Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 17, 2012

No Bad Vistas

Big Bend National Park

There are no bad vistas at Big Bend National Park, the oldest and largest national park in Texas. No matter which direction you look, the panoramic views are magnificent. It seems that Big Bend was created as a feast for the eyes, a sort of visual buffet of natural wonders. It’s not the kind of place where you get in a hurry to go from Point A to Point B. On the contrary, it’s a place where you don’t mind observing the 45-mile per hour speed limit in the park. The slower pace of driving is perfect because it gives visitors more time to appreciate the grand views sculpted by wind and water over long periods of time. Big Bend is indeed one of the premier canvases in God’s global gallery.

Dad and I drove from Chisos Mountain Lodge toward Santa Elena Canyon today. The scenic and winding drive is not only beautiful, it is relaxing. One of the objectives of my sabbatical is to not get in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything but instead to relax and enjoy a different pace of life. Today’s drive helped me to do just that. We stopped to enjoy a picnic lunch along the way, struck up a conversation with some folks from Michigan, and took a leisurely hike along a portion of the Rio Grande River near the magnificent Santa Elena Canyon. I have enjoyed watching my Dad enjoy the beauty of this place. I have caught him pensively stopping to look at things along the way and nodding his head in affirmation of the surrounding natural wonders. Sharing this experience with him makes it all the more meaningful to me.

Reflecting on the beauty of Big Bend has reminded me that there is beauty everywhere if we will slow down long enough to look for it. It’s so easy for us to allow our frenzied pace of life in the city to blind us to the things and people around us. Our schedules often seclude us from or minimize our interaction with others. That’s not a good thing because so much of the beauty around us is found in the faces of others and in the stories they are waiting to tell. We can miss out on so many good things by going through life faster than 45-miles per hour. It really is difficult to see and even harder to hear folks when we go through life too fast. So, slowing down is not a bad thing. I am thankful for this time away from my normal routine. God is helping more things to come into sharper focus for me as a result. And, that’s a good thing!

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 16, 2012

The Colors of Conversation

Del Rio, Texas to Big Bend National Park

There is no question about it — Texas is huge and offers some of the most beautiful vistas I have ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty. This morning Dad and I hit the road for the second day of our road trip. Once you get to this part of Texas the speed limit increases on those long and lonely stretches of highway where you can see another vehicle approaching from miles away. Even so, it can feel like you are crawling across the vast Chihuahuan Desert. After crossing the Pecos River we pulled off the highway and headed to Langtry to visit Judge Roy Bean’s place. Judge Bean is one of the more colorful characters in Texas history. He regarded himself as the Law West of the Pecos. His only qualification was owning a copy of a single law-book that he rarely used, preferring instead to dispense his own brand of justice. His is just one of the many stories that make up the history of this desolate part of Texas.

No matter where we go we are surrounded by stories waiting to be told. Every place that we pass and every person that we see along the way has a story. Each of us is, in fact, living in the middle of a story. I’m really thankful to have this time with my Dad because his stories are helping me to understand more about those who came before me. I have asked Dad about what his grandparents were like, about his first jobs, about the movement of family from one place to another, and more about the early days of his marriage to my beautiful mother. Traveling down this long road together also prompted Dad to tell me about a road trip that he made from Mission to El Paso to visit the girl he would marry. That story prompted me to ask more questions about what kind of car he drove and what the roads were like and what it was like to see my Mom after being separated from her while he was in military service in Europe, and many more questions. I have concluded that stories are like dabs of paint on an artist’s palate. They are like the colors that add the detail and depth and contrast that helps to make the image on the canvas come to life.

This afternoon Dad and I took a short hike near our lodge in the Chisos Mountains in Big Bend National Park. We walked at a slow pace, stopped to take photos, and enjoyed good conversation along the path. As we walked I thought about another favorite quote by Barry Lopez: “Conversations are efforts toward good relations. They are an elementary form of reciprocity. They are the exercise of our love for each other. They are the enemies of our loneliness, our doubt, our anxiety, our tendencies to abdicate.” Conversations are also the vehicle that transmit stories from one person to another and from one generation to another. If we want to know more about others then it must begin with good conversation.

