The Get'er Done Gang Rides Again!

The project began with a fully loaded garage. Everything needed to be relocated before the work could begin.

Dan immediately began prepping the roof for additional rafters to support electrical & shelves for storage. The Get'er Done Gang took on it's most aggressive project yet on the campus of Pass Creek Mission, embedded into the land of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation at Allen, South Dakota.

The mission: to convert a garage damaged by wind, rain, and time into a structurally sound and functional space for quilting and beadwork by the women of the Oglala Lakota in the surrounding territory.

In that new space, the women would learn business trade, the value of their craft, and how to successfully market their artwork through Etsy. In addition, the craft center would offer a safe refuge, a place where the women would not only learn, but find peace and a path together that would lead closer to God.

Day two witnessed  dual projects: added rafters and a drywall ceiling & the enclosure of the garage door.

All existing drywall 18" up from the bottom was rotting and had to be replaced & sealed. The exterior would then be blended to match the existing panels. 



Decades of pounding South Dakota rain had taken a toll on the wood structure. Dan and team determined that it was necessary to not only replace rotted material, but to reroute the flow of water within the complex. This meant, patching the roof, rerouting the gutters, and sending all the water down the hill in a submerged pvc pipe. 

As the sun illuminated a perfect sky, the team added a new wall into the front of the building.

 After being painted to match and sealed at the bottom, the work added decades to the building's life. 

Team Get'er Done first assembled nine months prior to this trip, converting multiple trailers into bunk space for up to fifty campers here at the mission. Last fall the team was deployed to Houston, Texas where they replaced drywall in the homes of four separate families who were devestated by hurricane.

A reputation had been built about the team...  Wherever they went, the work got done. They restored. They brought things back to life. They carried hope in their toolboxes and proclaimed a future with each swing of a hammer. And this week, there was a sort of a sweetness each night as the team laid their heads to rest in building that they had made possible.

 Day four: a floor, and all work completed... just add paint. The space is ready. A beefed up electrical panel is ready to handle mutliple quilting machines!

 What was once unusable, now is restored and filled with purpose. Project complete. Check out the Etsy store here to purchase the new artwork! 

Team Get'er Done does what they do because each of them shares that story of restoration. We are a group of people who have all been salvaged by the overwhelming love of God. Now, we are on His mission.

So for now, our team is back at our base in Sidney, Ohio. We have our next trip to Allen on the books for July 6-13, 2019. We'll return to restore a kitchen in the home of our new Lakota family member, Auntie Theresa.

But who knows... we'll likely end up somewhere before then... "get'er done!"

Embraced by the Whirlwind

Left to right: Nathan, Chad, Theresa, Jacob

For about a year now I have listened to stories told by my friend, the pastor of Pass Creek Church, about his, "Hunka Mom." He and his wife are both living at the Pine Ridge Reservation with the Lakota people. Tim tells me that the term, "Hunka" is similar to being adopted into the family. It acknowledges strong ties of fidelity that are greater than mere friendship.

In her unique role as Hunka Mom to what was once an outsider, she has been instrumental in bridging culture as two once-different people have become something more than family. Indeed, the basis of community seems to have began with the two of them. She calls him her son, and to him she is "Mom."

Today Jacob, Nathan, and I had the great opportunity to load equipment in the large (and better than the Chevy) Ford F-250 Powerstroke Diesel for the purpose of mowing and trimming Tim's Mom's yard. He introduced us and we went outside to mow in the 100 degree scorching sunshine.

Jacob mowing the front.

Nathan sweeping up glass.

The yard was knee-high in places and the work was slow-going. Tim's Hunka Mom recently had surgery and was unable to move about as freely as she might have liked. With a stake in hand I cleared the yard of snakes and picked up a few stray cans and pieces of plastic. 

Nathan cleans up a shattered storm window.
Lacking a dust-pan or broom, a snow-brush and a portrait of Jesus served to pick up the broken pieces.

Having completed that, I went inside to see Tim's mom, and I hoped to establish a relational connection. Our church has adopted her and her property to care for directly. We will  write, call, meet needs, and even visit her once a year. My hope was that this relationship could be somehow natural and comfortable... despite the distance and obvious differences.

I asked her, "Mrs Whirlwindhorse, I know that Tim calls you, Mom. What should I call you?" She smiled and tilted her head slightly to the right. She said, "Yes, yes he does. Hmmm... you can call me Auntie Theresa."

I couldn't stop the giant, goofie smile from spreading across my face! She just became my Lakota Auntie. I brought the other guys back into her home where we shared cold bottles of water and prayed blessings down on the property and her family together. 

