The mission team retreat was a resounding success. Training for the Appalachia Service Project involves attempting to gain some cultural sensitivity, so we reviewed actual applications from people hoping for home repairs. We had four applications, and had to select only ONE home to work on. It gave all of us a vision for how hard it is for the ASP staff to make selections, and how incredibly difficult it must be to give the bad news to the people who cannot be helped. Babygirl joined the retreat after Squeaker's first birthday party because she didn't want to stay alone in the house. And she had the opportunity to participate as if she were going to go along.
The mission team is not just from our church. We have people from all over the region, and we may have as many as 28 people going this year - four teams. But the retreat weekend isn't all about training and trip planning. It's about welcoming new people to an established group, and I think we excel at this. So when Babygirl arrived midstream, the other youth just slid her right into whatever they were doing. Meals. Training. Games. The Fear of Heights hike. Manhunt. And basketball.
Babygirl initially sat on the sidelines. When I happened by, I asked why she wasn't playing. "I don't have my kidney guard."
I looked the situation over: a mixed group ranging from 14 - 65 playing in a small gym, pace not too fast, game not too aggressive. I made a judgement call and told her she could play. She's had so little physical exercise since the headaches started I just wanted her to be able to move while she felt up to it.
The game was hysterical. Silliness was common, cheating was rampant and neither team cared. I wish I'd had a ref whistle just so I could make up annoying foul calls LOL. Despite the fact that not all of the players knew her history, or would have understood her need for low contact if they had, they built a bubble around her. She played hard, scored a few baskets, and ended up sweaty, sore, and satisfied. She then disappeared with the rest of the youth, popping in and out of the game room where some of the adults were playing with other of the youth.
She stayed up with everybody until 2 AM, and was up before breakfast at 7. I'm sure she'll pay for it with a headache today, but it will be totally worth it.
She'll never be able to go on a mission trip because of her weakened immune system. But she wants to be a part of the "home team" and come to ALL the retreats. My thanks to the youth of the team for giving her their loving support.
DeeDee
Showing posts with label Appalachia Service Project. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Appalachia Service Project. Show all posts
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Friday, November 9, 2012
I Fixed a Roof.....
Each year when we go on Appalachia Service Project mission trip, we plan some sort of song to introduce ourselves to the other groups. We've used tunes from pop, country, and once even the theme from Gilligan's Island. Other teams do the same, and it breaks the ice on the first night when three or four churches from different states are coming together to do home repairs for folks who can't afford to do it themselves.
Last week I got a song stuck in my head (thanks to Babygirl's Glee reruns). But it was a good, rhythmic song to walk to, and while I was walking I started a rewrite for our next mission trip. It's totally silly, and my apologies to Katy Perry.
I Fixed A Roof
This is not what I had planned
(I hate heights, I'm not good at ladders!).
What are these tools here in my hand?
I've never used a drill or a hammer!
It's not what I'm used to
Just had to climb right on
It's curious what I'll do
With the right intentions!
I fixed a roof and I liked it
to keep someone warmer, safer, dryer!
I fixed a roof just to try it
I hope ASP will like it!
It seemed so wrong, and felt so right
I think I'll sleep good tonight.
I fixed roof and I liked it - I liked it!
This mountain fell into their yard
now you give me a post hole digger!
I have never worked so hard
could railroad ties be bigger?
It's not what I'm used to
Just had to pile it on
It's curious what I'll do
With that big sledgehammer!
But I built a wall and I liked it
to keep someone warmer, safer, dryer!
I dug a ditch and I liked it
muddy, sweaty, hot and dehydrated.
It felt so wrong, but it seemed so right
I'm sure I'll sleep great tonight!
I built a wall and I liked it - I liked it!
Mission work is so magical
We help, they know God loves them so!
Hard to resist all those Devos...
I ran out of steam here. I'll post in on the mission team site and take my lumps about the horrible meter and bad rhyme. But it took me outside myself and made me remember our friends in West Virginia. With all the snow from Hurricane Sandy I'm guessing we'll have a lot of roofs to fix.
DeeDee
Last week I got a song stuck in my head (thanks to Babygirl's Glee reruns). But it was a good, rhythmic song to walk to, and while I was walking I started a rewrite for our next mission trip. It's totally silly, and my apologies to Katy Perry.
I Fixed A Roof
This is not what I had planned
(I hate heights, I'm not good at ladders!).
What are these tools here in my hand?
I've never used a drill or a hammer!
It's not what I'm used to
Just had to climb right on
It's curious what I'll do
With the right intentions!
I fixed a roof and I liked it
to keep someone warmer, safer, dryer!
I fixed a roof just to try it
I hope ASP will like it!
It seemed so wrong, and felt so right
I think I'll sleep good tonight.
I fixed roof and I liked it - I liked it!
This mountain fell into their yard
now you give me a post hole digger!
I have never worked so hard
could railroad ties be bigger?
It's not what I'm used to
Just had to pile it on
It's curious what I'll do
With that big sledgehammer!
But I built a wall and I liked it
to keep someone warmer, safer, dryer!
I dug a ditch and I liked it
muddy, sweaty, hot and dehydrated.
It felt so wrong, but it seemed so right
I'm sure I'll sleep great tonight!
I built a wall and I liked it - I liked it!
Mission work is so magical
We help, they know God loves them so!
Hard to resist all those Devos...
I ran out of steam here. I'll post in on the mission team site and take my lumps about the horrible meter and bad rhyme. But it took me outside myself and made me remember our friends in West Virginia. With all the snow from Hurricane Sandy I'm guessing we'll have a lot of roofs to fix.
DeeDee
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Eight......
Saturday, July 21st
The journey home. Thirteen hours on the road, straight to the church. Lots of talk about what we did, why we did it, and why we want to keep on doing it. Returning to real life seems a little scary, but doable.
My final journal entry:
"I'm tired of talking about it. God's in there somewhere, but I'm tired of figuring out where."
And you know what? It's enough.
DeeDee
The journey home. Thirteen hours on the road, straight to the church. Lots of talk about what we did, why we did it, and why we want to keep on doing it. Returning to real life seems a little scary, but doable.
My final journal entry:
"I'm tired of talking about it. God's in there somewhere, but I'm tired of figuring out where."
And you know what? It's enough.
DeeDee
Friday, July 27, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Seven.....
Friday, July 20th
Final day of work. I cannot now remember what triggered this journal entry:
"How can I trust You again when you let my baby get so sick?"
There is not now, nor will there ever be, enough of an explanation for me. In the deep bedrock of my soul I know that the answer simply does not matter. I also know that the answer may not actually exist, any more than there is a sensible answer to "Is red round, or square?" For the Great Eternal, who stands outside of time, the answer is irrelevant. Outside of time, she is not sick, and her sickness will represent the briefest imaginable portion of her eternal life. Outside of time, my memory of her suffering and losses will only stand in contrast to what she REALLY is, for "it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like Him."
It's NOT enough. But it will have to do. We have work to finish. I manage to cry in private this time.
Heading to the home that we now all view as "ours," we map out the day: Young people, dig the trench. We'll figure out where. Sabrina has a board to install. Somehow yesterday she lost track of her skill with the drill, but by the end of the day, she's gonna have it or die trying. Adults, finish the danged backer board and start the tile. There is no way this can all be accomplished today, but we'll do all we can.
