The Miracle of ASG

March 2015 Colton CA.
Action Star Games Paintball was thriving back then. Every Saturday and Sunday 100-200 happy paintball players showed up to do what they love, play paintball.

“Karen, Bridgette is here, she wants to talk,” said Wayne, in a tone of voice that made my nerves shudder.

I walked out the single tree on the property where Wayne and Bridgette were standing. My heart felt heavy, as I knew that Bridgette was about to give us some very sad news.

“You have to be out of here by May. I just sold the property for 17 million.”

My head began to spin at the thought of Bridgette’s words.

“That only gives us 3 months to find a new home for the field,” I sighed.

Hearing that our landlord was having financial difficulties, we knew that we would eventually have to move. Moving had now become a reality.

The nerves in my gut were churning. My entire body felt like it was weighted down with a heavy dark cloak. May was less than 3 months away and we had yet to find a new location. We had been looking for property for the last three years, not really realizing the difficulty we would run into.

The many cities we approached, only led to dead ends.

Jurupa Hills: “We have no room for a paintball field in Jurupa Hills.”

Redlands: “No, there is no zoning for paintball in Redlands.”

San Bernardino County: “You will have to submit an application and we will have to do a biological study of the entire area.”

A biology study would cost $200,000.00 without any guarantee that we could get the proper permits.

City of Riverside: “No, there is no place for a paintball field in Riverside.”

I scanned the online land search daily until my eyes blurred from staring too long at the computer screen.
As the weeks ticked by, my spirits began to dwindle. I spent many sleepless nights crying, praying for a miracle. Now that we were about to lose the field, it occurred to me that I didn’t  realize the magnitude of what we had created. What began as a private training ground for Cody’s team had now become a thriving business and a popular weekend hang out for paintball players from all over Southern California.

Paintball was how we paid our bills. What were we going to do if we couldn’t find the right piece of property?

“Maybe you should call Tim,” said Wayne. “He’s got some connections. He’s developing in the area. Maybe he has some ideas. If he doesn’t answer then send him a text message.”

Tim didn’t answer his phone. I sent him a text message.

Two long hours later my phone buzzed with a short reply from Tim, “Call Mark, he’s a councilman in Perris. I think there may be some properties in Perris.”

At the end of his message was a phone number.

Perris? A councilman? It was worth a try.With a knot in my gut, I pushed the button and dialed Mark’s number.

“Paintball! I would love to see a Paintball field in the City of Perris. Perris is the perfect location. We are known as an entertainment community. We have the Perris Sky Diving, Water Park, Big League of Dreams. We have the Orange County Railroad Museum and we have Perris Lake. When do you have to move?”
Mark’s voice had a calm cheery tone that lifted my spirits.

“Some time in May,” I said.

“You don’t have much time. We have to move quickly. It shouldn’t be a problem getting through planning. I think there’s some land near the airport.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much,” I said, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

“But we haven’t really found a place for you yet. Don’t thank me yet.”

Mark’s enthusiasm gave me hope. Out of the many people I talked to in the last 3 years, Mark was the only person who approved the idea of paintball park in his community.
I couldn’t wait to share my new found hope with Wayne.

“You better find land quick,” said Wayne.“We have to be out by May 4”

“May 4th!” The reality I wasn’t ready to face, suddenly hit me hard.

“That’s only two months away!”

His words pierced my heart. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I didn’t want to believe it. This would be the 2nd time we moved the paintball field. We had moved before, re-starting from nothing, on a bare piece of rocky land in Colton California. In the beginning there were only 20 players. Now we were seeing 100 to 200 players and more every Saturday and Sunday.

“We have to tell them,” said Wayne. “We have to tell our players.”

How was I going to tell them?

That night I shuffled through thousands of photographs stored in the memory of my desktop.

Hundreds of faces smiled back at me, familiar faces, faces of the people I had grown to love.

Memories flooded my mind, visions of watching Cody play, running across the field with his gun aimed and firing. I loved watching him play. He was light on his feet like a young cat tiptoeing across the field. I could tell when he was ready to sprint or dive up to the next bunker by the way he crouched as if he was about to launch off his feet.

As if a movie was running in my head, I saw dad’s who were frightened by the horror stories they were told by well meaning friends and acquaintances. They were afraid to play paintball and somehow they showed up at the field. I fitted them with padded chest protectors, and face masks to protect their faces. I gave them old padded paintball pants and jackets to help ease their fear.

By the time the day was over Dad and his son were back at the office with bright white grins that lit up their faces.

“That was so much fun!” They cheered. “We’re coming back!”

I watched the memories play across my mind of the many group 
hugs that I witnessed on and off the playing field, of people coming together to play paintball.

Seeing all the happy faces and memories filled my heart with a warmth that permeated the room.

By then end of the night a slideshow played across my screen. It was a slideshow with a message. “Thank you to every player who plays paintball on our fields. Thank you for training with us. Thank you for creating shared memories we will remember for the rest of our lives. We appreciate every one of you.”

Before that moment, I never realized just how much I loved them all.

With a flood of warm salty tears streaming down my face, I typed in the final words.
“May 4 2015 will be our last day in Colton.”

