20 Boxed Children and 163 Million Orphans

            Most children do not come in boxes, but all of mine have.

            Christmas morning, 1991, with small presents unwrapped and already enjoyed, the more greatly anticipated gift awaited exposure.  As I slowly ripped off the bright red paper with colorful Christmas print, my heart danced inside my chest like a lightning bug inside a glass jar.  I had just unwrapped my very first child, and he was already waiting to be loved on! As my dad assisted with cutting the tape that secured the oddly shaped box closed and untwisted the ties that held my child in an upright position with arms open, my patience wore thin.

            Once out of the box and in my arms, my grandmother inquired, “What is his name?”

            I simply replied, “Eddie.”

            No one knew where I had heard the name before, but that is what he was called.

            About two and a half years later, while shopping with my mother and siblings, I wandered to the back of the store to look around.  While browsing the shelves that seemed to stretch higher than the ceiling, something—rather, someone—caught my eye.  There she was: a little girl, still in her box.  She was so cute with her red and white patterned shirt and matching bloomers! The simple shapes on her shirt led me to believe she must be in preschool, learning what a circle, square, and triangle are.

            “Momma! Momma! I found one I want!” I cried enthusiastically.

            “Which one?” she asked.

            “Her,” I stated, pointing to the little girl with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

            My mother quietly denied my plea, “No, I don’t think you should get her today.”

            With a broken heart, I walked away with my mother to meet my siblings before going home…and leaving behind a little girl I wanted to be mine.  Once home, I prayed that somehow that she could still belong to me.

            A few months later when November 22, 1994 came around, my sixth birthday, to my delight the little girl in a box became mine.  Rather than ripping through the box with excitement and discarding everything except her body, I carefully peeled away the tape and unfastened the ties that locked her inside.  I then picked up my “Madeline” and embraced her with long awaiting arms.

            Once Madeline was settled in my lap, I removed what remained in her box.  As I pulled the white papers with green ink out of the small plastic bag, I grew more curious as to what the papers meant.  Not yet able to read big words, I sought out my mother.

            “Momma, what are these for?” I inquired.

            “Well, let’s read them and find out,” she gently replied.

            With careful memory of all the phonics rules I had learned thus far, I struggled through reading the two bold words centered at the top of the first paper, “Adoption Certificate.”

            “What’s ‘adoption’ mean?” I asked my mother.

            “Well, adoption is when a mommy and daddy can’t take care of their child, or sometimes a mommy and daddy might die and their child is left an orphan, and a new mommy and daddy have to take care of the little boy or girl.”

            Stunned that such a scenario was even within the realms of possibility, I walked away to embrace Madeline more tightly, since she must have been left an orphan and was in desperate need of more love.

            The very next time I set foot in a large building that held boxed children captive, I made it my silent mission to somehow bring them all home so they could be loved.  There was no reason not to work hard and complete all my chores every day and do my school work diligently when these kids need to be taken care of!

            So work I did, earning as much money as I could to adopt child after child who was destined to remain in a box unless I did something.  By the time I had adopted all twenty of my Cabbage Patch Kids, I became aware of a bigger mission: there are real kids all over the world waiting to be adopted and loved by a family.

            It is currently estimated that there are 163 million orphans in the world.  To better grasp how big that number is, naming each one of those children at the rate of one per second would take more than five years.  In my understanding, there is no reason that families should delay action in changing the reality for at least one of 163 million.  I’m not waiting, and I’m currently a family of one...or twenty-one, depending on how you look at it.

**This was a short, non-fiction story written in class for English 112, though it may someday serve as the first rough draft for the prologue of a book.**

Mi paitim saksak!

I would have written about this sooner, but I thought for the longest time I already had.  Another story from PNG...