I took the younger folk (minus Sabrina, who was busy with a drill LOL), and we scoped out the land. Where does the water come from? And where would a trench successfully drain from and to? While we are staking out a potential pathway, a neighbor comes and tells us that it is partly on his property. We mark what he says is the line, and shift the trench route a couple of feet. Our homeowner returns and disputes the line, but we convince him that it doesn't matter - the trench will do very well in it's new location. ASP staff arrive, and concur with the location of the trench and we give the go-ahead for the digging.
The floor drags on. The kids FINISH the trench. There are only THREE of them digging, and it is 18 inches deep, 18 inches wide, and about 20 yards long. Sabrina installs her board and moves on to framing a window, refusing to let anyone else in on the job. The rest go to clean the van and sort tools into their owners' toolboxes. They all finish, and by this time we have laid the first four rows of tile, starting with 4 in the middle and working out concentrically.
At this point the home owner's daughter joins us. She sits in the middle, handing out tiles, managing tools: "I need a knife!" "Got it!" "Pencil?" "Here you go!" We are all so sticky from tile glue that we don't need to actually pick anything up, just slap a hand on it and it comes right along! Taking off a pair of scissors requires manually pulling fingers back apart. There is much, much much laughter.
It's time to leave, but there are eight people in that small room absolutely determined to finish even if it means no dinner.
And by some miracle, we do. We did everything on the list except painting a room (it was too full of the things from the room we just finished!) AND dug the trench. We laugh. We hug. We get stuck together. We'd clap, but we can only do one each.
Then it's time to leave them, Moody and Molly and Linda. It's like leaving family behind. They thank us for what we've done. But more than that, we thank THEM for letting us do it. We all feel like we've gotten so much more than we gave.
Back at the center, we make it (barely) in time to eat - many teams, like ours, stayed to go the distance, so they delayed dinner.
After dinner is the final EG. The one where we all share our "God Moments," the one most special moment of the week. Eighty-two people listen to each other's stories. No one is bored. No one wants to leave. I say that my God Moment was watching Ryan become a leader. And it's true - the transformation from boy to man has been a gift to observe. And I can say it without crying.
But my personal God Moments were all in the tears. God reached out His hands to me each time a teammate held me through the struggle, each time a total stranger from a far-away church hugged me, each time a kind word landed in my Warm Fuzzy bag, and especially in the moment when I realized Babygirl's name was up on the prayer request board, and I didn't put it there.
It is true that God has no hand but our hands. I went to lend my hands to God for a week. And I honestly went to escape my life. But I received love and support and relief from God through the hands of others.
Nothing has changed. Not God, not Babygirl, not life. Usually we return from these trips exhausted. But I feel lighter, rested. Relieved. Thankful.
DeeDee
Final day of work. I cannot now remember what triggered this journal entry:
"How can I trust You again when you let my baby get so sick?"
There is not now, nor will there ever be, enough of an explanation for me. In the deep bedrock of my soul I know that the answer simply does not matter. I also know that the answer may not actually exist, any more than there is a sensible answer to "Is red round, or square?" For the Great Eternal, who stands outside of time, the answer is irrelevant. Outside of time, she is not sick, and her sickness will represent the briefest imaginable portion of her eternal life. Outside of time, my memory of her suffering and losses will only stand in contrast to what she REALLY is, for "it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like Him."
It's NOT enough. But it will have to do. We have work to finish. I manage to cry in private this time.
Heading to the home that we now all view as "ours," we map out the day: Young people, dig the trench. We'll figure out where. Sabrina has a board to install. Somehow yesterday she lost track of her skill with the drill, but by the end of the day, she's gonna have it or die trying. Adults, finish the danged backer board and start the tile. There is no way this can all be accomplished today, but we'll do all we can.
I took the younger folk (minus Sabrina, who was busy with a drill LOL), and we scoped out the land. Where does the water come from? And where would a trench successfully drain from and to? While we are staking out a potential pathway, a neighbor comes and tells us that it is partly on his property. We mark what he says is the line, and shift the trench route a couple of feet. Our homeowner returns and disputes the line, but we convince him that it doesn't matter - the trench will do very well in it's new location. ASP staff arrive, and concur with the location of the trench and we give the go-ahead for the digging.
The floor drags on. The kids FINISH the trench. There are only THREE of them digging, and it is 18 inches deep, 18 inches wide, and about 20 yards long. Sabrina installs her board and moves on to framing a window, refusing to let anyone else in on the job. The rest go to clean the van and sort tools into their owners' toolboxes. They all finish, and by this time we have laid the first four rows of tile, starting with 4 in the middle and working out concentrically.
At this point the home owner's daughter joins us. She sits in the middle, handing out tiles, managing tools: "I need a knife!" "Got it!" "Pencil?" "Here you go!" We are all so sticky from tile glue that we don't need to actually pick anything up, just slap a hand on it and it comes right along! Taking off a pair of scissors requires manually pulling fingers back apart. There is much, much much laughter.
It's time to leave, but there are eight people in that small room absolutely determined to finish even if it means no dinner.
And by some miracle, we do. We did everything on the list except painting a room (it was too full of the things from the room we just finished!) AND dug the trench. We laugh. We hug. We get stuck together. We'd clap, but we can only do one each.
Then it's time to leave them, Moody and Molly and Linda. It's like leaving family behind. They thank us for what we've done. But more than that, we thank THEM for letting us do it. We all feel like we've gotten so much more than we gave.
Back at the center, we make it (barely) in time to eat - many teams, like ours, stayed to go the distance, so they delayed dinner.
After dinner is the final EG. The one where we all share our "God Moments," the one most special moment of the week. Eighty-two people listen to each other's stories. No one is bored. No one wants to leave. I say that my God Moment was watching Ryan become a leader. And it's true - the transformation from boy to man has been a gift to observe. And I can say it without crying.
But my personal God Moments were all in the tears. God reached out His hands to me each time a teammate held me through the struggle, each time a total stranger from a far-away church hugged me, each time a kind word landed in my Warm Fuzzy bag, and especially in the moment when I realized Babygirl's name was up on the prayer request board, and I didn't put it there.
It is true that God has no hand but our hands. I went to lend my hands to God for a week. And I honestly went to escape my life. But I received love and support and relief from God through the hands of others.
Nothing has changed. Not God, not Babygirl, not life. Usually we return from these trips exhausted. But I feel lighter, rested. Relieved. Thankful.
DeeDee
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Six.....
Thursday, July 19th
Thursday is the day of the mission trip when you realize FOR SURE that you are not going to be able to finish everything you wanted to. It's sometimes a depressing day. We started the day with a big hole in the floor that needed to be filled with 3 layers of material cut in 3 different sizes, with no true right angles. This sort of thing takes patience. Once the hole was covered, the entire floor needed to be covered in backer board (a thin layer of concrete-like flooring). Before that could be done, areas of the floor with large gaps or uneven spots needed to be treated with self-leveling compound. At one point I suggested that a 50-gallon drum of the stuff would be helpful. Lynn suggested that it might not be enough.
While Ryan and Lynn fussed with floorboards and Morgan, Sabrina and Ezra fitted trim, Jackson and I went outside to organize tools, and to sort through the bin that each team gets as part of our standard equipment. It holds a couple of extra hammers and screwdrivers, nail aprons, gloves, a spare reusable water bottle or two, wasp spray, Clorox wipes, zipper bags and other miscellaneous useful stuff. Our goal was to inventory, make a replacement list and list things that we had wished we had that might be useful for next year. We were sitting under our group's pop-up shelter to do this.
