Five

Our time in the islands. 175 days on the road

Our story is not that uncommon. What may be uncommon is our willingness to go where He calls us, to give up all that many work so hard for - all that stuff. Now don't get me wrong... were not perfect. Not by far. God has just used the crazy circumstances in our life to get us to a place, where we realized none of the stuff we had surrounded ourselves with mattered. Like that song Johnny Cash wrote in his later years... Hurt, "and you could have it all, my empire of dirt.”

Prior to commencing our epic journey, back on Vancouver Island we had met a young couple with contacts around the world. Our friendship grew, and as clients from the Olympics to multi-millionaires in Europe and the Caribbean requested their talents we saw them less and less.

Now as we were making our way down America’s eastern shores, we received an invitation to join them on an island in the Caribbean, one of the islands of the Turks and Caicos.

What an opportunity. We drove down the coast to Miami, through the freakishly wicked winds of Hurricane Philippe. The storm had theoretically dissipated but the rain and wind was as strong as we had ever seen.

A month prior we had to live through Hurricane Irene, when she slammed into Nova Scotia.  I will have to tell that tale a bit later as it was an amazing experience of God’s provision and shelter for us while the east was battered with mammoth winds, falling trees and damaging vehicles.

Well if you are not sure where Turks and Caicos Islands are you are not alone. The Turks and Caicos Islands; are a British Overseas Territory consisting of the larger Caicos Islands and smaller Turks Islands, two groups of tropical islands in the Lucayan Archipelago, part of the larger Antilles island grouping. Providenciales or Provo as it is referred to locally, is a western island in this chain of white sand oasis in the crystal waters of the Atlantic, just north of Haiti. They are touted to have the best beaches in the world and I think they are definitely within their rights to boast. 

We placed our dear Olive into a safe storage facility in Miami, bought our plane tickets and went to join our friends in their condo for three months.

What can I saw about our time in paradise? The white sand clung to your sole like soft clay; it was like walking on pillows of powdery warm snow. The curling waves looked like crystals as they rolled up onto the beach, washing over your feet like a caress from the ocean, saying, you can totally relax here. We found it enchanting.

We also found it strange that there were no farmers or markets. Life in the Turks and Caicos is very expensive. Breakfast out was about $70, 10$ for a small pot of coffee, $10 for a bottle of mineral water, $30 for a buffet type breakfast, and 21% tax. So you would think that buying groceries would be cheaper but it works out that you are spending about the same. They do not have any natural water source so all of the water is obtained through a de-salinization process, powered by diesel gas. There are only a few items that are grown on the island in hydroponics…such as cucumbers, mint and some lettuce. Otherwise all of the veggies and other food items come from the US. It is mostly dry brush and shrub islands. This is also costly for the locals as they only have a only few choices in which to shop, IGA being the main destination.

They work in the resorts and serve the thousands of guests to retreat here on vacation. Their wages are small and when we calculated the costs of shopping for the basics we were struck at the expense. This would be the flip side of living in paradise, the expensive food, and the desalinated water, the burning of all waste at one end of the island, all makes visiting alright, but living here permanently not for everyone.

One of the top hang-out’s for visitor’s and those needing to work from their laptops - is Hemingway's Restaurant with great food and service, with an unofficial patio mascot kitty cat - a local, not so wild cat. As our waitress noted, he didn't have a name, so we called him "Oz" as he looked a bit like our daughter Haley's cat.

The best place for lunch and work however was the Gansevoort Resort; superb views, fantastic food and friendly service. Tracey and I checked out the local sports scene and while I joined the Canadian contingent for floor hockey games and Tracey jumped into the Kung-Fu and Zoomba classes.

The plane tickets we had purchased were for a return trip three months after our landing here in this tropical utopia.  But is was three weeks into our trip that Tracey came to me and said, “God needs us in Texas.” So, that’s how it goes sometimes, you may be in an excellent spot in your life, in your career, when God asks you if you will; if you will share, if you will go, if you will speak. He is always looking for the willing.  Are you willing to be used for His glory with your life today?

