Rearranging, Readjusting, Rerouting...and Whether I Give it or Not

It’s hard to believe that, as I sit and begin to type these words, it was a week ago that I endeavored to take a group of teens on a local “backyard” mission trip.   It’s hard to believe that it has already been a week since the insanity which still has me shaking my head – and yawning.

It was a trip “doomed” from the beginning…a celebration of Murphy’s Law at its finest.  If it could go wrong, it did.  Sometimes in multiple ways!

Here is the backstory with just a few of the highlights of this endeavor…

• November: Anika gets hired as District Youth Coordinator (works with 66 churches in the district to help their youth ministries be viable).
• Before November is up: Anika has been approached by several distinct churches about doing a “backyard” (local) mission trip as was done a few years prior.
• By the first of the year: Anika sends out information in her bi-weekly newsletter, looking for interest.  Enough interest is garnered to proceed.
• By the end of February: Mission Trip flier makes it into every newsletter.  Individual fliers with information are emailed to every contact.  Individual letters are mailed to every church.  Church specific emails are sent to the initially interested parties.
• By the end of May: one church is committed with zero interest from every other church in the District 

But it was going to be good.  The one church happened to be my own.  The youth happened to be individuals I attempt to invest in on a normal basis.  Teens I thoroughly enjoy.  And their youth leader was not only on board but more excited than I was!  It was nice not to have to try to plan and execute another district event on my own. We would be a small group, but the ducks were so perfectly ordered they could have marched in an infantry!

Fast forward… amidst the insanity of starting classes back up, of trying to put in hours for my other job, of trying to invest in people (including my new nephew and his mom and dad), of trying some reasonable amount of self-care (aka: sleeping for more than a few hours at night) …suddenly the mission trip snuck up out of nowhere.  With it came instant stress.  But it was going to be fine.  Because my ducks were off in the corner doing synchronized baton routines.  Plus, I expressed with deep satisfaction, how my schedule was an accordion – plenty of room for ebb and flow, for flexibility. 

And then my ducks went AWOL.  Not a single one reported for duty. 

It was a little bit of everything you could possibly imagine. 

My youth leader – my precious partner-in-crime and the reason my sanity was still in check – got sick.  I rearranged.  I readjusted.  I rerouted.  I did the last-minute shopping.  I recruited a helper for food prep. Shoot! Half of my youth even showed up in time to eat leftovers!  I mean, they weren’t much help but the spirit was there!

Storms came.  Awesome storms.  With the prospect of more awesome storms.  I rearranged.  I readjusted.  I rerouted.  We delayed leave time.  I created no less than four back up plans.  We set up camp with hardly a sprinkle.

My beloved youth leader was still fantastically sick.  My other adults weren’t available until late that night – per the duck plan.  I had a dozen kids and two vehicles and only one me to transport. I rearranged.  I readjusted.  I rerouted.  I made several calls and was about to get to my “maybe a parent can help…” list when my sister came in and saved all kinds of days (on account of her own AWOL ducks).

The magnificent thunderstorms kept us up much of the night – and cancelled the partnership we had scheduled for the Thursday.  With the help of my now present adult leaders… we rearranged, we readjusted, we rerouted.  We found a new place to invest.  We moved some of Friday to Thursday.  People who had no idea we existed were blessed. 

Friday came with a giant question mark.  I was physically and mentally incapable of rerouting one more time but we had to…because we used Friday’s projects on Thursday.  With the help of my adult leaders…we rearranged, we readjusted, we rerouted.  And then we did it again when the agenda items which shouldn’t have changed, did.  And we had some extra time for community and fun. And people who had no reason to expect anything from anyone were blessed.

And Saturday came and I gave my youth both the Friday night and Saturday morning pep talk…of how the day would go and what I needed from them and that I wanted them to remember who they were and Whose they were.  It was the guaranteed part of the schedule – set in stone, the only piece not open to the accordion.  The free family carnival came and the carnival left and maybe 50 of the 400-expected people came and we spent the day rearranging, readjusting, and rerouting… And the church we partnered with (who couldn’t have pulled anything off without my group) made plans for next year and started reworking ideas and weekends and potential with hope and excitement…

By this point I am not angry.  I am not even upset.  But I am discouraged.  I spent months and put dozens and dozens of hours into a trip I wanted to bless a group of teens and bless a community and bless God.  I was told from the get-go by my superiors that it wasn’t worth attempting and there were too many problems and it just wouldn’t work.  I had stood then with my ever-decreasing list of churches and committed youth and said, “but it is still worth it!”  And now I stood wearily with the 350 unopened prize bags I was packaging neatly into a box and saying, “so much for proving ya’ll wrong…”

I took a deep breath and tried not to get frustrated – mostly with myself.  I had been honest with my team about times where I was disappointed and even overwhelmed by the change of plans.  I desperately sought to make sure my stress didn’t affect how I interacted with them and I praised them for their willingness to go with the flow and serve with joyful hearts.  But now I was tired.  And I could do absolutely no more rerouting.  And I just didn’t know how to pray any more fervently or work any harder for an event which had seemingly nose-dived into the concrete…

And I watched my teens stand in goofy costumes waving viciously at cars passing by… If they were embarrassed, it didn’t show.  They were joyful and energetic. 