It wasn’t until then that I realized what Wayne, Cody and I had built together. It was big. It was huge. It was beautiful. It was something I took for granted, and now it would soon be gone.

I pushed the button on Facebook “publish.” And drifted off to sleep.

6:00 a.m. I could hear the tune of Wayne’s cell phone, then his voice, “Yes it is true. May 4th is our last day in Colton. We have to move.”

I opened my laptop then tuned into our Facebook page.

“Noooo!”

“You can’t close!”

“I don’t want to play anywhere else!”

“You can’t leave us!”

“Noooo! Don’t go!”

“Don’t leave us!”

Overnight the page flooded with comments.

“Look at this!” I said to Wayne. “I’m NOT giving up! We have to find a new location.”

Our players’ replies ran down the page and kept growing.

Before that moment, I didn’t know we meant so much to our players. I felt as if my eyes were opened like never before to see the many young faces of players who relied on us to be their weekend hang out, a safe haven where they could spend time with their friends doing something they loved. It was quality time with friends and family that enriched their lives with memories that would go on forever. And now we were about to lose it. We couldn’t give up. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be the perfect location.

“Start looking in Perris,” said Wayne. His eyes were still focused on the computer screen.
He looked away and said.“Call the realtor.”

“You’re never going to find anything in Perris,” said the realtor. “Everything in Perris is going for big money. Big industry is moving there. But, there is one piece of property that’s a possibility. I’ll give you the address.”

Wayne and I jumped into the car and drove the windy roads through the back country of Perris. The dry brown terrain was speckled with giant grey boulders.

“Google Maps says we turn here. I said, looking at the screen on my phone.

“This doesn’t look like the address.” The property led to a dead end.

“Maybe we took a wrong turn.”

After two hours of driving, the property could not be found.

“I really don’t think they checked it out,” I said. My heart began to sink with a heavy dark gloom.

“It doesn’t look like they check anything out. Maybe we’re dealing with the wrong realtor. Maybe we should be dealing with someone in Perris. I saw a sign back in town. Can we drive through town again so I can write down the name?”

The uncertainty of the future of our paintball field, and our personal life left my gut churning. We knew that everything was about to change. We just didn’t know how.

Wayne and I drove back through the small city streets of Perris. I saw the sign again on a building that was nestled between a liquor store and a grey office building.

“That’s it!” I said and wrote down the name, Lander’s Realty.

With a twinkle of hope in my heart, I looked up the number and pushed in the digits.

“Yes I can help you,” said the voice.

“Perris would be the perfect location for your paintball field. I think I know of a possibility. It’s near the Perris airport. I’ll talk to the land owner and then we can meet at the property tomorrow.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” said Wayne as we drove across the grey streets of Perris.

“I don’t want you to get too disappointed if it’s not the right property.”

The sun was shining overhead in a crisp blue sky as we drove down Redlands Blvd to Ellis Avenue in Perris.
There was nothing but a recycling plant at the end of the street that turned onto Ellis where the property lie.
The land was dry and barren, except for the low grey brown shrubbery that scattered across the land. I could see the twinkling sunlight reflecting off the multitude of cars driving down the 215 freeway a short distance away.

The only thing that surrounded the property was farmland that was barren and dry.

“This is perfect,” said Wayne as we stood on the pitted cracked street, scanning over the vast vacant land.

“I think there’s water here too,” said Al.

“And there may be electricity lines.”

As I stood looking across the vacant property, I could see a sprinkling of sky divers falling through the air in the distance.

Would this become our new home in the very near future?

“This is perfect,” Wayne said again.

Moving 15 acres of heavy concrete pipe and wooden crates that we used as bunkers, tearing down and setting up 12’-20′ high paintball nets was an unimaginable task that lie ahead of us. Somehow, it had to be done if we could only secure the property.

“I talked to the land owner. He has an offer on the table, but I’m not sure it’s going to go through,” said Al.

“I wanted you to see this property, but we’ll just keep looking.”

As we got closer to our final day in Colton, Al continued to show us several possible properties.
Nothing else we saw would qualify.

A suitable property for a paintball field is not easy to find in Southern California. Paintball has its own unique requirements. It must be in a vacant area, far away from housing or businesses. It needs to be close enough to our players. It needs to have the proper zoning requirements that would allow outdoor sports like paintball.

It was Sunday morning April 26 2015, 1 week before our closing day in Colton. We had yet to find and secure a new location. My nerves were on edge as I walked around the parking lot, greeting our players with my video camera filming the players as they waved back at me with grins on their faces.

“Do you know where you’re going to move to?” Asked one of our players.

He was dressed in a slick red and black paintball jersey and black padded paintball pants. His black plastic paintball mask was propped up and back on his head. It was Mario, from Team Inferno.

“Not yet,” I sighed. “Not yet.”

“Can you tell me what paintball means to you?” I asked. “Can I film you?”

“I love it here,” said Mario. “Playing paintball here at ASG has helped me keep my son out of trouble. It helps us stay close as father and son.”

Mario’s dark tanned face was speckled with tiny droplets of sweat. He wiped the sweat off his brow and said,
“I don’t know what we would do with out ASG. I don’t want to play anywhere else.”

