I ALMOST LOST MARK!!!

DRAMATIC TITLE FOR GRABBING ATTENTION!!

Hello beloved readers!!!

I apologize for the long absence. I've been obviously inactive on this blog, not having left on any other adventurous adventures in a while. I actually had plans to travel internationally this month to Nicaragua with some friends for about a month's time, but other travel plans came in the way.

NO DETAILS! At least not yet. You will all find out soon enough.

To start this post, some of you may know that since the summer of 2012, I've had the privilege of being able to assist at the Watchtower Farms in Wallkill, NY for the past 5 summers/autumns with the Farm Department. My assignment in particular has been the harvesting of blueberries, peaches, apples and grapes. It's one of my favorite crews and a real privilege to work side by side with some pretty incredible people.

It's this very harvest that sets the stage for this near-traumatic experience from this past summer.

It was a crisp, warm Thursday morning in September. I arrived at the A residential building along with another sister from my congregation in order to enjoy Morning Worship and breakfast with friends. We had a jolly old time prior to the day's work, and each headed to their appointed work spots. Every harvest season, Mark accompanies me at some point for photo opps.

Bearing Good Fruit

The day went as it normally would,  filled with laughter,  sunshine and good times. The REAL dilemma occurred once I came back home from work. I stumbled sleepily back into my bedroom, ready to drop.  I casually glanced to the spot Mark usually sits, only to suddenly notice his absence. A quick look around proved futile, and panic replaced my tiredness. I attempted remembering where he was, but to no avail. I asked Ribz and my family,  but they hadn't recalled seeing him at home either. This began a few terrible days.

You may ask yourself, why all the fuss? What kind of (then) 24-year-old woman gets distraught over losing/misplacing a stuffed animal? To paraphrase.... I'll leave the link to the "Introduction to MEPS" blog post I did last March. http://welcometotheadventurousadventure.blogspot.com/2016/03/an-introduction-to-meps.html?m=0


I kid you not,  I had full teams of friends on the lookout for the fuzzball at Wallkill.  I appreciate that no one made light of it or thought it weird to be on a wild goose chase for a toy. In the meantime, my family was kind and proactive in the most comforting ways.

Now fast forward to the following Tuesday.

I was at work at the time, at the point of trying to accept that my beloved tiny travel companion was possibly gone forever. Going through the motions of my job,  I almost ignored the text message from one of my breakfast buddies "Steve",  with only this caption: "We came across someone you know. " attached to this picture.

Faces covered to protect the not-so-innocent.  Just kidding, you know who you are.  #bluesushitrio

I will not deny that tears started to flow copiously on sight. My Mark was in safe hands!!!! I was hungry for details, and "Steve" was more than happy to fill me in.

Apparently, i HAD  brought him to breakfast, only to have let him slip out of my little harvest backpack right outside of our car. We'd left him behind in the pavement, all alone.  He was subjected to the rain and summer nights, until some unknown kind soul lovingly placed him on a nearby sign. Fortunately, he did not submit to the elements,  staying the strong little guy he is.


I mean,  come on,  he survived Canada AND  Guyana,  no way a little NY weather would bring him down, right?

The next day after my midweek meeting , I picked him up at Wallkill, ready for him to come home.

A sopping wet Mark posing with "Steve"'s ...whatever that thing is

Poor thing needed a MAJOR shower

He's on the table in front of me, his calm mouthless face staring back at me.  I know not to get overly attached to material things,  but still I am beyond relieved that he's safe and sound.  Call me ridiculous, but I love him. We have waaaaay too many adventures to go on, neither of us can afford to get lost now!!!

In all his fluffy , bowtied goodness

We shall bid you a goodnight, and stay tuned for the next post!!!

Love,

The Adventurous A.

Surprise Blog Nugget

This post is completely unplanned.

I'm sitting in a warm Starbucks keeping my ears from freezing off. Taking full advantage of the free WiFi, I decided to upload this amazing piece of art.

Isn't this neat?!? I had wanted to have a caricature of "The Adventurous A." It even includes Mark the Travelling Bear!!!! If you are on Instagram, please check out the artist's work at @say_geronimo11. She did a phenomenal job with the drawing, I'm very pleased with it!

Heading back outside now, stay warm and have an adventurously adventurous day!

Love,

The Adventurous A.