During my stay at Walagu, my teammate and I were set up to rise with the sun and go with other bus meris (women of the bush/village) to paitim saksak (lit: beat sago palm).  I was excited about FINALLY having the opportunity to do something that the natives did-legit work.  By the time this week came, I was accustomed to walking barefoot around the village.  The ground there consisted mostly of hard-packed red clay, so it was easy on the feet.  We were advised to apply plenty of bug spray and take along our water bottles, beef biscuits, bus naip (basically, a machete), and various other small things for our day's adventure.  Once packed, we waited for one of the bus meris to come get us.  I honestly had no idea what was ahead...our hosts kept it a slight surprise.

We walked maybe 4/10 mile down the main path and the bus meris randomly stopped and offered gamshus (gumshoes/garden boots?).  I was slightly clueless as to why they would offer us these when we'd been walking along the main red clay path.  Then one of the bus meris started walking off the main path, into some SERIOUS bus-as in the kind that's nearly as tall as you.  My teammate and I looked at each other and looked at our guiding bus meris to see what kind of foot attire they had on-they were barefoot, so why shouldn't we go barefoot, right? I weighed the present situation for a few moments and spoke up to say that we would gladly take the gamshus.  I praise God for that moment of wisdom.  I love going barefoot and flip-flops are my footwear of choice, but this ground was not to be walked on without proper protection.  We slipped on the gamshus and trekked through the bush, proudly wielding our bus naips and putting them to good use chopping vines, stumps and tall grass in our way (first legit time!).  This journey to the saksak was not predictable.

After walking several yards through the tall bus, we approaches some trees, beyond which we could not see.  Soon we discovered that the trees hid the slope of the mountain.  There was a slight path to follow behind the bus meris, but it was a very winding path.  The gamshus that I was wearing were big for my feet, so when our path was met with the roots of palm trees (if you've never seen them, they are shallow and slippery when wet), there was a lot of sliding.  Had I not been concerned with causing anyone else to fall and if I knew the way, I like to imagine that I would have been the first one down, due to my skill of surfing palm roots.  :)

After maybe 30 minutes or more, we finally reach the sago swamp-and swamp it was.  I had never been to anything like a swamp before, so trudging through muck that was as high as the gamshus I was wearing was not delightful.  Oh-and I believe I forgot to remind you readers that we were wearing skirts, as required.  For reasons I haven't yet sought to understand, sago turns things reddish, though no part of the sago palm that I saw was red.  The sago swamp is almost divided into sections for the different stages of paitim saksak.

The first step of paitim saksak is to actually cut down the sago palm.  This stage is completed by the men.  The substage following this is the *real* paitim saksak, when the men (and sometimes also the women) use an axe-like tool that is angled with dual edges to allow productive swing while sitting.  At this substage, the sage palm has already been felled and the outer layer has been split to expose the pulp.  Workers will then sit on/in the sago to paitim.  When the initial chunks are made, it is more often the women who come behind to use their bus naips to further paitim the saksak.  Once the saksak has been paitim enough, the women will gather the pieces of pulp into their bags (these bags are comparable to rice bags-the kind you'd find at an authentic oriental store, only larger) and take them to the next section.

The second stage of paitim saksak is the "washing" of the sago pulp.  The women take care of this portion.  There is a slanted troth-like structure about waist-height and 4 to 5 ft long that has two filters.  The first filter is about half-way down and the second filter is at the bottom.  Below the second filter is a tub of sorts constructed from multiple bags and bark.  The pulp that was collected at first stage is placed at the top of the troth and "water" from the tub is poured over it.  The next step consists of alternating paitim saksak and squeezing the pulp, mostly paitim saksak, though.  Once whatever water passes through the first filter catches in the second half of the troth, it's all squeezing pulp from there.  From the second half it flows into the tub and the actual pulp settles at the bottom and it's the "water" that sits on top that is reused for "washing."  (The initial source of "water" comes from the swamp.  The most accurate description of the "water" that I can come up with is a beer pond.  It both looks and smells like a big puddle of dark beer-quite disgusting.)  *Note about the second stage: there will be multiple sections, divided by family, though some have more than one.*

Once the pulp has been collected from the bottom of the tub, it is stuffed into bamboo and cooked over a fire.  The consistency becomes something like partially hardened Play-Doh or chalky gummy bears.  There isn't much of a flavor, but it all depends on how it's cooked.  There are a million ways to cook sago (comparable to the number of recipes for Bisquick), but the most popular is definitely plainly in bamboo.  We later heard of more appetizing ways to prepare it, such as with coconut milk in pancake form (didn't have opportunity to sample this).

