Ailana’s Journal—2026-05-25 (Patreon)

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BLESSED by Ricky Martinez

Last Thanksgiving, Isabela and I were getting by because we did without as much as we could. We believed things would get better if we stayed faithful and kept trying.

Sometimes, it seemed like a dream more than a possibility. I couldn’t find a job other than DoorDash, and Isabela’s hours got reduced. We made it, but by our take on things, God kept us going.

I made a few deliveries to Port Isabel and got to know a few faces. One thing led to another, and Isabela got a new job at a clinic there—not just working the front desk, but as office manager.

On the heels of that, I got a job across the street at Sea Glass Café and Coffee Shop. The owner calls me the manager.

For a few months, we’ve lived here and worked there. Cameron County isn’t like L.A. or NYC, but we still had a drive to make through traffic.

After a few weeks, Isabela wanted us to move. In all our married life, this was the first time we were in such opposite places on something.

I wanted to move, too. But we were still limping along financially, and I wasn’t sure if the jobs would last.

Isabella wanted to be financially responsible, too. But my truck is old and she was afraid it would call it quits. Living closer would put fewer miles on it and in a pinch the Island Metro shuttle bus could get us to work.

We didn’t fight. We prayed and said that we’d both be at peace when the time was right to make the move.

That time is now.

Last Wednesday, a man came into Sea Glass for lunch. He was upset, and I invited him to vent. Turns out he is a property manager, and someone had backed out of a rental in the Laguna Heights area, just a few blocks from Port Isabel High School.

The house was built around five years ago, and is in good shape. The rent is right, and it’s ready to move in.

Isabela loves it. We are at peace and our thoughts are united.

Min, from the clinic where Isabela works, has arranged a moving party: her, Elias, Vanessa, and David. Six of us and a U-Haul.

Isabela and I have never felt so loved or blessed outside our families.

Now, we need to find some way to pass the blessing on to someone else.

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NEXT PROJECT by Vanessa Lenen

There have been some pushmepullme, two-headed llama moments related to the final build-out of the Shoreline Health and Wellness Clinic.

Part of the vision is a mobile health unit. The program is called Shoreline Outreach, and it connects to everything we’re doing here except the overnight walk-in clinic.

It has a direct connection to the vaccination study. It is directly connected to providing low/no-cost medical care to the community.

If there has ever been any mention of this in the past, whatever was said is probably at least inaccurate.

We had issues with the vehicle plan, but we finally have worked it out.

What we ended up with is a customized Aspire 44W. The kitchen area was converted to a lab. The sleeping area was converted to an exam and treatment room. The eating area was set up for paperwork (think front desk) The living room was split into a three-person waiting room and small triage-treatment area.

I actually think Amir aged five years stressing over it. We’ve not talked about this much, since so many other things were going on, but it’s been a huge ordeal to finally get the Mobile Clinic delivered.

Isabela has been ordering supplies for it, but now that it’s on the lot, we can finish stocking it.

My role on the mobile unit is to use my EMT credential and be Min’s assistant. I get to use my admin role to do the paperwork. So, I handle patient services and get to be a medical helper.

We’re thinking this landed just in time! Park near the beach and treat sunburns, upset stomachs, and other vacation problems.

Last note on this—it’s not an ambulance, and we don’t pretend it is. But we do have direct radio contact with dispatch, so if something turns into an emergency, we can get an actual rig moving fast.

BUSTED by Mateo Alvarez

It’s the first Monday of summer break and Gabe and I decided we’d hang out. He picked me up in his dad’s golf cart and we rode around.

There’s a closed restaurant called Pier 19 south of the causeway, and it still has some old tables and a working Pepsi machine. We decided to make a pit stop.

We were sitting there when I saw a police cruiser pull up. “Bro, we’re busted.”

“We aren’t trespassing.” Gabe looked back to the parking area. “Oh… That’s Officer Lopez.”

Officer Lopez is a new cop on the island who’s supposed to get to know the teens. I’ve seen her a lot and talked to her a few times.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Want me to buy you a Pepsi?”

“That’s sweet,” she replied. “I can get my own.”

As she went to the vending machine, she looked back at us. “I know your faces, but I can’t recall your names…”

“I’m Mateo and this is Gabe.”

“I remember now. Mateo, where’s your truck?”

“Back home. The bed’s full of tools and the tank’s low on gas.”

“So you’re in the golf cart?”

Gabe nodded. “That pup gets like 1,000 miles to the gallon.”

“Gabe, you have a driver’s license, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I turned sixteen last August, and Dad finally let me get it over spring break.”

“Ma’am? Wow, that makes me feel old. I’m only twenty-four.”

Gabe smiled. “I’m always polite to someone with a badge and a gun. Extra polite, actually.”

I shook my head. “But low-key, he’s got a point. You’re a cop. You deserve respect.”

“I appreciate that. But, I try to keep perspective about all that.” She sat down and opened her drink. “So, out for the summer? Plans?”

“Cut yards,” I said.

“Dad’s going to have me work for him. I’ll be the king of golf cart maintenance by August.”

“Your dad owns Morales Cart & Marine Repair?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiled. “You’ll learn to repair outboards, too?”

“Someday,” Gabe replied. “So, how do you like your job? How do you like SPI?”

