theJourney

So, I love to buy books. I'm like a recovering alcoholic in a book store. Often I leave my wallet in my car when I'm at a book store. and yet, the irony of this is that I rarely read. What gives. oh yea, my cell phone, instant message, email, the web, and sleep. so, I've been thinking about how I can begin to recover my life, my time and everything else that I want but don't do. so, anyway, while I'd love to be reading
Death by Suburb. I'll have to put it on my waiting list. I have a few others i'm reading at the moment.. like Spiritual Leadership by Sanders or, Choose Life, by Bill Hull. I'm also going to Soliton next week and hope to read some of these two books before hand: Practitoners and The Irrestible Revolution. (look close on the cover of Practitioners and you will see my name! yea, thats right, I'm famous!
Okay, enough for now. time to get back to work and read some more!

It's really early in the morning and I'm editing again. I don't know what it is about night, but it's when my creative juices flow. And so, I'm flying through lots of footage looking for the right shot of a pastor during a service in Nairobi, Kenya. I think the same old grandma who made the flannel banner to hang in the church has a lot of frequent flier miles, cause she's been to this church too.

While the church has services in both Swahili and English, the banners are only in English. Anyway, so one of these banners says, "Go and Tell." I suppose it is from the old song, "Go and tell it on the Mountain." Turns out that while its an American import, its not as bad as it sounds. It was written by an African-American named John W. Work, Jr. in 1907.



So that brings me to a conversation I had with my friend Jen tonight. We talked about missions and I asked her what that meant to her. She talked about going somewhere abroad for a few weeks. Hey, I can't blame her, that’s what just about everybody thinks in the U.S. Its what we are taught, missions are in someone else's back yard. Well, folks, I've got good news. It ranks just behind the last line in the chorus. We don’t have to go anywhere to tell anything. In fact, I've got a pretty good view of the mountains from my living room. So why not tell the story here, in Highlands Ranch, white middle class suburb that it is? And friends, don't worry, I'm not planning on getting a bull horn or anything. I think just being a neighbor will suffice. So long as I love my neighbor as myself anyway. And for those of you who don’t have a view of the mountains, maybe you could love your neighbor by taking them up the mountain for a day, on a hike, snowboarding, or just for a good beer up in Estes Park. Heck, there were lots of times last winter when I wanted to go snowboarding, but didn’t want to go alone. I sure wish a neighbor would have thought of that. I’m sure I’ll find plenty of neighbors that are in the same boat this winter! And then, maybe as we got to know each other, and shared the good, bad and the ugly in our lives, His story would be told.. On the chairlift while in the midst of some of the most beautiful mountains in the world.



And maybe this all makes sense why there are so many missionaries abroad that are from flat areas of the country like Texas and Oklahoma and the rest of the bible belt. They don't have any mountains near by.

Go, tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain,
That Jesus Christ is born.


okay, step down from the soapbox.. Thank you very much good night!

So, its been just shy of a year since I've posted anything on here. Go figure. I guess that's what happens when one gets busy in life. So, let me catch you up to speed. Since posting last time, a lot has changed. I've gone to Prague, moved to Denver (Highlands Ranch), did a whirlwind journey in Eastern Europe in November, cruised out to Phoenix a few more times, met my new nephew Kayden, check off one of the seven wonders of the world (the Giza Pyramids in Egypt), and officially retired my current passport, with stamps from Amsterdam, Egypt, Lebanon, and Kenya. CRM's new website will roll out in 4 days, and next week I'll get to see the other fruit of all of this travel. CRM's releasing a 25 year anniversary book chocked full of images that Peter and I have shot over the last few years.

In the middle of all of that, I Shannon and I also broke up. We tried to make it work, but we just could not make it happen. So, we decided that because we loved each other we would rather see each other happy and with a person more compatible than together frustrated a little more often than both of us liked.

So, as you can see, I'm ready for a little bit of time to settle in my new apt, enjoy my bbq, friends, neighbors and the beauty of Colorado. But first, I'm off to Santa Barbara for a week at CRM's every four year World Wide Conference, and then Kauai to shoot a wedding. Yea, life is rough. And sometimes it actually is. I know you won't believe me, but its not all glamor. Going to bed at 2 and getting up at 5 to shoot sunrise when dinner the next night is at 10 pm can be painful. especially when you head hits the table and you just sleep cause you are jet lagged out of your mind. but at the end of the day, or at least the trip its all worth it.

