Picking up Hitchhikers

So you know the horror tales that go along with hitchhiking right. Killed, murdered, car jacked, robbed, the movie theme that no good deed goes unpunished? Well I took that risk today and picked up three local woman thumbing it on the way to Avellanas.

Now it was just me, so don't think I endangered anyone else's lives, especially the boys. I've been wanting to help but I'm usually to chicken to actually do something. I did it today though, with God's huge help for sure. I was going to pass them, saw them thumbing and then slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a skidding stop. All three piled in with smiles and we were off. We swapped names, I don't remember any of them the adrenaline was pumping, and I learned that they sale the necklaces and vases on the beach. I wanted to ask why they wore long sleeves and pants all the time as they sold them, but haven't learned enough Spanish yet to voice it. The trip went quickly and soon I was dropping them off at the fork in the road toward Lola's and their beach work. We waved and parted my heart still racing, the thought that I had done it bringing a smile to my face. Thank you God for pushing down the break today or I would have just kept driving.

The English speakers here talk about picking up hitchhikers. They say when you arrive you'll do it and then "learn better." Sounds frightening, I think, envisioning knives being pulled and attacked. Oh nothing that serious they assure me, just that you'll get tired of being asked for money, for work, for both and also there can be a few unstable crayons in the box that definitely color outside the lines. With all this positive reinforcement I'd like to do it again. To push past the fear, the safety of my cultural bubble and the whispered words of danger. Is it safe? Wise as a serpent harmless as a dove, my mom always says. So when it is wise to push past the fear and ignore it? When should I listen? Should we even have fear? Isn't that doubting that God is in control?

Today I pushed out of my transparent bubble and extended a minuscule hand of help. Did I live? Yes. Did I get robbed? No. Was I uncomfortable? You bet! Yet it now seems like such a small moment in life, in today. I need to pray more and fear less.

The Trooper failed the RTV for the second time which means more time at the mechanics. Our little rental BeGo is becoming quiet the family member and so peppy. It will be missed, but having the Trooper back will mean we passed and are no longer outlaws on the run (although I will miss the spontaneous "lunches" from being "chased").

Outside its dark. Squawks of a strange bird dribble in through the open window as I write. I walked the property earlier as the sun set and was attacked by a vigilant mosquito. He didn't live, but left behind a beautifully red swollen gift of itchiness. I spotted our howler monkey neighbors on my stroll. They were scurrying from branch to branch calling to each other and I paused to listen.