Monday. I was the only one from Southwest to get thrown into a group with no one I knew. Oh well. My group drove to a small train village where coal and lumber is shipped. The houses were made of cardboard and tin roofs. The people here are so poor. We laid foundation for a new house for an older man and older woman, they're so grateful. We showered in a crystal-blue mountain lake. Ashlie got sick with some awful cramps, was grounded back at home camp. Jeff, Lee & I went to a music store right in Harlan, Kentucky. Flood walls were erected all around the town. "Perfect place to hole up during a zombie apocalypse," I mused. Jeff took us for a spin around town, pointing out various sites. This isn't his first Crank's Creek trip. We went back to camp for a spaghetti dinner, helped Jeff set up for worship, and once the sun set worship began, all of us gathered together and poured our hearts out to God. The coyotes howled all night, they sounded so eerie.
Tuesday. Lee had breakfast duty so Dad woke him up. The morning was chilly, mist in the mountains. I was put with Ashlie's group: we washed dishes, painted some walls, helped tear down a house. I had a fun time messing around with some punk potbelly pig, annoying chickens, and cowardly dogs. Wild chickens are all over the place in the mountains. Ashlie, Lee & I went on a trip to Wal-Mart with Jeff. Ashlie tried calling Hank but couldn't get through. She was cold and reclusive the rest of the night. During worship we sang songs around the campfire and did a type of Vietnamese prayer.
Wednesday. The people here, they're so poor but so joyful. These people have nothing and yet they have everything. They're left in the mountains, among God's creation, left to their hard work, getting food on the table, the quiet nights. God has humbled them and given them joy. There is a lesson in this. We have been corrupted by materialism and wealth, the need to constantly have more, to have better, and we're lost in the chaos of 3-piece suits and fancy Powerpoint presentations and six-point acronymic sermons. America's blessings have come with a price, and we forget how blessed we really are. We complain about 8-hour shifts and cell phone bills. We're convinced our lives are so hard. We've become sullen in our complacency, the corruption eating us away. We came here, to this little patch of the land, the second most destitute corner of the U.S.A., and we came here to help. We find these horrible conditions and scorching heat repulsive and miserable. But the people? Have you met anyone friendlier? Have you met anyone so loving and open and accepting? Have you ever met people more joyful? Despite the ugliness this place can have, the people are content. They love the assistance, but they're fine. I'll tell you why, I think I know why: because when all our commonplace blessings are stripped away, we are left with the bare essentials, to that which really matters. Family. God. They have things figured out; by necessity, the most significant things in this universe are those things they must rely upon.... I wrote all of this down for Snapshots, a little box we put things we've been thinking about, and during worship some of the slips are read. I had a hot breakfast of french toast and sausages. I spent the day with Brian N. at some woman's house, and I ended up spraying a wild mountain goat with a water-hose. We had some Appalachian acoustics tonight, the founder of Crank's Creek Missions serenading us.
Thursday. I got put in a group with Ash & Ams, Lee & Tommy. We installed fiberglass installation, drywall, did some recaulking before bathing in the mountain lake. Dinner was a grill-out, and then Jeff, Mike S., Lee, Tommy & I went to a small mountain chapel with hard-backed seats and set up for worship. The power was out, so Jeff lit candles and played guitar. The acoustic worship sounded phenomenal in the rickety mountain church. The snapshots box was opened and my spiel on worldly corruption was led, and the people were floored, and the speaker changed his message because of what I'd written. There were many hugs, lots of crying. God was moving in that quiet Appalachian chapel. Mom had her God-moment when Ams & I hugged her and sat on her lap. She heard the note end (it was anonymous) and knew she was listening to my heart. She told me, "You hit a lot of people hard." No: God did. I just need to allow God to use me! "I'm so proud of you," she said, crying, tears staining her cheeks under the candlelight. I knew God revealed the Truth to me, and told me to do this, so I did. And really, it's that simple. If God calls, answer! God called me to talk to a girl, and my friendship with Ashlie blossomed; God called me to start a house church, and now we're 'bout to be partnered with another church; God called me to talk to an outcast, and I made an impact & a friend. He called me to drop in a note, and God touched lives. So I wonder, what have I not followed and therefore not experienced in the indescribable power of God?
Friday. We returned home today, got in by about 4:00. Mom & Dad are so proud about that note I wrote. Ams said that I wrote made people cry. Its effects came only from God, not from me. I know well enough that I'm just a struggling child of God who's just trying to do what God says. I went on a run later in the night, around 10:00, and as I was running a car pulls up, and a 40-year-old woman gets out, says, "We're having a scavenger hunt, and we need a good-looking guy to get in the car and sing for us." Well, I'm not good-looking and not a good singer, and a 40-year-old woman shouldn't be doing that at 10:30 at night. I tell them No, see that she has something behind her back. I play like I have no idea what's happening, make a slight joke out of it, and then the woman gets back in the car, making sure to keep her hidden hand out-of-sight. She drove off and I sprinted through the backyards back to Wellington Way, and when I reached the sidewalk I saw the car coming towards me from up the street, going like fifty, tires screeching, and the headlights flood over me. They started braking to stop beside me, and then they sped up and gunned it past me. As they drove past I caught their eyes through the windows, and I saw the look: absolute terror. Genuine, mortal terror. I called the cops, relayed the incident to them, and they patrolled the neighborhood all night. Nothing ever came of it. But when I got back to my room, my Bible was open to a psalm about God's angels protecting those whom God loves. I hadn't yet pulled my bible from my Crank's Creek bags.
Saturday. I spent the morning singing songs to God and praying through some psalms. We celebrated the 4th of July rather late at Grandpa & Grandma Barnhart's in New Carlisle. We had a fun obstacle course and played volleyball in their expansive front lawn. Matthew is enthralled by Starseed. I'm thinking about doing a house church experiment this upcoming Thursday for U-Turn. Dylan's coming to church with me tomorrow.
Sunday. Dylan, Tyler, and Aaron K. came to Southwest. We had a slideshow of Crank's Creek, lots of pics from the chapel worship were in there. Kristen hugged me and said, "Boy, you're huggable!" A lot of us ate out at Fudd-Ruckers, and Dylan & Ashlie came over. We went to the Howard's to swim and feast, and there was great worship in the barn. Chris & I somehow ended up in the pool fully-clothed. Pat D. thinks everyone that went to Crank's Creek has changed in a negative way, everyone but me. I honestly have no idea what he's talking about. I think I have changed, or I hope to change. There were many lessons at Crank's Creek, things I'm still rifling through.
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