Pieces of a Summer

This summer has been packed full of a mixture of work, play, and travel. In one blog post I can't possibly share everything I've experienced though I've been deeply impacted every day, but I can show you written "snapshots" of the highlights.

June 2 

Driving to Kentucky with Hannah, apprehensive of the near future. We are on our own; two young girls leading a literature evangelism team for four weeks. I have never done this before. Will the program be successful? Will we sell well? Will we have any accidents or police trouble? Is God in control here or are we alone? 

June something 

Had a talk with the team. Most of them are still teenagers and have all the youthful energy their age requires. One of the boys can imitate accents from different countries, and he gets along famously with the other boy who has a very corny sense of humor. Their antics usually keep us in hysterics, but they need to learn to be funny at the right time (i.e. Not during training or worship). Some of the others haven't learned to be on time for team activities and thus they hold everyone else up. For training time, I sit the team in a circle and explain why being late is a problem and that being on time is a principle for success in life. I ask if it makes sense to them, and they solemnly agree that it does. Then, I give them a few mintues to individually brainstorm ideas for how to help the team be on time. After the time is up, each person is given the opportunity to present their idea without being criticized. I write the ideas on the board, and then we discuss the pros and cons of each one. The team eliminates the ideas they don't like and eventually decides on one. 

They chose the fine system -the bane of many OHC canvassing programs. I told them I didn't want to do it, because I had had bad experiences with the fine system -but I knew it worked. I warned them of the implications and that they couldn't complain later on if they didn't like it. They accepted the warning, nothing abated. They wanted the fine system and the fine system they would have. The team accountant was unanimously elected to keep time and collect fines and the team agreed that the fined money would go towards printing team t-shirts. After that, the late problem was greatly reduced, and those who were tardy were thanked for contributing to the t-shirt fund. 

Problem solved! Praise God for helping me to confront the problem and helping the team to come up with a good solution. 

June something 

Great. I'm sick again. I have no energy. My mind is extremely tortured, thinking about all the other people out there that have more endurance and less issues than me. Why am I here? I'm no good to the team; I'm only a drag on the morale. I don't deserve to be around all these healthy, emotionally stable people. I need to leave them so they can finish the summer on a good note.  

Hannah comes to plead with me. "I need you, Raquel. Please just pray about it." 

I can't pray. My failures reach like a mighty, impassable wall between God and I. But I try, and even though I don't feel any better, I keep going. Psalm 139 becomes my prayer. Somehow, the program ends strong, we have no accidents or police trouble, the team has bonded into a family, everyone is way over in donations, and we have sold out of message books -twice. I receive the most I've ever made while canvassing. 

God was in control, He blessed beyond what I imagined, and I have learned that my ultimate worth is not based on my performance. Maybe God does love me and isn't turned away by my mistakes? 

June 30

Driving through Missouri back to Arkansas with the Powell family, passing the little river-surrounded bit of land that makes the westernmost tip of Kentucky. Always wanted to go there. Google Maps shows there isn't much of an access road. Oh well, I'll explore that later on my own. There's only a week or so until I'll be in Texas at the General Conference. I'm a little apprehensive again. Can I handle being around all those people? What if my sister gets lost? I mentally take on the responsibility of my entire family, since I've already been to San Antonio and am familiar with the Alamodome and the convention center. 

Is this actually going to be fun or am I going to be too stressed out to enjoy it? 

July something 

Driving around San Antonio with a canvassing leader, watching her and listening to how her summer has gone. Amidst the tall buildings and traffic, I see men and women walking the streets in rags, some shuffling aimlessly, others swaggering proudly. Just a few streets away is the River Walk, where well-dressed people saunter casually past restaurants and gondolas and malls. Two completely different worlds, side by side. I sadly wonder what can be done to reconcile the two. Those homeless "crazy" people; can anything be done to restore them to dignity? Those rich people over there, do they realize their brothers and sisters are living in the dirt right next to them? 

July something 

Wandering through crowds of people and trying to pass by booths in the convention center without being caught by a booth person. I've been adorned with stickers stating that I love Oakwood College and support other organizations.  

The people at these booths snag me like a lost sheep and hand me brochures and bookmarks. They convince me to enter free drawings for iPads and copies of paintings. I give them my old email address, just to make them feel better, knowing i won't ever check to see if I won anything. I know what it's like to try to talk to people and be rejected, so I try to listen patiently when all I want to do is have a deep conversation with the person and ask them what is really important to them and what they would rather be doing. Can I trust them? What do they really stand for, outside of promoting their organization? Are they thinkers, or do they just exist? Do they really believe in what they are advertising? 

I do not like shallow conversations, much less ones in which my input is only desired so the other person doesn't seem impolite for talking too much. I stay quiet, wondering if they really care about me as a person or if I'm just another body to put a sticker on, just another hand to put a bookmark in. 

Eventually, I retreat to a quieter place where I can observe the booths without interacting with the people. 

To be continued later...