The Wet Hammock

To kick-start this post, a HUGE thank you to  my awesome Instagram followers at @the_adventurous_a for voting on the last poll I put up. Because of you who voted, here is the lineup for the next several posts:

Wet hammock
Travel tips
Collab blog

I have not figured out a time schedule for all of them yet (since some do involve legwork eg rounding up fellow bloggers, research, etc.), but fear not! They will be up eventually.

Onto the story!

This may be one of my favorite Guyana stories to tell, probably because it did not happen to me. The protagonist of this adventurous adventure is no other but fellow Guyana travel buddy Ribz, aka the World's Worst Anchorman!

*virtual applause*

Legend has it that every long trip has at least one bad day. I was not inclined to believe this traveler's folklore, not having had much experience travelling myself. I figured that hey, as long as you plan accordingly, even spontaneous incidents would not dampen the experiences or be considered "bad."

I was wrong.

Let's take this opportunity to travel back in time to November 26th, 2015. This was our last day living in Orealla. We busied ourselves that whole day saying goodbye to our new-found friends, visiting family after family before our boat back to Skeldon left that very evening. It was most definitely bittersweet; when you travel and get to know the friends of any area and congregation, you can't help but become attached to them.

Last day in Orealla. Danced in the rain. One for the bucket list

Ribz and the munchkins

My beautiful babies!!

Now that you have the background setting, fast forward to about 8 pm. All tearful goodbyes said to Tete, Josh and Charlie on the stelling (dock), we boarded our boat, hammocks already strung up for the night ride.

Fortunately, we had a few from the congregation also heading to the city on the same boat, so we felt less lonely. Ribz settled in for the night fairly quickly, while I stayed on the roof with my wonderful hostess Sherine.  It was a cooler night than expected, so by around 10 ish we both went down into our hammocks.

This is where it gets better.

Or worse. Depends on who you ask.

At approximately 1 am, I woke up to the startling feeling of being watched. In the dark, I struggled to adjust my vision, only to find Ribz sitting on a nearby rafter, hovering above me. He seemed fidgety and upset, mumbling incoherently to himself. I shrugged it off and fell back asleep.

2 am. The boat jarred rudely.

"Attention, passengers," alerted the captain in his creole-inflected accent. "The tide is too low to keep going, so we will be stopping at this harbor until 7 am. Then we'll continue to the main dock at Skeldon."

Oooooookaaaay, we were not expecting this in the least bit. I was fully awake at this point, and I could tell immediately that Ribz was VERY agitated. This is where his story came out. Enter the Wet Hammock.

There's a rule on these boats that STRICTLY says that NO DRUNK PEOPLE ALLOWED ON DECK. It's painted throughout the rafters and ceiling. However, one inebriated fellow snuck on board and inconveniently set up camp right above my brother's hammock.

IT GETS BETTER/WORSE.

Ribz had wrapped himself partly with the hammock fabric and topped off with his mini travel pillow. Thank goodness he did, because right afterwards, he felt a piddling sensation on top of the pillow. "Must be raining" was his first thought. If only. He woke to find his drunken upstairs neighbor completely emptying his bladder right atop of him and his bedding.

AHHHHHHHHHH!!! WE ARE NOT DONE YET!!!

He is telling me his experience as he's getting off the boat, blindly walking in the general direction of the city. Here we are, dark o clock in the wrong part of town, with a (literally) pissed off brother, no luggage and nowhere to go. I attempted to get him to pause and think about what we should do, but he was understandably in no mood to chitchat. The other friends who were on the boat disembarked at the same time as us, and pulled us from the direction we were heading in. "Don't go there! That's where the drug dealers hang out! Come with us and we'll take you to the hostel instead." I do not want to think about what would have happened had we kept going...

We walked a good half hour or so with the group (at this point, it was Sherine, another sister named Anita, Ribz and myself) to the Amer-Indian hostel, where we had to wait outside for another half hour for a couple of rooms. When we go inside, we see that NONE of the beds have sheets. The landlady proceeds to procure some damp fitted sheets for each bed and nothing else. The three of us ladies spent the next 3 hours or so fending off the giant bloodthirsty city mosquitoes that were buzzing about. Only Ribz, urine soaked, stinky and sleep-deprived, was offensive enough to the pests that they avoided him entirely.

