The Most Beautiful Night

I have no picture evidence for this next anecdote. I have no evidence save for a memory, a memory that has now been seared into my ever-changing brain as the most beautiful night.

The most beautiful night was not romantic. The most beautiful night was maybe not the most unique of all the beautiful nights. It had all the qualities pertaining to other beautiful nights: darkness, stars, tiredness, senses engaged. This was, however, the most beautiful of all beautiful nights in the most personal of ways.

Day: Monday, November 2, 2015.
Location: A dock in Skeldon, Guyana
Destination: Orealla, Guyana

This whole Monday had been abuzz with activity. Buying necessary goods from the local market, making sure that all needs were taken care of and luggage safely on our boat.

I will confess that that was my first real boat ride. Ever (ok maybe not ever. My mother says that I apparently rode a boat as a child while on vacation at Virginia Beach. I do not remember this..). Being a nearly native New Yorker, I did not consider the occasional NJ to NY to Statue of Liberty ferry route to be validated as a true boat ride. Truth be told,  I was nervous of possible seasickness or feeling claustrophobic, surrounded in the boat's interior by a sea of brightly colored hammocks. We'd hung up our personal hammocks hours earlier to ensure the best "seats" inside. After lugging all possesions on board, three of us (Josh Westfall, Charlie Brohard and yours truly) decided to spend our evening travel atop the vessel's roof, while my Ribz opted to stay inside the boat.

Dusk started falling, the horizon fading from a turmeric orange to a splendid cerulean before finally dripping into inky darkness. Our captain beckoned all passengers onboard, marking our final call of departure. We literally walked a plank "shiver me timbers" style onto the boat and settled in our chosen spots.

A chill ran through my core as I sat on the cold tin roof, with not much cover save for a borrowed jacket and my unhung hammock. It was not so much actual cold that made me shudder, but rather the solemnity of feeling the boat tugging away from shore and heading towards our new assignment. Even writing this has transported my senses back to that moment.

Now to the reason behind the title!

Pulling away from Skeldon, our boat chugged along rather gently. I positioned myself in between my fellow roof buddies, purposely away from the precariously unsafe-looking edge  (if you're reading this Charlie, I'm sorry for almost pushing you overboard; I promise that it was surprisingly unintentional). Brohard passed out almost instantaneously, leaving Westfall and I to either continue conversation or fall asleep as well. Needless to say, my boding excitement made me chatter away more than usual, leaving Josh no choice but to cheerily "gaff" along. We laid on our backs, faces heavenward, when we were treated to a most fantastic sight.

By this point in the ride (maybe an hour or two in), our boat was snaking along the Correntyne River and past the neighboring Suriname landmass. In what felt like no time at all, all land and dock lights had melted away into the night, leaving nothing but the literal sky from horizon to horizon and the water below. How did the sailors of old ever doubt the "circle of the earth" (Isa. 40:20)? It was a cloudless evening, and the welkin was littered with stars beyond count, sprinkled in artistically placed precision like a celestial snowglobe. Tears pricked my eyes, stunned by the sheer magnificence.

But wait, there's more!

As if that wasn't enough, my most favorite stargazing event happened: METEORITE SHOWER! Faster than either of us could register, they fell speedily across the universe in dazzling display. If either Josh or I had entertained the idea of sleep, it was GONE by that point. I kept shaking poor Charlie awake, shrieking in delight with each falling star. What a visual feast! What a blessing!

I do not know what incredible nights my further adventures will hold. I may enjoy an aesthetically more beautiful evening sight. However, this most beautiful night was special because it was my FIRST astounding night on my first needgreater trip ever. I pray that I never get jaded or too used to the gorgeous wonders during these spiritual adventures. It will remain irreplaceably special in my heart and memory.

Well, I hope you enjoyed tonight's post, because I know I enjoyed writing it for you readers! As opposed to simple fact writing, I want you to be as equally enchanted and transported into the experience as I was and still am. I pray that your nights, no matter what your circumstances, continue as bright and beautiful. A virtual hug to all of you friends!

Stay tuned for the next post.

Love,

The Adventurous A

The Theocratic Mafia

It is a family tradition that whenever there is a special talk/assembly/etc, we enjoy catching it in English. Though we are currently serving in a Spanish congregation, I do consider English to be the "language of my heart." I got baptized in English, started pioneering in English, and still study in English for meetings.  I feel like I can grasp the information 100% when I listen in my mother tongue.

That being said, Sunday April 3, 2016 was the worldwide Special Talk that was the follow-up to the global Memorial all of Jehovah's Witnesses and interested ones enjoyed on March 23rd. We as a family decided to make it to an English meeting for the Special Talk, but opted out of attending the local English congregation. Piling into the car, we drove almost 50 minutes to a congregation that we hadn't visited in quite a few years. Entering the Kingdom Hall, we were welcomed by some old friends of ours. As we made our way inside,  we came across a good friend of ours who amusedly informed us that due to that congregation having their circuit overseer's visit, the Special Talk would be postponed until the following Sunday.

I will admit, the first few minutes of the brother's first talk flew past me. I sat still, pen in hand, not sure if to feel joyous of hearing an English CO after so long or disappointed that that wasn't the Special Talk. I looked over at my mom, noting her serene smile. I looked the other way, and saw the sister next to me with a similar facial expression. I gave a Nehemiah-type prayer right there and then to help me focus and enjoy, which I thoroughly did!

But that's not the point of this post. Rather, that was to get you to the scene of this mini anecdote. My apologies if that felt long-winded; I just think in detail ahaha.

The focus and reason for this post was regarding the next portion of the meeting, the Watchtower study. Whenever it's the CO visit, the study gets abbreviated so as to allow time for the brother's ending talk. The Watchtower conductor, a brother I've worked with and around since my early (then)RBC days, was at paragraph 7 of that week's study. The question: Why does the preaching work bring us joy? After the audience's comments, he stated this next bit. I've attempted to write it as he said it, verbatim.

"Let me share with you a 30 second experience a brother shared with me. He was at Warwick last week and he was telling me about how he served in South America, in Guyana. He mentioned how he stayed with another brother in a small village and went by boat to an even smaller village. A man flagged them down and said 'Hey, I want to learn more, got anything on spiritism, I wanna know!' Now they had their first Memorial and had 19 in attendance."

Guyana! Who else but Charlie Brohard was at Warwick the past few weeks?! Who else was the brother he stayed with but Josh Westfall?! What other small village but Orealla, and what first Memorial but Siparuta?!? The brother continued the study, but I found myself in tears.

You're probably wondering at the meaning of this blog's title. Theocratic Mafia. That's a term my family uses to refer to the intimacy and sense of connection among Jehovah's people. Wherever you go in the world,  you will meet someone who (1) knows you, (2) knows a friend/family member of yours, or (3) has heard about you somehow. Like the Mafia, we're everywhere and super tight.

I felt the deepset connection as the brother told that mini experience. To be a part of something so much bigger...to firsthand have seen the reception of that tiny village and in a relatively short time see such progress...it's indescribable. The feeling of awe and closeness is irreplaceable. We are truly a family.

Well, I know this wasn't EXACTLY an adventurous adventure, but I hope you enjoyed this blog Nibblet! Jehovah's blessings and stay tuned for the next post!

Love,

The Adventurous A.