Preparing for the conference over the last month has been one of the hardest months in my life. I'll take filming in Beirut over editing any day. But the reaction from staff, and the opportuniteis to tell stories that need to be told is all worth it. Come Tuesday night, we will finally have a home for these stories. Tuesday evening, the website goes live.

Anyway, life is good. Its kind of like starting over. The good news is that I've never felt more at home, or had a stronger sense that I'm in the right place doing the right thing. Pix of my recent journeys to come, maybe in another year, or you could just e-mail me.

much love- andy

To fight fear, act. To increase fear—wait, put off, postpone.

David J. Schwartz

Note to self, Just Do It!

It seems like I write a lot about death on this blog. Maybe its some weird thing trying to immortalizing them, or maybe is my funky way to process out feelings. A missionary friend wrote me today from Taiwan. Her grandpa passed away and she is half way around the world. I wrote her back, half encouraging her and half processing out my own thoughts. Here is part of what I wrote"
When Tim, my mentor died, I and many others had lots of mixed feelings. God called him back to be with Him. And yet, we don’t want them out of our lives quite yet and mourn their not being with us any more. I felt kind of selfish, kind of like, “God, you can’t have him yet!” so, all that to say, its an awesome thing that someone could love us so much, pour into our lives and mean something to us that we feel pain in our inner depths of our bodies when they pass on. That concept still is mind boggling.

I’ll leave you with this quote. From Erwin McManus, Pastor of Mosaic church in L.A.

-- "What you accomplish in life is not nearly as important as who you become. It doesn't matter how many people you know, it matters if you are a person worth knowing. "
-E McManus

Oh God, do not keep silent, be not quiet, Oh God, be not still.

Psalm 83

I haven't written much publicly about Tim. Most of it has been in conversation with people and via e-mail. I talked to a mutual friend tonight and he was considerate enough to ask how I was doing with the whole situation. I really thought I was doing well. I think I was, until I hung up the phone that is. I began to look at some pictures from the service and reflect upon another friend's death on Sunday. Maybe I just know a lot of people, or its funky timing, or is just part of life. Death is a double edged sword. While the person is missed, we can trust they are in a better place. One thing I've realized is how precious our friends and family are. I've been making more of an effort to let the people I love know that. Not just in word, but in time. Time is a way to say "I love you" without saying anything. Time goes beyond words, there is no doubt when someone gives of their time. Tim was great at that. I haven't a clue how he balanced his many circles of influence, but he always made time for people, Always. While I'm in tears of sadness and joy at the same time, I find comfort with something Tim wrote after experiencing a loss not long before the accident,
“It’s amazing how when you begin to reflect upon your blessings, your losses become like a vapor." “While the scent of loss still lingers, our appetite for God’s blessings has become more unquenchable.” May it be so.

Here is another reason I do what I do.



Tim Garrety.
March 5, 1972 - April 20, 2005

"The heart cannot taste what the eyes have not seen."
-Brazilian Proverb

Bono had some kind words to say about the Pope. You can hear them here. The video is weak, but Bono's words are strong.

A few pix from the concert are here.

If you want to know how I got tix at face value the day of the concert, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. I don't think Bono would like that. -a

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy," Ben Franklin

"FIND SOMEONE YOU LOVE AND HOLD ON TO HER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE." - Italian Job

Weddings are beautiful things. Many of you know I moonlight as a wedding photographer on the side to supplement lack of support as I serve with CRM. Many people ask me if I enjoy shooting weddings. Most of the time I do, especially when God has a different agenda for me being there. Like Saturday night, when I had a beautiful conversations about searching for God with the florist. We were both encouraged and challenged to think beyond the surface about what it really means to live out our faith. And that folks, is a beautiful thing.

Here is a recent view from my office. It seems like it just keeps on comming. While I don't mind the rain, (we need it) I wonder how my homeless friends in Ventura are doing? I was up in LA a few weeks ago and it was raining on and off. While walking around, I stumbeled onto someone sleeping next a freeway overpass.



