Crunch (11 page)

nine

Bethany dug her toes into the fine white sand and stared intently at the crisp, dark blue waves zipping along the sandbar.

It was almost a year later, but she and the team where back to the same beach outside of Tijuana where they had once taken the kids from the orphanage.

On the beach, under a small tent, Malia and Jenna were selling T-shirts like hot cakes. The girls, with their artist flair, had created the design and learned how to screen print so they could make the T-shirts themselves.

Small children raced up and down the beach, chased by frantic guardians and nearly colliding with the masses of Americans clustered there as well.

“This is a pretty cool thing you came up with—a Pro/Am surf benefit here at Punta Bandito,” said a thickly accented Australian voice from behind Bethany.

It was Bart McClay, the new surfing whiz kid from Down Under who was well on his way to stealing away the world title from its current owner.

“Thanks!” said Bethany.

“You gonna have a go-out before the contest?” Bart asked.

“Yeah, in just a minute,” said Bethany.

“Okay then, see you in the water.”

Bethany turned back toward the beach and marveled at what she saw.

Huge vendors' tents lined the sand with the judge's tent perched on a small cliff above. Brightly colored flags and banners bearing logos for world-famous surf-related companies fluttered in the gentle offshore wind.

Crowds of people—both Americans and Mexicans—choked the beach. Bethany caught the familiar scent of burning mesquite wood. She grinned. It was a sure sign that a taco vendor had set up shop here.

Soon the guest of honor would arrive, and Bethany knew that if she was going to get in any free-time surfing, she had better do it now.

She reached back to make sure the zipper on her wet suit was cinched up tight and then slipped the leash of her surfboard on her left foot.

As was her custom, she bowed in prayer before wading into the water.

Even though the water was chilly, the wet suit quickly surrounded her with a cushion of warmth.

I can't believe some people have to wear these things all the time,
she thought with deep appreciation that she could surf in warm water all year long in Hawaii.

As she stroked into the lineup, she watched as pro surfer after pro surfer—the best in the world—put on a dazzling display of skill, shredding each wave with incredible speed, turns, and gymnastics.

As she paddled to the lineup, she passed Anne Nicholson, now recovered and charging up the ranks of the pro circuit.

“Hey, Anne!”

“Bethany! You put all of this together?” Anne asked appreciatively.

“Well, not really. I mean I had a
lot
of help. In fact, you even helped make this happen.”

“What?” said Anne.

“If you hadn't gotten hurt last season, I never would have come up with this idea.”

“Whatcha mean? You never took your slot; it went to someone else.”

“I know…and it's kind of a long story. Trust me, it all worked out for the best.”

“Well, I'm glad to be down here surfing with you.”

“Me too, Anne. Me too.”

Back on the beach, Bethany's brother Noah had already set up his camera and was recording the blazing ride of each surfer. Her brother Timmy bobbed in the lineup, his own camera in hand, as he watched for the perfect shot.

Under a small tent, Tom and Cheri Hamilton watched Bethany take off on her first wave—a clean, head-high left that unrolled machinelike toward the beach as she carved white tracks up and down its face.

“I'm really proud of that girl,” Bethany's dad said. “I always knew she was a great surfer, but I never realized she was such an organizer.”

“Well, her heart was in it, Tom. A lot of us find more motivation and drive when we are doing something we are passionate about.”

“She sure had lots of help,” Tom said. “It seems that many of her friends are passionate about this event too.”

“I don't think Sarah and the youth group would've allowed her to do this without them,” Cheri said.

After twenty minutes, Bethany caught one last wave, and when it turned to white water, she lay down on her board and let the soup carry her to the beach.

Bethany ran to the van she had come in, grabbed a gallon jug of fresh water from the rear storage compartment, and poured it over her head. Slipping out of her wet suit, she climbed into sweatpants and a light sweatshirt flashing the Rip Curl logo. Then she made her way back to the beach, where she stood next to her parents as she sipped some cold water.

“Where's the guest of honor?” Cheri asked Bethany.

“On the way, I'm sure!” said Bethany. Just as those words came out, Bethany saw Eddie's familiar SUV bouncing along the dirt road.

“They're here!” she called excitedly.

Bethany ran to the parking lot and moved several bright orange cones out of the way. “Over here!” she yelled to Eddie.

The car rolled into the space Bethany had reserved for it, and from out of the back door came several Mexican children followed by Eduardo's mother and finally Eduardo himself.

Bethany could see that he was wearing long pants plus shoes and socks. He walked toward her with barely a limp.

You would never know that he was missing a foot, the way he handles himself
, Bethany thought with more than a little admiration for the pint-sized warrior.

Bethany hugged him to herself tightly. She spoke to Eduardo briefly and then glanced up at Eddie and said, “He is doing so well!”

“Better than that! You ought to see him play soccer,” Eddie grinned.

“Soccer?” Bethany said, turning back to Eduardo.

“Sí!” beamed the boy who made the motion of kicking a soccer ball with his foot.

“The kids all want him on their team because they think he can kick the ball twice as hard with a steel foot,” Eddie laughed.

“Well, now that you are here, we can get this contest underway,” Bethany said with a warm smile for her friend Eduardo.

She took Eduardo and his mother around, introducing them to her Kauai
ohana
, or family and friends, as well as every shining light of the professional surf industry that happened to be on hand.

Soon the loudspeakers began to blare an announcement in both English and Spanish: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to welcome you to the Punta Bandito Pro/Am Charity Surf Expo. We are pleased that you are here and want you to know that the proceeds from all fees, concession booths, and product sales will join the generous donations being made by the sponsors of this event. Now, please give a warm welcome to the originator of today's expo who is here to say a few words to us—Miss Bethany Hamilton.”