We were pretty focused on the task at hand, when suddenly we heard our homeowner shouting at us. Turning, we saw him running toward the house hollering something about a tornado. At this same instant, the sky turned black and we got hit HARD by a sudden wind. "We have to get the shelter down!" I yelled a Jackson. We both grabbed the sides of the shelter to collapse it just as the wind gusted underneath it. There was a moment when we could easily have become airborne and joined the Flying Monkeys that I'm SURE had to have been around somewhere. A strut snapped, the structure more or less collapsed, and we ran for it.
Now, remember - this house has NO foundation. It's merely sitting on the side of a rather steep hill, and we have the inside scoop on just how unstable it might be. There is absolutely nowhere in this building that might offer adequate shelter in a severe storm, not even the bathtub. Trust me. The kids are coming out of the house to try and collect stuff from the backyard. I herd them back in and order them to stay inside just as the heavens open and drop all the water the entire Midwest has been praying for directly on the house. I go to the front of the house and our homeowner is calmly sitting on the front porch.
"Moody, don't you think you 'd be safer inside?" He told me of the one time there had been a tornado in the 'holler' below us. He and his wife had sat on that same porch and watched as it traveled down the valley. He said that that was the only other storm he'd ever seen that started at the speed and force this one did. I decided to go back inside, and had a Dorothy Moment when I was almost unable to open the front door against the wind.
We decide to keep working inside, and actually end up staying an extra hour until the rain ends. The backer board is almost all down, but there's still some to fit in the odd spots, and then we still have to tile. We are out of smaller jobs for the younger hands, so we'll be asking tonight if we can start some of next weeks' work.
Back at the center it was Culture Night, and we heard an excellent singer and teller of folk stories. Our church went to Dairy Queen (twenty twisty miles away), and our team came back to do our chore of the day - sweeping and mopping the main hallway, and grounds pick up. (All the teams do chores, every day - dishes, bathroom or shower cleanup, etc. It allows the center to operate more cheaply so more money goes to home repair.)
My journal for the day lists only a bunch of two-word phrases - just enough to jog my memory for this post. The only phrase I had trouble working in was "mouse poop."
DeeDee
Thursday is the day of the mission trip when you realize FOR SURE that you are not going to be able to finish everything you wanted to. It's sometimes a depressing day. We started the day with a big hole in the floor that needed to be filled with 3 layers of material cut in 3 different sizes, with no true right angles. This sort of thing takes patience. Once the hole was covered, the entire floor needed to be covered in backer board (a thin layer of concrete-like flooring). Before that could be done, areas of the floor with large gaps or uneven spots needed to be treated with self-leveling compound. At one point I suggested that a 50-gallon drum of the stuff would be helpful. Lynn suggested that it might not be enough.
While Ryan and Lynn fussed with floorboards and Morgan, Sabrina and Ezra fitted trim, Jackson and I went outside to organize tools, and to sort through the bin that each team gets as part of our standard equipment. It holds a couple of extra hammers and screwdrivers, nail aprons, gloves, a spare reusable water bottle or two, wasp spray, Clorox wipes, zipper bags and other miscellaneous useful stuff. Our goal was to inventory, make a replacement list and list things that we had wished we had that might be useful for next year. We were sitting under our group's pop-up shelter to do this.
We were pretty focused on the task at hand, when suddenly we heard our homeowner shouting at us. Turning, we saw him running toward the house hollering something about a tornado. At this same instant, the sky turned black and we got hit HARD by a sudden wind. "We have to get the shelter down!" I yelled a Jackson. We both grabbed the sides of the shelter to collapse it just as the wind gusted underneath it. There was a moment when we could easily have become airborne and joined the Flying Monkeys that I'm SURE had to have been around somewhere. A strut snapped, the structure more or less collapsed, and we ran for it.
Now, remember - this house has NO foundation. It's merely sitting on the side of a rather steep hill, and we have the inside scoop on just how unstable it might be. There is absolutely nowhere in this building that might offer adequate shelter in a severe storm, not even the bathtub. Trust me. The kids are coming out of the house to try and collect stuff from the backyard. I herd them back in and order them to stay inside just as the heavens open and drop all the water the entire Midwest has been praying for directly on the house. I go to the front of the house and our homeowner is calmly sitting on the front porch.
"Moody, don't you think you 'd be safer inside?" He told me of the one time there had been a tornado in the 'holler' below us. He and his wife had sat on that same porch and watched as it traveled down the valley. He said that that was the only other storm he'd ever seen that started at the speed and force this one did. I decided to go back inside, and had a Dorothy Moment when I was almost unable to open the front door against the wind.
We decide to keep working inside, and actually end up staying an extra hour until the rain ends. The backer board is almost all down, but there's still some to fit in the odd spots, and then we still have to tile. We are out of smaller jobs for the younger hands, so we'll be asking tonight if we can start some of next weeks' work.
Back at the center it was Culture Night, and we heard an excellent singer and teller of folk stories. Our church went to Dairy Queen (twenty twisty miles away), and our team came back to do our chore of the day - sweeping and mopping the main hallway, and grounds pick up. (All the teams do chores, every day - dishes, bathroom or shower cleanup, etc. It allows the center to operate more cheaply so more money goes to home repair.)
My journal for the day lists only a bunch of two-word phrases - just enough to jog my memory for this post. The only phrase I had trouble working in was "mouse poop."
DeeDee
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Five....
Wednesday, July 18th
One of the challenges of leading (okay, but I'm not the leader!) a team that is supposed to be at least half youth ages 14 - 18 is finding ways to keep the entire team productive. Sometimes it takes two or three experienced heads to puzzle out how to solve some tricky bit of construction, like "Can we support the entire house on this six foot long foundation?" While that puzzling is occurring, there are four (usually) inexperienced people trying to figure out what they are supposed to be doing with their time.
One of the hallmarks of good leaders in such a situation is that they figure out ahead of time what can be done by those inexperienced hands. One must also make sure that those inexperienced hands have and know how to use the tools they need for the job. It's almost guaranteed that it will take them twice as long to do something as it would us, but like those horrible word problems ("If one man can paint a room in 7 hours and another can paint it in 4, how long will it take if they work together?"), the answer always is, "Faster than either could do it alone." It's great to finish the puzzling and find that something else has already been finished as well.
One of the things I saw as my 'job' on this trip was to mentor Ryan in his first year as leader. Every now and then I'd ask, "What's that noise?" He'd answer, "I don't hear anything." "Me either. Go find out why your team isn't working!"
He gave me a note in my Warm Fuzzy bag that said, "Thanks for helping me be a fearless leader." I got all warm and fuzzy. That, in case you were wondering, is the purpose of the Warm Fuzzy bags. No Cold Pricklies, and NO Hot Spicies.
We had our picnic a day early this year. Our homeowners came, and our whole team had dinner with them. I'm proud to say that the whole team stayed with them for over two hours, listening to them tell stories and make jokes. My journal entry for that evening:
"She is 62. Oxygen, wrinkles, and comfortable in her skin. He's 68, up at 3 AM to deliver papers to earn $50/week. Together they raised six kids, have six grandkids, and six great-grandkids. They tell stories of their life together; good, bad, joys and sorrows. And they still look at each other with love and laughter in their eyes. He can still make her dance."
And Babygirl's numbers are better. No admission this week. It's a good day.
DeeDee
One of the challenges of leading (okay, but I'm not the leader!) a team that is supposed to be at least half youth ages 14 - 18 is finding ways to keep the entire team productive. Sometimes it takes two or three experienced heads to puzzle out how to solve some tricky bit of construction, like "Can we support the entire house on this six foot long foundation?" While that puzzling is occurring, there are four (usually) inexperienced people trying to figure out what they are supposed to be doing with their time.