We said goodbye to the turquoise waters of the Turks and our good friends Will and Laura. Highlights of our time there included the walks along the white sandy beach­es, diving into the clear crystal water, saving a tiny cute puffer fish that had got swept up on shore, it was very cool seeing one so close up. Another would have been going to church on the island. The locals had dressed to the nine’s; nails, dresses, hair, suits – we didn’t get the memo about the dress code, we just showed up in our tie-dyed shirts and flip flops. Upon walking through the door they asked us to sign the guest book with a smile. I looked at the sweet lady with the best stone face I could muster and stated flatly, “We come here all the time, we’re regulars!” She laughed out loud and pointed to the book. I signed for us obediently, and sat down.

The water and beaches are very beautiful, and we are glad we to spend some time with our friends, but we also knew the value of being obedient quickly to the things God asked of us. It was nice to experience island life, but we were going to be happy to be back in our bus too.

Landing back in Miami we picked up our bus from Car Safe -  a secure car storage facility in Miami that is run by Andrew and his lovely wife Victoria. They are a wonderful couple and were very gracious to us, even giving us a refund (which we weren’t expecting) after we returned early from our trip.

So we headed down to the Florida Keys to wrap up our trip down the coast and then make our way up Florida’s gulf side, on our way through the southern states, destination – Texas.

The drive down to through the Keys was wonderful. Miles of bridges standing out of the pristine waters like spines of concrete connecting one lush palm treed island peppered with houses to another. Pelicans spread their wings and lazily fly alongside the bridges keeping you company. Once we got down to  Key West, with the beach boys singing in my head, “Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go…”

We hung out for the night and then headed back up. The Keys did not rock it for us, and besides that we were on a mission to head to Texas. Not sure why, but we were going.

Stopping for lunch in Key Largo, we decided to try some local fare, so bring on the tenderized alligator and - dolphin? Now before you freak out, which Tracey was doing when she saw it on the menu in a variety of dishes, our waitress came over to explain the difference between cute little Flipper (which is illegal to catch and holds a 12 year prison sentence) and the Mahi Mahi (as it is called in Hawaii), not at all the same thing - phew! Ok give Tracey said, “I’ll have the dolphin, still feeling somewhat apprehensive, and Mark will have the Alligator.”  The gator tasted like dark turkey meat turkey. I know everything taste like chicken, well not gator. After a good lunch we headed for the Everglades to see if we could see any live alligators.

Four

A private beach - 175 days on the road

How do I tell you about the beauty and splendor of nature that rolled out before us as we traversed
North America, or of the wonderful, warm-hearted people we met along the way who would not take no for an answer as they opened their homes to us in the sweltering 110-degree summer heat, or the blustering winds of hurricane Irene?

I could try and describe what you see as you drive around the twists and turns of the Gaspé Peninsula during a moonlit night – a coastal drive with dozens of tiny bays and quiet little fishing villages, the moonlight shining on the water like a million diamonds. Lake Louise early on a cool morning with its turquoise glacier-fed waters surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Or the sudden appearance of a large moose running astride us as we make our way across the ocean of colorful fields which stretch to the distant horison on the great Canadian prairie. Perhaps I should begin by telling you about the wonderful people who invited us into their lives and homes, who shared with us their stories of escape from communist Czechoslovakia many years ago; the artist who told us of a private beach to spend the night in Liverpool, Nova Scotia...        well that is where our story will go today, this private beach in Liverpool.

It's the still small voice, inside all of us, that if we are tuned to, can lead us in a path of wonder. We had found ourselves on Canada's far eastern shore. The magical land of Nova Scotia. We had now been driving across North America for just over 4 months and today we were pulling into a community market for some needed food stores to last us a couple of days. Within the bus there is not an immense amount of storage, so often we would need to replenish provisions. Feeling a bit like Thor Heyerdahl, adrift on Canada's endless sea of expansive lands, we could not go for the thousands of miles in our Kon Tiki without stopping for refreshments on a regular basis. So, we popped into this store and stocked up.

