Day 7, part 1: Canadians

The final day of our trip dawned too early for all of us. After a week of waking up before dawn, it seemed to some of us that our bodies were finally wearing down. After the previous day's work of tearing apart a house, it seemed to some of us that our spirits as well as our muscles had been torn down. But after another great breakfast of peaches & cream oatmeal, we began to rouse and get ready to go.

By 8:30 we were piling out of our vans and into Mr. Brown's house. As we filed past the tool box, each of us grabbed a breathing mask, goggles, a hammer or two and a crowbar--all the tools we'd be needing until we were ready for cleanup. Eleven of us spread through the six rooms while Dan climbed into the attic, preparing to take down the ceiling once the walls were finished.

The pounding began.

We each worked at the best rhythm our sore bodies could provide, but we could not help but feel that our work had slowed considerably. What took 10 minutes to do the day before with fresh energy took 25 to do now. For some of the girls especially, it was incredibly frustrating to find that our backs and biceps couldn't match our zeal for the work. Though not a single person complained, the dominant mood in the house was discouragement--and we tried to fight that too.

We'd been at it for a few hours when the cavalry came in--in the form of what seemed like 80 Canadian Mounties!

Once we recovered from our shock, we realized that it was not a troupe of 80, but 20-30 at least. All with fresh energy and a good work ethic...(and oh, yeah, they weren't actually Mounties. But they were actually Canadian.)

For the rest of the afternoon, our crews worked side by side. We were thrilled to have them sent to our aid. At any cost, we wanted to finish Mr. Brown's house as fast as possible. (Not to mention it was nice to distribute the workload.) Our entire crew was able to take a group break for lunch and head over to Ms. Emma's house for lunch, a resident whom we had forged a relationship with and promised to eat with on our last day. We sat on the front porch with Emma and her puppy, Fido, for most of the week. Today, we feasted on PB&J while Fido (sadly) stayed inside--he had misbehaved earlier that morning and was receiving discipline. We had a wonderful long lunch with Ms. Emma and said our goodbyes, all the while with her encouraging us in our work, offering us whatever she had in her fridge, and asking us to stop by if any of us came back.

We returned to find the Canadian crew still hard at work with most of the house finished. Cleanup was now the order, carting the drywall into the empty lot across the street for later pickup. But when the work day ended at 1:00, the house was done.

Bare studs. Bare rafters. Naked insulation and white, powdery floors.
It seemed both a step forward and a step back.

But we knew we had done the work we had been given for us and that, however backwards it seemed, it was all forward motion in whatever round about way God would have it. Our jobsite supervisor reminded us that nothing is eternal. Even though all the teams before had wanted to build something to last just as we had wanted to build something to last, nothing is eternal. Only God's work in that neighborhood will sustain the lives of its people, and this was a confusing part of God's work.