Bethany, in spite of the many speaking opportunities since the shark attack, still felt far more comfortable dropping in on a huge pitching wave than she did speaking into a microphone. She stood nervously and said, “Thank you for your support. The money we raise here is going to a special fund to help poor children of Tijuana get medical treatment they couldn't afford otherwise. I really appreciate all my friends in the surfing world helping me to do this for these children.”

Wild applause and whistles followed Bethany's little speech, and she blushed deeply at the attention.

For the rest of the day, a carnival atmosphere took over the beach. Pro surfers signed autographs after their surf sessions, and sponsors loaded up every child with T-shirts, hats, stickers, and posters.

Eduardo and his family, who had
never
been to the beach, kept getting lost in the crowd. Several times Bethany had to hunt Eduardo down so she could introduce him to various surf stars and VIPs of surf companies.

Eduardo, for his part, was wide-eyed in a world he had never heard about or seen before. Just the sight of the waves, the smell of the ocean, and the feel of the salty sea breeze was enough to send him on sensation overload. It was as if he was in the middle of an aquatic Disneyland.

As the afternoon wore on, a tall man with graying hair and a bright aloha shirt approached Bethany and Eduardo. “
Cómo estás
?” he said to the boy while squatting down and extending a hand. He spoke to Eduardo for a few minutes in Spanish. Then he stood up and turned to Bethany. “Hello, Bethany,” the stranger said kindly. “My name is Bob Jensen, and I wanted to be part of this event for a couple reasons. I'm a surfer, but I'm a doctor as well. I specialize in orthopedic recovery for children like Eduardo.”

He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Bethany. “When you get a chance, give me a call, and I will arrange to have this boy fitted with the best kind of prosthetic foot available.”

“Really?” Bethany studied the man's face, not quite believing what she had heard.

“Really,” he said with a kind smile. “Eduardo's wound is the kind that has a great prognosis for the kind of prosthetics being made today. I would guess that within a few months he could do just about anything anyone with two normal feet could do: run, jump, swim, and even surf!”

“Play competitive soccer?” Bethany prompted.

“Absolutely! No problem at all.”

“Wow! Thank you!” said Bethany. “Can you tell Eduardo what you just told me?”

“Sure.” He bent down and spoke to the little boy. Eduardo smiled and patted the man's cheek, saying something that apparently startled the doctor. Bethany saw his eyes well up with tears.

“What did Eduardo say to you?”

Dr. Jensen turned to her, cleared his throat, and smiled a trembly smile. “He said he thinks he knows what God's face looks like now.”

“What?” asked Bethany with surprise.

The doctor shrugged as he nodded. He looked shaken as he tapped his card in Bethany's hand and reminded her, “Don't forget to call.” Then he slowly walked away.

“No, I won't forget!” Bethany called after him and then glanced back at Eduardo who was smiling up at her with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.
I won't ever forget this day!

As the sun began its final plunge toward the ocean, the banners were rolled up, tents collapsed, and a tired but happy group of kids slowly trudged through the mostly empty parking lot toward their van.

“Well, this has been a remarkable day,” Eddie said to Bethany and Maggie as they walked behind the children. Eddie and Maggie's ministry had been given a large check to use to help children with medical needs.

“When I came to Mexico last year, I was expecting to be the one who was helping others,” Bethany said with a smile. “Instead, I feel like I was the one who learned a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said, turning to look at her.

“Well, it was a real surprise to me to learn that being a person who sticks to her word costs a lot. I mean, I never expected it to be that much of a personal struggle.”

Eddie and Maggie remained silent, and Bethany continued.

“I can see now how God really used that lesson for the greater good. I mean, I'm so glad we had this opportunity to help Eduardo and kids like him. I might have missed all that if I had gone back on my promise.”

“Well, like I always say, if a man doesn't have his word, he doesn't have anything,” Eddie said. “I'm glad you were able to figure that out.”

“But there's a lot more I came to understand too,” Bethany rushed on excitedly.

“I learned that I really admire people like you two. I hang out with people who are stars in the world of surfing. You saw it today. These people have everything: kids asking for their autographs, T-shirts with their pictures or names on them, and photos and articles about them in magazines. But to be honest, I think you guys are the real stars.”

“Aw,” Eddie said, brushing away the compliment with a wave of his hand.

“Seriously, people have it all backward! They put the wrong people on the covers of magazines.”

“Well, Bethany, God has it all figured out, and he has all of eternity to do it. Like Jesus said, ‘Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first' and ‘Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.' “

“What do you say we get in line for some tacos tonight—the Hamiltons' treat,” said Bethany.

“There's always room for tacos!” Eddie laughed.

That evening at a corner taco stand in Tijuana where the exhaust fumes from speeding cars mixed with the sound of honking horns, Eddie, Maggie, Eduardo, and his mother and siblings joined the Hamilton family for a feast.

“Here's how you do it, Dad,” Bethany explained. “You order however many you want and whatever you want to drink. Then, when you are all done eating, you simply tell the guy how many tacos and drinks you had, and he will tell you how much you owe.”

“Isn't he afraid of getting ripped off?” Tom asked, a little surprised. “What if we were to try to cheat him by saying we had three tacos when we had six?”

“Dad, there are some places in the world where the word of a person still means something. Don't worry; he will trust you. He knows you are a Christian.”

Bethany smiled at Eddie and Maggie, and they smiled back.

“You must have a good name here,” Tom said.

“It's the result of lots and lots of honest dealings with other believers,” Bethany said.

“Hmm, reminds me of a verse,” Cheri said, smiling. “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.”

“I think I'll have another taco on that note,” Bethany said happily.