Mario shook his head slowly and looked down at his feet. I could almost detect a tear in his eye and a shakiness in his voice as he spoke.

My gut choked as I stood listening with the camera held up to my eye. Heavy tears began to fill the corners of my eyes as the space in my heart filled with love.

Mario was the 5th person that day who told me that paintball helped him keep his family together. His story was one of many I heard on the paintball fields just as we were about to close our doors in Colton.

I could not deny the love I was hearing from the mouths of our players, or the love I was feeling in my heart. There was no giving up. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t give up.

Something tugged at my heart and brought back a memory. It was something I read in scripture and something that Dorothy taught us in class.

“When two or more ask in my name, it shall be done.”

I knew I had to find someone to pray with right then and there, and I wanted to pray from the highest point possible.

Oz, a player we had known since we first began in 2006 walked up and said, “Do you have a new location yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, then dared to ask. “Will you pray with me?”

“Sure.”

Oz and I climbed onto the man lift and rose up as high as we could go. Overlooking the 20 acres of the Colton location, I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. 10 acres of bunkers made of concrete pipes, wooden crates, plastic tubing, wooden spools and whatever else showed up on the property surrounded by paintball netting. The parking lot that was packed and coated with black asphalt grindings was filled with cars. There were lines and crowds of people everywhere I looked. Wayne had created his own field of dreams at Action Star Games in the short time since we began in Colton.

We had only been at the Colton location for 5 years. It was only then, that I saw and acknowledged what we had created. Now we were about to lose it.

The pit of my gut squished up and tears were falling down my cheeks, Oz and I prayed together, thanking God for all the wonderful years we spent playing paintball. I thanked God for the many lives we changed through paintball and the many young people we watched grow up.

“If you want us to continue with Action Star Games Paintball, please Father God, show me how,” I whispered softly.

Then turned to Oz and said, “What I love most about paintball is all the wonderful people we’ve met over the years. I love watching paintball light up the faces of our players and bring out their greatness. I’m not ready to give it all up.”

“I don’t want to lose it either,” said Oz.

Scanning the space I said, “Let’s imagine all of this and all of our players at the perfect new location.”

I closed my eyes and imagined transporting the fields and all of our players from Colton to the land we saw in Perris California.

“Yea,” said Oz. “We have to keep ASG going.”

Oz and I stood there quietly high up on the lift, gazing across the field that had come together in the last 5 years.

“I guess it’s time you get out there and play,” I said, then pushed the lever as the lift slowly descended.

Later that afternoon my cell phone rang, “Hi Karen. I have some good news!”
It was Al, our realtor.

“Ben is ready to sign the lease!”

“Really?” My heart was pounding with a dash of new hope.

“Yes, he’s ready to sign! Are your taxes ready yet?”

“My accountant is still working on them, I’m pretty sure he’s almost done,” I said. “Maybe I can get him to finish them quickly.”

“Well, do your best. Ben wants us to meet him on Tomorrow at 2:00” said Al. “You’ll also need a credit report and some recent bank statements. Call me tomorrow.”

How was I going to get my taxes done, picked up and delivered in time? And how was I supposed to get a credit report overnight? The land owner was ready to sign, and I was not quite prepared. My heart was racing. My mind was flying. There just had to be a way.

“Yes, I can have them ready by 10:00 a.m.” said Ken, our accountant. “Can you come in and pick them up?”

“Yes, we can do the credit report here at the bank,” said my banker. “Just come in as soon as you can.”

It was 9:00 a.m., one hour before we were to meet with our accountant, 4 1/2 hours before we would meet with the land owner. The accountant’s office was 20 minutes away. The land owner was 45 minutes away.

After running around all morning everything seemed to fall into place. We managed to get our credit reports from the bank and a completed set taxes before 12:30.

The lease was signed at 3:00 p.m. at “The Bomb Shelter” a small restaurant at the Perris Airport, 5 days before our final day in Colton.

On the drive home from Perris, my mind lit up with the memory of Oz and I standing on the lift pouring out our hearts as we prayed together.

Had we just witnessed the miracle of prayer?

In March of 2016 430 paintball players showed up for the Grand Opening in our new location in Perris California to do what they love, play paintball.

Every weekend Action Star Games Paintball becomes a gathering place for hundreds of players of all levels, from first-timers to pros.

In December of 2021, Wayne and I acquired the property of Action Star Games Paintball in Perris California. We are here to stay.

Yes we did witness the miracle of prayer.

It wasn’t  until later that I realized, when Oz and I stood up on that lift high above the fields we prayed a special kind of prayer. In a lecture by well known scientist and researcher Gregg Braden, he tells about praying with your heart. When we hold that vision of what we want to accomplish in our hearts and add the feeling of achievement we are empowering our prayer.

The heart has a magnetic field that extends for miles. The feelings and visions we hold in our hearts send a signal that the universe can answer.

As I stood on that lift with tears in my eyes, feeling grateful for all of our players and imagined the entire paintball field transported to our new location I was praying an empowered prayer.

Just before he passed, my father left a message. I didn’t realize until now what Dad was wanting to tell us.