Need

I visited White Swan this week; it was like the summer, except there were not as many people buzzing around the Sacred Road headquarters since the Granberrys are on furlough and there are no interns right now, and the air had taken on an unrelenting chill.

But I stayed in Heather and Veronica's cozy house, like usual, and rode with them the three miles to the Granberry's house each morning. There I helped in the familiar kitchen, cut and copied and filed with Joshua in the children's ministry office, helped Heather with winterizing projects, and helped Veronica organize a closet in the office trailer.

On Monday afternoon we had kid's club at Totus Park. The kids flocked to the dirt field -- fifty-five of them. I spread out a tablecloth on the ground and sat cross-legged, helping them to make little ghost windsocks to hang in the tree. Miranda helped me pass out supplies and direct their little fingers, but still there were always voices calling out: "I need eyes! Where's the tape? Can you help me? What do I do next? I need another streamer! Can I make one?" Everyone who wanted to got to make a ghost,  but I wished I could give each one of them undivided attention.

Jill made one ghost, then wanted to make another so she could keep sitting by me. Then she stood behind me, circling her arms around my neck, and said in my ear, "Can we go play together?" I told her I couldn't leave the other kids who were still making the craft, so she helped me pass out eyes and mouths and pieces of yarn, and then when it was time to clean up she helped me collect tape and bottles of glue, and fold the tablecloths. I carried her on my back for a few minutes, running through the windsocks hanging from the tree while she covered her eyes and laughed and said, "Again!"

Then we found a seat on the ground and she sat on my lap for the story. "I'm cold," she said, so I unzipped my sweater and let her snuggle inside, wrapping the cozy wool around her bare arms. She was distracted during the story, turning often to ask me if she could have more snack or if we could get up and play. When we stood up to sing, she slipped around behind me and held up her arms, silently asking to get on my back. She did the motions to "My God is So Big" from her perch.

When Joshua dismissed us, she swung off my back to give Veronica a hug. But when Leah and I got out the sidewalk chalk, Jill ended up back at my side. We drew pumpkins and people on the concrete, taking a break from our artwork to go over to the van to get treat bags for the girls. We returned to our chalk, and then I ended up back at the van with Gigi, who needed one of the winter coats that Heather was passing out. We found one that fit her, one of the last of Heather's supply. Then it was time for everyone to head home. Veronica and Chuck loaded up their vans. A few kids climbed into the van with us and we made a loop around the cul-de-sac to drop them off before leaving, going back to a warm shelter, a crock pot filled with pork roast and vegetables, a home of love and security and rest.

Tuesday night we had Bible study, and there was a bumper crop of attendees, about 100 of us including staff. Mostly children, with a good group of youth and a small handful of adults. It was too dark and cold for the kids to play outside before dinner, so they were in the longhouse for the whole evening, and keeping them occupied and under control was almost too big of a job for us. We managed to finish out the evening and only had to send six kids home for refusing to listen to direction.

During dinner I ate with Kalani beside me and Sindel on my lap; Heather and her crew were working hard to get food on all the tables and I worked to keep the kids patient while they waited and mannerly while they ate. When the gingerbread cake with buttercream frosting had been parceled out and eaten, and the kids had cleared and thrown away their dishes, we found seats again and Chuck tried to quiet the roar so he could lead us in a few songs. The background noise was at least dulled, and I sang loudly to try to encourage the kids to join while also trying to restrain Sindel from escaping (because I knew that left to her own devices she would prove a considerable distraction for others) and keep a gentle hand on Kalani, who had wanted to sit by me but was so quiet and sweet that she was in danger of being overlooked. The kids sang along on the last song, "Soon and Very Soon," and then Chuck took the adults and youth into the next room and the kids scattered to their groups.

I took the post by the door to the bathrooms (necessary to ensure appropriate use of the facilities) and helped out with the group that was closest to the door -- a passel of wiggly little boys, led by Miranda. They did their mazes, and then we lined up the benches in front of the flannel board so Joshua could tell us a story. First we sang "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" with personal modifications which the kids loved -- "He's got Silas and Cynthia in his hands" or "He's got Devin and Cody in his hands." Then Joshua told the story of the blind man who called out to Jesus for mercy and was healed. Kalani sat in my lap, and Marie was beside me on my chair. When we were learning the memory verse, Marie's voice was loud and clear: "Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak. Psalm 6:2"

We split back into groups, and in between manning the bathroom door I played with Abraham while he waited for the craft to be passed out. His delighted little-boy laugh, made more charming by his missing two front teeth, rang out as he tried to scare me. Then Veronica passed out white blindfolds for us to decorate, and Abraham handed me a fabric marker and spread out his strip and designated half for me to color. We made lines and dots and designs, and the other boys did too, and then they all wanted their blindfolds tied on and we had a table of hilariously laughing blind boys. There was still a little more time before Chuck and Veronica would pull up the vans to take the kids home, so we did one more paper pumpkin craft, and then Miranda and I tucked all the boys' papers into paper sacks for them to take home. The first wave left, and Joshua started a game of Heads Up, Seven Up to keep the remaining kids occupied until the vans returned for them.