One of the hallmarks of good leaders in such a situation is that they figure out ahead of time what can be done by those inexperienced hands. One must also make sure that those inexperienced hands have and know how to use the tools they need for the job. It's almost guaranteed that it will take them twice as long to do something as it would us, but like those horrible word problems ("If one man can paint a room in 7 hours and another can paint it in 4, how long will it take if they work together?"), the answer always is, "Faster than either could do it alone." It's great to finish the puzzling and find that something else has already been finished as well.
One of the things I saw as my 'job' on this trip was to mentor Ryan in his first year as leader. Every now and then I'd ask, "What's that noise?" He'd answer, "I don't hear anything." "Me either. Go find out why your team isn't working!"
He gave me a note in my Warm Fuzzy bag that said, "Thanks for helping me be a fearless leader." I got all warm and fuzzy. That, in case you were wondering, is the purpose of the Warm Fuzzy bags. No Cold Pricklies, and NO Hot Spicies.
We had our picnic a day early this year. Our homeowners came, and our whole team had dinner with them. I'm proud to say that the whole team stayed with them for over two hours, listening to them tell stories and make jokes. My journal entry for that evening:
"She is 62. Oxygen, wrinkles, and comfortable in her skin. He's 68, up at 3 AM to deliver papers to earn $50/week. Together they raised six kids, have six grandkids, and six great-grandkids. They tell stories of their life together; good, bad, joys and sorrows. And they still look at each other with love and laughter in their eyes. He can still make her dance."
And Babygirl's numbers are better. No admission this week. It's a good day.
DeeDee
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Four....
Tuesday, July 17th
Up at 7 for devotions at 7:15. Each group takes turns. Today's group uses "Call Me Maybe" to emphasize how Jesus' followers left immediately when called to follow him.
Today we are finished making forms for a partial foundation under 'our' room. We had brought nine 80 pound bags of concrete with us in the van (oh Lord please bless the Goose - her springs are FLAT), along with some OSB (3/4 inch thick rough plywood flooring material). We had to fit kids in over and under everything.
Our site has a cement mixer - very unusual. Usually when we do concrete we mix it bag by bag in a wheelbarrow, stirring with a rake or hoe. Since the only flat place to set this up is considerably downhill from the entrance to the house, we work as a bucket brigade. Ryan and I mix concrete and dump it into 5 gallon buckets (about 1/3 full is what everybody can carry). Lynn waits upstairs to make the concrete fit the mold. Everybody else has a bucket and just keeps running in circles. It takes us just over one hour to pour over 800 pounds of concrete.
I was, as always, wearing Mason's bracelet, in honor of baby Mason, who died of SIDS this past January. His picture pin was also with us in the van. Here's my journal entry for that day:
"Mason was with us today. He's young for a mission trip, but he's always here with me. His baby blue bracelet, along with Babygirl's Make-A-Wish band, got completely covered in concrete today as we worked to shore up a sinking room."
I also made note of my "clown fall." At 54, I assumed I was too old to do a backward 360 roll down a steep hill. I was mistaken. I can do it.
My only other note says, "Peace." My heart was truly peaceful all day.
DeeDee
Up at 7 for devotions at 7:15. Each group takes turns. Today's group uses "Call Me Maybe" to emphasize how Jesus' followers left immediately when called to follow him.
Today we are finished making forms for a partial foundation under 'our' room. We had brought nine 80 pound bags of concrete with us in the van (oh Lord please bless the Goose - her springs are FLAT), along with some OSB (3/4 inch thick rough plywood flooring material). We had to fit kids in over and under everything.
Our site has a cement mixer - very unusual. Usually when we do concrete we mix it bag by bag in a wheelbarrow, stirring with a rake or hoe. Since the only flat place to set this up is considerably downhill from the entrance to the house, we work as a bucket brigade. Ryan and I mix concrete and dump it into 5 gallon buckets (about 1/3 full is what everybody can carry). Lynn waits upstairs to make the concrete fit the mold. Everybody else has a bucket and just keeps running in circles. It takes us just over one hour to pour over 800 pounds of concrete.
I was, as always, wearing Mason's bracelet, in honor of baby Mason, who died of SIDS this past January. His picture pin was also with us in the van. Here's my journal entry for that day:
"Mason was with us today. He's young for a mission trip, but he's always here with me. His baby blue bracelet, along with Babygirl's Make-A-Wish band, got completely covered in concrete today as we worked to shore up a sinking room."
I also made note of my "clown fall." At 54, I assumed I was too old to do a backward 360 roll down a steep hill. I was mistaken. I can do it.
My only other note says, "Peace." My heart was truly peaceful all day.
DeeDee
Monday, July 23, 2012
Mission Trip, Day Three....
Monday, July 16th
This is the first trip I've taken where I did not go out to meet our family on Sunday evening. Two team members go out, assess the site, and try and guess what it might be possible to accomplish the first day on the job. ASP teams before us had already stripped a small bedroom to the studs, removed the floor, created a support system for the floor and then tiled it. They also rebuilt/added onto the back porch. The room was damaged because of runoff from the mountain behind the house. For us, ASP had a list of things to do:
Start to pull up the floor in the next bedroom and assess stability of the joists. Remove entire floor if necessary. Pour concrete footers as needed to support floor. Re-install floor, add backer board and tile. Paint the room the other team worked on last week and install wood trim at top of walls and around window. Dig a trench for a French drain to redirect water so there would be no new damage. Put up handrails on the porch steps (a full flight!).
Whew. There are only seven of us. Whenever we see one of these wish lists, we cringe. With a list this long we can safely imagine that we won't finish it all, which is always a discouraging thought. But hey, we're here to do what we can do, so we'll give it our best shot.
Every year everyone is mixed into groups that are likely to be substantially different than any group you've been in before. Our group this year was Lynn (adult), Ryan and Jackson (young adults), Morgan, Sabrina and Ezra (technically youth but all graduated high school this year) and me. I've worked with Ryan before as his team leader on other projects. I've never worked with the others, although I know all of them except Ezra. Ryan is now MY team leader, along with Lynn.
Sometimes it takes a couple of days to figure out how the group is going to function together, but it was clear from the start that this was an excellent group. Not once did anyone flinch from any task, beyond the occasional, "I will if you show me how first!" By the end of the day, the rails were up. The floor had been lifted in one corner and digging begun on a new partial foundation. Jackson, Sabrina, Morgan and Ezra had had lessons in the correct use of circular saws for both straight and angled cuts, power drills (for both placing screws and drilling holes), and a basic group of hand tools. Plans for the next days' work were in progress.
Back at the center we had showers (hot, thank God) and dinner, followed by EG.
But before I could do that, I needed to know: How were Babygirl's labs from the morning? We had no cell phone service at all, but there was a land line with a pile of calling cards next to it. I'd managed to lose myself in the work of the day, but not knowing what was going on was making me near to hysteria. So I called.
"Her creatinine is 1.3. They wanted me to bring her back tomorrow, but we're doing blood work here on Wednesday instead. There was something about her tac level but I didn't understand that part. They gave us new meds and I put them in the sorter."
1.3. That represents more than a 50% loss of function compared to when she got the transplant in February. I went back to my room - shared with seven other people. My teammates, my good great friends saw immediately that I was not okay.
At least this time I only cried in front of three people.
And then I felt better. The news was terrible, but at least I KNEW. And they weren't admitting her, mostly because Hubby stood firm and insisted on a repeat test. So now, I don't have to think about it again until Wednesday.
Let's see how that works.
