Our beloved brother in the Lord, Luis, our bus driver who donated his earnings for the week to our efforts to love on and build sacred space for those of the Mayan village, took us to a secret spot. We had been snorkling with the turtles and over the reefs a few hundred yards off the white sands of the Gulf of Mexico. But, after a couple of hours of that and a celebratory meal on the shoreline, he got our fellas told again for not showing us a better time and loaded us up. We wove along the coast by mansions, mainly sitting empty, our bad economy running their realestate down as well. We pulled into a turreted wonder and snaked our way to its property’s furthest most point.
Before us was the clearest and most beautifully hued water I had ever seen. A few other blessed folks swam about finned and masked and otherwise. As we moved near the edge, Luis pulled soda crackers from this pocket and cast them to the waters. A myriad of jeweled wonders swirled in front of us…”Go on, get in with them,” he urged. For the next few hours, we swam this wonder’s length and breadth. We glid over the cool currented canal which was warmed by vents that somehow forced their way through huge boulders and and between great gaping clefts. Everywhere, fish of all varieties and sizes darted before us. You could see down 40 feet and the occasional rock mount gave one a good landing zone to catch breath.
Some of us stayed fairly near to our cabana’d dock. Others of us left out in search of the lagoon’s marriage with the waves. We swam down a half mile or so, through rock tunnels and over warm underwater rivers. Finally, the waves broke in the distance before us. As we traveled further and further toward the jetty, our numbers lessened as less hardy swimmers broke for “home.” On the last leg, we were five: Sarah, Kenzie, myself, Trent and Hannah. We decided that we would go on, When might we ever return here? We swam to where the flats opened, estuary like. We saw baby swords and baby barracuda and nearly flushed the fella that felled brother Steve Irwin. Trent and Hannah pushed on ahead, we three trailed them, tiring in the current, which had grown a bit stronger. Finally, Trent, he and Hannah now nearly to the waves, pointed us away…he had sighted the baracuda babes’ mum. It was enough deterent, even for him. He waved Hannah back with us and swam between us and the toothy mom until we were “safe” within the sheltering laguna.
I smiled all the way home…as I watched my children, fearless and wise, strong and humble, revel in and respect their world.