Having gone on this adventure, we earned the title of bus meri. :) I'd say it was worth it, even if I got too many mosquito bites to count.

**there aren't any pictures because by this point, my camera battery had died. :(

The Gospel

"Trial" village stay

At the conclusion of our orientation, our entire team was sent to a village for a "trial" stay.  We were split among seven homes, mostly two to a home.  Leah, my roommate during orientation, was teamed with me here as well since we would be venturing to our three-week village stay together.

The preparation for this was quite enjoyable, in my opinion.  Up until this point, we've been taught all the basics of Tok Pisin--what we needed to get by.  Now our task was to use it--and only Tok Pisin--for 2 days and 2 nights.  After our language learning, we had been introduced to a few critical cultural differences.  One afternoon our team was split to discuss gender-specific topics.  As women, we learned how to properly bathe in the river--very important, although for me and Leah it was only necessary for three occasions.  We women were also instructed to never step over anything--especially food and people; doing so would make it "unclean."  This particular lesson was more difficult to apply than one might imagine.  You have to completely retrain your mind in how you walk about.  It's like being taught as a kid not to walk between people while they're talking, only in PNG, as a woman, NEVER step over anything, EVER.  Because there is rarely a village with a table and the majority of meals are served on the floor in cramped spaces, this seemed almost impossible at times.

Each pair of us took along a bucket full of food to give to our host families and personal necessities for the weekend (mosquito net, homemade cinnamon rolls, toilet paper, cups, bowls, spoons, etc.).  One "necessity" however was left out: toilet paper.  Now it's difficult enough learning to use the liklik haus (outhouse), then the toilet paper gets forgotten.  Thankfully I had tissues.  Leah was additionally prepared for liklik haus visits during the night, as she had a headlamp.  Very thankful for that.  Moving right along...

Wasfamili bilong mi na Leah (my and Leah's host family) had onepela pikinini (one child).  Her name was Olian and she was eleven months old.  She was so precious, but terrified of waitskins (literally, white-skinned people).  When I first tried to hold her, she cried.  Although she would play with you, she would be at least 5 feet away.  Our waspapa na wasmama (host father and mother) would keep repeating to Olian "Em susa bilong yu" (that's your sister).  She would get this confused look on her face--haha, it was priceless! Our first night in the village was quiet with little activity.  We saw a few of our teammates walk by on their way to waswas (swim/bathe).

Later on, Leah and I went, too, after gathering our supplies and donning our laplaps (large pieces of cloth used primarily to cover up, but a book of "100 Ways To Use A Laplap" could be written).  It's crazy to think about how much stuff we use for a task as simple as bathing! I was a little nervous at first, being very cautious on our long trek to the river.  We passed a couple of kids who were goofing around.  Now, the general rule when going to waswas is that a group calls out to the other prior to turning the last corner.  The women's end of the river happens to be just after that last turn.  There was a close call when a group of guys came, not properly announcing their presence.  Hence, the laplap is never removed.  While bathing, the young girls would just stare at us waitskins.  After so many minutes, we started playing around, splashing them and laughing.  Good times.