STILL NOT DONE.

Did I mention that we had a very important mission to take care of? Our beloved Josh (http://nutso42.blogspot.com/) needed his passport and fee to be delivered to the capital via taxi by 6:30 sharp in order to make it to the Georgetown Visa office on time. His extended stay in Guyana depended on it, so it was paramount that my brother and I made it on time to the Skeldon Kingdom Hall to meet up with the taxi driver. The two of us left the hostel and walked about 40 minutes to reach the Hall.

He was late.

Sleepy, peed on, restless, upset, hungry. I can think of a few adjectives we felt at the moment. After some time, he did show up, and the passport was delivered safely and on time.

When we met up with the rest of the group and Ribz had shared his terrible night story with them, he vowed to chuck that hammock in the trash and NEVER use it again. Br. Chacon, a sweet married brother, gently reassured him that the hammock would be usable after a good wash. He then thoroughly cleansed the foul article twice with bleach, all signs of the odorous mess finally gone.

It now swings peacefully in the front of my house, a silent reminder of that night.

Urine it to win it (badumtss). Hap-pee nonetheless (BADUMTSS)

It was perhaps our legendary "bad day,", but what a story came out of it! We both laugh heartily in retelling it, and it has served as hilarious conversation fodder in group settings. Like the other adventures we had on that trip, I wouldn't change it for anything.

Well, I hope you guys got a laugh out of this as much as I did writing it. Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned for the next post!

Love,

The Adventurous A.

It Takes A Village (Tenisha and the Tablet Part 2)

"Coming together is the beginning.
 Keeping together is progress.
 Working together is success."
                       -Henry Ford

Within Jehovah's wonderful organization, we are able to witness regularly the tight-knit unity, even among friends you previously had never met before. There are very few events that bring as much joy to us as seeing those who have come to love Jehovah symbolize their dedication by baptism, thus joining the great and united spiritual family.

If you've been following this blog since its humble beginnings last year, you may remember an iconic blog post entitled Tenisha and the Tablet (if you haven't read it, I would HIGHLY suggest that you do and then return to this post, because spoilers... http://welcometotheadventurousadventure.blogspot.com/2015/11/tenisha-and-tablet-blog-nibblet-1.html?m=0 ).

That post involved the very moving story of a young Guyanese girl who struggled against parental opposition to keep on studying faithfully. At the time that I met her last year, she was a newly appointed unbaptized publisher, armed with the zeal of someone discovering Jehovah. Sweet and quiet, she immediately won me over. To think of this young woman standing for what was right despite her circumstances filled me with admiration.

Well, it is with the greatest of pleasures to present Tenisha, one year later, as our BAPTIZED Christian sister!!

Happy day, indeed!!!

I found out the afternoon of Sunday, October 9th when her previous Bible teacher (Michelle Sanches, Guyana needgreater extraordinaire) posted the above photo on Instagram. Happiness is an understatement for the emotions that welled up in me. The feeling of pure satisfaction, in tandem with pride and soaring joy, filled my heart and tear ducts.

Tenisha, congratulations and welcome to the best life ever, my dear dear sister. Jehovah saw your fine fight, your unadulterated love, your endurance and perseverance and He has certainly blessed you for it! Your decision has brought praise to His mighty name and happiness to a slew of your fellow brothers, even those you have not even met yet. Your example has been shared for the last year since we came back home, a real highlight of our time spent down there. I pray for your continued efforts and progress to all your goals as you grow more and more. I love you so much!

Thank you for reading and joining in this special event. Your support of such ones like Tenisha is one of the uniquely beautiful things that bring us together as a theocratic family. May you all have a great day (or night depending on where you are) and stay tuned for the next post!

Love,

The Adventurous A

Retrospect. Reminiscence. Remembrance. (Guyana One Year Later)

It is truly a fascinating feat to be able to remember. Memories, like fossilized amber, capture moments in sealed fragments that glimmer and warp with every turn of the wrist. You hold onto them, appreciating the passage of time.

Today marks a year since my very first post on this blog. This, in turn, marks a year since my brother and I left the States to serve in Guyana. Nostalgia is nipping at me like the New York autumnal chill, so I felt it fitting to just sit at my leisure and just WRITE.