I found Christian looking tearful on a bench towards the door and sat down beside him, asking what was the matter. "I want to go home too!" he said.

"Look," I said, "Briana [his sister] is still here, and Veronica will be back in a few minutes for you. She didn't forget you! You like Veronica, right?" (He nodded his tear-streaked little face.) "Well, I KNOW that she likes you too. She's coming back for you." He didn't seem quite sure about all this, and I pulled him into my lap. Della brought over a tissue for him, and he tried with diligence to blow his nose. I reached up a hand to help him, and then began to sing. "He's got the whole world in his hands, He's got Christian and Briana in his hands..." Then I put in the names of some of the other kids. "Who else does he have in his hands?" I asked Christian, who was quiet now.

A smile broke through. "He's got me! And Briana."

At last the vans returned and everyone was loaded up and on their way home. "That was CRAZY!" Joshua proclaimed. We set to work around the empty longhouse, wiping tables, sweeping and mopping, emptying garbage, and loading the trailer. At last we too, left for home, exhausted and hoping the chaos had been constrained enough that something good had been accomplished.

Wednesday was a rest day, and I cut some pans of dessert I had made the day before, packing them for the freezer so they would be ready for the Christmas Dessert in a few weeks. Heather, Veronica, and I made an hour drive to Ellensburg to meet a mother and daughter from the other side of the mountains who had collected about 40 coats and some blankets to donate to Sacred Road; we met at Dairy Queen and they treated us to lunch and a lovely visit. I worked with Joshua in the afternoon, mostly preparing crafts for the next couple of Tuesday nights.

Thursday I organized and counted t-shirts in the office trailer and we all met in the afternoon to make plans for the youth group outing to the corn maze that night. Chuck had careful lists of who was picking up each kid and also who would go through the maze together. He put Mary Beth and me together and gave us four sixth grade girls to chaperone at the maze.

Heather and I got there first and unloaded the food supplies to our rented fire pit area. The others pulled in soon after, except Veronica -- she was late because she was waiting for one of the girls she was supposed to pick up. The venue was quite crowded that night, and one boy disappeared for a while (I think he had found someone he knew and went to say hello). The temperature was around freezing, but the kids were just wearing light sweatshirts or sometimes only t-shirts.

Mary Beth and I did manage to emerge from the maze (which is completely dark and "haunted" by guys with spooky masks and other props) with all of our girls, and they were eager and delighted with the whole event. When we weren't in the maze we were roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, or going on a hay ride around the farm, or tromping through a smaller, lighted hay bale maze. And then it was time to round up the 30 youth and parcel them out to the correct vans and drive them from one side of the reservation to the other, back to their homes. The girls in the van with Heather and me spoke with casual expertise about custody and parents; one girl said she was living with her mom, but her permanent custody would be decided in December and she wanted to live with her dad. A couple of them said that their mom didn't like their dad. None of them live with both parents.

Again, we arrived home weary. And the next morning, after my drive over the mountains, I arrived home praying, hoping, pleading for these kids. They need winter coats, hot meals, help with school, medical care, training in responsibility and respect. They need parents who love them. They need Jesus. I'm glad there are people living in the community who love them, and I pray the Sacred Road team might continue to be the hands and feet of Jesus in that place.

Content

Well, of course there are many things to appreciate about this season.

There is Time. Time to be quiet (if I can discipline myself to shut out the distractions); time to read and think and pray. Time to write, to polish that skill. Time to be a special guest at Heidi's preschool sessions, to give Peter and Lucy their evening bath, to snuggle with Annie, to sew with Heidi. Time to create, with sewing machine, or apples and butter and flour, or paper and paste. Time to run in the woods. Time to say yes to a drive over the mountains to pick up John, or designing a handout for an upcoming event, or a morning downtown visiting old friends at the bakery.

And there is Opportunity. What door is not open to me, what responsibility binds me, what factor limits my future? In great measure, I am free to choose.

But sometimes it is easy to wish away these days and look ahead to a time when I'll feel productive and purposeful, when I won't deliberate and wonder what to do with each moment. It's easy to think that if I could formulate and implement a perfect set of circumstances, THEN I would be content.

And also easy to believe that if I try instead to be content with and even grateful for this, for what I have today, then I would in some way be preparing myself for failure if my dream ever were to come to pass, or giving up hope that things will ever change, because I would be learning to love and live with what I don't hope will continue forever.

When really, after all, the best preparation for contentment tomorrow, whatever it may hold, is not being dreaming of how to be content with what you wish for but actually being content today, right in this moment.