the 80s. This man had acid wash jeans and very expensive looking shoes. I now believed that the Mercedes was in fact his car and he was a pimp. I decided not to make too much eye contact and quickly tossed the bags in the trunk.

We drove around for an hour and a half more looking for a reasonably priced hotel (under $200) in the Seattle area. Everything in the area was booked so hotels were able to name their price (which in this experience I learned that all the hotels know the status of competing hotels occupancy levels in the Seattle area and can adjust their rate accordingly.) We were exhausted and I was seriously considering driving back to Portland in the middle of the night.

Fortunately we found a Choice Hotels catalog that I had picked up on one of our many road trips. This little gem has every hotel in the U.S. listed including approximate rate per night. Nicole found a Comfort Inn in Federal Way and we set our course down Highway 99, planning to cross over at Sea-Tac International Airport to I-5.

It was 11:30 pm, Nicole was nearly in tears from exhaustion, and I was edgy and still recovering from the motel in Lynnwood when we hit a dead stop traffic jam just outside of Sea Tac. I started to laugh and Nicole stopped talking completely. It took us another half hour to get to Federal Way.

We did finally make it to the hotel and our stay was wonderful. Ironically in the morning we had some problems with the hot water and the hotel actually gave us some of our money back. When we got back in the car to head home the next morning we figured out that because of the refund that Comfort Inn gave us, our stay there ended up being cheaper than that of the Pimpin' Lynnwood Motel!

The rest of the drive home (which was the long way) I will cover in the next few days.

The Week That Changed Our Life

(This will be edited several times over the next couple of weeks and also for those of you who were there, please comment to help add revise, add, or correct the story from below...what I wrote is purely from our memory)

> > > More Pictures Coming Soon < < <

We just returned from Mexico just over 24 hours ago and I'm still having a hard time adjusting. The hurry, the green, the running water, the flushing toilets...I can't help but feel guilty for how lucky we are to be in a place where the "comforts" are plentiful. Here I am sitting on a leather couch, drinking water, in an air conditioned house . . . I had no idea how much I take for granted until a week ago.

We left on Tuesday (July 1st, 2008) from Portland (Oregon) to San Diego (California). Nicole and I had on our travel clothes with our bags packed with our hot weather work clothes and other items that we thought were necessities for travel and work south of the border. I wish we had brought more...but only if we would have left it there.

For me arriving at San Diego was a surreal experience and here's why: Back in 1994, I traveled to San Diego to volunteer another "mission." This "mission" had us (upon arrival of San Diego) cross the Terminal 1 sky bridge, put our bags down and wait for a bus to take us on a life adventure. When that bus arrived on a cold night in January 1994 a man got out and started yelling at us. This was my first day in the United States Marine Corps.

When we arrived on Tuesday, our instructions were to cross that same sky bridge, put our bags down, and wait for a bus to an experience unknown. The similarity was striking and little did I know that the experience in Mexico would have echoes of that past military experience of the mid 90s.

The buses arrived (minus the yelling drill instructors) and we loaded up all of our gear and climbed in. Everyone (with the exception of Nicole's brother Josh and a few others) was a complete stranger to us. The group on this bus were from Virginia (Arlington area) and knew each other...but not us.

On our drive down we met those who sat close to us along with the two that Nicole and I had agreed to chaperon. In the interest of protecting the identity of these two minors, we'll call them "Hank" and "Mary." I was asked to keep an eye on Hank (age 13) and Nicole was chaperoning for Mary (age 12). Both of them are brilliant young adults that know how to have fun, and can also be responsive/helpful in times of need. Those two had a tremendous impact on us and definitely made the trip memorable.

We crossed at the Tecate border crossing late in the afternoon without any snags. As we rode through Tecate the contrast was apparent immediately that we were no longer in the United States of America. We arrived at Rancho La Paloma roughly 20 minutes after crossing the border.

The ranch was a humble residence that, at first sight, seemed too small to house the 140+ people that arrived in the bus convoy. Everything was a shade of muted brown. The air was dusty. I could feel the sun immediately beating down on top of my head. This was Mexico.

We unloaded our stuff and Nicole and I went to our respective dorms (because of the number of people at the ranch, only a few couples with children were able to sleep in the same room.) My room had 6 beds (3 bunks), while Nicole's had 10 to 20 bunks (she was in the women's dorm.) I dropped my stuff off and returned to the palopa (our main meeting place) for our first meeting.

(Rather than go into the blow by blow of every moment, such as meals, meetings, free time, etc...I'm going to fast forward to the first day at our job site.) Also, here is an overview of why and how this all happened. Each newly constructed house cost around $10,000 in materials. Individuals and churches donated the money needed for the 5 houses that were built on our trip. The families receiving the houses did not earn them, pay for them or necessarily deserve them. The houses were given to them, completely free of charge. This is why the house dedication had such a tremendous impact on the family receiving and all of us who worked to make it happen. Hector, one of the leaders/builders who guides these projects, became interested in helping out when his family was one of the families given a house, over a decade ago.