For any of you fine readers whom I know personally, you are very well aware that if the word "Guyana" is even remotely uttered within a mile radius of my earshot, I can't help but slide in to converse about our adventurous adventures. How could I not? It was life-changing. It was fantastic. It stretched my horizon to the point that it will never be able to reduce to its original size, but only keep reaching out in the direction of the sunrise.

Many things have happened since our return to the States. Living conditions have changed, friends gained, tears shed, laughter shared, prayers spoken, and other adventures have ensued. It honestly took the better of several months to even acclimate back to American lifestyle. Nevertheless, we did not stay frozen in that incredible time period, and continued to  grow and do things here.

Beginning shortly after coming back, I had the insurmountable privilege of being able to work on the World Headquarters of Jehovah's Witnesses project in Warwick, NY for several months. I had worked there previously over the course of two years, but returning to that energetic atmosphere post-trip helped  bring me back to speed with being home.

During the summer months, I then transferred to working at the Wallkill Bethel complex with the Farm Department for the harvest season. Having worked there every summer since 2012, I felt more at home and at ease with the idea of staying in my home area. I had been plagued with longings to return to Orealla for months, and I truly believe that Jehovah answered my prayers to help me to be mentally content with whatever assignment received (even if it wasn't need-greater).

Do I miss Guyana? Beyond what words can describe.
Do I want to return? Of course!!!
If given the choice to either travel elsewhere or go back....there I'd probably have to say elsewhere. Goodness knows, I love love LOVE Guyana. However, there are still SOOOOOO many places to serve in and visit and experience, and I want to try out as much as I realistically can. I attended my second round of the Pioneer Service School in August and it relit a fire for the ministry that makes me hunger to go somewhere again. Maybe someday I will see my beloved Guyana again.....

Before I finish up this post, there are several people that deserve serious acknowledgement and thanks.

Mom and Dad, you above every other set of human beings deserve the highest praise and countless thanks. You aspired for nothing else for Ribz and me but the full-time ministry and loving our service to Jehovah. There are not enough words to thank you for all the sacrifices made and prayers and efforts poured out for us. I love you so much and I thank Jehovah God for the blessing of having you as a nonstop cheer squad, best friends, tireless pillars and eternal supporters.

Ribz! My brother from....my same mother. You stepped up to the "travel companion" plate without a shred of hesitation. I am so so grateful that we shared our first needgreater experience together. You are ever the ultimate teammate, favorite sibling and ready-made Broadway musical singing partner. May we continue to enjoy soggy hammocks and gigosmic mosquitoes for a long time.

Beloved "Fruit" (you know who you are)!
Whoever says they have the best aunt in the world....is obviously wrong. Why? Because I DO have the best aunt in the world! Your support through everything  (from birth onwards) has been most constant and loyal. Your own travel adventures helped kindle my original dreams and your continued support still does the same thing.  I love you so very much!

Josh, who would have thought that singing Bohemian Rhapsody in the middle of a busy blueberry field would have resulted in our friendship, hmm? Your wacky and weird lanky self wriggled into my Favorite Humans list. You were the catalyst for one of the greatest times of my existence. You pulled strings and made our stay a real joy. We'll see who makes it to SKE first!!!

Tom and Michelle, my wonderful far-away Guyana friends!!! Though we only spoke once over Skype, the many upbuilding emails and insightful words bolstered me and helped me feel better prepared for the trip. It is my sincere wish to finally meet in person someday.

Kayla, dear Kayla. Fiery, beautiful, and zealous, what's not to love about you? Between guiding us through the streets of Skeldon to nursing me back to health when we were leaving, you proved to be a capable young woman and a real asset to wherever your life takes you. Jonatán and I can't even say the words "child" or "babes" without hearing that irresistible Trinny accent.

Sherine and Phoebe, I MISS YOU!!!!!! I fell in love with you both instantly. I was so nervous about the new environment, and you made me feel right at home. I arrived knowing nothing and left, having gained a sister and little niece. You are very often on my mind and I pray that I will see you physically again.

To the Orealla Congregation, thank you for welcoming us with arms spread wide open. You embedded into our hearts and are most definitely never leaving. May Jehovah keep blessing you all as the growth and progress there continues.

Everybody else who encouraged us, supported us, cheered us on, prayed for us, and followed our adventures, THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART. It meant so much to us and was/is very much appreciated.