And I listened as one of my youth said “where are the people running games?  There are only like three kids here but they deserve to have a good time!”

And I questioned our “bonus youth” (the only one connected to another district church) who stood with the largest, most ridiculous smile on his face, as he informed me that this week - which he had entered into hesitantly – was one of the best of his life.

And I thought back to the fervor my teens put into serving people, (who had no idea they were going to be served!), to the joy and laughter they put into menial tasks which were never part of the plan (and seemingly less “important” than the ones scheduled) – how proud I was of them.

And I considered the fact that while there were a (very) few reminders to rally and to “step it up” in maturity, I never once had to deal with inter-group behavior because they genuinely enjoyed being together…they served in community and out of their community.

And I giggled as they all went up for children’s time at the church we visited (something they always do with the little ones at their home church) to the encouragement and delight of the congregation…

And I near teared as I watched them, without any known instruction or guidance (or adult invitation!), circle up on the church lawn, with their parents waiting in the parking lot, for their own time of prayer before parting ways. 

And I sat, alone, in a very full car in an empty parking lot, for several minutes after everyone had left.  Without warning, I cried violently for several minutes.  It was odd and out of place until I considered the fact that, for the first time in nearly a week, I didn’t have to have my brave face on for my teens and the pressure of needing to be director, leader, mentor, friend, cook, alarm clock, and liaison on a constantly rearranged, readjusted, and rerouted schedule, released in one fellow swoop.

I shook my head (but not my fist) as I drove the mile back to my parents’ house to unpack my car and get started on homework. 

You see, on Wednesday, before I would know the extent of the rearranging, readjusting, and rerouting ahead of me, I had chatted with my friend, the mom of a couple of my teens. After mutually agreeing that despite the wrinkles (thus far!) everything would be fine, I proclaimed half-heartedly and with slightly clenched teeth “God will get the glory whether I want to give it to Him or not!” 

Without the hint (but still the lingering stench) of the irony which so often characterizes my life, I started the homework I was terribly behind on.  It just so happened to include a conversation about the glory of God and how clearly in the Gospels individuals were ready to give Jesus glory for the things which they had expected from Him but how the true glory of God was manifested in the least glorifying way – a criminal’s death.  How whether the glory due God was being given or not, it was being made known. 

I taught and praised my teens.  I encouraged them to dig into their bibles, to think critically about what it meant to be on a mission in service and leadership and outreach.  I was SO proud of them SO many times for the way they took life by the horns and served with joy and hospitality and God’s love.  I thanked God multiple times for my teens.  I don’t remember thanking God for the trip.  I told my youth “do this for Jesus” and we talked about what that meant…  I thanked God for protection and provision and projects.  But I also gift-horsed them as I made sure He knew that while they were “fine”, they weren’t my ducks or my plans. 

The truth is, I didn’t want to give God the glory.  In the stress and chaos inside my head, no part of me wanted to pause and declare God’s goodness for it.  “Thanks for this change of plans, again!  I am tired and overwhelmed and at a loss for my next move and you get the glory for it all!”  I couldn’t say it without sarcasm… 

However, I was leaving out the “but”.  I love to tell my youth how often in scripture the “but of the matter is the heart of the matter”.  What comes first is important, what comes after the “but” is the heart of what is being said.  “God, you get the glory.  These were not my plans, but….”

But…You provided.

But…You protected.

But…You sustained.

But…conversations were had.

But...community was built.

But…people were served.

But…people were blessed.

But…a congregation was encouraged.

But…Your name was made known.

But…my teens (whether they realize it yet or not) grew in understanding of You…

But…you WILL get the glory whether I decide to give it or not…

My list of “buts” could and likely should go on.  Though this was written a week post our leave, it is being posted a week post our return.  It was originally written as a set of my own reflections.  My own way of putting into right perspective and attitude the reality of the experience.  Experiences should always be considered in light of the inherent reality of God’s goodness.   If there is anything other than my reflections here for your, that is alone for you to decide.  I do, however, pray that my life is a testament to the reality of the glory of God.  That I choose to give it all circumstances.  Whether I want to or not.