At the end of the day Dad and I met a young man who works at the park. We engaged him in conversation and learned that he is a student from the Philippines working here on an exchange program with other students from Malaysia and Thailand. Needless to say, we spent a long time chatting with him and left with a few dabs of paint from his palate added to our own canvases. That’s the beauty of conversation. Our story continues…

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 15, 2012

The Story Collector

McAllen en route to Del Rio, Texas

For as far back as I can remember, I have always loved stories. From the days when I sat spellbound as my grandmother shared stories about her childhood or listened as my grandfather read to me from Aesop’s Fables, stories have been a part of my life. My childhood was steeped in stories — those I listened to and those I read. Over the years I have become increasingly interested in the stories that collectively comprise my family’s history. I am not just interested in the accounts of big happenings but in the stories of ordinary days that can give me greater insight and appreciation for how those who came before me lived their lives. These are the kind of stories that can help me to better understand the factors that shaped the people who shaped me.

When I outlined my goals for my sabbatical, I included collecting and recording more of my family’s stories. Unless we are intentional about our stewardship of the stories that make up our respective family histories, they may one day be lost forever. And once these stories are lost, we also lose any benefit, encouragement, or perspective they might have given to us to help us better understand our own story. Today, I had the opportunity to collect more stories as my Dad and I drove the 300-plus miles from McAllen to Del Rio, Texas on the first day of our road trip. As we drove north along Highway 83 past towns with names like La Joya, Havana, Garciasville (my personal favorite), Escobares, and Quemado, the stories began to flow. I heard many stories for the first time and asked lots of questions about the family members whose stories were birthed in small towns like those along our route.

It’s great to finally be on the road with Dad. I was as restless as a kid on Christmas Eve last night and could not sleep. So, I turned on the light and started looking through some of my late mother’s books. My beautiful mother loved to read and wrote lots of notes that she tucked between the pages of the books that she was reading. We are still finding her hand-written notes here and there. Last night I found a note she had written and tucked into one of her books. This was not just any note, it was exactly the note I needed to read and one that reaffirmed my determination to collect more family stories. My mother had written something she had read in “Crow and Weasel”, a fable by essayist, author, and short-story writer Barry Lopez. The quote: “If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.” I love this quote. It sums up what I intend to do — to care for the stories that come to me and to give them away where they are needed. Mom’s note also reminded me that I need to live responsibly because someday someone might give away a story from my life. When that happens, I sure hope that it will give hope and encouragement to those who hear it.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 14, 2012

It Seems Like Yesterday

McAllen, Texas

There is something about returning to my childhood home that is unlike any other experience, at least for me. Perhaps it’s because I am prone to bouts of acute nostalgia the farther south I travel down US Route 281. Driving past towns named after cattle ranches of years gone by stirs my memories. Familiar landmarks remind me of other journeys I have made down this same route on the holidays and ordinary days of my own past. As I drove from Corpus Christi to McAllen yesterday, I reflected on those first trips back home to celebrate Mother’s Day and Christmas or to just spend a few days with Mom and Dad when I was a much younger man. Although the road is the same, so much has changed. Even though I know that things will never again be what they once were, once I cross the city limits I often find myself sighing and wishing for the beauty of days gone by.

I think it’s interesting that while our memories are tethered to points in time the tether is often long enough to allow our memories to reach across time. My Dad sent me a birthday card that got me to thinking about how memories compress time. My Dad wrote, “It seems like yesterday when I was holding you in my arms … How time flies!” I think we’ve all had those same thoughts and experienced those same feelings when reflecting on the march of time or when visiting certain places or when looking at old photographs that stir our emotions. One good reason why we should make the most of every day is because the things we do today will become the memories that we reflect on in years to come. We should do more than just make memories on holidays and special occasions. The threads of every ordinary day should be of such quality that when they are woven into our tapestry of memories they will result in something beautiful that we can enjoy through the years.