Before I finish, here is a quote from the 2005 Yearbook that captures our sentiments (and the sentiments of any who have gone to serve there): Most count themselves blessed for having served in Guyana. Especially have they appreciated being able to discuss spiritual matters with people who, in general, have a high regard for the Bible. Even many who do not profess to be Christian enjoy discussions with Jehovah’s Witnesses. What is more, householders will sometimes share a meal with the brothers. “So it is no exaggeration to call Guyana a pioneer’s paradise."

Paradise indeed. If you can make it, do it.  You will not regret it. Take care, wonderful readers, and stay tuned for the next post!!

Love,

The Adventurous A

How to Lose Your Bible in the Best Way Possible

A word to the wise: DO NOT TAKE YOUR FAVORITE PERSONAL BIBLE TO ANOTHER COUNTRY UNLESS YOU PLAN ON NOT KEEPING IT.

I do not mean to sound selfish or dramatic, I promise!!! (Well, maybe a little dramatic) The following experience was a personal eye-opener, in all honesty.

It was the day Ribz and I got offered to go to the remote village of Siparuta, about an hour-long boat ride from the Orealla stelling. (For a different set of personal experiences from that same service day, check out my favorite Guyana "white bai" Josh's post on http://nutso42.blogspot.com/2015/11/kingdom-proclaimer-vii.html ).

The faces of pure non-innocence...

The token non-Mexican Mexican

Gino and Dowlan, our trusty guides!

When we arrived onshore, our group of six got split up into three pairs, resulting in my getting teamed up with the fantastic Br. Dowlan France to scour the territory for interested ones.

*cue time jump to nearly the end of our service day there*

At this point, Dowlan and I were walking towards the string of houses by the Correntyne's waterside. It was one of those service days that felt like everything was right in the world; magazine placements through the roof, Bible studies started at each door, receptive people, it was PERFECT. We made our way to a call of his, an older gentleman with his daughter-in-law and grandchild. While Dowlan stayed outside with the man, I went in to "gaff" with the girl. I do not remember her name at the moment. However, I do remember that her little girl's name was Fenisha.

I was highly tempted to keep her but alas...
I love my Guyanese babies!!!

She was a young thing, only about 19 years old. Immediately inviting me into their humble home, I sat on the floor and proceeded to start a study with her while holding her infant. Midway through the conversation, she mentions how hard it is to obtain goods in Orealla or Siparuta. This is quite true, seeing as the coast is the 5-6 hour boat ride and costs $1000 GYD, PLUS shipping to Guyana is difficult period, that fact does not surprise me one bit. My brother (who had visited them only a few minutes before we arrived) had gifted her his charcoal-filter water bottle for the baby since she had asked for it. Knowing this did not stop me from feeling internally shocked when she eyed my Bible and asked upfront, "Can I have it?"

To explain my position a little better, the Bible in my possession was the mini revised edition we received on October 4th, 2014 at Annual Meeting. I was not able to be present at that particular Meeting due to work, but a Bethel friend had procured one for me the day of so that way I could enjoy it. I had my name in my best cursive with the date and location and everything on the inner cover. I had brought new Bibles on the trip in order to give to the local friends but had not planned on my own being placed. When I looked at the tiny Bible in my hands and back up at into the girl's big honest eyes, how could I refuse? She was in need, I had the power to give her something far more beneficial than any material gift, who was I to be selfish? I started handing it to her and she responded "Can you sign it for me? Write my name in it?"

The intense joy I felt immediately replaced my prior inhibition. Here I am, citizen of the cushiest material country in the world, practically neighbors to a Bethel facility. I can drive and within minutes pick up any literature at my ease, no problem. Jehovah knows exactly who is longing in heart and searching for truth, and He will find a way of getting His Word out to them. If in this case, Jehovah saw fit to give this woman a Bible by any means possible, I wanted to be like Isaiah and respond "Here I am, send me!"

After signing her book, she gave me the biggest hug and with tears in her eyes whispered a grateful thanks. We left her house shortly afterwards and joined the rest of our group to go back to Orealla. There was just such a sense of satisfaction and sense of accomplishment among our group that impregnated the air and spread contagiously from one happy face to the other.