DeeDee
This is the first trip I've taken where I did not go out to meet our family on Sunday evening. Two team members go out, assess the site, and try and guess what it might be possible to accomplish the first day on the job. ASP teams before us had already stripped a small bedroom to the studs, removed the floor, created a support system for the floor and then tiled it. They also rebuilt/added onto the back porch. The room was damaged because of runoff from the mountain behind the house. For us, ASP had a list of things to do:
Start to pull up the floor in the next bedroom and assess stability of the joists. Remove entire floor if necessary. Pour concrete footers as needed to support floor. Re-install floor, add backer board and tile. Paint the room the other team worked on last week and install wood trim at top of walls and around window. Dig a trench for a French drain to redirect water so there would be no new damage. Put up handrails on the porch steps (a full flight!).
Whew. There are only seven of us. Whenever we see one of these wish lists, we cringe. With a list this long we can safely imagine that we won't finish it all, which is always a discouraging thought. But hey, we're here to do what we can do, so we'll give it our best shot.
Every year everyone is mixed into groups that are likely to be substantially different than any group you've been in before. Our group this year was Lynn (adult), Ryan and Jackson (young adults), Morgan, Sabrina and Ezra (technically youth but all graduated high school this year) and me. I've worked with Ryan before as his team leader on other projects. I've never worked with the others, although I know all of them except Ezra. Ryan is now MY team leader, along with Lynn.
Sometimes it takes a couple of days to figure out how the group is going to function together, but it was clear from the start that this was an excellent group. Not once did anyone flinch from any task, beyond the occasional, "I will if you show me how first!" By the end of the day, the rails were up. The floor had been lifted in one corner and digging begun on a new partial foundation. Jackson, Sabrina, Morgan and Ezra had had lessons in the correct use of circular saws for both straight and angled cuts, power drills (for both placing screws and drilling holes), and a basic group of hand tools. Plans for the next days' work were in progress.
Back at the center we had showers (hot, thank God) and dinner, followed by EG.
But before I could do that, I needed to know: How were Babygirl's labs from the morning? We had no cell phone service at all, but there was a land line with a pile of calling cards next to it. I'd managed to lose myself in the work of the day, but not knowing what was going on was making me near to hysteria. So I called.
"Her creatinine is 1.3. They wanted me to bring her back tomorrow, but we're doing blood work here on Wednesday instead. There was something about her tac level but I didn't understand that part. They gave us new meds and I put them in the sorter."
1.3. That represents more than a 50% loss of function compared to when she got the transplant in February. I went back to my room - shared with seven other people. My teammates, my good great friends saw immediately that I was not okay.
At least this time I only cried in front of three people.
And then I felt better. The news was terrible, but at least I KNEW. And they weren't admitting her, mostly because Hubby stood firm and insisted on a repeat test. So now, I don't have to think about it again until Wednesday.
Let's see how that works.
DeeDee
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Mission Trip, Day One and Two.....
Our Mission Team arrived safe at home last evening, exhausted but content with the work accomplished. My plan is to try to write one post for each day of the trip, so although they will actually be a week out of sync, you might get a better feel for what the journey is like.
Day One (Saturday, July 14):
Despite last night's work on the vans, there is always a TON of stuff to load up in the morning. The goal is to be on the road by 8:30 AM. A few members of the congregation and our new pastor come to watch the three-ring circus that is our last minute preparation. We get a group photo, and then finish the "Three P's": Pack, Pee, and Pray. I give Babygirl and Hubby final hugs, and climb into the Green Goose.
I'm having a very hard time describing the ride from my perspective. This is the first time in all my mission trips (this is my seventh) that I have not been a team leader. I fully intend to take my non-leadership seriously. Every time someone has asked me a question requiring knowledge of our plans, anticipated work, or guidance, I have referred them to the "real" leaders. Now, in the van, I hog a whole seat, grab a pillow, and go to sleep. I'm not even driving.
Being without responsibility for the first time in over a year is overwhelming. Wave after wave of utter exhaustion sweep over me. I had no idea, truly NO idea, that I was this run down. I wake up weeping, more than once, with no specific cause.
Lunch is at Subway. Yum!
We drive through a spectacular rainstorm, seeing shelf clouds, massive cumulus clouds, clouds shaped like dolphins and bunnies and, umm, well, er.... one large vertical cloud formation that cannot be mistaken for ANYTHING but a penis. No one but me in my van sees this, but nearly every other adult in the other vans is still laughing about it when the trip is over. The youth sleep though it LOL.
We arrive in Greenville, VA, at 5:30, a bit earlier than anticipated, and enjoy their extravagant generosity: fried chicken, southern-style mac and cheese, dozens of types of salads, baked beans, and corn pudding. And we listen to the stories told by their just-returning mission team, and share ours a bit as well.
After dinner, some of us head to Walmart to pick up a few things forgotten: duct tape, wasp spray, and for me, a camera. I sit in the back of the van, and cry more. I can't say what I'm crying about - I feel a bit like a toddler who needs a nap - too exhausted to do anything BUT cry. Oddly, (and thank God) no one notices.
From there we go to the Dollar General and pick out silly things to put in the Warm Fuzzy bags. We return to the church, set up our cots and air mattresses and go to sleep.
Day Two (Sunday, July 15)
Up early (don't ask ME what time - I'm not a leader!). Breakfast on Little Debbie honey buns and donuts donated by our host church, pack up and hit the road. I share my bench in the van this time, but still spend a great deal of time sleeping. The crying, for the time being, seems to have stopped.
Lunch is at a truck stop with a wide variety of choices. I have a Whopper Junior. And a Cinnabon. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
After lunch, I take over driving the Goose. For the next hour we are on REAL West Virginia roads. The GPS makes it look like a long snake. On the ground it feels like a roller coaster with several 360 degree loops. We stop for ice cream. I decline. I'm barely hanging on to that Cinnabon.
We arrive at our center, unpack, make beds, set up our Warm Fuzzy bags, have dinner and attend Evening Gathering (EG). All of the EG's this week will follow the same format: read a passage of scripture, and discuss it. Among the scripted questions that guide the discussion is this one: "What do you not understand?" I burst into tears and bury my face in the T-shirt of the nearest teenager, who, bless him, simply holds onto me until the storm passes. So now, all 78 of the center's volunteers know that they have a grenade with the pin pulled among them. It's going to be a LOOONNNGGG week. My journal entry before bed that night reads:
"Lord, clear my mind. I'm angry - really angry. Angry."
DeeDee
Day One (Saturday, July 14):
Despite last night's work on the vans, there is always a TON of stuff to load up in the morning. The goal is to be on the road by 8:30 AM. A few members of the congregation and our new pastor come to watch the three-ring circus that is our last minute preparation. We get a group photo, and then finish the "Three P's": Pack, Pee, and Pray. I give Babygirl and Hubby final hugs, and climb into the Green Goose.
I'm having a very hard time describing the ride from my perspective. This is the first time in all my mission trips (this is my seventh) that I have not been a team leader. I fully intend to take my non-leadership seriously. Every time someone has asked me a question requiring knowledge of our plans, anticipated work, or guidance, I have referred them to the "real" leaders. Now, in the van, I hog a whole seat, grab a pillow, and go to sleep. I'm not even driving.
Being without responsibility for the first time in over a year is overwhelming. Wave after wave of utter exhaustion sweep over me. I had no idea, truly NO idea, that I was this run down. I wake up weeping, more than once, with no specific cause.
Lunch is at Subway. Yum!
