Several of you know, I spent a week on a "Mission Trip" with 21 youth and five other adults doing volunteer work for three organizations: Habitat for Humanity (www.habitat.org), New Reach (www.newreach.org), And CCA (ccahelps.org). All three organizations help provide housing for those in need, many for women in crisis, along with their children. At the end of the day, I tried to jot down a few of the many powerful moments I witnessed on this trip because I knew I was experiencing something I never wanted to forget. Here it is...

"Love Big: A Reflection"

Day One

I climb into a Big White Van
And Dave blasts Paradise by The Dashboard Light
as we circle the parking lot and wave good-bye.
Driving down the highway,
"That part in the song" comes on and I wonder, "Do they know what this is about?"
Answer: Yes. Yes they do.

By the time we cross the border into Connecticut
The Playlist has run through three times.
We joke that whoever made this mix
Must have stopped listening to music
In 1982.

Someone says, "This time we ALL have to sing."
We turn up the volume and do our best,
singing loud and proud and slightly off-key,
ready to start bonding before we even arrive.

That night at vespers
Eli says, "At the end of the week,
We'll say this was hardest we've ever worked.
We'll go home and need a day to recover.
But the volunteers here who guided us
Will start again on Monday.
And they'll do it again the Monday after that."
We all let that sink in.
"This is a time to be your best selves,"
Paul told us in the parking lot back home before we left.
I get the sense we're all silently committing to that now.

Day Two

In the morning
We stagger out of our beds and grumble about
Who got cream cheese on the knife handle,
Then circle up in the parking lot, hold hands
And pray together for a day of good work.

In the vans, we count numbers.
Turn on the play list.
Sing a little shyly with our new group.
Watch as one side of town
Transforms to another.
Manicured lawns of bright green grass
Turn overgrown and weedy.
Freshly painted houses
Turn paint chipped and dirty.
Loved and cared for neighborhoods
Turn to ones of neglect.

At the work site, we huddle together in a shed while we wait for the rain to pass.
Our hosts share breakfast and tell us about the women living in the shelter.
I feel guilty as I eat my jelly doughnut,
Looking at the building and thinking about the stories inside.

When the work starts
We pull weeds entangled with garbage,
Grown together as if they're the same thing.
We discover someone's shelter under a truck bed liner:
There's a sleeping bag
Some personal belongings.
Bottles filled with a liquid none of us want to identify.

The teens handle these things tenderly.
They worry out loud about what will happen
when the owner returns to find everything gone.
I try not to cry because
I'm the adult.
But this first morning is already hurting my heart
In unexpected ways.

All day we sweat and pull weeds
Shovel rocks
Power wash
Paint in the blasting sun.
At the end of the day, we collapse in the van
and count down the number of times we have to do it all again.
But then I think of Eli's words,
And put the blister on my toe out of my mind.

Day 3

Breakfast is quiet as we wander out one by one
and compare predictions for how hot it will get today.
On the highway there's a billboard that says "Love Big,"
And I tell myself, that's my motto for the week.

At the site, we start sweating as soon as we unload.
We shovel more rocks.
Pull more weeds.
Pick up trash.
Mow.
Mix cement.
Trim hedges.
And compare sweat stains.

As we pour the cement,
I see a little girl watching from an open window.
She's eating cereal out of a tall glass.
I smile and say hi.
She says hi back.
I wonder "What's your story?"
I bet she wonders the same thing.

Tonight, we drive to the shore,
Swim in the cool salt water and watch the sunset.
We talk about grief,
Troubled waters,
And how important it is
To cause a stir of change.

I feel an overwhelming sense of privilege
Looking out at the ocean,
Wondering if any of the residents we helped today
Have ever shared this view.
The irony of our troubled waters discussion hits me,
while the quiet, calm water laps the sand.

Day 4

Today we work on the second floor balcony
Staining a porch railing.
To get there, we have to use the stairs inside.
Now, we catch glimpses of who we're doing this for.
We hear them behind thin walls.
A baby crying.
A mother comforting.
It goes on and on as we paint a second coat,
And I'm sure we're all wondering again:
What's your story?

When we all reunite back at church,
We share survival stories
And agree we all worked hard,
Just in different ways.
We joke that there are teams,
But we are One.

We visit a quarry and jump off cliffs.
Swing down ziplines
And have a picnic dinner.
We sing happy birthday to Eli as the sun sets.
At vespers we talk about joy instead of grief,
But circle back again to acknowledge
How connected the two tend to be.

Day 5

As we drive to our site, Paul inspires us with an Elvis song.
We plant trees.
Dig up mulch.
Sing
Dig
Sing
Sweat. So much.
I think about the billboard sign from earlier in the week:
Love Big.

Logan and I name our tree Buttercup.
We put flowers in our hair and say we have Flower Power,
And power through the afternoon with new energy.
Every day, I have seen our youth rediscover their best selves.
Pushing harder, singing louder, embracing their work with
"lovely energy" that astonishes and lifts me up.

Day 6

On our last morning of work,
we listen to our usual playlist,
And Molly says,
"If you change the subject of this song from romance to the mission trip,
This is exactly how I feel about all of you."
We sing "Hooked on a feeling" a little bit louder after that.

There are tears on our way home that day.
We sing "Country Road, Take Me Home"
But I get the sense none of us really wants to go yet.
That night, we share thank you's.
We talk about how much our lives have changed this week,
And whether we've caused a big enough change
in the troubled waters we've witnessed.
There are more tears. More hugs.
I look at this circle and see a new community.
I see Loving Companionship.
I see Family.
I think of the Love Big billboard.
It's a motto that sticks.

Day 7

We caravan home. Some sleep. Some sing.
I keep turning around, looking at the faces in our van.
They were mostly just acquaintances on the ride down 7 days ago.
Now, they are "loving companions." Family.
I know all year I will hear a song
Or a phrase
Or see a pink flower
Or a newly planted tree
And think of these inspiring youth.
I'll wonder where they are and how they're doing.
They're part of my deep well now.
Part of my heart.
They have helped me be my best self.
And I'm forever grateful.
I will always love them big.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday Morning Warm-Up:
As you can see, this isn't necessarily a poem, but a list of moments. My challenge to you is to find the things in your day this week (and later the firs week of school) that you could do something similar with. Turn meaning into the mundane. Reflect on what inspired. Give purpose to what angered. Show gratitude for a moment of joy or comfort. And as always, try to have fun.