This is a letter from Cari Floehr, a youth pastor from Grace UMC in Washington Court House, Ohio who came with her youth group to participate in a work camp this summer.
Bee stings and Cockroaches
A relatively short reflection on a powerful week-long
mission trip to Good Works, Inc.July 31st to August 6th, 2005
You might find it odd that I would include bee stings and cockroaches among my top blessings during the week my youth group and I took a mission trip to Good Works, Inc. in Athens, Ohio. In fact, I find it a bit strange myself, but it’s true. And if you asked any one of them, I bet the kids would all agree, too. I know you can never share completely in the experience of someone else’s mission trip, but the following is a short reflection on our very wonderful, very God-filled week of service. I hope by the end of this reflection you too, will see how unusual and sometimes not-so-pleasant experiences can become extraordinary blessings.
Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. (Psalm 63:3-5)
The Worship Team
When I began planning our trip to Good Works, I thought maybe I’d taken on more than I could handle. Grace youth had never taken a trip such as this and, although we’ve done many small day trips, this was our first true mission trip. My first challenge was finding chaperones. It seemed no one was willing to give up a week of their lives to join us on our trip and when approached, the excuses flowed like water in a stream. Being turned down by so many left me with a sense of dread. How possibly could I motivate the kids if I couldn’t even provide the chaperones? My next frustration came rather unexpectedly as the kids I thought for sure I could count on began dropping out. Work, sports, college orientations, all vied for priority and the mission team began to dwindle. Instead of the fifteen to twenty we’d promised, I could only bring ten. I was mortified that a week before our trip and we were short five members for our team. I panicked and began asking every youth I knew to join us, not because I wanted them to benefit from a week of service to God, but because I desperately wanted to fill those spots. Three days prior to the trip and countless phone calls later, in the midst of my frustration and panic, God made it very clear to me that those who were going had been specifically chosen (and not by me). God did provide a team, although small, of the most amazing chaperones and the best youth a worship team leader could want.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. (Matthew 6:25-29)
Community
We truly had only a rather vague idea of what was ahead of us during our week of service as we pulled into the drive at the Hannah House on Sunday afternoon. I had diligently studied the Good Works web site, read and reread all the materials and had corresponded with Paul many times in preparation. I don’t guess that anyone going on a mission trip ever really knows how God might work, but there we were, unaware, a bit confused, but full of energy.
We spent the better part of our Sunday evening unloading the vans, piling into our dorm rooms, unpacking, eating pizza at Hungry Howie’s, shopping at Walmart for our weeks supply of food and getting oriented by Travis and Emilie (the house managers). Sunday evening was our time to arrive, to settle in and to make our home at Hannah House. It was also our first glimpse at community; a term we’d hear many times during the week, but more importantly, a term we would experience in ways we’d never known.
Monday morning came, as all the others would come, in a hustle to wake up, eat breakfast and get to the picnic shelter for devotions at 8:30 a.m. Each morning began with our focus clear. We were not here just to work, but to serve God by serving the widowed, the poor, the fatherless. After devotions, we were quick to get our assignments. Those going to the Kid’s Club knew their duties for the day and headed off. Mowing the lawn for an elderly lady, digging a ditch for new piping at the Timothy House, staining the playground at the Hannah House property, building a retaining wall behind the Transformation Station and cleaning a cockroach infested trailer were to become more than just work projects. It was a way to be in relationship with others.Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)
Bee Stings
Most mornings, when the work projects were announced, I let the kids choose what projects they wanted, then I did whatever was left. Sometimes that meant I was doing something I didn’t exactly want to do! That was just the case on Wednesday morning when I went to help with a mowing project. At first, I was excited about going on this mowing project. Living in apartments, a condo and now a parsonage, I haven’t mowed a lawn in many years. I was looking forward to a new experience and a chance to spend the day outside.
My attitude changed quickly after being stung by bees 6 times. I had hardly begun to mow when I ran over a nest of bees causing them to be very unhappy. After calming myself down, realizing I wasn’t going to die, I began mowing again. Unknowingly, only ten minutes later, I ran over yet another nest. You would have thought I’d learned the first time! Yes, I angered another set of bees and yes, they stung me, too! Not only did I now have many bee stings, in my panic to get away, I tripped over my feet and fell to the ground causing my leg to swell and bruise. Needless to say, I was no longer in the mood to mow.