Exiting the building there was a common site. A group of folks gathered around our little green and white time capsule. Our van was a small metal capsule that contained within it the stories of our past and unbeknown to us the destined future. Among the group of the curious was a local and yet well know artist - one Roger Savage, a water color wonderist. We enjoyed a brief conversation with Roger and he asked us where we would be spending the night? We told him that just down the road there was a quiet Provincial Park that we thought we would stay. This would not do apparently. Roger, a local in these parts all his life, gave us some wonderful information. That just beyond the entrance to the park, a couple of miles further down the road, was another entrance. Seldom used, this lonely road would end in a turnabout, but that if we looked closely, and if we were brave enough to venture with the bus, between the trees at the back of this turnabout, we would see and even lonelier road, or path rather. This pathway would lead us through potholes and overhanging limbs to the quietest of beaches looking out over the gentle waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

How could we resist such an adventurous invitation. After the warm handshakes and requests to visit him in his home and studio, we left to find our quiet beach. It had been early evening when we pulled away from the grocery store. Meandering down the twisty shore roads it quickly became dark and the couple of miles beyond the main entrance had turned into several. We were beginning to feel lost on these dark strange roads so began looking for any kind of turn towards the ocean. As it happened we choose the correct road in the dark and ended up in the turnabout, looking for a parting in the trees and the mysterious path to our sandy Eden.

Having made our way down the pot holed path we drove our VW onto a very small jetty branching out from the shore. Parking there we popped the top and began to set up for dinner. The top of our van is a unique Dormobile, which means that the whole roof is a fiberglass and canvass structure with twin skylights and air vents that raises like a clam shell from right to left, extending upwards until we can stand upright with our arms straight up and still not touch the roof. So we have loads of room and do not feel cramped or hunched over while we are cooking or cleaning up. After dinner and dishes our bus is once again spotless, and with such a small place it's important to keep things neat. 

The night sky was filled with stars, the twinkling dust of an eternal black canvass. I take my tea for a walk into the dark a short distance from where we parked. There were some concrete pilings near the shore as if someone ages ago had poured a wall for a makeshift dock. Long broken by the relentless tides the large broken pieces made for a narrow pathway out into the waters. The air was fresh and the quiet was a warm blanket with just the lights of the universe to keep us company. We slept so peacefully that night and awoke to the sunlight breaking over the waters like a spilled can of paint, splashing the waters and sky with oranges and reds. The swelling ocean carrying the colors over the miles to our feet as we walked the small beach with our morning coffee.

Now this small exclusive section of beach was tucked in on all sides with shores of large rocky terrain making it practical inaccessible by anyone, securing it's seclusion.  Yet on this particular morning, of all mornings for us to be there, I lift my eyes from a steaming cup of brew to see an adventurous couple and a black lab making their way carefully over the rocks along the shore. They were heading in our direction yet I was sure they had no idea they would have company soon. I turned and called to Tracey, who had returned to the bus for a moment, "We are going to have company".

The middle aged couple had made their way along with their furry and faithful companion. Rounding the corner and the last of the boulders separately us, they found our hidden beach and we shared a smile. Offering a morning beverage, which they kindly declined, we shared our stories with each other. A friendly morning conversation with strangers on this peaceful, sandy shore of Canada's eastern coast. With the beauty of whales breaching in the distant waters we listened intently as our morning visitors shared how they were on a retreat to get away from it all, while mourning the passing of her mother.

It's a tender time for all of us when we are facing loss. It can be profoundly sad and sometimes the sadness can overcome all other emotions, yet even in these times when we feel we are journeying within a valley of loneliness God is still speaking to us.