I can't even imagine what it must be like for the houseless right now. Its raining again. It is not expected to stop for a few days. I'm so thankful for the roof over my head.

And finally, a beautiful picture of a makeshift roof in the middle of a resturaunt in San Gabriel.


I hope it works as good as it looks.

Mom and Frances say goodbye to each other.

There is a beautiful song I was listening to his morning from the musical RENT. Its called seasons of love. I was listening it to this morning when I woke up. Its funny how certain music creeps in at certain times. It asks the question of how one measures a year in the life of friends. It talks about 525,600 minutes, (in one year) Well, tonight my mom and I said goodbye to a good friend who gave more than her fair share of love. Over 11,563,200 some odd minutes to be exact (22 years for those who don't want to do the math). Mom brought Frances home from work one day when I was in the first grade. Mom showed love that day when she picked her up off the street after seeing some bastard threw her out of their car into a busy intersection. Mom stopped traffic, made her friend who was driving pull a U and rescued her. Frances paid that one act of love back over and over and over. Through good times and bad times, Frances has been there, comforting us in time of joy, loneliness, and sorrow. Frances also entertained herself, as well as us by playing with the school bird I took home over the weekend, or walking through the grass like a lion on her way to eat the daisies. Then there was the old green couch she she thought was a giant scratching pad. Over the years she has had a few close calls, using up a life here and there. Tonight, she hit #10. Her lungs filled with fluids and she could barely breathe. Clinging to a tearful mom, who she had slept next to for over a decade, she went to be with her maker. I can’t think of a better day for her do die. Valentines day. A day of Love. That’s what Frances was all about. Sharing and giving love to others. In memory of Frances, Pass it on.

A few years ago I learned about a photographer named Jacob Riis. He has a book out called, "How the Other Half Lives." It focused on the struggles of immigrants and housing issues in the late 1800’s in New York City. During my travels to Africa, Venezuela and Brasil, I've seen dire poverty and heard stories of insane violence. Today I got to know personally some of the stories from the young men InnerCHANGE is working with in San Francisco. While I'm physically tired, my brain is also just about shut down trying to fathom the situations some of these kids have grown up through.


View from the 3rd floor of Casa San Dimas

All of the guys stories are mind boggling, but the one that blew me away the most is a 15 year old boy named Francisco. I meet him the first night at the house I’m staying at when he was learning how to work with fractions. He came up from Honduras a few months ago and got caught up into trouble and then was sent to Juvenile Hall. Because his parents are still in Honduras, he had no where to go. That is until InnerCHANGE and Communidad San Dimas took him in. (named for Saint Dimas, the penitent thief crucified alongside Christ.)


Celida, helping Francisco follow along during a community time in the chapel.

Yesterday we visited three other kids in Juvy, all from Central America, with no family or friends to visit them. They don’t speak English, and to be fair to them, probably never had a fair chance at making it up here. You see, they get up her and have no networks to fall back on. No friends, little if any money, and get desperate pretty quick. They get taken advantage of by drug dealers along they way north, as well as while they are up here. In many cases, the only people offering them any resemblance of a family are gangs. In this hood, there are the Nortaños and Suraños. (north side, south side) This house is somewhere in the middle, but probably merging into the south side. It is also providing an alternative "family" to get out of gangs and street life.


René sharing part of his experience during a group time.

Yesterday I learned that the difference between most prison type ministries and InnerCHANGE/ Communidad San Dimas is that they don’t come in and preach at the kids and walk away. IC is not in this to count how many people said a prayer to accept Christ, but rather to invest long term to see individuals lives transformed. They understand that sharing the Gospel is not about cramming the religion down someone’s throat. Its a relational thing. InnerCHANGE missionaries along with a core group of volunteers from Communidad San Dimas have been coming to the detention center for over 12 years. Ministry does not end with Sunday morning services, or meeting with kids during the week. They also offer a safe place to come to after they get out. They provide a community to hold them together. As the wife of a former gang member said to me last night during an interview, InnerCHANGE and Community San Dimas is the body of Christ. Not just in words, but in actions.


Enrique, Jose, Jenny, Carlos and René discussing the difference between knowing about God and knowing God.

So, that’s a sliver of a glimpse into how the other half used to live and has found new life in the Mission District.

