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Mission Trip Journal Kentucky, July 10-17, 1999 · back to Hammers & Hope Sat · Sun · Mon · Tue · Wed · Thu · Fri · Sat

I kept a notebook all week, and every night at devotions I passed it around so the kids could write a line or two. Their parts are in orange. I've typed them in exactly as written, minus a few things about snoring. -- Jill

Saturday, July 10: The Longest Day Nineteen of us in the church parking lot at 4:45 a.m., in the dark, with sleeping bags, tool boxes and one cooler that was entirely Mountain Dew. Pastor Dave prayed over the vans and we were rolling by 5:10. Fourteen and a half hours later, after two gas stops, one fan belt (Bob fixed it at a truck stop with a borrowed wrench and a lot of patience), a thousand rounds of the license plate game and a wrong turn I will not discuss, we pulled up to the little white church that was our home for the week. Air mattresses on the fellowship hall floor. Out like lights. "I did not know Kentucky was this curvy. I did not know my stomach was this weak." -- Kelsey

Sunday, July 11: Meeting Everybody Worship with our host congregation, about thirty people who sang louder than our whole church does on Easter. They fed us afterward, fried chicken and green beans cooked all morning with bacon, and nobody went back for less than seconds. In the afternoon each crew went to meet its family and look at the job. The kids were quiet on the ride back. A few of them had never seen a house with a tarp for a roof before. We talked about that at devotions, about how the families were giving us something too, by letting us come. "Miss Opal hugged every one of us and she only met us like ten minutes before." -- Jonah

Monday, July 12: Hot First work day. It was 91 degrees by lunch. The roofers spent the whole day tearing off three layers of old shingles and found a bird's nest, two baseballs and a 1964 license plate. The ramp crew found out that eastern Kentucky is mostly rock with a little dirt sprinkled on top, and dug four post holes in six hours. My crew scraped paint until our arms fell off. Linda had cold washcloths in a cooler for everyone at the end of the day, and I think she saved lives. "Post hole diggers are the worst invention in human history." -- Luke "I learned how to use a scraper and also that I am allergic to hard work, just kidding." -- Micah

Tuesday, July 13: The Storm The roofers had the whole back half of Miss Opal's roof open when the sky turned green around two o'clock. Gary had them get the tarps on in about eight minutes flat, which he says is a record for any crew he's ever worked with, adults included. Then it poured for an hour. Miss Opal sat them all down in her kitchen and they played Rook with her until it quit. Nothing inside got wet. After supper the whole group went down to the creek behind the church and had a splash war, and I think every kid was twelve years old again for about an hour. "Miss Opal is a card shark. Do not play Rook with Miss Opal for money." -- Brent

Wednesday, July 14: Letters from Home The middle day, when everybody's tired and a little homesick. So Wednesday night I handed out the sealed envelopes from their prayer partners back home. I'll just say that it got very quiet in the fellowship hall, and then there were a lot of hugs, and then Tanner read his out loud because he said his prayer partner was "too funny not to share," and we all lost it laughing. Thank you, Mr. Sorensen. The ramp got its frame up today. The painters finished priming. "My prayer partner is my Sunday school teacher from when I was 5 and she still remembers I was scared of the goat in the Christmas pageant." -- Abby

Thursday, July 15: Shingles and Sunshine New shingles going on at Miss Opal's, and the cornbread count reached four pans. The ramp crew put on the decking and the railings, and Mr. Arvel sat on his porch and supervised, which he was very good at, since he'd spent thirty years telling men what to do underground. He told Hannah she drove nails better than his brother. My crew put on the first coat of paint, a light blue the family picked out, and the three little ones followed us around all day asking if they could help. So we let them paint the bottom of the shed. And then their hands. And then the shed with their hands. "The little girl called me Miss Paint Lady. I am keeping that name forever." -- Jenna

Friday, July 16: Done All three jobs finished by 3:00. We went house to house as one big group and had a short blessing at each one. At Miss Opal's the roofers signed a board up in the attic where no one will ever see it but God and the next roofer. At the trailer, the family's oldest, who is five, cut a paper ribbon across the new back door. And at Mr. Arvel's, Pastor Dave said a prayer, and then Mr. Arvel rolled himself down the ramp, all 28 feet of it, across the yard and down to his own mailbox for the first time since February. He opened it, looked inside, and said, "Nothing but bills." Everyone cried anyway. Bonfire at the church that night. Everybody said one thing they'd take home with them. I'm taking all of them. "I thought we were coming here to help them. I think they helped us more." -- Maria "Best week of my life. Worst sunburn of my life. Worth it." -- Ethan

Saturday, July 17: Home Left at 6 a.m. after the host church ladies loaded us down with biscuits for the road. No fan belts this time. We pulled into our church parking lot at 10:40 p.m. to find about forty parents, grandparents and little brothers and sisters waiting with signs and a banner that said WELCOME HOME CARPENTERS. Somebody had told them what Miss Opal called us. Nineteen people, three vans, one week. Thank you, Lord, for every mile. "I want to go back next year and do her porch." -- Caleb "Me too." -- Sarah, Leah, Hannah, Luke, Brent, Kelsey, and basically everybody

Back to Hammers & Hope · [email protected] Journal typed up Sunday, August 1, 1999