For the past couple of weeks, I’ve served dinner at the local homeless shelter, Lighthouse Mission, on a Tuesday night.  A friend and I have been talking for some time about being involved with people who have needs in the community, building relationships with those people, and actively seeking opportunities to give of our time and money.  I’ve been listening to some Francis Chan podcasts, and very quickly, he has me by the throat in regards to my lust for my own comfort.  And that is absolutely not the mission of Christ.  Scripture speaks to me over and over about taking care of the widow and orphan, providing a coat/meal/drink for those in need of those items, pursuing justice, becoming angered at injustice, and on and on.  And I’m a fool if I think those needy people are going to drive to my church at 6pm on Sunday so it’s more convenient for me to help them.

There are some very specific and personal reasons why I am passionate about serving others, why I continue to do so with consistency:

1. It’s biblical.  Without question.  It’s all over the Old and New Testament, and not offered up as a suggestion.  We are commanded to take care of the needs of others, and to avoid doing so is sin.
2. I meet interesting and strong people.  How can you be homeless and not be strong?  I’ve met many elderly, disabled, and poor people who have found reserves of resiliency that I haven’t had to dig to find in my own life.  People are created in the image of God and those people are fascinating.
3. I learn about God in a way that adds layers of depth and understanding to what I read about him in the Bible.  I think that I know (cognitively) God because I read about him in the scriptures; I think I know (relationally) God because I serve with him when I minister to others.
4. My best friends are people I serve with. Tonight I spent time with Shawn, shoulder to shoulder, him slinging corn on the cob and green beans, me with the cucumbers and tomatoes.  Shawn can tell me a lot about himself, but I know that he is respectful to others, compassionate, and hard working because I’ve witnessed that.  Plus, we talked about ministry, work, movies, and how good we look in hair nets.
5. Time flies when you’re serving others.  When I take my focus off myself and my junk, time flies.
6. It’s a better use of my time than the ways I’d waste it if I didn’t intentionally and purposefully do good.  I shudder to think of all the time I waste on the internet, in front of the TV, buying things I don’t really need.  When I fill my time with serving, the other things fall away.

Not every serving experience is great, but that’s okay.  God takes my paltry efforts and does what he does best with them: redemption.  I’m not always faithful, and I goof up as much as I get it right, but it’s good for me today to take stock of where I am and where I intend to travel, as well as the importance of making the steps in the journey count.

I was unloading groceries from the car this evening, when I caught a turtle trying to sneak into the garage.  He did sneak in, and then he hissed at me when I tried to shoo him out.  I carefully picked him up and found a spot for him in the yard, pointing him in the direction of the woods. There’s another interloper behind the house;  a little brown bird has built a nest in one of my potted flowers, and I see him bringing back more nest supplies, as well as treats for the babies in the nest.

I love living here in my unfancy house in the middle of the woods.  The poison ivy taunts me, but I love that there’s a raccoon on my deck some nights, and that I see deer grazing in the yard many mornings while I pour my coffee.  In the fall, the turkeys come with their baby turkeys, and there are at least 4 squirrels who have a meeting in my driveway in the late afternoon.  There’s something immediately soothing about watching nature do it’s thing…no matter how bad the day, it all melts away when you watch a family of animals wander through their home.

I haven’t written in a while, not feeling as if there’s much to say.  No international trips, no vacations, no crises or celebrations.  Just the usual days, one after another.  Work, housework, dinners with friends, etc.  Those are the things of life. 

Today is Sunday, and the sun has been shining after days and days of rain.  I tried a new recipe, curried eggplant with tomatoes and chickpeas.  It was good, but needed something.  I’ll play with the recipe later.

Then there was time to mow, though the ground was still soggy in places.  There are always sticks and limbs to pick up and burn, and who doesn’t love to set things on fire in the backyard?

There’s the garden surrounded by an anti-rabbit, anti-deer fence.  The lettuce is coming up with tiny leaves barely visible, but I am encouraged to see a line of green in a sea of mud.

I’m not finished with the planting, and it occurred to me that I should have flowers in pots before putting a picture out there of my half-finished product, but that’s the way it goes.  If I waited until the house was clean before inviting friends over, I’d never do it.  I can’t wait for the laundry to be caught up before going to a movie.  Things are never finished, but it’s in the journey that satisfaction comes in a series of small ways.  Today I’m happy with my yard and my budding garden.  Next week I’ll be smiling at newly planted flowers.  Next month I’ll be eating lettuce fresh from the garden for my Sunday dinner.  I can taste it already.

Last week was spent in Guatemala, leading a group of 10 in a return mission trip to visit orphans in and around Guatemala City.  I blogged every night last week at the official Guatemala 2009 blog for eXchange, trying to keep our church community, friends, and family abreast of all that was going on while we were out of the country.  I found myself writing a bit differently in speaking for a group, tempering some information to keep family from worrying, trying to make sure that everyone is represented in photos and stories.  Here are some things that didn’t make the official blog

Leadership: Leading a team on a mission trip is exhausting.  I feel a great responsibility for the team, for the bonding that happens, for the safety and well-being of the participants, and for facilitating the process of integrating the shocking experience of a first mission trip into the being of the person who comes home.  Beyond the culture shock and eye-popping disparity between our lives and those of orphans, there are people on the team who have never been out of the country or on an airplane.  I also find myself setting aside my personal needs and suppressing my reactions and emotions to attend to the needs of the team.  I haven’t figured out how to do both during the week in country, so I just come home a mess. 