binatang bilong sak sak

Leah and I somewhat helped prepare kaikai (food/eat) for the evening.  All we did was butcher cooking bananas na kaukau (sweet potatoes).  There was more to our meal than that.  We had chicken and rice cooked in coconut milk (yum!).  Everything was great, but the meal of all meals was the next evening.  My brata (brother)/teammate Jason and his waspapa  passed by me and Leah during the day and said they were going to get binatang bilong sak sak (sago grubs!-literally bug of the sago tree) for evening kaikai.  MI AMAMAS!!! (I'm happy!) [Sidenote: one of the little things I asked God for prior to departure was the opportunity to eat the infamous grubs of PNG.  We read about them in one of our prep books and I had heard about them from various missionaries.  Prior to this amazing treat I would point to every binatang I saw and ask "Em kaikai?" (Is that food?).  Seriously.  I just wanted to eat PNG bugs.]  Two of our wasfamilis  were related, so we all got together to kaikai and stori (talk about whatever, not necessarily tell "stories").  I was so excited to be eating grubs! Our wasfamilis were laughing at me continually.  The wasmamas (host mothers) kept bringing me more and more grubs! They tasted sooooo good!

Following our kaikai, our stori-ing time began, then shifted into a mini-church service with singing, then the leader asked each of us waitskins to share our testimonies.  At first I thought that it would literally be all of us, but instead he chose a few of us.  I had a Tok Pisin vocabulary of ~60 words.  This was very challenging! But they all seemed to appreciate what I tried to say.  While the rest of those sharing continued, I decided to try to interact with Olian some more.  She was learning to wakabout (adapted from the Australian "walk about"), so I held out my hand--and she took it! My waspapa and wasmama were so surprised and just grinned as they watched me wakabout with Olian.  I will treasure that moment when she first trusted a waitskin.

Leah, wasmama, waspapa, Olian, me

Once the children all showed that they needed to go to bed,  we got our dishes and started on our walk back to our respective houses.  My wasmama was talking to me and Leah and as we both best understood her Tok Pisin, she explained that she and our waspapa decided they were changing Olian's name to "Amy" and when they had another daughter they would name her "Leah."  Talk about humbling! It was crazy...here's this kid who is terrified of us, yet they were changing her name to mine.  Unbelievable that I have a namesake.

That's enough for now.  More to come soon....

Culture

culture |ˈkəl ch ər|

noun

the integrated pattern of human knowledge, belief, and behavior that depends upon the capacity for learning and transmitting knowledge to future generations (Merriam-Webster: 5a)

the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group; the characteristic features of everyday existence (as diversions or a way of life) shared by people in a place or time (Merriam-Webster: 5b)

the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution or organization (Merriam-Webster: 5c)

the set of values, conventions, or social practices associated with a particular field, activity, or societal characteristic (Merriam-Webster: 5d)

כן

I have been flooded with Scripture tonight! God is truly awesome - as I have sat in awe for several minutes at His blessing me with more of Him, I received so much more than I actually sought after.

As I was working on a special project of mine that deals with something for which I have prayed almost six years now, I was looking for Proverbs 16:9, thinking it was in Psalms somewhere.  (I've already been working on this mess of knowing that "it's there somewhere," yet not being able to find it...still working.)

So in my flipping through Psalms, thinking I knew the location on the page to find the underlined verse I gleaned these other verses:

86:11 "Teach me Your way, O Lord, that I may walk in Your truth; unite my heart to fear Your name."

73:16, 17 "But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end."

 73:23-26 "Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand.  You guide me with Your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.  Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

71:14 "But I will hope continually and will praise You yet more and more."

71:5 "For You, O Lord, are my Hope, my Trust, O Lord, from my youth."

65:5-8 "By awesome deeds You answer us with righteousness, O God of our salvation, the Hope of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas; the One Who by His strength established the mountains, being girded with might; Who stills the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves, the tumult of the peoples, so that those who dwell at the ends of the earth are in awe at Your signs.  You make the going out of the morning and the evening to shout for joy."

62:5, 8 "For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from Him.  Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us."

55:22 "Cast your burden on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved."

 52:8-9 "But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God.  I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.  I will thank You forever, because You have done it.  I will wait for Your name, for it is good, in the presence of the godly."

