I didn't really know what to expect, but I felt a voice whispering in my ear that I should go on a mission trip. The voice has gotten louder over the years until it became too loud to ignore this year.
Here I am, Lord.
Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord.
If you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.
And so goes the hymn.
Thirty-three of us traveled from New Jersey and Pennsylvania to Farmington, Maine to work with MATE (Mission At The Eastward) as an intergenerational mission team.
Another voice I heard in my head was my dad's. Before anyone worries, he is still alive. His voice was crystal clear as we waited an hour until we were given our orders for the day. In my head he said "it's the hurry up and wait game."
Yup, dad, hurry up and wait. We had to rouse at 6:30 am to have breakfast at 7:15 am to meet in the lobby at 8:45 am to be at the church at 9 am. We thought we were driving someplace, only to find out our half of the group was to stay put and pull weeds and scrape paint. The other half drove to a different site to do carpentry and install cabinets. I.e., non-skilled vs. skilled labor groups.
The second time he reached out to me was as I was on the scraping paint part of the project. I was reminded that each summer, growing up in Paramus dad scraped the paint on the wood siding. The house that saw the most sun was painted annually. The other three sides were painted on a rotating basis. Or so I remember.
I don't remember him ever inviting us to join him to scrape the house -- a skill I wish he had imparted. We live in a house with aluminum siding that has never needed to be scraped.
On the other side of the property we also pulled weeds -- a task I procrastinate for as long as possible at home. Another task dad used to do. I could hear him say: make sure you get the roots.
I wonder what advice he'll stick into my head next.
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