It was hot, I was hurting, my bee stings were painful and I just wanted to go home, take a shower and whine about my misfortune. Making matters worse was the fact that the lady whose grass we were mowing had passed away two days prior. I wouldn’t even be rewarded by a thank you or a smile for the good work I was doing. My attitude was horrible. I was angry at Valerie (Summer Service Intern) who insisted we move the trampoline aside so we could mow underneath it. It didn’t look like anyone else had bothered when they had mowed, so why should we? I didn’t want to mow the front by the ditch. Who cares about that anyway? As if taking on my attitude, one of the lawnmowers decided to quit and another kept dying as it became clogged with large clumps of grass.
As I stood in the middle of the yard, taking my break as we rotated who was using the mower, I asked myself where God was in that moment. I couldn’t say we were doing this act of kindness for an elderly lady because she was no longer living. I couldn’t say it was for the good feeling I got for helping out because I was frustrated and irritated. As I continued to grumble and complain, I began to wonder if I wasn’t supposed to look inside myself to find God today. Maybe God was telling me I needed to find Christ in me at this moment. It would just figure, on the one day that I felt most unlike Christ, I was asked to be most like him. So, standing in the middle of a partially mowed yard, bad attitude in check, I took a deep breath, lifted my face to the warm sun and thanked God for bee stings.Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death upon a cross! (Philippians 2:5-8)
Cockroaches
Wednesday afternoon, Paul reticently approached me to inform me of another Samaritan project slated for Thursday. This one, though, would be a true challenge so he wanted to clear it with me first. One of their widowed clients, Idabelle, had a rental trailer on her property. This was a good source of income for her, but unfortunately, the renters abandoned the trailer a few days prior. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except the renters left it in an unlivable state. The trailer was full of trash and infested with cockroaches. Paul assured me however that the trailer was being fumigated and the cockroaches should be dead. Our job would be to go and clean it out. “OK,” I said without hesitation, “that’s why we’re here.”
I had no idea what I had gotten our group into until we arrived at Idabelle’s on Thursday morning with rubber gloves, 100 trash bags, face masks and buckets ready to tackle whatever was in store for us. But before we would even enter the trailer to clean, we had the joy of meeting Idabelle. Not only was her smile and face full of love and light, she bestowed upon me some mighty words of wisdom. As all eleven of us piled into her living room, she insisted on giving each one of us a hug. Then she informed us that, for good health, we all required 12 hugs a day and now she’d had eleven. With that, someone quickly jumped up and gave her another, meeting her quota for the day! I wouldn’t have chosen a better way to start this daunting task.
As we marched outside to begin our assignment, we all saw, taped on the outside of the trailer, a sign posted by the health department condemning it, claiming it as unsuitable for living. This was not a good sign of what we were to encounter and indeed, as we entered the trailer, we discovered the truth of the matter. The floor was covered with trash; clothes scattered everywhere, toys, games, food, toiletries, kitchen items and books. We had to walk atop of these things in order to bag them up and throw them away. Cockroaches, both living and dead, were everywhere. As soon as we’d pick up a pile of clothes to throw it away, hundreds of cockroaches scattered. They were everywhere from the floor to the ceiling and everything in between. Now, I’ve never been one to be overly squeamish, but even I wanted to turn around and walk out. Enclosed spaces and thousands of bugs was not something I truly wanted to experience. The only thing keeping me from running out of the house screaming in horror was the fact that no one else was. In fact, my biggest shock that day was not the mess or the cockroaches. It was the attitude of the team and the work that was done by the kids. Who ever would have begun to imagine that teenagers would be willing to clean up someone else’s mess? Not only did they clean, but they did it with smiles, with laughter and with joy! Don’t get me wrong, though. We heard plenty of phrases like, “Eww, gross!” or “Oh my gosh, what is that?!”. By the end of the day, after everything had been bagged, tossed and trashed, the kids knew they’d done something good.
As I walked away from the trailer, my smile quickly faded to sadness. My heart broke for the woman and her children that had been the residents of that trailer for the past two years. Images of those three young boys, sleeping on their beds with cockroaches crawling all over them, haunted me. School pictures, baseball team photos and crafts made in art class were some of what I bagged up and threw away. For me, it wasn’t just clothing or books we discarded, it was someone’s life. That life was one of brokenness. That life was one of poverty and dysfunction. And this had been someone living right in the backyard all those years.Timothy House and Washing Dishes
There wasn’t much time to come home and clean up from Idabelle’s before I headed out for the night to volunteer at Timothy House. I’ve spent some time volunteering in homeless shelters and have volunteered in soup kitchens before, so I did not expect a new experience. Originally, I had wanted all the kids to have the experience because I knew it would be a first for many of them. As the week progressed, though, I felt very called to going and decided Thursday night I would volunteer with one of the kids.
