By age 18...

What are the statistics of four Mexican-American adolescent boys raised in broken families in Southern California? (Please understand, I am in no way intending to stereotype or be racist with these comments!) I don't know where to go to look up stats like this, but based on things I've heard, been taught, observed, etc, here is what I would guess, by the time they turn 18:

• 1 in 4 winds up in prison.
• 1 in 4 joins the military.
• 1 in 4 dies either from gang-related violence or suicide.
• 1 in 4 lives in poverty and alcoholism.

I now have four faces to place on those four boys. With today's media, and all the news of corrupt politicians and dead celebrities and natural disasters and terrorist attacks and...well, you get the picture - it is good to witness positive things. And throughout the course of my time in YWAM, I have been fortunate enough to meet and serve many people around the world who are doing good in the name of Jesus Christ.

• A woman in the Philippines pastoring a number of small churches and growing young leaders.
• A young man in New York City that befriends and mentors young immigrant men.
• An old man in inner city Atlanta that fights constant soreness from his time playing professional football in order to feed and serve the homeless.
• Two young ladies teaching in a school of child refugees in Thailand.
• A doctor living in West Africa who offers free medical care.
• Crowds of people offering assistance to those affected by Hurricane Katrina.

I could extend this list to a long length, but allow me to tell you of just one more - Jimmy, from Modesto, California. He extends a kind heart and embracing arms to the down-and-outs of his city, and particularly, to the children of the down and out. I met him last week in Sequoia National Park, where he brought four Hispanic adolescent boys on a backpacking trip that I helped prepare for and staff. It is a trip that has tremendous potential to have a lasting and positive impact on their lives. I admire Jimmy and how he has intentionally intervened in the lives of these boys, offered to love them, teach them, and, hopefully, through his intervention, those four boys will not become just another statistic.

Avulsions, Eviscerations, and Sucking Chest Wounds

She had been attacked by a cougar, and then fallen into a cleft in the rock. When our group arrived at the scene, others were already there treating her injuries. Intestines protruded from the deep cut on her abdomen, scrapes and bruises covered her face and limbs, and she potentially had injuries to her neck and spine. We needed to act fast. The nearest road was about a half mile away, and there was no telling how quickly an ambulance could make it.

We moved quickly, constructing a make-shift litter out of the limited material we had with us: a couple of backpacks, a sleeping pad, tent poles, a few sticks, and rope all held together with duct tape (of course). Then, we had to lift the victim up and over the four foot high rock ledge and bring her to the "stretcher," all without changing the position of her spinal column.

It had been a long day. Our search for the missing students began at about 4am. We had already found, treated, and carried two campers who had been struck by lightning, and another young man impaled on a tree branch.

This was all a part of the Final Scenario, a final exam, if you will, for the Wilderness First Responder course we just completed. No, the cougar attack, impalement, and lightning strike were not real incidents, but part of our training. The course was very intense. We received 96 hours of training in 9 days - you do the math! We learned how to set and splint broken bones, deliver babies, and everything in between.

The instructors told us that when we lead groups into the wilderness, the skill we will probably use more than anything is how to bandage blisters. Hopefully we will never have to deal with broken necks and cougar attacks, but now at least we're prepared!

Thanks to Jen's mom coming and watching Marin, Jen was able to attend and complete the course as well. The long days, physical exertion, and being away from Marin was difficult, but she did it, and I'm proud of her.

Where's Waldo, er, um, I mean, Josh? Look for the tiny blue dot on the upper right side of the rock wall.

Marin gets thirsty from all that hiking.

They don't call these the world's biggest trees for nothing!

Does the Abominable Snow Man live here?

With a shovel in my hands and the warm sun on my bare back, I went to work with the others in my group. I knew I would have to put my t-shirt back on pretty soon, unless I wanted a nasty sunburn. There were a lot of us working, but I knew it would still take us awhile to finish our snow caves.

Wait, did I just use the words "sunburn" and "snow cave" in the same sentence? If you're familiar with the mountains, then this may not be a strange concept for you, but for someone who grew up accustomed to the frigid temps and low altitudes of Minnesota, it felt a bit bizarre.

The Winter Mountaineering trip of the school was designed as an eleven day outing, in which we would learn how to travel, camp, and climb in snow and ice. I understand it may not be the most applicable for our setting in Arkansas, but I was still excited about building and sleeping in a snow cave.

Travel by snow shoes, tents pitched on snow, water sources found by chopping holes through ice on alpine lakes, practicing avalanche rescue scenarios, climbing steep slopes by kicking steps into the snow, and descending steep slopes by sliding on my butt, all with a 75 pound backpack, adequately describes the activities that took place up until we started building snow caves. Unfortunately, it was such a time consuming process that we didn't finish in time. The sun went down and it got dark, so we had to pitch tents instead.

After having breakfast the next morning, we were told that our leader had come down with altitude sickness - "Pack up, we're going home," they told us. Our trip was cut short by a week. On the one hand, I was disappointed that we didn't get to finish the trip - no snow caves, no summitting Mt. Humphreys (just under 14,000 ft), and no traveling across a glacier. But on the other hand, I was very excited to know that I would get to see Jen and Marin soon, sleep in my bed that night, and not wake up to put on frozen boots the following morning!

So for now, we have a couple days off, and then I leave later this week for four days in Death Valley, to learn the skills of Desert Canyoneering!

I stopped in my tracks, realizing that the pine cone was no longer in my hands. With a diameter equal to that of my neck, and the length of my forearm, this was no small pine cone. I picked it up along the way, thinking it would make a good gift for Jen. Nestled in the crook of my arm like a football, I carried this cone down steep descents, across boulder fields, and even while picking my way across a vine-covered cliff. Now, with the sun settled below the desert horizon and the full moon high above, I couldn't believe my hands were empty.

It was dark, and our team still searched for the desert spring - our campsite for the night. As part of the learning experience, our leaders left us to find it on our own . Thankfully, my fellow students empathized, and waited while I backtracked to find the cone. No way was I going to just leave it after carrying all that way, I determined. And we were no longer in the alpine forest, so it wasn't like I could just pick up another. I raced on, headlamp glowing and eyes stuck to the ground.

In six days and five nights we traversed southern Sierra desert and ascended Mt. Owens, an 8,500 ft. peak. Rock climbing, team building games, nights spent with the wind howling and frost creeping into my bivy sack, and filtering our drinking water through a bandanna were only a few of the adventures our team experienced on our intro trip. We learned to work together as a team, to trust one another, and appreciate each other's individual strengths.

In the end, I found the pine cone, we found the campsite, and we returned to Bishop safe and sound, albeit somewhat more odorous than when we left.