The home site was a 45 minute bus ride from the ranch (most of it on paved road, but with a sizable portion on dirt.) The site itself is up a hill/mountain looking west toward Tijuana (though we could never really see it...too much pollution.) On our first day the site consisted of cut lumber (2x4's and 2x6's), plywood, trim, drywall, and accessories typical to a house (windows, a door, vents, etc) all of which were positioned on the hillside next to a pre-poured foundation roughly as wide as two parking spaces at a typical mall and roughly the length of three parking spaces. I couldn't believe that we were going to be able to build a house (with a loft) in 3 days.

The first day was all about framing. Amazingly and with very little instruction, we managed to have 4 walls up and nailed together before lunch. In my mind, I thought that at the pace we were going, we would be done early (this tells you how much I know about home building.)

I should take a moment and talk about the homes (that we would be replacing) on the mountain side. They were shacks, sheds, shanties or whatever you call a residences that was a composition of pieces of broken plywood, metal scrap, old garage doors, and abandon buses or vans with boards over the windows. Sprinkled on the hillside were the occasional mobile homes that looked like they had been dropped from 10,000 feet...these were considered the "nice" places compared to the rest. Garbage and filth littered the ground everywhere you looked.

Our house that we were building, known as House One (H1) was amongst 5 that Club Rust would be building that week. Josh (Nicole's Brother) was the lead builder for H2 which was conveniently located 10 feet to the south of our assigned H1. Later on in the week we would all work (teams for H1 and H2) together to complete both houses.

Immediately below our work site was the existing "home" for the future owner of H1. Their home was the size of a single parking space. They had dirt floors and a wall that consisted a garage door, broken scraps of plywood, and hanging sheets to connect them. There was an old mattress to sleep on, a propane heater, and a container for water (which they had to haul up the mountainside routinely.) Just outside the house was an "outhouse" which, without going into too much detail, was a board seat with a roughly cut hole in the center. Their living conditions were unbelievably poor.

As I mentioned earlier, we had all 4 walls up by lunchtime on the first day. Lunchtime was a welcome rest from the heat, dust, and pollution. We had to walk down the mountain side to our lunch (the buses couldn't make it all the way to the home sites because of the condition of the road and the pitch of the hillside.) Our lunches were sandwiches (choice of PB and honey, PB and jelly, or tuna fish) with carrot sticks, some fruit, and oreos (melted by the heat.) We ate for energy and it was delicious.

By the end of "building" day 1 we had walls up and a great start on the second floor (loft) along with some scaffoldings for the next day. We loaded into the bus tired and hungry. Many chatted on the ride home while others slept. By this time this feeling of tired yet satisfied reminded me of the days back in the USMC...hard work, team work, and a sense of accomplishment.

The morning of day 2 on the mountain side was a little slower. We were tired and immediately I noticed that people weren't drinking enough water. After a little encouragement, we picked up the pace and found our groove.

This day was dedicated to building interior walls, the construction and the mounting of the roof eaves, electrical wiring, and the roof itself. Even though we had a slower start we managed to have H1 roofed off (minus the roofing) by the end of the day. It was then that I realized that we still had a lot to do.

After lunch on work day 2, something happened that took us all by surprise. In the midst of all that hammering, yelling, and sawing someone yelled a words that didn't compute for a least 5 seconds..."THIEF! STOP! QUICK! GET ON THE RADIOS!!!" I was just walking off the road when we had a man on a beat up bmx bicycle ride through our work site and grab one of our backpacks and speed down the dirt road at an amazing speed. It seemed like there was nothing we could do. The trucks were blocked in, the man rode down the hill at what seemed to be 30 miles an hour, and we couldn't get to a radio to relay to other vehicles in the area.

After what seemed like an eternity, a jeep (loaded with people) raced down the hill a good 3 minutes behind the man. From my vantage point, the jeep looked like a car competing in the Baja 1000, sliding around corners with a cliff on each curve. Eventually the jeep drove out of site and we heard nothing of the status of the backpack thief.

While we waited for the jeep to return, we found out the contents of the missing backpack: a digital camera, a Blackberry, and other personal effects. The thief had made an excellent choice of packs and it had the potential to yield an excellent return for his risk.

Something should be said for what this guy did. In Mexico, people don't steal for fun, it's a weighed risked based on necessity. This man must have watched us for a long time, wondering how he could steal something without 100+ people grabbing him in the process. The explanation for his risk was explained best when the jeep returned to our site . . .with the backpack.