Expecting to be tired and spent from a day in the heat and cockroaches, I traveled with Terrez (Summer Service Intern) to the shelter. Instead, I was full of energy and ready for the night. It occurred to me that I hadn’t been tired all week even with the lack of sleep and the very physical work I wasn’t used to doing. When I am doing God’s work, the energy I expend is returned to me tenfold. That is how I felt when I entered into Timothy House Thursday night.
After a quick orientation with Derek (Summer Service Intern), we all sat down family style for dinner. And as all dinners should, we started with the blessing. Each one of us was to share one way we’d been blessed. Up until that point, I think I was still in the experiencing stage, soaking up all there was to experience. It was at that moment I fully realized just how many blessings I had received that week. Where in the world would I start? When it came my turn, I quickly qualified my blessings with “I can’t possibly name them all, but here are only a few.” So, I listed a few then passed my turn to Paul who had only just arrived at the house a few hours earlier. I sat through the rest of dinner thinking that I couldn’t be more blessed than I was at that very moment to be enjoying dinner surrounded by those at the table, sharing in a meal and sharing in our lives. It was the true meaning of communion.As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. (Luke 24:28-31a)
After dinner, I was given the duty of dish washing with Cheryl (the names of Timothy House residents have been changed to protect their anonymity--Ed.). This was a chore I chose, hoping for the chance, within the work, to find worship just as Brother Lawrence did many years ago. I wasn’t disappointed. Cheryl was a young woman who wanted to let her appearance speak for her. With tattoos spelling “evil” on her fingers and one saying “sin” on her arm, several piercings on her face and black attire, it would be very easy to be intimidated or to dismiss her as a misfit. As we started to wash dishes, I began to ask questions to which Cheryl didn’t seem too thrilled to answer. With the dishes as a distraction, though, slowly Cheryl and I found some common ground. We made small talk about our day and the events that took place within it. She told me she had been in court that day with a friend who was trying to get custody of his little girl. I shared with her that I had been cleaning all day. We talked about music and what we wanted to do with our lives. We both decided we didn’t want to grow up; that wouldn’t be much fun. Then somehow the conversation led to the mistakes we’ve made and regrets we had. After a little debate, we both agreed we didn’t have regrets because those mistakes made us who and what we are. I added in my head, and that’s what we all share and what brings us together. As we finished the dishes and moved on to the next set of tasks, I felt as if I’d only brushed the surface of Cheryl. I knew there was more, so much more to her than her outside appearance gave away.
A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria ?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” (John 4:7-10)
Thursday is chore night at Timothy House and I was assigned my favorite chore; cleaning the refrigerator. Again, this chore was not to be done alone as no task is done alone at Good Works. Here is where I met June and our lives began to intersect and our conversation began. So, I asked her, “How was your day?” To which she replied that it had been interesting. “How so?” I questioned further. June told me she had some answered prayers that day. I decided from there to tread a little lighter as she seemed a bit shy, but I told her that I thought that was wonderful. I added that if she wanted to share I’d love to listen. Again, she seemed a little hesitant, but had a smile on her face.
And so we began our work. We spent the next half an hour making small talk, cleaning out the refrigerator, laughing and having fun. We talked again about answered prayers because I was sensing that I, too, was receiving an answer. Our work that night wasn’t about throwing away food too old to be in the refrigerator, it was about worshipping. There was joy in our work together. As we were finishing our task, June received a message that her son, whom she hadn’t spoken with since being at Timothy House, had called and left his phone number. Yet another answered prayer.
With the little time left, I joined a group in the dining area for a competitive game of Pictionary; Hannah House verses Timothy House. Needless to say, we didn’t have a chance in the world of winning and Hannah House lost by a significant margin. My evening at Timothy House was coming to a regretful end. It had been an incredible evening filled with more fellowship than I’d known in a long time. I felt so real and so alive to be in the presence of those wrestling with real life issues.