If there is a moral to this story, I suppose it is just...just give. To quote Colossians 3:23, "Whatever you are doing, work at it whole-souled as for Jehovah and not for men." Keep your hands wide open and your heart even more so, and watch how Jehovah blesses in overabundance. Even if it is something dear to you, just keep displaying the spirit of generosity, imitating the fine examples laid out in the Bible for us.

That's all for tonight folks! Hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for the next post!

Love,

The Adventurous A.

Blog News!

Good morning readers!

Today, I just wanted to share some news regarding the blog. I have in mind to do some updates to it, but still looking for the time to do so. What I REALLY wanted to inform you was that I have a new Instagram account JUST for the blog!!!

It's in its preliminary stages naturally, but if you would like to follow it,  the account is @the_adventurous_a. I'll be uploading pictures there from any current or previous need-greater trip/service/unassigned territory trip.

Regarding any questions or suggestions you may have, feel free to contact me at TheAdventurousA@outlook.com.

That's it for now, I'm off to go out in service  soooooooooo I shall talk to you later. Jehovah's blessings and have a great day, Theocratic Mafia!

Love,

The Adventurous A.

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.

An Introduction to MEPS

com·pan·ion

 

kəmˈpanyən/

 

noun

 

1.

a person or animal with whom one spends a lot of time or with whom one travels.

Eg "his traveling companion"

 

What I love most about this particular definition is that not only can this "companion" be a person, but it can also be an animal. Here's a question for you readers: what about if having an animal is just too much of an expense? I absolutely LOVED having pets, but they're not usually travel-friendly or cost-efficient for a need-greater on the go. Is there, perchance, a fair middle ground for those of us who crave the furry company without the heavy responsibility?

 

Enter the stuffed animal.

 

I know, I know, you might be thinking, "...and HOW old are you, Alyssa?!? A tad too grown for playthings, maybe?" Well, age notwithstanding, I can't help but admit that yes, I have said fuzzy partner! My Instagram followers are quite familiar with him already, but I think it's high time for my blog readers to meet him.

 

Everybody, meet Mark!

 

 

I cannot fully introduce Mark to you all without two fun facts about him: his full name and his humble origins. You see, Mark's full name is Mark Euodius Pebble-Stone. Each part of his name has significance: Mark after his uncanny gentle-faced similarity to Br. Sanderson of the Governing Body, Euodius ("good journey" in Greek) after my favorite human, and Pebble-Stone for the idea of travelling over all sorts of ground. His initials together make MEPS, which for all of you familiar with the translation work at Bethel means Multilanguage Electronic Publishing System, which has advanced spreading the Kingdom good news to people of all tribes and tongues. If I was to have a constant companion, he'd have to be as adventurously adventurous and ready to go to the ends of the earth.

 

Where Mark came from, I cannot say. I have asked my parents and they could not recollect either exactly where they got him. He was like many toys in a child's home, just THERE. What I can recall, however, was rummaging through our storage room when I was maybe around 14 or so and rediscovering him. There he was, slightly battered up, his tiny left ear torn, but his beady plastic eyes shining brightly. I don't know what came over me, but I found myself telling this small toy that someday we would travel and serve somewhere together. I was only baptized around a year at that time but I had already from quite a young age entertained the goal of being a need-greater.

 

Fast forward to August 2014. I was in the middle of a fine productive blueberry harvest over at Wallkill Bethel. I had had high hopes of maybe being called to stay a couple of months longer to assist with the later apple and grape harvests, but the quota of needed temp workers was filled already. Fortunately, a sweet friend of mine from Washington DC invited me to join her group to do unassigned territory down in Kentucky right after my Bethel assignment was done. A lightbulb went off; this should be Mark's first adventurous adventure!

 

From that point forward, Mark has been to the following places:

 

Hazard, Kentucky (August 2014)

 

The light of truth is shining bright with this one BEAR-ing thorough witness

 

Washington, DC (August 2014)

 

At the Museum of the Native American

 

Montreal, Canada (July 2015)

I do occasionally switch out bow-ties for him, for a change of pace.

 

 

Warwick Bethel Project, NY (June-August 2015)

 

Going Green!