51:6 "Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being, and You teach me wisdom in the secret heart."

 40:16 "But may all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You; may those who love Your salvation say continually 'Great is the Lord!'"

40:8 "'I delight to do Your will, O my God; Your law is within my heart.'"

40:4 "Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his Trust"

40:1 "I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heart my cry."

 39:7 "'And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in You.'"

37:3-7 "Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.  Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.  Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and he will act.  He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.  Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him."

 33:20-22 "Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our Help and our Shield.  For our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy name.  Let Your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in You."

33:11 "The counsel of the Lord stands forever, the plans of His heart to all generations."

32:8 "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you." 

31:24 "Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord!"

 31:14-15 "But I trust in You, O Lord; I say, 'You are my God.'  My times are in Your hand."

27:14 "Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

 27:8 "You have said 'Seek my face.'  My heart says to You, 'Your face, Lord, do I seek.'"

26:1-3 "Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have walked in integrity, and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering.  Prove me, O Lord, and try me; test my heart and my mind.  For Your steadfast love is before my eyes, and I walk in Your faithfulness."

 25:21 "May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for You."

25:12 "Who is the man who fears the Lord? Him will He instruct in the way that He should choose."

 25:9-10 "He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble His way.  All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep His covenant and His testimonies."

25:4-5 "Make me to know Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths.  Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait all the day long."

 18:30 "This God—His way is perfect, the Word of the Lord proves true; He is a Shield for all those who take refuge in Him."

8:3-4 "When I look at Your heavens, the works of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You care for him?"

 4:3 "But know that the Lord has set apart the godly for Himself; the Lord hears when I call to Him."

Finally, I found the verse I first sought "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." (Prov. 16:9) Oh the stories I desire to write about publicly - one day I may be able to, but not yet. :)


Those of you who may know about *what it is I write* know the significance of these verses at this time.

God is faithful—I was totally blown away by how much He gave me to dwell on in the midst of my attempts to honor Him, it is He Who will glorify Himself.  Should I make myself available, He will glorify Himself through me and *this*.

May it be so, Lord, for the sake of Your Kingdom.  Your will be done, not mine.

Will You guide me?

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;

Nought be all else to me, save that Thou art-

Thou my best thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;

I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;

Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,

Thou mine inheritance, now and always:

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,

May I reach Heaven's joy, O bright Heaven's Sun!

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

**Will You guide me when I can't see?

Please, Lord, lead me; You're all that I need.**

Must See...Must Act

How do you explain

I have the privilege of caring for two special kids for 2-1/2 hours four nights a week. These two precious children, given to a friend of mine, can attempt many things to evade homework. Tuesday evening, however, the questions that came shooting out were permissible for a delay in homework. As well phrased as a six- and seven-year old could, they began asking about basic theology. How do you explain to children who have not grown up in church what sin is and what it means to be separated from God? How do you help them begin to understand what it meant for Jesus to die on the cross and how that it is they who are guilty and deserving of death, yet only He alone is worthy? I answered them, by the grace of God, only to be pegged with questions of what happens when you die....

Wednesday's series of questions came as a result of my appearance. Red, wet eyes begged the question "why?" and I tried to answer simply. The simple answers will not quiet the minds of those most curious. As I attempted to explain that something very sad had happened, I knew that I should have turned my words around.

See, these kids don't know Jesus. They don't understand what "glory" means, yet my response to the death of my sponsored child can make a difference. I tried to explain how that my little girl loved Jesus and she was happier now in His presence than she could ever have been with all the toys in the world. Why? How? Because Jesus is God. And God is holy, just, glorious, majestic, loving, and more than words can express - He is what our soul craves and the only One to fully satisfy.

I'm trying to keep my mind focused on things above. My life has been impacted greatly by Jacqueline's entrance to Heaven. Yes, I know I made a difference in her life, but she's not here anymore. I write to my kids every week, and I often begin my letters with something like "I continue to trust our awesome Savior to keep you safe and healthy, as He is able." He is able - still; and I trust Him - still.