My loves:  I love Cristal, the sweet little toddler at the babies home.  She is beautiful and smart, and she breaks my heart when I see her again and she comes to me with her arms raised.  She breaks my heart again when I have to leave and she won’t let me put her down.  I love Tomas, the young man Amber and I befriended 3 years ago.  He was gone to another orphanage last year, and I rediscovered him this trip.  Such delight to see that he remembered me, as I remembered him.  I love Tito and Ambrosio, the young men with special needs and ready smiles.  They make me smile just to think of them.

Competence and confidence: I thought that this week was an improvement for me as a leader.  There were some frustrating schedule changes that didn’t cause me to freak out; instead I problem-solved and acted as a buffer so the team didn’t know all that was up in the air.  I communicated the changes after things had been ironed out.  I felt less like someone posing at having confidence in leadership skills, and more like someone who was comfortable and competent, and it always feels good to be operating in the place of skill and knowledge, doing what God designed you to do.

I’m already making plans for a return trip…

I’m heading back to Guatemala on Sunday for another week of missions work with orphanages in Guatemala City.  I’m excited to see the kids again, to revisit those boys and girls that I’ve been fortunate enough to build relationships with.  In my mind’s eye, I can see Christal wearing her plastic jewelry and beaming in my arms.  There’s also Marcos showing off the photo I brought him last time.  The special needs boys (Tito, Ambrosio, Hansel, David) have a special place in my heart.  I hope they understand how much they are loved and missed.  If only they could understand my excitement at our reunion as I sit at my desk thousands of miles away…

I’ll be blogging our trip at Guatemala 2009.  Internet access is sketchy at times, but I’ll eventually post to that site our daily excursions and experiences.

Sunday’s message at church talked in part about the holiness of touch, the way God interacts with us through the touch of others, and how we can minister to one another through something so simple and natural as a touch.  It’s something that I often think of when I’m at a nursing home or with children at risk.  So much of the touch they experience is clinical and sterile, or worse, abusive and self-serving.  How meaningful to offer a touch out of respect, love, affection, humor.

I’ll be heading back to Guatemala in less than 3 weeks, and I always think of the importance of human touch while there.  The kids are so eager for a hug or merely to stand close.  It’s hard to do the task at hand for the children leaning on me, but the task will fade away while the touch comes with the power of the love of God, having significance I can’t fully grasp. 

Touch someone with affection before the day ends.

Sometimes I get sucker punched by God.  I have a job where I am in a position to help people on a daily basis.  I go into a client’s home, do my assessment, offer information, education, counseling and support, and then I leave to spend a ridiculous amount of time writing about it.  Today I went to see a new client, a relatively young man with severe limitations of speech and mobility.  I struggle to understand his words at times, and I’m sorry to make him repeat himself.  Despite that obstacle to communication, it is clear that there is nothing limited in his mind.

Part of my questioning is around a spiritual assessment; to explore what kind of faith background, spiritual support and belief systems are in place which may come into play when faced with a terminal illness.  We talked about his church family, a local protestant church, and he told me that he reads his Bible every morning.  He asked if I read the Bible.  I confirmed that I do read it every morning, too.  He told me that his favorite passage is Deuteronomy 8, and he asked me to look it up for him.  I found that scripture in his King James Bible, and read it to myself while he watched.  And I found myself unexpectedly blessed.  I was sitting with a bright and personable man, trapped by a deteriorating disease, and he is telling me that his favorite words of God describe how God keeps his promises, will lead his people to a good land, provides for the needs of his people, and keeps his covenant with his people.

I am humbled by the lessons I learn from my clients about living a life full of gracefulness and gratefulness.  I am thankful that God uses them to teach them and that my life runs into theirs for this part of the journey.

I hate yard sales.  I also don’t really care for flea markets and antique stores.  I like the notion of them; the ability to recycle goods that one person no longer wants into a potential treasure for the next person.  I think that I’m too impatient to sift through the tables and racks of mixed up items to search for an item that may or may not fit or be useful in my household.  But for as much as I don’t like to visit yard sales, I do enjoy working them.  Which is fortunate, since it’s our biggest fundraiser for our Guatemala mission trip.

Yesterday was our 3rd annual yard sale for such a trip, held at our church.  And people come in swarms in February, having been away from their beloved yard sales for the past few cold months.  So, we take up donations from people at the church and we set everything for display, knowing that people will want to buy the most bizarre and random things for $.25.

My thanks to Amanda especially for such hard work at the task of organizing such a massive event.  It’s when you work alongside someone that you build relationships and community, bonds that come out of shared labor and common purpose.  And my vow: no more yard sales for the next 12 months.

Today I woke to about 10 inches of snow on the ground.  I was determined to get to work, though, so I shoveled the entire driveway, from garage to the road.  Dad was to come down in the truck and beat down the snow on the road so I could get out to the highway and on to the office.  I made it to the end of the driveway and became immediately stuck in the too-deep snow on the road.  Thwarted.

I’m not used to being thwarted.  I can usually make a way, figure out a solution, or just push through obstacles with determination and an unwillingness to quit.  And then there’s an act of God like a foot of snow that cannot be conquered in my timeframe with my force of will.  There’s the subsequent struggle in my mind to adjust to the undesired change in plans.  To rest against my will.

So, I napped, emailed, did some planning via phone, cleaned part of the house, and eventually heard that blissful sound I’d been waiting for: a snow-blower outside my house.  Thanks to my mom for clearing large parts of the road and my driveway, and also for letting me practice with the fancy machine and in so doing, cover her with snow.

Here are the things that have gone into making my 36th birthday the best birthday ever:

1. Declare it my “birthday week” for at least 6 days leading up to the actual day.
2. Ride a roller coaster.
3. Go to a zoo.
4. Have someone dedicate “Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi in honor of the said birthday week at a piano bar. 
5. Watch fireworks.  Pretend they are in my honor.
6. Laugh really, really hard with friends.

I’m not sure next year will top this one, but I will do my best to try.