So four people shared a few moments on a tiny beach south of Liverpool, NS - a random meeting at an exclusively secluded locale, only to make a startlingly discovery. A heart grieving the loss of someone very close, seeking peace and closure, found it all in our little bus. The late mother's name was Olive. Olive is the name of our bus. Tears welled up in the eyes of our new friend as she shared the strangeness of this encounter. The oddity of their desire to venture down a rough stretch of beach and our peculiar chance meeting in a grocery store parking lot that led us to be there on this beach on that morning. 

Healing can come in many ways. It can come through prayer or through touch. It can be expressed in a hug, a kiss or just a smile. It can come from meeting someone at the right time, in the right place and being that person who can listen without thinking about what you'll say next. Really listening to someone's heart. For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. If we listen long enough we will hear the heart of a person, and that is what we all want - to be heard. This is what God wants too. To be heard. When we are living a yielded life He has a way of putting us where we need to be, for us, and for those we will meet. We were blessed with a private breakfast getaway on this small isolated beach, but we were not just there for ourselves. There was someone we were meant to meet. Someone who needed to know that everything was going to be alright. That Olive was home and peaceful.

Chapter Three

I had to post another chapter right away as the previous chapter had too many sad stories. So here is a partial for chapter three and another story of His faithfulness to us.

Three

Montana Hospitality - 72 days on the road

In all the years that we have been in the bus I have often thought about the genius of God giving us the desire to restore a VW bus, and then to have Him within forty-eight hours later,  show us one for sale online.

He placed us in a bus because a VW bus is the only vehicle on the road that instantly breaks down barriers between people no matter their station in this life. From bikers to lawyers, housewives to hardened US Marines, a VW bus is a people magnet. It draws you in because you want to share your story of how your parents took you camping in one when you were a kid or how you met your wife while stationed in Germany and conceived your son in a VW bus on your honeymoon. A VW bus draws people in with a smile and warms people’s hearts to thoughts of freedom and love as it symbolizes a period in history when these were cultural themes among a new generation searching for truth.

It was one of these kind strangers drawn to the shine of our olive green and white house, as we pulled into Plentywood, Montana, barely escaping the impending thunderstorms of southern Saskatche-wan.  Have you ever felt the energy in the air when a massive storm system in moving in? The sky darkens ominously and the atmosphere is charged with negative ions, the air is warm and thick with stillness. You have an eerie sense that something more than a regular storm is coming. That feeling of anticipation, like watching a scary movie as the hero character is walking backwards down a spooky hallway, and all you want to do is scream, ‘turn around’, because you just know the bad guy will be there.

That was Saskatchewan on that day. We knew we had to drive south and escape the weather as well as the biblical plague of mosquitoes that had descended on the prairies in the summer of 2011.

We had just made it into sunshine as we crossed the border into the welcoming country of our southern cousins. The first town we came to was a welcome sight, quite honestly because the fuel was so much cheaper. As we pulled into one of the four streets that divided this hamlet in the northern Montana territory we found a gas station and stopped. I had no sooner hopped out to fill our Olive (the name of our bus), when a man walked up to make conversation, drawn to us by the pretty bus.

He was a fine looking man, whose skin had seen a lifetime of sunshine and creased as his broad smile opened his happy face. His bright eyes said that he was sharp and alert and his welcoming manner was as disarming as a warm apple pie.

We quickly fall into conversation about our house with wheels and he shares of his fondness for Volkswagens. Before I have squeezed the nozzle on the pumps I noticed that regular fuel was the only offering at this station so I place the hose back and tighten my cap.

“What seems to be the problem?” The stranger inquires.

“Well, I only put premium in the tank.” I stated flatly.

“Oh, well follow me.” He walks off to his vehicle and leads us out of the station, down the street, hang a left and pull into what appears to be an abandoned filling station.

As I pull up I can see him punching some keys on the solitary pump. I hop out of Olive to hear him say, “It’s al set for you, just start pumping.”

