Nature’s beauty abounds here along the Tropic of Cancer. Lush, colorful, and dense green foliage is punctuated with splashes of vibrant reds, yellows, oranges, and pinks. High above our heads, palm trees rustle and sway in the gentle breeze that floats in from the ocean. Beside them, Bougainvillea climb like Jack’s Beanstalk, yearning to reach the azure sky.

Across the road, farmers work in the basil fields, bending and stretching as they plant seedlings. Each row is covered with long plastic sheets, carefully punctured with holes. “It’s a reverse greenhouse,” our host tells us. “The plastic traps the heat and prevents the moisture from escaping at night.”

Their arched backs, determined to cultivate this fragile crop under the harsh sun, bring to mind John Wycliff’s 13th-century idiom, ‘by hook or by crook’. To me, who has never succeeded in keeping a basil plant alive for more than a week or two, they are defying nature. Their determination and resolve to provide for their families are a startling reminder that even here in paradise, poverty and hardship coexist with affluence and plenty.

This is a land of stark juxtapositions – lush resorts with manicured lawns and sparkling pools line golden sand beaches, just a stone’s throw from communities where people struggle to make ends meet. Children play in dusty streets, their ball a wad of wound-up string, their clothes worn. Yet, they still laugh and smile and wave as we drive past.

Stopping at an outdoor coffee shop, I eavesdrop on a ‘gringo’ couple sitting next to me. They talk about families going hungry, of illnesses going untreated, of dreams being deferred. I am saddened by the reminder that while I sit sipping my specialty coffee, there are shadows lurking and inequalities that need to be addressed. And then, I hear them name the place of which they speak. It is not here in one of the most beautiful corners of the world. It is ‘back home’, in Chicago.

Unlike the flowers which grow up to spread their luscious deep pink petals in the pots surrounding the veranda where I sit, too many people in this world do not have access to the necessary resources to create futures for their children that do not include deprivation and hardship, no matter how rich the world around them. Nature has given these flowers a defense system to prevent insects, and humans, from plundering their fruit: a multitude of razor-sharp needles line their hefty stalks like porcupine quills on constant alert.

For too many people in this world, there is no such defense system. Reading today of the shutting off of essential aid provided by USAID, a wave of fear washes over me. How will millions of vulnerable people in our world find refuge from the chaos and destruction that surrounds them? How will they find peace and well-being? How will they hope?

And then, the sound of children’s laughter wafts through the air. They are playing amidst the rows of basil their parents so carefully tend.

Despite the challenges, life finds a way. Even in this paradise, where nature’s beauty abounds, the realities of poverty and inequality are a stark reminder of the challenges facing our world. I do not have the power to change the world. I do have the power to change my attitude, to create beauty, joy, and love in my own little world. And that is a good intention for me today on this beautiful day in Todos Santos.