Dad and I will depart early tomorrow morning on our road trip. We are living proof that an 82 year-old man and his 56 year-old son can and should continue to make memories together. Dad and I are still working on our respective tapestries one thread at a time. One day my Dad’s loom will be silent … and one day the shuttles on my loom will also cease to fly. However, we want what we have spent a lifetime weaving to be a thing of beauty that will encourage and inspire others even after we are gone. I can hardly wait to get on the road tomorrow and to spend the coming days with my Dad. One day I will look back and reflect on these days and think to myself, “It seems like yesterday that Dad and I traveled across the country together on our great adventure.” For me, every mile and every experience along the way will be better because of the opportunity to share them with my Dad. More to come…

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 13, 2012

My Sabbatical Adventure

Corpus Christi, Texas

Today is the official start day of my sabbatical adventure. I have returned to the place where I started my ministry as the place from which to begin my forty-day adventure of renewal and refreshment. Thirty-four years ago I arrived in Corpus Christi, Texas with everything I owned in my car. When I arrived in town and drove down Corpus Christi’s scenic Ocean Drive, I felt like the most fortunate guy in the world. When I met the men and women I would serve with at Second Baptist Church, I had no doubt that I was the most fortunate guy in the world. This was the place where I took my first steps in vocational ministry under the tutelage of some very godly folks. In my naïveté I thought that I would spend the rest of my life in Corpus Christi. God, however, had other plans for me. It has been an exciting adventure to watch His plans slowly unfold over the years. I have absolutely no regrets or complaints.

At the top of the list of good things that happened to me during my time in Corpus Christi is meeting Cheryl, the young woman who became my wife. I knew that I had found a good thing when I found Cheryl (Prov. 18:22). And, to make things even better, I also found a good thing in Cheryl’s family. This morning we attended worship together and expressed our gratitude for Cheryl’s mother. I hit the jackpot when Frances Crane became my mother-in-law. She has nourished me with kindness and hospitality over the years and has always made me feel at home. I’m glad that we had the opportunity to spend time with her on this Mother’s Day weekend. And, in typical Frances-fashion, she has clothed me with encouragement as I begin my sabbatical. She is one of the few remaining people who was there when I started my journey, who has witnessed my highs and my lows, and who has faithfully blessed me with balm and honey over the years.

In a few hours I will leave Corpus Christi and drive farther south to McAllen to visit my Dad and to prepare for the start of our road trip on Tuesday. On this Mother’s Day I especially miss my beautiful mother, the other Frances in my life. This is the second Mother’s Day since my mother passed away. I continue to miss her deeply. There is a lingering loneliness in my life without her. Although Mom will not be there to welcome me when I arrive, I know that she would be pleased that Dad and I will have the opportunity to spend the coming days together. As I get older and as my Dad gets older, time has become an increasingly greater commodity and the greatest gift that we can give to one another. I also remain grateful to Kingsland for giving me the gift of time to reinvest in the relationships that will serve to refresh me during my sabbatical. I hope you will stay tuned for more as I blog about my sabbatical adventure.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 11, 2012

Where It All Began

Corpus Christi, Texas

I have been on a long journey, in particular a journey that officially started thirty-four years ago. I took my first steps down the path of full-time vocational ministry on Father’s Day in 1978. That’s when I was invited to serve on the staff of Second Baptist Church in Corpus Christi, Texas — the Sparkling City by the Sea. Seven years later, I served my last Sunday at Second Baptist on Mother’s Day. It was tough for me to leave the place where it all began but I knew it was the right thing to do. God had opened a new door of opportunity for me to serve Him in another city. Crossing the threshold of that open door started me on an adventurous journey that eventually led me to Kingsland Baptist Church in Katy, Texas where I enjoy the privilege of leading others to engage with the people of our community and the nations for the glory of God.

I arrived in Corpus Christi a few hours ago. It’s both ironic and comforting to me that I will begin my first-ever sabbatical on Mother’s Day by worshiping at the place where it all began for me — Second Baptist Church. Many of the people who I knew in those early days of my ministry are no longer there. Many have died and others have moved on. But it’s still the place where my journey into ministry started and for that reason will always hold a very special place in my heart. I am grateful for the kindness of Kingsland to offer those of us on staff a sabbatical every seven years. And I am grateful to God for leading me back to Corpus Christi as the launching pad for my forty-day sabbatical adventure that will end the week after Father’s Day.