We pick up our conversation from before and as I finish the filling, place the nozzle back and again, tighten my cap, I look around to try and determine where the young lad is I am suppose to pay. The only tiny hut on the lot appears to be closed.

“Where to I pay for the gas?” As I reach for my wallet.

“Put that away,” he says, “this is Montana hospitality.

A free tank of gas!

Thank you Jesus. Yes we thanked our kind stranger too and took a picture with our new friend from the land where a river runs through it. James was a flax farmer from Montana with a big heart and a fondness for German engineering.  We couldn’t leave without his invitation to visit anytime again and look him up on his farm.

So it was that we were just starting to understand that God was going to shower us with favor and open doors of ministry, as Tracey calls it, “a moment in your life.”  It seemed like time and again we would have a moment in the life of someone who connected with us over our Olive.

God is speaking all the time to us, all of us. Life can get so busy that we forget to listen or sometimes have gone so long without hearing that we have forgotten how. For me, as I recall the peaks and valleys of my life I remember the wonderful evenings I would spend with my walkman… (that was portable cassette player, once upon a time)… now I think I need to explain what a cassette was, but I’ll just leave that for you to Google if your too young to know. Anyhow, where was I… ah yes, I would walk into the dark night as the dew was beginning to fall. Escaping to catch some moments in isolated praise on the quiet grasses of a nearby golf course. I would walk onto the course and find a large boulder in the middle of the fairway on the ninth hole. I am sure it was a vexation for the golfers but for me it was an island paradise as the sprinklers danced around me. I was alone in praise and worship being moved to tears below the blanket of stars. At the time I was only thinking of the peace and joy I felt in the act of worshiping my King, my Savoir, my Friend. I was not thinking about what I would discover years and years later. That acts of worship like this were actually sowing into the fields of my future. Not only was God being blessed by sacrifices of praise; He was keeping it on account so to speak. I believe that the grace and favor of God was powerfully at work in my life as the fruit of the seeds sown in these times of praise came to bloom in my dark valley periods. It was during these hard years that I believe I would have completely destroyed myself if it were not for His love manifested towards me. 

Chapter Two

Continuing our odyssey, I have to give you a wee bit of the story for your reference. We are not perfect. Those that are can stop reading my blog posts. Anyone left? Anyone out there? OK... going by faith --- someone is still reading this. Although I briefly outline our back story in this short chapter, I will come back to various issues throughout the book to show you how God is in the business of redeeming and restoring. I felt like I was a major project for Him, and you may feel the same way, but don't. He is pretty good at what He does.

Two

From Fear to Faith – the pre-story

How is it that two middle-aged professionals find themselves living like gypsies in a world consumed with avarice?

Would it surprise you that it was not entirely by choice? Sometimes you feel compelled to do something. Sometimes you feel God on it and sometimes you have both the compulsion and the confirmed Word of God.

Without getting into the horrid details of the events, I will summarize for you, although it will sound like a bad country western song by the time I am done.

I was at a low point in my life and despite a good up bringing in a good Christian home, I found myself stepping down from my position of lay-leadership and pastoral duties in our church because I could not shake the feeling of being hypocritical.

How, you ask?

My marriage of eighteen years was falling apart, and within the strict Pentecost of my roots, once divorced your ministry was over.

I recall a talented young singer who used to sing in front of the church. Her angelic voice would raise your spirit and you couldn’t help but have that tear well up in the corner of your eye as she sang. After her divorce however, ministry at the front of the church was off limits.

So, I was conflicted, depressed and suffering from a severe identity crisis, I left off speaking at our Full Gospel church.

Sadly around the same time, my mentor, pastor and friend, David T. was diagnosed with cancer and quickly passed. The shock to our small congregation and his family was intense.

I also ran into financial difficulties and had to claim bankruptcy to survive, merging my client list with that of another firm in town.

