Mission AnyWHERE?

Three church vans, two trailers, 2 mini vans, 15 cases of water, six jars of peanut butter, eight bags of salad, 24 loaves of bread, three laptops, 37 sleeping bags, four weeks of preparation, three meetings, two notebooks filled with menus, medical releases forms, insurance information and much, a Commissioning, a load-up and (finally) departure.

For mission work.

In Cartersville.

It didn't seem quite right to me as we loaded our car yesterday. I was grumpy and whiny and a general grouch to my beloved family. It took me most of the morning to realize that my poor attitude was due to one thing: there would be no road trip to New Orleans. Instead, there would be a "short jaunt" to Cartersville. Camp Cherokee, to be exact. It hardly felt like a "real mission trip."

I was frustrated that things had not gone smoothly for our group in our Mission Trip pre-planning. I was angry that God had closed the doors for us to go to New Orleans. Our family had already missed one trip to New Orleans (at Thanksgiving) and now, we were having to change our plans again! Even though I whole heartedly voted for this change - at the time, thinking how nice it would be to save all that gas money and potentially avoid the pitfalls of eight hours in a car with my children - the reality of the disappointment hit me as we loaded the car. All this work, all this effort for (seemingly) very little payoff.

But then I heard myself -- as I would imagine God hears me. Whine, whine, whine. Complain. Moan. Hurrumph. And I started thinking about the Howington family. The folks who live and maintain Camp Cherokee, with their two kids, and all the needs that they must have. I tried to imagine what they were thinking when Dan Valentine (Captain, My Captain) called to say: "hey, I got thirty seven people who wanna come up there and help you for a week. What d'ya say?" I tried to imagine how - in that moment - they must have felt their prayers were answered. I tried to imagine the joy that must have surrounded their dinner table as they began to believe that Help was coming.

What does it matter where we go? Does God care that we aren't in New Orleans?

The call is to "Go." To "feed my lambs." To "shine the light."

God says nothing about where. He expects us just to Go.

So, here we are:

Camp Cherokee/Cherokee Retreat Center.

In Cartersville.

Becky Jordan
Blogging for CRCSBFPCMT
(Cherokee Retreat Center Spring Break First Presbyterian Church Mission Trip).