By Friday, I'll have lived in a major city for a week. Two days in Caracas, Venezuela, and nearly five days in the city of Angeles. I'm staying with my friend Jason in Echo Park. I just spent three days in class beefing up my video skills so I can up the overall image of CRM's Videos and turn them around faster. By Friday, I'll be certified in Final Cut Pro. In the mean time, enjoy some pix from Caracas to Los Angeles.


CRM Venezuela Staffer Paul Hovda reading with the city lights of Caracas in the background.


Me, the morning I left Caracas. I have a new baseball team, the Caracas Leones!


Gods beauty between Caracas and Miami! I have no idea what or where this is. Who cares?


Dad and Luca came to pick me up. Luca isn't much of a "Rescue Dog," but he sure can rescue people's emotions! One look at him and one just wants to smile!


So, I drive up to Los Angeles Sunday morning, look left, and there is my old Professor, the infamous Kim Komenich. He has made this week alot more fun, telling jokes old and new.


I just can't seem to get away from Che!


Jason met us downtown at Philippe's in downtown LA for dinner and a drink. Afterwards we hung at the Redwood 2nd Street Saloon


DP Bill Holshevnikoff showing us the magic of light.

I refuse to give into fear, violence, and depression.

Many of you know I am not even close to a morning person. Well, I the light is beautiful here, so I’ve actually been getting up just before 6 am or so to shoot. Despite me beating my battle with mornings, I have a new enemy in the morning. Notice, only there is only one valve, as in frio.

Everything here revolves around some sort of violence. Its kind of like Kevin Bacon.. Its all connected. Living in and among the poor gives new insights to life. .... And death. At first I thought John Shorack (the team leader for InnerCHANGE VZ. Was just trying to scare me so I would get into trouble. For those of you who know me, trouble can be my middle name, and for those of you photographers out there, you know hanging around the edge of trouble usually means great pix. Cross it, and well, you are in deep trouble. We went to a birthday party tonight in La Montanita.

Taken a few days later in the morning when I felt a little safer, and then got the heck out of there!

I asked John if it was a safe place to pull out my camera real quick and make a few frames. He said not to bring it out at all till we were at Jose’s birthday party. Then he explained how many people were watching us and that they would wait till we left the party, (even if it was hours later) and then rob us. So, I obeyed.

I think Jose turned 30 today. He was not able to fully enjoy his birthday though as he is on crutches.


You see, he was chased by some robbers a while back and long story short someone threw some metal thing at his leg, he fell and jacked up his ankle real bad. He had surgery and is in recovery. So, back to violence and celebrating. Violence is a thread one can not run from. It permeates every little bit of life here. While sitting around the party and eating and drinking the local cuisine John told me lots of horror stories that will be left out for the sake of not wanting to hurt the VZ tourism economy or freaking out my mom for that matter. Later in the evening we all sang some birthday song I had never heard of in Spanish. (no, it was not feliz cuplianos) anyway, he and everybody else was really getting into it.



At some point it hit me that we were not just celebrating the day he was born some 30 odd years ago, but rather another year of life. It hits home real quick, as his sister’s (I think) husband was murdered last year. She is 24 and has three little ones at home. When I made some photos of her and her kids she didn’t want to smile. My gut feeling told me why. Anyway, life is precious, but apparently not to the same standards I’m used to. Tonight was the third time in two days I saw parents giving their toddler (younger than 2) beer. The kids actually drank it. It was sad.



Later we danced. Yes, I said we. I said in my best spanish, "Yo estoy de los estado unidos, y no bailan buen, pero, ensaname a bailar, yo bailo.” enough said.




I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a birthday party the same. From now on, its not only about celebrating one's birth, but about celebrating another year of life on earth.

Anyway, its late, and I need my rest to keep alert and stay away from the bad guys when I shoot today..

Much love- Andy

Ps.. I didn’t even mention that as we were walking in to La Montanita a bunch of kids were all playing with pipes and fire crackers. Big deal you say. Well, all of the pipes were curved like guns. Peter was “shot” by one of the kids as he entered the community. I guess I got lucky. These are the same kids who were using a roller blade to skate down a steep hill the other day. Go figure.

pps, thanks for those of you praying, We shoult not have walked down past 8:30, yet alone past 10.