We drive through a spectacular rainstorm, seeing shelf clouds, massive cumulus clouds, clouds shaped like dolphins and bunnies and, umm, well, er.... one large vertical cloud formation that cannot be mistaken for ANYTHING but a penis. No one but me in my van sees this, but nearly every other adult in the other vans is still laughing about it when the trip is over. The youth sleep though it LOL.
We arrive in Greenville, VA, at 5:30, a bit earlier than anticipated, and enjoy their extravagant generosity: fried chicken, southern-style mac and cheese, dozens of types of salads, baked beans, and corn pudding. And we listen to the stories told by their just-returning mission team, and share ours a bit as well.
After dinner, some of us head to Walmart to pick up a few things forgotten: duct tape, wasp spray, and for me, a camera. I sit in the back of the van, and cry more. I can't say what I'm crying about - I feel a bit like a toddler who needs a nap - too exhausted to do anything BUT cry. Oddly, (and thank God) no one notices.
From there we go to the Dollar General and pick out silly things to put in the Warm Fuzzy bags. We return to the church, set up our cots and air mattresses and go to sleep.
Day Two (Sunday, July 15)
Up early (don't ask ME what time - I'm not a leader!). Breakfast on Little Debbie honey buns and donuts donated by our host church, pack up and hit the road. I share my bench in the van this time, but still spend a great deal of time sleeping. The crying, for the time being, seems to have stopped.
Lunch is at a truck stop with a wide variety of choices. I have a Whopper Junior. And a Cinnabon. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
After lunch, I take over driving the Goose. For the next hour we are on REAL West Virginia roads. The GPS makes it look like a long snake. On the ground it feels like a roller coaster with several 360 degree loops. We stop for ice cream. I decline. I'm barely hanging on to that Cinnabon.
We arrive at our center, unpack, make beds, set up our Warm Fuzzy bags, have dinner and attend Evening Gathering (EG). All of the EG's this week will follow the same format: read a passage of scripture, and discuss it. Among the scripted questions that guide the discussion is this one: "What do you not understand?" I burst into tears and bury my face in the T-shirt of the nearest teenager, who, bless him, simply holds onto me until the storm passes. So now, all 78 of the center's volunteers know that they have a grenade with the pin pulled among them. It's going to be a LOOONNNGGG week. My journal entry before bed that night reads:
"Lord, clear my mind. I'm angry - really angry. Angry."
DeeDee
Thursday, July 12, 2012
I Expected Panic....
I've sorted my tools, making sure each has my color-coded tape mark so I can find them in the heap that develops as the mission projects get underway. I've done enough laundry that I'll be able to pack my suitcase tomorrow morning. I've spent extra time at the office, trying as best I can to get ahead and not leave anything loose ends for anyone else next week.
I'm thinking about themes for devotions, since we will have to be the leaders of at least one morning "devo" next week. I've given thought to which ladders should go, and which should stay. I've charged all the batteries on my new drill set, and checked to make sure I bought the right blades for my little power saw. I changed the razors in my knives. And to guarantee that I won't have to paint, I included two brand-new paintbrushes. (It's like how having an umbrella seems to prevent rain.)
I had the oil changed. Had the tires checked. Then we discovered that the AC on the big green van (fondly known as "The Green Goose" for heaven alone only knows what reason) is not working. It didn't respond to simple fluid resuscitation, so instead of putting Rhonda the Honda in at the AC place, the Goose went in instead.
The mechanic started the Goose with some difficulty. He pulled it into the garage, looked the AC over, decided what parts he needed to order, and then was unable to restart it to get it back OUT of his garage. Seems that the starter is no good, so he's getting a new one and installing it with the AC parts in the morning.
We know that God loves us. But there are times when it is easier to be sure than others. I was about to hop in that van with a load of teenagers and drive a thousand miles onto one lane country roads. If there was going to be a problem, it's nothing short of a miracle that it happened HERE. I mean, seriously, how often does your car break down WHILE IT'S IN the garage??
When I made the choice to (re)join the mission team, I figured that at some point I'd hit some sort of panicky wall. After all, things have not exactly been going smoothly.
But I'll take this as a sign: God is in control of the details, even when we aren't aware of it - even when we don't want to let go of our illusion of control over those details.
DeeDee
I'm thinking about themes for devotions, since we will have to be the leaders of at least one morning "devo" next week. I've given thought to which ladders should go, and which should stay. I've charged all the batteries on my new drill set, and checked to make sure I bought the right blades for my little power saw. I changed the razors in my knives. And to guarantee that I won't have to paint, I included two brand-new paintbrushes. (It's like how having an umbrella seems to prevent rain.)
I had the oil changed. Had the tires checked. Then we discovered that the AC on the big green van (fondly known as "The Green Goose" for heaven alone only knows what reason) is not working. It didn't respond to simple fluid resuscitation, so instead of putting Rhonda the Honda in at the AC place, the Goose went in instead.
The mechanic started the Goose with some difficulty. He pulled it into the garage, looked the AC over, decided what parts he needed to order, and then was unable to restart it to get it back OUT of his garage. Seems that the starter is no good, so he's getting a new one and installing it with the AC parts in the morning.
We know that God loves us. But there are times when it is easier to be sure than others. I was about to hop in that van with a load of teenagers and drive a thousand miles onto one lane country roads. If there was going to be a problem, it's nothing short of a miracle that it happened HERE. I mean, seriously, how often does your car break down WHILE IT'S IN the garage??
When I made the choice to (re)join the mission team, I figured that at some point I'd hit some sort of panicky wall. After all, things have not exactly been going smoothly.
But I'll take this as a sign: God is in control of the details, even when we aren't aware of it - even when we don't want to let go of our illusion of control over those details.
DeeDee
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Week Sixty-four - Taking A Break......
Since Babygirl's diagnosis of kidney failure in April of 2011, I have really not taken a break from the situation. When I was supposed to be on a mission trip last July, I stayed home to wait for Boo to arrive, painted Babygirl's bedroom and worried about the heat at her camp (http://kidneedsakidney.blogspot.com/2011/07/week-thirteen-surviving-summer.html). When I was supposed to be enjoying our beach vacation, I had daily, fraught reminders of just how NOT normal life had become (http://kidneedsakidney.blogspot.com/2011/08/week-sixteen-beach.html).
We've had three hospitalizations spread out over four months. Since Beach Week I doubt I've worked more than two full weeks, but none of the days I took off (save Memorial Day and Indepence Day) were vacation days, and on each of THOSE days I was on the road to or from Philadelphia. We've put over 10,000 miles of medical travel since January. I'm tired - mentally, emotionally and spiritually empty.
Babygirl's labs this week are better. Not great, but better - so we aren't being readmitted this week for another biopsy. She has an appointment on Monday, and Hubby is going to take her. Me? I'm leaving town.
This Saturday at 8 AM our mission team leaves for Appalachia. I have no idea where we are going, what we are doing, or even who is on the team this year. I am GOING. Worst case? Babygirl's numbers tank and she's readmitted for another biopsy. It's Hubby's turn LOL. Best case? They go and come home with an appointment in two weeks. Either way, I'm shutting my brain off and going to the land of NoCellPhoneService. I went shopping last night and bought a drill, granny panties comfy Walmart jeans. I'm swinging hammers, tightening loose screws and installing insulation, or maybe digging a ditch. I don't care. I'm GOING.
I'm the only person I know whose life is so pathetic that I plan on resting my heart and mind while working myself into dehydration and muscle cramps.
This is AWESOME.