What I came to sense at Timothy House was what I’ve been longing for since moving to Washington Court House two years ago. Two years ago, I became “pastor.” And for two years, I’ve so struggled with that title and the loneliness that came with it. I’ve been set apart, had certain expectations put upon me and been separate from being a part of community because of the title “pastor”. At Timothy House, Cheryl, June, Shelley, Bob, Terri, Lynn and Sean were as much pastors to me as I ever have been to anyone else. There were no titles, there were no labels or expectations on any of us. There was little difference between who was staff, who was a volunteer and who was a resident. And no one cared either. We all could be just who God created us to be. We could be broken and sad or joyful and blessed. It was even OK to be both of those things at the same time. I needed that as much as anyone else. For me, at that time and in that place, homelessness wasn’t just about someone lacking a physical structure in which to dwell. Having a home meant having a place to belong. I found that at Timothy House.Friday Night Life
As our week came to a close, we were blessed to celebrate in community one last time. Friday Night Life, or what I keep calling Friday Night Live, was a large community dinner, or what one might call after experiencing it, a huge family reunion. At least, that’s how it felt to me.
Again there was an opportunity for my life to intersect with another as I sat with Sean who I’d met at Timothy House the night before and talked about life’s struggles. God never promised an easy life, I was reminded. No, the easy road was not what Sean was traveling these days as a recovering alcoholic, as a man who’d lost his family and job because of alcoholism and now as a man who was homeless. Where was Sean to go from here? One day at a time, I reminded him. That’s much easier to say than to do especially with the relationships of the past now lost. I assured him I would keep him in prayer and maybe there would be another opportunity for us to talk again. Life just isn’t easy sometimes, but it’s a whole lot better when it’s shared with another.
The rest of the evening was filled with the organized chaos of people scrambling for food, kids playing on the newly stained playground, some just catching up with friends while other traced their hands on a tarp to go to soldiers in Iraq . Again, I was just one of the crowd; someone there seeking relationship, seeking God, needing a place to belong. There is little else that my soul needs than to be surrounded by the beauty of nature and to connect with Christ by connecting with others. Friday Night Life was a perfect ending to a week filled with the blessing of authentic community.Where Did You See God Today?
Every evening devotional began with the question, “Where did you see God today?” This was an attempt to be intentional about seeking God throughout the day, finding God in otherwise not-so-God like individuals or places and maybe it was a way for us to meet God half-way in all of this. The answers each night varied from certain people we met, to attitudes we encountered and even a few “I don’t knows.” All were honest answers. There was no doubt those among our group were earnestly seeking God.
As a youth pastor, I often feel personally responsible for hand-delivering God, or a 'God experience' to my youth. I’m constantly asking myself, “What can I say, what can I do, what lesson can I teach so God can be revealed?” I guess I feel like it is my job; it’s what I get paid to do. But in the two-plus years I’ve been the youth pastor at Grace, I have yet to figure out how to do it. You would think by now I would know that I don’t do anything, that I’m not the one responsible for packaging up God and handing him out. Now, I’m learning that the experience itself and others involved, who allow God to work through them, are much more capable of revealing Christ than I am. So was the case at Good Works, Inc.
What I hadn’t realize before this trip was just how cluttered my soul had really become. My life had become so busy with church work I didn’t have time for God. I knew I’d lost myself in the 'busyness', but I had no idea that I’d lost God, too. It took a trip to Athens, Ohio to still my soul and, as my soul was quieted, I saw that God was everywhere. God was screaming from the blades of grass, yelling as we wheeled dirt to the retaining wall, jumping up and down as we ate and played and worshipped together, beating down the door as we bagged up clothes and trash and romance novels, repeatedly tapping on my shoulder as I sat for morning devotions…God was everywhere.
In the bee stings and cockroaches, I found God again. In Ken, Terrez, Derek, Emilie and Keith, I found God again. In the smile of Idabelle, I found God again. Playing Pictionary and cleaning the refrigerator at Timothy House, I found God again. In the laughter, the singing and the sharing of the youth, I found God again. I found God in gummy bears and nutty bars, Disney trivia and card games, sweat-soaked bandanas, the struggles of a homeless recovering alcoholic, an afternoon shower and an air conditioner, ranch dressing and cold mashed potatoes, work gloves and protective eye wear, a sore back and a warm hug. I found God again.Or maybe it was God who found me.
Be Still and Know
My week began simply by enjoying the outdoors, enjoying the new space in which to work and worship, enjoying the physical labor and enjoying getting to know new people. As I wrote earlier, I was just soaking up the experience. Somewhere mid-week, I began to question and seek God within myself which led me to write this prayer at morning devotions.