Our church did not transition well through the period of seeking another pastor and as a result ended up splitting. With the warning letter I had written to the board about the signs of stormy weather among the leadership, my membership was illegally revoked along with another board member brave enough to speak out against the interim leadership. Leaving out details for brevity’s sake.

So there you have the first part of my sad pages in this book. Bankruptcy, the loss of a close friend, excommunicated, and going through a divorce, things could have been better.

This was the darkest time of my life and the farthest I felt from God.

And yet, the choices I was making and continued to make were not improving my situation. I had a lot to learn; about myself, my heart, my habits and my intimacy with God and others. I was on a journey.

Tracey likewise was on a journey, one that brought her through a childhood of abuse and lack of intimacy with people and certainly with God. She jokingly states that she grew up as a ‘non-committal atheist’ as she had a stepfather who did not believe in God but blamed Him for everything.

The childhood abuse left its scars and as many do she sought acceptance and love through physical intimacy and was disconnected from her heart. After several marriages ended she called out to God in desperation on evening, asking for God to provide a man for her as she was not picking them too well. Within a week we had met.

Now I have really abbreviated our sad stories, because this book is not about our pains of the past. If I took the time to write about these stories in detail to fill in the blanks for you it would take a few more chapters and frankly I think I may loose some of you.

We all have these sad stories, but the unifying truth is the Jesus is the one who takes our sad stories and masterfully does the rewrite we all so badly need.  That’s what this book is about. Our rewrite, from the valley we were in and out the other side. There is no point in reviewing how we got into the valley, suffice to say we were in one. Can you relate? Have choices you have made in life landed you in some dark valley, leaving you feeling isolated and scared? As you read and as I recall our story, you too may discovery what we did – that He as always there with us, even when we did not feel that He was.

My goodness He is gracious and loving. So caring over the details of our lives. Let me illustrate with another story.

The beginnings of our book

As promised to so many, we are finally taking the time to review our life in the bus, our blogs posts and stories to flesh out some more of the details and back story to how we came to live the life we do.

I will post the chapters here as I write them for your enjoyment and comments. I will write the story, not in chronological order, but in the best style that suits me and my writing - so be prepared to bounce a bit along our journey as I reflect from time to time.

Enjoy.

                                                                       One

95 days on the road

I looked over at my wife, (Tracey) admittedly a bit of panic in my eyes, as I yelled over the noise, “Do you know what you gotta do?”

 

“No” she shot back, equaling panicked with just a hint of whimsy in her forced smile.

We were heading for Cape Breton Island, the enchanted land of long-forgotten Gallic and mystical fiddlers. We had stopped along the way because the forty-year-old carburetors on our VW Bus were inching along their last legs and needed some tweaking from, what the locals called,  “the bus whisperer”.

We had followed one of these locals out into the pretty countryside of Canada’s eastern shores. Nova Scotia was one of the friendliest areas we had the privilege of discovering on our odyssey.

We pulled off the highway and up a short dirt driveway, and quickly noticed no room in the inn, for the bus whisperers garage door was open and another VW bus was being tended to. That was always a good sign. If there were other vehicles present odds are the mechanic in residence knew his stuff. It’s like driving up to a restaurant and seeing a parking lot full. Quite likely the bellies inside were full and happy too.

The elderly mechanic took the time out to retune our dual carburetors, carefully inserting his head over the engine and turning his little screwdriver a bit at a time. Ever listening. Totally concentrating.  But our local tour guide (a young man who befriended us in an instant due to our bus he spotted in a parking lot a few days earlier) was a chatty fellow and had an endless barrage of comments, questions and stories to share, a regular machine gun of dialogue, until the screwdriver popped out of the engine compartment to give a loud “Shhh”.

Finishing up the mechanic clipped the lids back on top of our carburetors and smiled. A job well done. He informed us that he was hosting a VW show on Cape Breton Island in the historic town of Iona. We thanked him for his services, and offered to pay, but were sternly refused. We had heard about the show on the island and were going to take part, as a central focus of our trip to Cape Breton.