I am looking forward to the next forty days. I hope to get some rest and to enjoy quality time with my family. I will spend the first part of my sabbatical with my Dad. Our plan is to do a road trip that will take us through some of the most scenic places in the southwestern United States. I will spend the last part of my sabbatical with my son as we compete in the Texas Water Safari, the world’s toughest canoe race. I will also have enough discretionary time to do lots of reading and writing, two of the things I enjoy most. So, I invite you to travel with me over the next forty-days as I embark on my newest adventure. I hope to share meaningful insights and interesting stories along the way. I also invite and welcome your prayers as I spend these days doing the things that will revive and refresh me and prepare me for greater days of service after I return to Kingsland. Thanks for your friendship and readership.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 10, 2012

Elmo’s Passionate Vision

Elmo Johnson is one of my heroes — and he is bigger than life.

For the past 28-years, Elmo has served as Pastor of Rose of Sharon Missionary Baptist Church in Houston’s Fourth Ward.

The Fourth Ward was established by the City of Houston in 1839 in an area known as Freedmen’s Town, a community originally settled by freed slaves. These freed slaves reclaimed the swampy land along the southern edge of the Buffalo Bayou, built their homes there, paved their streets with hand-made bricks, and provided their own services and utilities.

Over time, the Fourth Ward slowly fell into disrepair and by 1980 almost 50 percent of Fourth Ward residents lived below the poverty level. During that period the Fourth Ward also earned a reputation for being a tough part of town. However, when God sent a man named Elmo Johnson to the Fourth Ward and gave him a passionate vision for sharing and showing the truth of God’s love, things started to change for the better.

When I first met Pastor Elmo in the mid-1990s, I was captivated by his passionate vision of reclaiming the Fourth Ward one home at a time, literally. Elmo mobilized his congregation, the community, and volunteers to begin the process of systematically driving out crack dealers by tearing down or restoring dilapidated homes.

He also helped to mobilize people from throughout the greater community through the Uplift Fourth Ward initiative. I have watched the transformation of the Fourth Ward take place over the years and must confess that it has been nothing short of dramatic and miraculous.

I credit men like Elmo Johnson for doing so much good in the Fourth Ward. His influence extends far beyond the pews in the church building to the narrow streets of the surrounding neighborhoods, the places where life happens.

My friend Doyle and I had lunch with Elmo today. I learned a long time ago that no matter where you go with Elmo in the Fourth Ward, people know him. He is a pastor to the community.

When we walked in to the restaurant almost everybody in the place acknowledged his arrival. “This is what it must be like being with a rock star,” Doyle commented. He’s right.

Elmo has earned the love and respect of Fourth Ward residents because of his track record of faithful service in the community. Elmo earned that reputation by being accessible, by walking slowly among the people, and by making a decision to invest his life there.

People know that they can count on Pastor Elmo, that he will be there when the night is darkest and the pain is at its worst, and that he will move heaven and earth, if necessary, to help.

I am grateful for my years of friendship with Pastor Elmo. He is indeed closer than a brother to me. His faith and his life challenges me on several levels. I have never heard him complain about how difficult things can get in the Fourth Ward or about the never-ending demands on his time.

Pastor Elmo once told me that he wants to be like Jesus by going a little farther. This is a reference to the night that Jesus took His disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane and asked them to watch and pray and then went a little farther from them to pray (Luke 22:41).

“Jesus was always going a little farther,” Elmo told me. “And we should do the same!” I agree. The Fourth Ward is a better place today because Pastor Elmo is always going a little farther and doing a little more.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 9, 2012

Wordless Wednesday

Curious kids outside of Kampala. | 2006 | Uganda

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 7, 2012

God Put You In My Way

Near the top of my list of favorite movies is “The Four Feathers” — based on the novel by the same name written by Alfred Mason in 1902.

In the latest screen adaptation, the late Heath Ledger played the role of Harry Feversham, a British officer who resigned his post just before his unit was sent to protect British interests in Sudan in 1884. As a result of his decision, Feversham received four white feathers, a symbol of cowardice, from his friends and fiancé.

The rest of the story is about Feversham’s attempt to redeem his honor by traveling to Sudan in disguise. At a critical point, Feversham was near death in the desert when an African man named Abou Fatma (portrayed by Djimon Hounsou) found him, nursed him back to health, and protected him.

This unexpected act of kindness prompted Feversham to ask Abou, “Why are you protecting me?” Abou’s answer is among my favorite movie lines: “God put you in my way. I have no choice.”

Near the end of the movie when these two men are parting company, Feversham asks Abou where he is going. Abou replies, “To see who else God puts in my way.”

