One of the greatest aspects of hiking the Appalachian Trail is also one of the most frustrating. Over the course of about six months and five million steps, you cross paths with hundreds of people. The broke, recently graduated high student considering a career in the military. The short, middle-aged Australian lady with an owl cap who is working on her doctoral dissertation. The young man who, in an effort to lower pack weight, is on a diet of packets of pure Crisco oil. Random people trying to walk off a failed marriage or memories from a nightmarish war. A young man who, unbeknownst to anyone, would take his life after finishing the trail. Young and old people. Happy and troubled people. Skinny, smelly, and hairy people, all bound by a common goal. The AT has it all.

You may share only a passing “hello.” You may spend only a few moments together at a watering hole. If you’re lucky, you may form a “bubble” of hiking comrades and spend a few days or weeks together, bonding along the way. You listen to their life stories and learn of their goals, fears, and battles with golf ball-sized blisters and plantar fasciitis. You get to know people as you traverse mountains together, enjoy magnificent vistas, weather thunderstorms, and huddle together in the bitter cold.

And then it’s over. The vast majority of people you meet along the way—fellow hikers, trail angels, hostel owners—will never be heard from or seen again. That’s the frustrating part. So many people you wish you could live near, hang out with, and get to know better. That rarely happens. 

However, there are exceptions. Every once in a while, you get an update from someone who was, at the time, just a random encounter on the AT. 

That brings us to Boomerang. On June 25^th, 2016, my 106^th night on the Appalachian Trail, after hiking 1,220 miles, I made a steep climb out of Port Clinton, PA, and found a suitable tenting spot near a spring. I was joined by a fellow thru-hiker, a millennial blessed with an 11^th toe. Naturally, his trail name was “ET” for Extra Toe. I told him I expected him to complete the trail 10% faster than everyone else.

We were joined by a friendly section hiking couple from California—Boomerang and Redwood. During supper, I shared the origins of my trail name, Fob, and the others reciprocated. Boomerang once led a church hiking group called Trailblazers. The group consisted of hikers with varying levels of experience, so a “sweep” was positioned in the back to motivate any lagging hikers who risked falling behind. Still, Boomerang felt responsible for everyone and thus would regularly hike back and forth, from the front to the end and back, to make sure everyone was okay. Her back and forth movement earned her the trail name Boomerang. I love that concept, and it became Fob Fundamental #34 from my second AT book: “Young people need parents, teachers, youth ministers, coaches, and others to serve as ‘sweeps’ and ‘boomerangs,’ helping to keep our youth on the right path and pace.”

The next morning, we said our goodbyes and got back on the trail. I did not expect to see or hear from this California couple again. I was from a different part of the country, on a different hiking pace, with a different goal in mind. Realistically, our encounter, though much appreciated, would be a one-time-only event like so many others.

Thankfully, I was wrong. Like a good boomerang, Michelle Telles, aka Boomerang, swung back into my life recently. She commented on one of my blogs, and then we exchanged emails. I was excited to hear what this woman has been up to and I thought I’d share it with you.

Boomerang volunteers with the California Southern Baptist Disaster Relief Ministries (CSBDRM). This is the third largest disaster relief organization in the country, behind the Red Cross and Salvation Army, with whom they often partner. They also work alongside federal agencies like FEMA, although they do not accept federal funding or reimbursement. In 2019 alone, SBDR clocked 670,000 volunteer hours and made 368,000 meals!

In April of 2019, Boomerang and a friend attended an SBDR training class in clean-up and recovery and earned their yellow DR shirt, along with “an official ugly yellow hat to match.” This past June, after retiring from a long teaching career, she packed her “go bag” and prepared for her first Disaster Relief deployment. 

As you’ve probably heard, California has been ravaged by wildfires this year. More than 8,200 fires have consumed over 4 million acres, doubling the previous record. With thousands of evacuees moving into temporary shelters in late August, Boomerang saw her first action. She “marveled at God’s wicked sense of humor” when her first assignment was to work for five days in a church kitchen, a three-hour car ride away from home, preparing meals for local evacuees. She was concerned that God had forgotten that she doesn’t know how to cook and “knew very little about kitchen things.” Besides, she was badged in clean-up and recovery, not kitchen work!

Thankfully, she packed her willing spirit and learned fast. Her experience from that deployment qualified her for the next…also in the kitchen. Sometimes, rather than calling the qualified, God qualifies the called.

Boomerang shared with me that many of her lady friends find satisfaction in craft parties, missionary letter writing, and exchanging recipes. While there’s nothing wrong with that, she finds more enjoyment in sleeping in odd places and getting dirty. Imagine her delight when God used her quirky skills to His glory during her third and fourth deployments. She was tasked with doing recovery among the ashes of homes caught in rampant wildfires. With her air mattress and sleeping bag on the floor of a Sunday School room at a church building, she prepared herself to serve.

Boomerang shares her experience:

“I find it difficult to fully express the feeling of giving a family something as simple as a charred metal rooster and watching the expression of the homeowner’s face light up with joy.  My team recovered coins, a plethora of various ceramic turtles and pigs, crystals, swords, pot pipes, fingernail scissors, tools, jewelry, and a host of other items, but my personal favorite was a porcelain plaque that asserted, ‘Home is where the mom is.’ Of all the valuables this woman had, all she wanted was this plaque, and I made it my special mission to find it. Like an archeologist looking for rare artifacts, I dug through rubble and gently swept away ash. Piece by piece, the plaque began to reveal itself. Each time I found a piece, I placed it on a flat surface of a charred barbeque. I made this journey to the barbeque seven times until the plaque was complete. Like the charred rooster, this one simple item brought a small beacon of hope to an otherwise hopeless situation.”

After each “ash out,” the team and the property owners gather together. The owners are presented a Bible, signed by everyone on the team, and a prayer is offered. Words of encouragement are expressed by everyone, and grateful owners typically dispense hugs.

Boomerang adds, “The satisfaction of supporting these fire victims is addicting and I get a real joy (blessing) when I’m included in their process forward. The verse that continually runs through my head (my true motivation) is: ‘And he said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’’” (Matthew 22:37-39)

As we prepare to turn the calendar on a new year, I have a hope and a suggestion for you.

My hope is that you experience a “boomerang” encounter in 2021. I hope a long lost friend, family member, hiking buddy, or someone else re-enters your life and inspires you, the way Boomerang has inspired me. If a boomerang doesn’t find you, maybe you can be the boomerang for someone else.

Let me suggest that, as a lone New Year’s Resolution, or perhaps grouped with others, you find a neighbor to love as yourself. Could be in a disaster zone. Could be at a homeless shelter or nursing home. Could be the coworker in the next cubicle or the classmate who sits behind you. Could be your next door neighbor. 

Everyone outside of myself is my neighbor and I need to try to love them the way Jesus loves them. In 2021, I’m going to be a boomerang, a sweep, or a lifeline to someone. 

Even if that means getting a little dirty.