So it was, as we were driving the isolated highway through northern Nova Scotia, on our way from the bus whisperer that we came upon a truck and horse trailer going particularly slowly. We both were coming up to a hill and I realized that for the first time in the four months that we have been on our road trip, that we could possibly pass someone. Imagine the thrill of being able to pass another vehicle when you’re driving a forty-year-old VW bus. This does not happen every day, I assure you. And so it was, as I pressed down on the accelerator that the pedal fell to the floor. Yes, it fell to the floor of the bus and the engine began running at full throttle. I didn’t know what happened! All I knew is that the gas pedal was stuck on the floor of the bus and the engine was revved wide open as we raced uphill. My mind raced almost as fast as my pulse, as I envisioned the accelerator cable running under our bus to the engine compartment and then to linkages between our two carburetors. Something back there was stuck!

Now as you calmly read this you’ll of course know exactly what to do. But believe me, when your racing up a hill in full acceleration in a vehicle never meant to be in full acceleration you stop thinking clearly.  Your thinking that going uphill is fine, but there is a downside to the other side of this mountain and you need to stop this run away train. Brother, I was panicked. I hollered over the noise of the screaming engine to my wife, “I am going to have to slam the brakes on at the top of this mountain, your going to have to jump out, run to the back of the bus, lift the engine door, reach in there and lift the connecting bar between the carburetors…” (I could see it in my mind that this bar had something to do with it)… “Do you know what you have to do?”

“No” she screamed.

Reaching the top of the hill, I swing the bus off the road and pressing down with all my might I hold the brake pedal to the floor. The engine whining for all she is worth as my wife jets out of her side, running to the back of the bus, lifting the engine lid, just as I recall the simplest thing to do.

Turn the key.

I reach up and turned off the motor. We went from full RPM to a dead stop in a milli-second. The two massive backfires were like shotgun blasts in this serene countryside. My wife jumped back ten feet, the look of shock and terror on her face.

Now there was silence on this isolated stretch of road. Silence, except for the sound of a truck and horse trailer that passing us by, victoriously moving on.

I walk to the back of the bus where my wife is pointing out the splattering of oil on the inside walls of the tires. I look around inside the engine compartment, blind to why my pedal behaved so rudely. So here we are, stuck on a mountaintop on Canada’s east coast, probably a hundred miles or more from the nearest garage. My wife is standing on her seat now, stretching her arm as high as it will go to try and get at least one bar to show up on the cell phone. No service. No way to call CAA. Extended coverage and free towing won’t help if we can’t make the call.

Perhaps it was only two or three minutes on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, I don’t think it was more than that, when a VW Jetta pulls over just in front of us. A man jumps out of his car and hollers over to us, “I’m a VW mechanic, what do you need?”

Seriously?! 

He quickly saw the obstruction and had us running with no harm to the motor in just a couple of minutes!

My friend and reader, that is just how it has been for us as we have now been over two years living in a VW bus and following our hearts and the voice of God from town to town all over North America.

This book will make an account of our travels and highlight many of our adventures as we have journeyed from “Fear to Faith”. 

Action Heros - Act!

Someone once said, 'delayed obedience is not obedience'. It was his way of simply saying that when your asked to do something, you should do it now. I think there is a power to living in the now moment of our lives. Many of us are struggling with issues from our past, feelings of failure and embarrassment.

So when Tracey heard that we should start a publishing company, it may have seemed strange to many. But she searched for the domain name for "Olive Tree Publishing" and the dot.com was available. Interesting. Upon telling me about this my immediate thought was, lets get a business license. After all that's what you do when your about to start a new business. But wait a second, we were struggling along with our design firm we had just opened (The Marco Polo Group), why start a second company, we didn't even have enough customers for one, let along two companies, and what did we know about publishing anyhow?