Sponsor a kid through Compassion International. It will change the life of a child, a family, a community, and the one who is willing to help make that change.

First couple stories

First off, my apologies to any of you who checked my blog and were disappointed at finding there were no updates during my time in PNG. I thought that I would have more opportunity to access internet, but I did not. Once I did have internet it was costly and I would have had to update from my iPod (I saved you the horror of multiple, unintentional spelling errors, so thank me).

I have no idea how I'm going to fill you in on everything that happened, so don't expect it all at once. For now, I'm just going to use my journal as a guide and hit on a few highlights every couple of days or something. There is a lot to get done with classes around the corner and my having been out of country for 8 weeks....

June 8 we (the Discovery team of 10) arrived in Port Moresby (the capital of PNG) and stayed there for two nights at a missionary guesthouse. It was nice to not have much to occupy those first couple days since we were getting over jetlag. (PNG is 14 hours ahead of Virginia.) We went out to look at the market and gained a few ideas for souvenirs; most of us were frustrated because we had not yet exchanged money and had to reject everyone's offer to sell. The following day we went to BTA (Bible Translation Association), a translation organization operated by nationals. They shared a few video clips with us and we heard a couple short testimonies. One of the Papua New Guineans emphasized the need to have Scripture in the heart language because even though they may have learned another language that had God's Word, they still had to be taught what those other words meant.

After our two nights in Port Moresby, we flew to Madang to begin our orientation. POC (Pacific Orientation Course) was wonderful! We really began to bond as a team with our being thrown into learning Tok Pisin (trade language of PNG) together and more deeply during our team meetings each evening when we would have times of sharing testimonies, worship, and prayer. POC was very busy - most of my journal entries are cut off or interrupted, a true reflection of all that went on. Even as I glance at our schedule, it seems as though we were busier than it shows.

While at POC, there was this exciting time of pulling laundry off the line that’s right outside our rooms. One night, I was getting my towel so I could shower, when I saw “a mommy gecko carrying a baby gecko.” I immediately informed my roommate of this, as it startled me. She came out and didn’t scream, but kinda stepped back and said “that’s not a gecko.” I looked at the “not a gecko” from a new angle this time and saw what she saw – a snake eating a gecko. ☺ It was great! Two of the guys came rushing out with cameras; one was determined to take it down and chop its head off. I was determined that we get Papa Ray (director of POC) before anything was done. Papa Ray’s been a missionary to PNG for 30+ years, so he could tell us that the snake was not poisonous. Instead of chopping the snake’s head off, one of the guys carried it over to the bush to release it.

During our orientation we had several hikes, all of which were great – some more wearying than others. But the activities more exciting than hiking were those of going to Jais Aben. I’m not much of a swimmer by any means (just learned how to swim last year), but I did go snorkeling for the first time – in PNG! Very exciting for me! There were four of us who were going out together. Two had gone ahead and one was nice enough to stick with me. ☺ There were lots of coral and more fish than I would ever be able to recall and identify. We had been given a tok save (informational talk) about the different sea creatures we may encounter. We were warned about the sea urchins, blue striped octopuses, and jellyfish. The sea urchins were plentiful, but it’s kind of obvious how to avoid them and they don’t come after you. Jellyfish, however, swim beside you. Not. Cool. At. All. I was blessed with the awesome experience of spotting the team’s first jellyfish. Because there were no solid rocks for me to stop on and the jellyfish was inches away from where I was swimming; there were branches on one side, and I couldn’t escape that direction…so I head for the nearest person, my awesome brother Jason! Haha – he was safely standing on rocks between sea urchins when I reached him, the jellyfish still close behind me. In my “freaking out,” he grabbed me and all I could do was laugh, without telling him exactly why I was freaking out. Thankfully, his rescue did not result in his stepping on a sea urchin, but my freaking out did result in some coral cuts to my knee and toes…could have been worse.

More to come…hopefully!