Dear God,
I know you see me in ways I don’t or can’t see myself. You see me in the past, present and future. You see all that I have been and all that I am, but also all that I can be. My soul is reflected in your eyes. I know you rejoice over me just because I am your daughter. I know you are saddened by the brokenness that keeps me apart from you. I know you love me more than any human words can express. Amen.
My time in the retreat cabin helped me understand that being still and knowing God were intimately connected. In order to know God, we must first be still. Just prior to coming to Good Works, I realized I had lost myself. I felt as if I’d let my job swallow me up. I wasn’t even sure if I knew who I was any more. Being young, single and new to the job, I jumped right in to everything. I suppose it’s a common mistake for lots of pastors in new pastorates. But it cost me dearly. What I hadn’t realized was not only had I lost myself, but I’d lost God, too. Where once God had felt so close, I now didn’t know God at all. I guess I’d made some very half-hearted efforts, but I’d always let the 'busyness' and tasks get in my way.
When I say I’d lost God I mean I truly have had no sense of God working in my life. Even in my worst times, I could always go for a walk in the woods or sit by the river and know without a doubt that God was present. It wasn’t until I was overwhelmed by the presence of God while at Good Works that I understood the depth of how lost I really was and it was because I had lost God that I had lost myself.
In finding God, I knew I would find myself again and I did. It took quieting myself so I could let God find me. I know I’ve struggled for two years. It’s felt as if I’ve been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It just hasn’t been working. Slowly, I’ve begun to define God’s calling in my life. I know I’m to be a bridge from the church to the community. It’s in relationships that Christ dwells. Those living on the margins, those begrudgingly accepted, but not belonging, those pushed aside for whatever reason, are those with which I identify. Cheryl and I have so much in common because my outside does not always reflect who I really am either. So much is hiding inside, where it is safe. So much is broken, but crying to be healed. I know that healing power and it only comes from Christ. It is our brokenness that we all have in common, but it is in the sharing of that brokenness within our relationships that Christ lives.
I really don’t think I learned anything new about myself or about God while at Good Works. Slowly I’ve been refining my calling, slowly I’ve been journeying down this path and gradually there have been answers. While these answers have been slowly coming, my doubts have crept in. I’ve found myself asking over and over, “Are you sure God?” Maybe it was my own fears that kept me from realizing the certainty of those answers, I don’t really know.
The prayer that was answered for me while at Good Works was a removal of doubt. What I gained was a sense of peace and joy that I haven’t felt in a very long time. All this because I know where I belong, because I know who I am and because I again have a sense of where God is working in my life. I know I belong in community. I know Christ is revealed when we are in one-on-one relationships, when we spend the time to walk with someone, when we take the time to get to know them and share in their hurts. This is the ministry to which I am called; this is all a part of who I am and it always has been. This I know for sure. Amen.My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore. (Psalm 131)
This is a letter from Kelsey Suzanne Hofer, a Week of Service volunteer who came with her parents to serve with us during July 4-9, 2005:
This past trip was not my first trip to Good Works. I had previously visited during the fall on a weekend mission trip and helped to build the Transformation Station. However, it was my first ever summer trip to Good Works. Therefore, I had many first-time experiences.
One of those new experiences was Kid’s Club. I quickly discovered that it was similar to Clubhouse, a ministry near my house where I volunteer, with a few startling differences.
The first day, I noticed that the kids were amazingly well-behaved. The next day, during the bible study, I made another astounding discovery: most of the kids were willing, and even eager, to hear about Jesus, and some even asked in-depth questions like, “Does that mean that even if a man killed someone he could still go to heaven?” to which Coral and Kiriam answered that yes, he could, but only if he was really sorry for what he did and asked God to forgive him.
I began to question why these kids were so different from those near Dayton. I concluded that the Appalachian culture was probably the greatest factor. While the Dayton kids are all so deeply rooted into their mindset of what’s cool versus what’s not, the Appalachian culture allows you to express your thoughts and ask questions without being given a “you’re-not-cool-anymore” glare.
Another new experience was an evening at the Timothy House. I had been there on my last visit to learn about its origin and purpose, but had never actually seen a normal evening there. The main thing that sticks out in my head concerning the Timothy House is the relationship between the Good Works staff/interns and the residents. I had heard that the residents, rather than the Good Works staff, cooked the meals and did the chores, but only on this trip did I see that the Good Works staff/interns were there to provide accountability for all the residents, even the new ones. The mental picture I have of this was taken when Derek asked a woman who had arrived only two hours earlier, “Where are your kids?” instead of letting her rest and finding out where her kids were for himself. I think that his act showed the woman that she couldn’t just sit back, relax, and let the Good Works staff/interns baby sit for her, but that she’d have to put some effort into living there.