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Officer Lopez sipped her Pepsi. “I like it. Do you still have the Community Resource phone number I gave you?”

I nodded. “Saved it in my phone.”

“You got a cop’s phone number?” Gabe looked at me, surprised.

“Not my personal number,” Officer Lopez replied. “It’s a department phone. It’s for, like, if you’re not sure about something and want me to check it out. Get your phone and I’ll give you the number.”

“When would I use it?” Gabe asked as he got his phone out.

“This isn’t for emergencies. If somebody is hurt, in danger, missing, or being threatened, call 911. If it’s police business that needs an officer dispatched, call the non-emergency line. But if you’re not sure what to do, or something feels off and you want advice, you can text this number. Call if you’re really upset. I get a little on-call bonus for carrying it, but I turn it off when I go to bed.”

“So like if I need a pizza,” Gabe laughed. “Can I call?”

““If you need a pizza, call Dominoes. If you see something sketchy, text me.”

“So no pizza?” Gabe tried again.

She laughed and shook her head. “No pizza.”

Then I had a little thought, so I asked. “Explain the idea behind your extra duty to keep an eye on us?”

Officer Lopez nodded. “The department thinks teens are sort of between being kids and being grown—which y’all are. We think that if you know the cops are here for you, you’ll think about things a little differently. I’m not your friend.”

“Ah…” Gabe shook his head. “Now I’m sad…”

“Gabe… Chill bro…” I shook my head.

“But,” Officer Lopez went on, “I’m just supposed to watch out for the local teens, get to know them, and look out for any tourists who seem to be off track or out of place.”

“That’s sort of vague, isn’t it?” I said.

“The big thing is that I’m supposed to become someone teens can count on. I’m also supposed to pay special attention to teens who are visiting. I had to escort four kids from Colorado who were drinking on the beach back to the condo where their parents were staying.”

Gabe shook his head. “Did you arrest them?”

“I called it in. The parents were very cooperative, so my sergeant said take names and write a warning. A little grace, I guess.”

We kept talking for a while about her job. She asked about our school and our friends, and really, it was like some weird version of youth group before it was over.

When the Pepsis were gone, Gabe dared her to stick her head through the hole in the mermaid cutout.

I couldn’t believe she did it, and couldn’t believe she let Gabe take a picture.

“Text it to me. The department has a social media page called SPI Youth Connect.”

Gabe laughed. “Tag me! What’s the caption going to say?”

I made a suggestion. “Officer Lopez wishes for legs so she can be part of your world!”

SHARING MY LIFE by Geoni Ryan

Happy Memorial Day to everyone celebrating that holiday. I’m struggling to not tear up saying this next thing.

The Ryan family is celebrating Memorial Day gently.

Family… Kel has agreed that I can call us that, and I think he actually is fond of the idea. Josh and I are having a hard time finding words to express how we feel. But after all those months, it feels like we have started our family.

Sasha teases that the details of starting Baby Everett were a lot more fun than all the paperwork we had to do. I pointed out that, at least, I didn’t have to endure morning sickness. I’m happy to say that her doctor says there’s no reason to have any concerns right now—everything seems normal.

So back to our Memorial Day…

We started with getting ready for our trip to Chicago. We leave early tomorrow and return Wednesday—in time for Youth Group. All of Josh’s family wants to meet Kel, and we feel like that should happen.

But we don’t want to overwhelm him with a long visit. We feel like we have enough going on just figuring out how things go for the three of us.

I honestly don’t think anything would actually overwhelm Kel. That’s not his personality at all. Maybe more accurately stated, I don’t want myself to be overwhelmed!

Now, we’re at the studio. I wanted to show him around. Plans changed. Josh mentioned how the studio flash system works, which led to questions, which led to “Well, let’s just set some up.”

They totally forgot I'm here! I need to remind them that I’m the one that loves photography!

Kel already asked me if I could show him how the camera works. That also made me tear up.

So, if things so far are any indication, two things are certain.

First, I’m finding myself delighted each day by parenthood. Second, I need to keep a pack of tissues handy.

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GOOD NIGHT by Min Aurora

On February 4 of this year, I did what every girl new to a coastal town obviously does. I went back to a gas station for the second time in a few days looking for a good hot dog.

I walked out having made a friend, and in the months since then, Elias has become so much more. Tonight, for our date—I know it’s Monday, no hate!—we’re revisiting the places from that first meeting.

Appetizers here at the Valero! It had to happen! Dinner will be at Pirate’s Landing.

In a few days, we’ll have been exploring our relationship for four months. We didn’t make a big calendar event out of deciding we were official and exclusive. That never actually seemed to be in question, to tell the truth.

Things stalled in March. We were both very busy. Call it life happening. I finally reached out at a time when he actually had cell service. I’d not say we started over. We picked things back up.

We don’t think there’s any magic to the four-month thing. It just happens to be coming up next week, and I thought mentioning it would give this story a little context.

What might be significant is that we both wake up each day amazed by the way providence worked to bring us together.

A boy from Beirut, Lebanon, and a girl from Bangalore, India, meet at a gas station in Port Isabel, Texas. They came alone from different pasts, from distant corners of the world, yet they seem to be going toward a shared future in a simple Texas Gulf Coast town.

Neither one of them is mad about that. Good night.

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