“We have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but today is overflowing with potential.” ~ Allan Lokos Hello!
Wow, what a beautiful time of year in West Michigan! It’s great being home. Mike and I got the sails on the boat, and we DELIGHTED in our first two trips out to the big lake. Small waves. Sweet winds. There’s something super special about sharing this experience with friends and family. Thanks to our niece and our neighbors who ventured out with us! Speaking of shared experiences, I’ve been reflecting about what it means to travel the way I have been for the past several months. Our merry band of coffee hunters travels to places that are GORGEOUS, and we meet the most amazing people. While I enjoy the vibrancy and the comforts of the cities we spend time in, my favorite moments are spent on the farms. Because coffee is grown at altitude, it often takes us hours of bumpy, windy roads to get where we want to be. At the farms, we are typically hosted by the families. 100% of the time we are spoiled. We are given bedrooms that clearly belong to someone else. We are fed three times a day, and I know we get the best of everything they have. Honestly? I am astounded by the generosity and the care. Most amazingly? The families are hosting us, while running farms and businesses, and not once have I seen someone flustered or hurried. People are caring, and present, and always want to ensure we have everything we need. And, the time spent on these farms can be uncomfortable. To get to the farms in Guatemala, several of us rode in the back of pick up trucks. I love the open air; it helps so I don’t get motion sick. And it was hot. And bouncy. And sometimes the air quality was wretched. While I am super thankful for the shared bedroom, it too was hot. With very little air movement, one outlet, and not much space for our luggage. The 10 of us who slept in the family house all shared one small bathroom. Then there are the farms themselves. I have walked many coffee farms, in all different parts of the world. I have never hiked a farm this steep. The terrain of Guatemala is really something. Here’s what I noticed this time around. When living differently than we typically do, without many of the usual comforts we are accustomed to, everything becomes a little (or a lot) more raw. The protections, the masks, that we might be able to easily maintain while at home? Well. They get pulled down and stripped away. In other words . . . things get very real, very quickly. For me? I find it all fascinating. I like to see the true essence of myself and others in less than ideal conditions. Sharing these experiences creates a bond, and a trust, that is profound. When I arrived home this time, I jumped right into Memorial Day weekend. Hosting. Celebrating. Working. So, I need more time to percolate and process. 🥰 However, a couple more things before signing off:
With light and love, ~m
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AuthorMichelle Shaw: Archives
May 2025
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