For me, the greatest difference between fall and summer at Good Works was, without a doubt, the summer interns. I was privileged to be able to “shadow” them and soon realized what a commitment they had made.
The first thing I discovered was how busy they were. They worked hard seventeen to eighteen hours daily — not going to bed before 11:30 or 12:00 at night and waking up about 7:00 each morning to be ready for their 8:00 meeting.
Something I began to wonder about a few days after we arrived was why two of the interns shared a room, and why I shared a room with another one of the interns, when there were spare rooms close by. I asked why this was, and was told that it was to build community. That was surprising, because sharing a house with thirty other people would have been hard enough for me, let alone sharing my room with someone I’d never met before.
I’d have to say that the hardest part of my trip was definitely saying good bye to the other worship team that was there with my family, and with the interns whom I had gotten to know fairly well. And I only had to do it once. I began to think that, as an interns, building relationships with all the worship teams and then having them leave after one week, nine or ten weeks in a row, would be pretty hard. I posed that issue to Angi one afternoon on the way back from Kid’s Camp. She agreed with me, adding that it would, however, be a lot harder at the end of the summer when all of the interns dispersed after having become so close in the previous ten weeks living together.
The abundant joy I felt during my week at Good Works; the reluctance to return to regular life; and, above all, the great people I got to know, causes me to want to go back again. And, perhaps, even be an intern during some future summer.
This letter is from Becky McCanna, who stayed with us from July 20-23, 2006. She came as a part of our Family Work Camp/Week of Service Internship with her daughter and her niece.
Thank you for a truly memorable and profound few days at your vibrant and spirit- filled organization. It was a profound experience for me, and a true growth experience for both my girls. We talked for 2 1/2 hours on the way home about our various impressions. When I asked them what they felt was the biggest thing they took away from the experience, they both said, “We think we will judge people less.” I’d say that was a step in the right direction!
Sometimes we don’t realize how our lives touch others. I would like to tell you something I have learned from this experience. This being my 7th “mission” trip, I had an idea what to expect. What happened was unexpected.
The work at kid’s camp was enriching in terms of watching Coral (Summer Service Intern 2005) respond to the children’s needs. She was calm and very caring; as was Angi (another Summer Service Intern) the last day when a young boy cried because he could not think of one way his family showed him love. So sad.
Mowing grass was just good physical work—I always love that. But traveling with Terrez and Valerie to see Thelma and Richard was a labor of love that gives me goose bumps. A run-down house far from everything, a sick man in no air conditioning sitting in a house filled with rooms full of years of memories, love and life. A 91-year old wife who canned 19 pints of beans the night before! “Don’t let me die until I’m dead!” And Terrez gave them life, love and laughter. He acted as if we had all the time in the world to visit. It spoke volumes to me about Jesus.
Then came the Timothy House, and the Friday community dinner. The evening at the Timothy House absolutely blew me away. Nothing out of the ordinary happened— except everything out of the ordinary happened. I expected to meet people down on their luck—what I met were people down from life from a lifetime of no luck. Not that I believe in luck, but it was apparent to me that these people never had the chances I’ve had, the love in their life that helps see a person through hard times. A few did seem to just be in transition – but several seemed to just be sad; life had not been fair; love was missing. I think that evening will stay with me forever.
And maybe most important is this—for several yeas I have been tying to discern a new direction in my life. I’ve been a happy stay at home mom for 22 years but since our youngest is 14 and I still have a few years to give, I have been praying, reading, and basically been on a quest to find God’s will for me.
It had seemed I had found it several years ago on a mission trip to East Harlem. I felt called to work with the poor. But returning home I didn’t pursue those feelings and settled back into being mom, volunteer, friend to the elderly, and my other pet interests. But I kept searching.
Most recently I thought I should return to school and get a teaching certificate to work in an inner city Catholic school. That still may be the route I go since being accepted into a program at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana.
But the cry of the poor haunts me and I feel very drawn to front-line work in some capacity. I think the Timothy House was a catalyst in this process.
As of this writing, I am still completing my acceptance to Ball State for Fall 2006. I want to see what God will place in my path over the next few months first to see if I can work more closely in a place where I feel spiritually and emotionally free.
Thank you for providing the impetus through your caring organization and may God continue to bless your Good Works.