Well, we just did it. Registered the company that day and that's when I remembered a friend in a city not far away that produced books. His little book printing company was doing ok and I thought to myself that perhaps my friend Shy, (East Indian name... I am sure it is short for something I can't pronounce), may know someone who is publishing now so we could talk to him about how to do this.

So we took the 90 minute drive down to Victoria to talk with Shy. At the restaurant over lunch Shy is expressing what he is really needing for his business. Online book layout software. Hmmm, I recall I know a guy who owns a software company. Just a second, I say to Shy, let me call my friend Rob. As I am sitting there at the table on the phone with Rob, (whom I hadn't talked to in a year), he says, Mark - your timing is amazing. I just got off the plane from Portugal and I have signed a deal for North America to promote and distribute this online book layout software. I need a full time graphics and marketing team. How would you and Tracey like to come on board?

And like that, we had a contract and were working full time. One client, but we were working. I would
not have called Rob, unless I had seen Shy. I would not have seen Shy unless we had opened a publishing company. Strange connections.

The next part of the story will be stranger still.

I suppose the lesson to learn here is that even when your down, have an ear to hear what is coming your way. The key to overcoming your circumstances is often standing at the door and knocking. It's the stress of life and the chaos that keeps us from hearing our solution some times.

I'd be interested in hearing if anyone relates to this. Have you been roughed up by life and thought, 'This is bottom', only to find a beautiful way out that you never would have thought possible?

VW Camper Magazine

Hello All,

Well, due to popular demand, and perhaps more so to the 4 page spread recently published in VW Camper - http://www.volkswagencamper.co.uk/   --- we have decided to elaborate on the adventures we have had, and on the adventures we are still on.

It is now February 2013, which would make for almost 2 years traveling in the bus, but to be perfectly honest we have been stationary for some time now, while we attending Bethel School here in Redding. So we can't drive south to avoid the cold, and with no heater in the bus the frosty nights can be too much. Reminds me of our times in the desert of New Mexico when we woke to snow covered cacti.

So many times people have asked us to write down our stories in a book, and I suppose that may be a good idea. Had we been a couple that had a large bank roll to back us up while we traveled that would have been nice. But that was not the case. We had just both gone through a hellish season in our personal lives as well as our professional lives. Bankrupt and broke, we had just started our design firm without any clients. There is quite a back story to that part of our story and I won't get into that right at the moment, suffice to say, it was a stormy season. A divorce of mine that went on and on, did not help matters either.

But it was prior to this storm and a year after my divorce began that Tracey and I met. I don't think many times in life you meet someone that you can connect with in such a special way. I suppose evidence of that strong connection is the fact that we have been by each others side now, day and night, for nearly 6 years. It has to be love, for two people to share a VW Bus, and call it home, for as long as we have. It helps that she has two black belts in Karate, arguments are settled rather quickly. lol. Actually we never argue. I know that sounds ridiculous to some reading this, but it's true. We simply communicate very well about anything. I guess that's the key.

Back to our pre-story story. Without any clients and maintaining a 3000 sq ft home overlooking Georgia Strait on Vancouver Island, with three, nearly adult, kids living with us - the monthly bills and financial demand was straining. Having just gone through a lawsuit by a embittered ex-employer who did not want us in the same business, yet had deeper pockets than we did - we were drained financially.

Now the strangest things can happen when you feel your down and out. As the referee is making his count to 10, you can get a second wind. As we lay there, we recognized we were also on a journey of the spiritual kind. So listening, Tracey felt like we should do something - start a publishing company. That's what she heard. So she thought about that and wondered, what would it be called. And just like that (snap your fingers).... ok... just like that, she felt it should be called "Olive Tree Publishing".

So immediate action is required when this kind of thing happens to you.


Shall I continue this story... do you want to hear the amazing things that happened next? Let me know.


Yes... more to come indeed.