The attitude of Abou Fatma in this movie reminded me of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-36), that selfless character that came to the rescue of a man who had been robbed and beaten on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho.

When the Samaritan came across the man who God had put in his way, or in his path, he felt compassion and realized that he had no choice but to help him. Among other things, the story of the Good Samaritan should remind us to recognize those opportunities to help people who God puts in our way.

Those opportunities often present themselves in a variety of ways and not always in the form of someone who has been beaten to within an inch of their life. They often come in the disguise of interruptions to our normal, daily routine. And if we will look and listen carefully, we will recognize opportunities to help those who have intersected our path because of divine providence.

This past Friday morning I was working in my front yard when a man in a van stopped in front of my house and motioned to me to come over. He was an older man who spoke little English and was trying to find a particular address. He showed me a hand-scrawled map with directions to his destination. I repeated the directions to his destination several times but he just was not getting it. He had absolutely no sense of direction.

That’s when I heard a whisper in my heart saying, “I have put this man in your way. Help him.” So, I looked at the man and told him to wait a moment. “I am going to run in the house and get my keys and will take you there. Just follow me.”

It only took a few minutes to guide him to his destination. When we arrived I hopped out of my truck and pointed to the house where he was expected. He smiled, shook my hand, and said, “Thank you, son. May God repay your kindness to me.”

Helping the man was a simple thing that cost me no more than a few minutes of my time. But that simple act of kindness meant a great deal to this man who God had put in my way.

As I drove back to my house to continue my yard work God reminded me of Abou Fatma’s last words to Harry Feversham: “I am going to see who else God puts in my way.”

I thought a lot about those words as I finished my yard work. Every day has its respective opportunities to help those that God puts in our way if we will learn to listen carefully, see clearly, and act compassionately.

I hope that you will determine to look for and to help those that God puts in your way. It’s part of the grand adventure of living and makes our journey a lot more meaningful.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | May 5, 2012

Texas River Marathon 2012

Seven hours, forty-four minutes and twenty seconds (with only a minute and a half of stop time) — that’s how long it took Jonathan and me to complete the Texas River Marathon today. This latest race is part of Jonathan’s training strategy to get me ready for the Texas Water Safari in June. The 260-mile Texas Water Safari is billed as the world’s toughest canoe race, a world-class event that attracts paddlers from around the nation and beyond. With the race only weeks away, our training has intensified. Over the past few months Jonathan and I have trained on the 100-miles of the upper part of the race course and paddled some sections more than once. In the coming weeks we will train on the last few miles of the course including San Antonio Bay, the last big challenge before the finish line at Seadrift, Texas.

The Texas River Marathon is a 39-mile race along the Guadalupe River from Cuero, Texas to Victoria City Park. This race is important for several reasons. First, the race takes place on the fastest-flowing section of the Texas Water Safari Race course. Second, it gives racers the opportunity to see two of the rapids along the course that they will have to navigate at night on the actual water safari. Finally, the finishing positions on this race are used to determine starting positions on the Texas Water Safari. Jonathan and I enjoyed this fast-paced and competitive race. It gave me a better sense of what it will be like to race with more than a hundred boats on the water during the water safari.

This was my fourth marathon canoe race over the past year and the first race of my 56th year of life. Other than the opportunity to complete another race with Jonathan, the thing I enjoyed most was meeting paddlers along the way who are older than me. Perhaps the reigning rock-star of older paddlers is the 72-year-old Hungarian-born Zoltán Mráz. We had the opportunity to paddle beside him for a while. He was paddling solo and was tough to keep up with. Zoltán has finished the Texas Water Safari a total of 11 times and is the oldest finisher of the water safari. Another 60-year-old paddler told us that he has finished the water safari numerous times in both solo and tandem boats. Now that I am over 50, guys like these are my new heroes. They remind us that age does not have to preclude anyone from adventurous pursuits. I know that the Texas Water Safari will be the toughest physical challenge I have ever faced, but I am encouraged to do my best because of the example of the men I met today. I hope that one day I too will be numbered among the old guys that have finished the world’s toughest canoe race. Barring any unforeseen problems along the way, my hope is to finish the race with Jonathan in less than the 100-hours allowed.

Today’s Texas River Marathon route along the Guadalupe River.

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