 

and finally his most recent excursion, Skeldon and Orealla, Guyana (November 2015)

Our first flight together out of JFK

Brighton Congregation, Skeldon

Up Big Mama Hill!! Orealla

I have grown so very endeared to this toy; he almost is the physical representation of the child's dream that I have retained throughout the years: setting my goals of serving elsewhere and finally reaching them. For all you dear friends out there, keep your goals, whatever they may be, alive and burning bright. We do not always have control over our particular circumstances or situations, but Jehovah knows and sees all that you are doing. He remembers all that you wish to do and all you can do, even if they are not the same thing due to imperfect limitations. Just keep doing your very best, and let Jehovah take the reins. Who knows what sort of story He's writing for you...

That's it for today's entry, Jehovah's blessings to you all! Keep your eyes peeled, maybe you'll see the bow-tie bear heading your way. Thanks for reading!

Love,

The Adventurous A (and Mark)

Beach Walks: Not All That They're "Chalk"ed Up To Be

An open question to my readers: If and when you travel, do you ever get tired of people asking about your trip or having to repeat stories and experiences?
 

As I sit here in the oddly warm clime that is upstate New York currently, I can't help but ponder on how many times Ribz and I have collectively recounted our adventurous adventures to others. We've been able to enjoy in times recent quite a few visitors from out of state who have come to visit Bethel. Personally I have absolutely no problem sounding like a broken record player, telling friends what we got to do in Guyana time and time again. I fell in love with the country and the yearbook-like experiences, and when I share them, I hope that my listeners enjoy and maybe fall in love a little too.
 

Well, you didn't come here to listen to me ramble, right?  Story time, folks! Today's tale will take you to a perilous and dangerous expedition through...a beach!
 

A beach? Perilous? Dangerous?  Nonsense! How is that even possible?
 

It started out innocently enough. Ribz and I had each respectively enjoyed our service days out in the village territory. Considering the heat and humidity, I had made tentative plans to meet up with some of the young local sisters to a swimming hot-spot known as Johnson Beach. This beach, located in front of the house of one of the Orealla Congregation's elders, caresses the crescent-shaped edge of the village's riverside boundary. The golden stretch of sandy goodness extends to one of the area's loveliest sights: Chalk Hill Beach. Our game plan was to start at Johnson and, by walking alongside the water, ultimately make it to Chalk Hill.
 

Hindsight is a devious little thing. It makes you realize all the signs you probably were not keen to at the moment....such as no one showing up at the beach after service. Maybe the friends knew sonething would happen, but I found myself at Johnson Beach alone save for Ribz and Charlie (to read a full informative of Mr. Charlie Brohard's previous Guyana experience,  check out Josh Westfall's interview on his blog nutso42.blogspot.com). Us three Americanos decided to take the trek ourselves, enjoying the golden sand beneath our inexperienced feet.
 

The circumstance we did not consider ended up being our near-downfall: the tide. At that moment, the ground was fairly dry,  but the river water started eagerly licking at our toes and retreating back just as swiftly. We attempted not noticing, but the inevitable was certain. The boys and I had been walking a few minutes already when we felt the water inching its way up our legs. I was wearing a long black skirt over my swimsuit, and let me tell you: BAD IDEA.  It served as a wick, sopping up liquid faster than I could squeeze it out.
 

I could wax poetic and describe how lovely the currents of the Correntyne River appear from an aerial point of view, swirling in Van Gogh-esque designs past the land mass....but not now. In that moment, the pulsating ferocity of the current clutching our rapidly submerging bodies was anything but artistic or romantic. We were neck deep and nowhere near our destination. We'd reached past the point where we could exit the shoreline via the neighboring hills, so we shouldered on bravely. Charlie and I were both treading water cautiously while Ribz kept his backpack barely aloft in one solitary hand, each of us clutching helplessly to the conveniently close-growing mangrove trees for dear life.
 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we MADE IT. We plopped our weary selves on the beautiful white sand of Chalk Hill, the tide thankfully receding to a normal state. Our legs were scratched and bruised, our clothing wet beyond all reason, but we crowed with victory and triumph.  Could we have died? Possibly. Was it totally worth the incredible story? Well....
 

*innocent smile*

WE MADE IT!!!!!!

Next time I will attempt to not be so foolhardy on my Adventurous Adventures, but what a story!!!

Well, dear readers, that's it for today. Hope you enjoyed!  Stay tuned for the next post, whenever it shall be. The posting will be much less frequent due to my schedule and whatnot, but thank you for reading!!!

 

Love,

The Adventurous A.