DeeDee
We've had three hospitalizations spread out over four months. Since Beach Week I doubt I've worked more than two full weeks, but none of the days I took off (save Memorial Day and Indepence Day) were vacation days, and on each of THOSE days I was on the road to or from Philadelphia. We've put over 10,000 miles of medical travel since January. I'm tired - mentally, emotionally and spiritually empty.
Babygirl's labs this week are better. Not great, but better - so we aren't being readmitted this week for another biopsy. She has an appointment on Monday, and Hubby is going to take her. Me? I'm leaving town.
This Saturday at 8 AM our mission team leaves for Appalachia. I have no idea where we are going, what we are doing, or even who is on the team this year. I am GOING. Worst case? Babygirl's numbers tank and she's readmitted for another biopsy. It's Hubby's turn LOL. Best case? They go and come home with an appointment in two weeks. Either way, I'm shutting my brain off and going to the land of NoCellPhoneService. I went shopping last night and bought a drill, granny panties comfy Walmart jeans. I'm swinging hammers, tightening loose screws and installing insulation, or maybe digging a ditch. I don't care. I'm GOING.
I'm the only person I know whose life is so pathetic that I plan on resting my heart and mind while working myself into dehydration and muscle cramps.
This is AWESOME.
DeeDee
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Week Fifty-four - Extravagant Generosity......
Our church is reading a devotional guide called Practicing Extravagant Generosity by Robert Schnase. I'm supposed to be doing one reading a day, but I took it with me to Philly and had time to read the entire thing. In a reading called "First Things First" the author discusses how everyone seems to think that if they just had 20% more income, they'd be happy. Nearly everybody, rich and poor alike, seem to be reaching for "just a little" more. Mr. Schnase declares, "This is a prescription for never-ending unhappiness."
I became ill at the end of 2010. Prior to that I had a salaried position with productivity bonuses, and I worked at least one extra day in a non-contract (ie overtime) position in each pay period. In 2011, I was paid for 80 hours per pay period, my base salary, representing an overall loss of about 10% of my income. Near the end of 2011 I re-negotiated my contract to reflect my ongoing level of disability, and now I receive 80% of my base pay, nearly 30% less than my 2010 income.
My hubby and I have always been givers. We have a monthly pledge to our church, we serve spend a week each year working with the Appalachia Service Project (http://asphome.org/), we sponsor a child through Compassion International (http://www.compassion.net/), we help serve food to the needy, and we toss a few bucks in special collections when asked. Despite our declining income, we have not decreased our giving substantially (except perhaps that we have less in our pockets at any given moment that we used to LOL). I could be proud of this, except....
We could have done better. We could have given more. We were both raised in households that were lower middle class, and our parents made commitments to give 10%. Somehow, 10% of a bigger income seemed like a LOT of money, or maybe it was the "it's mine so why should I share it" mentality that creeps into our American culture - the underlying discontent that makes us compare ourselves to "The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" and feel that we come up lacking somehow.
But Schnase suggests that "(b)y provoking us to give, God is not trying to take something away from us; God is seeking to give something to us." Redefining our priorities allows us to become free of material concerns.
We've seen this, this year. We've had to redefine for ourselves what matters. Nothing that we've had to give up in the budget matters. Nothing. And we've been the recipients of so many heart-felt gifts from others (not the least of which was Babygirl's new kidney!) that I could truly cry for joy for it all.
And the most interesting thing about this, to me, is that because of the drop in income, we are now approaching giving 10% of our take-home pay. And we are making a commitment to increase to that point, with an aim, over the next few years, to hit 10% of the total.
Over lunch today, Hubby suddenly asked me, "What would have happened to Babygirl if she weren't with us?" The answer is simple: "She'd be dead." The same is likely true for Curlygirl. It's the truth for hundreds of thousands and more kids all over the world. Starvation, disease, lack of clean water - these things kill as many as half of the children under 5 in developing countries.
Our next step toward closing the gap in giving will be to sponsor another child. Our current Compassion kid, Dinah, has been part of our family for nearly 5 years. It's time to adopt another.
Hubby and I have learned the hard way that you can't save them all. But we can save one more. And if even half of the people who read this save one too? That would be Extravagant Generosity indeed. Visit http://www.compassion.net/ and see if someone there is calling for your help.
DeeDee
I became ill at the end of 2010. Prior to that I had a salaried position with productivity bonuses, and I worked at least one extra day in a non-contract (ie overtime) position in each pay period. In 2011, I was paid for 80 hours per pay period, my base salary, representing an overall loss of about 10% of my income. Near the end of 2011 I re-negotiated my contract to reflect my ongoing level of disability, and now I receive 80% of my base pay, nearly 30% less than my 2010 income.
My hubby and I have always been givers. We have a monthly pledge to our church, we serve spend a week each year working with the Appalachia Service Project (http://asphome.org/), we sponsor a child through Compassion International (http://www.compassion.net/), we help serve food to the needy, and we toss a few bucks in special collections when asked. Despite our declining income, we have not decreased our giving substantially (except perhaps that we have less in our pockets at any given moment that we used to LOL). I could be proud of this, except....
We could have done better. We could have given more. We were both raised in households that were lower middle class, and our parents made commitments to give 10%. Somehow, 10% of a bigger income seemed like a LOT of money, or maybe it was the "it's mine so why should I share it" mentality that creeps into our American culture - the underlying discontent that makes us compare ourselves to "The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" and feel that we come up lacking somehow.
But Schnase suggests that "(b)y provoking us to give, God is not trying to take something away from us; God is seeking to give something to us." Redefining our priorities allows us to become free of material concerns.
We've seen this, this year. We've had to redefine for ourselves what matters. Nothing that we've had to give up in the budget matters. Nothing. And we've been the recipients of so many heart-felt gifts from others (not the least of which was Babygirl's new kidney!) that I could truly cry for joy for it all.
And the most interesting thing about this, to me, is that because of the drop in income, we are now approaching giving 10% of our take-home pay. And we are making a commitment to increase to that point, with an aim, over the next few years, to hit 10% of the total.
Over lunch today, Hubby suddenly asked me, "What would have happened to Babygirl if she weren't with us?" The answer is simple: "She'd be dead." The same is likely true for Curlygirl. It's the truth for hundreds of thousands and more kids all over the world. Starvation, disease, lack of clean water - these things kill as many as half of the children under 5 in developing countries.
Our next step toward closing the gap in giving will be to sponsor another child. Our current Compassion kid, Dinah, has been part of our family for nearly 5 years. It's time to adopt another.
Hubby and I have learned the hard way that you can't save them all. But we can save one more. And if even half of the people who read this save one too? That would be Extravagant Generosity indeed. Visit http://www.compassion.net/ and see if someone there is calling for your help.
DeeDee
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Raising a Well-rounded Child......
One of the supreme challenges of raising a very ill child is making sure that you let them know that although they are "special," they are still "normal." I really don't want to end up with a self-centered monster who thinks we should drop everything everytime she "needs" us. Balancing that against my instinctive desire to protect her from all possible harm is difficult for me.
So Babygirl has chores. Empty the dishwasher daily, or more as needed. Clean one bathroom, and do it well. Clean her room weekly. Believe it or not, that last is a totally new demand of mine. I've never cared if the kids' rooms were messy - that's what doors are for. But since Babygirl is going to need to live in a VERY clean environment after the transplant I figured we'd start keeping it up when she moved to the new room.
But this weekend the church youth group had a special project. They were joining together with other youth to do some flood relief a couple of hours away.