The rest of the backpack thief story was told by Grace Community Church's Pastor, John, when he hopped out of the jeep. He talked about the terrifying pursuit down the mountain, sliding around corners, bouncing all over the road, the whole time WITHOUT having regained visual contact with the thief. When they got to the valley floor they asked a construction crew if they had seen a man riding down the road with a pack. The crew had seen the man and pointed down a long road to where he had went. After a traveling down that road they could see the thief making his way up the other side of the valley (this was a LONG way from our work site.) Hector, the driver (and one of the heroes of this story) pulled his vehicle in a jackknife position in front of the biker and everyone got out. The man immediately threw down the backpack and rode away quickly. John checked the backpack to ensure that the contents were all still in the pack (though he wouldn't have known if anything was missing either.) Hector and the rest of the group climbed back into the 4X4 and pursued the thief again...this time for a different reason. After another jackknife stop, they stopped the thief again and asked him to empty his pockets (just to be sure) and Hector told the man that everything was going to be okay and the "policia" would not be contacted. Hector asked the man why he stole the backpack and the man explained that he had 5 children at home and he had no job...in essence it necessity that drove him to it. Hector asked the man if it would be okay if they would bless him right there. The man, full of shame, walked toward the 4X4, put his head down on the jeep while the other prayed for him. Afterward, the group gave the man $20 and welcomed him back to the work site for food if he wanted.

This story when it was told to us moved us tremendously when they returned to the work site. It was a wake up call...this is what people have to do to survive (and their families) in this poor portion of the world. I will never forget this thief and I will never have ill will for his attempt. I hope that Hector (pictured left) and John had an impact on his life and helps him see the world in a light that he may have never been exposed to. That experience energized us through the rest of work day 2.

Day 3 on the mountain was vastly different from the previous days. H2 was seemingly behind (but I later realized that they had done a number of things that H1 hadn't yet completed.) H1 had plenty of things that had to be done as well. Most importantly, these houses were supposed to be finished (sheet rocked, roofed, trim, wiring completed, windows installed, and a door hung) by 4:30pm. To top things off, this was by far the hottest day yet.

The heat and the urgency may have lead to a couple of pauses in our operation in the form of injuries. I was on the roof of H2 when I heard someone say "DAVE!!! DAVE!!! WE NEED YOU RIGHT NOW!!!" Dave was our first aid guy (amongst many other vital roles) and when someone called out for him it was usually because they needed first aid.

From my vantage point I could see Julie holding her head and walking up to the road with blood running down her face. Somehow in the heat and rush, a swinghammer stapler had slid off the roof and hit her in the head. Dave immediately jumped off the roof and ran to her aid. After 15 minutes, it was apparent (to our relief) wouldn't need to be transported to the U.S. and that though she couldn't work for the rest of the day...she would recover.

Dave dressed the wound, knotted her hair to act as a suture, and monitored her as she sat in an air conditioned vehicle. Not more than 10 minutes after addressing this injury, another person (Courtney) was hit by a falling 2X4 and Dave had to care for her. Fortunately, Courtney received just a bump on the head and went right back to work. Without Dave and the others with medical training, we would have had to take some of these people off the site and possibly to San Diego for treatment.

The day pressed on and so did the heat. We did manage to get into the groove and though 4:30 came and went, we reached a stopping point around 5pm. The house was 95% done. There were some vents that needed to be installed and the walls would need some mudding, but all in all 2 homes were nearly complete. Also (to our relief) we found out later that Hector and Pablo would come the next day to complete what needed to be done.

At the end of work day 3 was the house dedication. It's important to note that no matter what I write about this dedication it can't possibly capture what it was like. The experience changed me permanently.

Leida, the mother and wife in the family that was receiving the house, walked into it after we gathered in a circle in the main living area. One by one people presented donations and gifts to her. The one gift that stood out at the dedication was a Spanish bible. She immediately started crying and would later explain (through the help of "Mary" our 12 year old translator) through her tears, said that ever since she was 10 years old she has wanted a bible. She was visibly stunned when Julie (with her newly bandaged head) handed her the keys to her new home. All the work, sweat, blood, and tears had paid off and Leida's reaction showed it. Again...this experience cannot be captured in words...I recommend if you want to know what it was like, you schedule a week next year to come. . .if it doesn't change you forever...I'll pay for your trip.

The rest of the time there consisted of relaxing, traveling to Tecate, and visiting an orphanage. There are plenty of details that I have left out in the interest of keeping this short(er) such as the random dogs (that we weren't supposed to feed...but Nicole did anyway because it had the demeanor of our dog back home) or the filthy conditions nearly everywhere. I also left out that we had cold showers every day, slept on rock hard beds, and we couldn't flush the TP in the toilet. We had to use bottled water just to brush our teeth, too. All this and we were considered amongst the privileged in comparison to those who lived outside of the ranch.

(A quick note on the "church" aspect of the trip. There was no preaching involved. Each day before we began to build, someone prayed for the house, for the family receiving the house, and for our day. On the last day of building, as we gathered early in the morning to pray for our day, one of the families receiving a home asked if they could join us in prayer. Just one of many touching experiences we had.)

Nicole and I made some (over 50) amazing new friends (too many to list!) We hope to stay connected with all of them as they each had a tremendous impact on us. The group that we worked on H1 and H2 were primarily from Arlington, Virginia, but we also made connections with people from Seattle area (Shoreline to be exact) and New Mexico.

This was a life changing experience and Nicole and I are still struggling knowing that there is so much need in the world. I suspect that we will be leaving again to do something like this very soon. At the very least we are planning a trip in the next couple of weeks to Arlington to visit those who affected us.

~"Preach the love of God everywhere you go, and if absolutely necessary, use words." Francis of Assisi