You see, there is almost no area in this state from here east that didn't suffer terribly during the recent tropical storms. Towns flooded, roads and bridges still out, thousands still homeless, and farms literally washed off the map. And any field flooded with contaminated water (which, near as I can tell, was ALL of it!) can't be harvested.
Now. Let's think this through. Sick kid. Contaminated water. Good idea? And to do this she has to miss a night of dialysis, and switch to a day run. But she wants to go. I'm sure it's not that she has a burning desire, at the age of twelve, to help the helpless, I'm sure it's that she wants to spend time with her friends. But I also WANT her to go, to see more personally the devastation of peoples' lives and to develop a personal desire to help. I want her to have that balance.
If she had already had the transplant this would actually be out of the question because of the antirejection drugs. And unlike each of my older children, I will likely be unable to take her on a mission trip with the Appalachia Service Project because by the time she's old enough, she will (pray God) have had that transplant, and it will be to dangerous for her to go. But right now her immune system is fine. And so.....she went. She spent her day helping to clean a cornfield, and is suitably impressed by the size of the project. And I am hoping that it will make her realize that as tough as her life is, other people have some tough times also.
As I've said before, if we don't throw her a pity party she won't know she needs one. Turns out it's easier said than done, but I do my best to pull off the cotton wool and let her go.
DeeDee
So Babygirl has chores. Empty the dishwasher daily, or more as needed. Clean one bathroom, and do it well. Clean her room weekly. Believe it or not, that last is a totally new demand of mine. I've never cared if the kids' rooms were messy - that's what doors are for. But since Babygirl is going to need to live in a VERY clean environment after the transplant I figured we'd start keeping it up when she moved to the new room.
But this weekend the church youth group had a special project. They were joining together with other youth to do some flood relief a couple of hours away.
You see, there is almost no area in this state from here east that didn't suffer terribly during the recent tropical storms. Towns flooded, roads and bridges still out, thousands still homeless, and farms literally washed off the map. And any field flooded with contaminated water (which, near as I can tell, was ALL of it!) can't be harvested.
Now. Let's think this through. Sick kid. Contaminated water. Good idea? And to do this she has to miss a night of dialysis, and switch to a day run. But she wants to go. I'm sure it's not that she has a burning desire, at the age of twelve, to help the helpless, I'm sure it's that she wants to spend time with her friends. But I also WANT her to go, to see more personally the devastation of peoples' lives and to develop a personal desire to help. I want her to have that balance.
If she had already had the transplant this would actually be out of the question because of the antirejection drugs. And unlike each of my older children, I will likely be unable to take her on a mission trip with the Appalachia Service Project because by the time she's old enough, she will (pray God) have had that transplant, and it will be to dangerous for her to go. But right now her immune system is fine. And so.....she went. She spent her day helping to clean a cornfield, and is suitably impressed by the size of the project. And I am hoping that it will make her realize that as tough as her life is, other people have some tough times also.
As I've said before, if we don't throw her a pity party she won't know she needs one. Turns out it's easier said than done, but I do my best to pull off the cotton wool and let her go.
DeeDee
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Down time......
After the most insane 12 weeks of my life, I suddenly find myself with no one to take care of! Hubby and nephew are of for a week of mission work. BabyGirl's at camp. The only one left here with me is my 17 year old, and all she does is work and sleep!
I was supposed to go on the mission trip. We serve the Appalachia Service Project, doing emergency repairs for homeowners. But my 19 year old hasn't had her baby yet - stubborn little Boo! She's due the 23rd and apparently intends to stay where she is until then!
So I have a week off. No work, which is a blessing. My work is demanding, and I have had brain function issues since my illness in November that make it even harder. The break has allowed me some breathing room. My calendar since April has been such a bewildering maze of doctors appointments, medication schedules, shot reminders, and negotiations with insurance that I simply don't know what to do with a blank week!
So I am painting. No, nothing artistic. Bedrooms. We are shifting things around to get ready, financially and emotionally, for the upcoming strain of surgeries and dialysis. And believe it or not, this type of mindless labor has a very Zen appeal for me. I have finally been able to let all the hamsters off the wheels in my head, exhaust myself with a good day's work, and sleep. Really, really sleep. And finally, to pray.
Oh, not like I haven't been praying. Back in December, when I'd been sick for about 3 weeks and no one knew what was goint on, our church had a little tree. You were supposed to write a prayer, stick it in a clear glass ornament, and hang it up. My prayer just said, "PLEASE". As in, "I'm begging you..." And nearly every prayer since then has been a harried, concentrated plea for something I need right now - the car to run, the traffic to clear so we can get "there" on time, for Matt to get better NOW because I need him, get me back to work before I run out of sick time....
But I haven't had time (or taken it) to listen. To let myself know that I am being carried (Footprints In The Sand). There is always a part of me that is aware that God is with me, but I confess I rarely "hear" His voice the way many claim to. But yesterday, there was conversation.
"She's officially on the list, God. Please! Do the miracle and get her matched! I'd sell my soul... No! Wait! YOU own my soul, but you know what I mean. I'd do anything so she would't have to suffer this!"
"She is not the only child, nor are you the only mother, who is walking this road and praying this prayer. Would you want another child to die waiting so yours could be healed?"
Ouch. Okay, so when I say "anything" is that what I mean? SIgh. No. Sincerely, no. So, okay, keep carrying me, God. And, well, then, how 'bout those coping skills? Can you give me some of them?
Thanks, God. Amen.
DeeDee
I was supposed to go on the mission trip. We serve the Appalachia Service Project, doing emergency repairs for homeowners. But my 19 year old hasn't had her baby yet - stubborn little Boo! She's due the 23rd and apparently intends to stay where she is until then!
So I have a week off. No work, which is a blessing. My work is demanding, and I have had brain function issues since my illness in November that make it even harder. The break has allowed me some breathing room. My calendar since April has been such a bewildering maze of doctors appointments, medication schedules, shot reminders, and negotiations with insurance that I simply don't know what to do with a blank week!
So I am painting. No, nothing artistic. Bedrooms. We are shifting things around to get ready, financially and emotionally, for the upcoming strain of surgeries and dialysis. And believe it or not, this type of mindless labor has a very Zen appeal for me. I have finally been able to let all the hamsters off the wheels in my head, exhaust myself with a good day's work, and sleep. Really, really sleep. And finally, to pray.
Oh, not like I haven't been praying. Back in December, when I'd been sick for about 3 weeks and no one knew what was goint on, our church had a little tree. You were supposed to write a prayer, stick it in a clear glass ornament, and hang it up. My prayer just said, "PLEASE". As in, "I'm begging you..." And nearly every prayer since then has been a harried, concentrated plea for something I need right now - the car to run, the traffic to clear so we can get "there" on time, for Matt to get better NOW because I need him, get me back to work before I run out of sick time....
But I haven't had time (or taken it) to listen. To let myself know that I am being carried (Footprints In The Sand). There is always a part of me that is aware that God is with me, but I confess I rarely "hear" His voice the way many claim to. But yesterday, there was conversation.
"She's officially on the list, God. Please! Do the miracle and get her matched! I'd sell my soul... No! Wait! YOU own my soul, but you know what I mean. I'd do anything so she would't have to suffer this!"
"She is not the only child, nor are you the only mother, who is walking this road and praying this prayer. Would you want another child to die waiting so yours could be healed?"
Ouch. Okay, so when I say "anything" is that what I mean? SIgh. No. Sincerely, no. So, okay, keep carrying me, God. And, well, then, how 'bout those coping skills? Can you give me some of them?
Thanks, God. Amen.
DeeDee
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