Earlier I had taken a prayer walk around the perimeter of her property.

We prayed for the Spirit of God to guard the perimeter of her property from North to South, from East to West. We prayed that feet would only set on that property to do kindess, and that cars would only enter her driveway to provide peace. The wind answered softly outside, shifting the framework of the home in a sort of affirmative response.

I decided to take a chance and ask her if we could all have a picture together. I promised her that we would make sure that she looked beautiful.

Promise kept!

She embraced me with a giant hug. 

We love you, Auntie Theresa. We'll write soon and we'll see you next July. We'll have those new kitchen cabinets ready to be installed. Thank you for accepting us and calling us family.

What May Be Found

What may be found at the top of an unknown staircase? When I was a young child my uncle and cousins locked me in Grandma Elsie's attic on Baltimore Street. I knew that I should be afraid of that centennial house with hand-hewn beams and cascades of spiderwebs... but I just sat there in the darkness until I could see small beams of light cutting through.

This evening I stood at the bottom of a newly installed pull-down ladder inside of the old garage at Pass Creek Church in Pine Ridge. I stared up into the attic above and knew I had to climb. Memories of childhood wonder and adventures in old houses colored my mind as I escaped into Narnia.

What may be found when we're willing to really look? I mean, to look with more than just our eyes. To look with our memories, our wonder, and even our souls.

Tonight I begin our team devotional moment. The group seemed more vulnerable tonight, sharing real emotion, reaction, and thoughtful reflection. Eyes here are seeing again like a wonder-filled child, peering past the darkness and seeing slivers of light. 

Generations have crossed paths with the span of 60 years that covers the ages of our group. The energy of a teenager insects with the calm and wise assurance of age. We all grasp figurative hands as we see with spiritual eyes.

I stood there knowing that the devotional was winding to a close. The room was growing hot, chairs were beginning to shift, and everyone was dead-dog tired. I argued a bit with God. 

"I know I should pray, but I just don't know what else to add." The answer, "So don't pray." I responded, "Ok, that sounds good, no praying tonight for me. I guess someone else can pray." The response, "No. You don't want to pray to me, so don't make them." I thought... "Ugh." 

Again God prompts me, "So sing a song." I thought, "That's a great idea God, but I don't have a clue." I could picture God with a chuckle as He gently said, "Well, you never do."

And then He said to me, "But, someone in this room does."

With a smile on my face I looked up and said, "We're going to close this out with a song. I don't know what it is, but someone here does."

I was thinking of some sort of Bethel or Elevation bit of genius... when from my left a deep, rich bass voice began with the most perfect of words...

Jesus loves me this I know,
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong,
they are weak yet He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.

I sang it out from the wonder-filled child of me that sat on the attic step, lost in the bright beams of light that shattered the dark space. I saw with more than my eyes the deep truth of Jesus' love in this space. 

I opened my tear-glistened eyes and met twenty-nine pairs of others who were with me and saw exactly what I had seen.

What May Be Found? That we are not alone.

Finding God in Unexpected Places

The South Dakota sun set over the Lakota people, dropping beneath the distant horizon as it has for well over one-thousand years. As I stand and breath in the atmosphere I can feel the weight of time. There is so much to be received from the depth of this culture. We have encountered a kindness sourced beyond recent history, a shimmer of the character of this noble people.

Our team of thirty is settling into a rhythm for the week: beginning with a 6:55 AM rooster-call from Dan, followed by breakfast, an impromptu devotion, construction, VBS for ages four to twelve, a youth meeting after dinner, and our nightly debrief. Patience, flexibility, and love are our guides.

The Soccer Team made final preparations for the week, along with the: Teaching Team, Craft Team, Lunch Team, and our Village Pick Up Crew. When you're with THIS group, every activity is a fun activity!

The Rally Team was in full swing at the close of VBS day one with Rebecca and her assistant, "Mega" leading the charge! The students went home with extra snacks in hand and a charge to bring their friends for the next day.

Great progress was made on the Craft Center conversion project, extending beyond this photo well into the evening. Soon this space will be used by the women of the Lakota for crafting and selling on the Etsy store. It's a place of connection, learning, friendship, and discipleship.

The day ended with a time of reflection as team members shared mental snapshots of the day, describing how they saw Jesus looking back when they took the time to intentionally look a child in the eye and make a real connection. We're discovering that we're all very much the same here, our similarities are far deeper than our differences.

3 Vans | 1 Box Truck | 30 People | 2400 miles | 1 Purpose

Forget your plans. Don't worry about your schedule. It's ok if the job doesn't get done, or if you miss a meal altogether. You have 51 weeks this year of comfort, safety, and all-about-youness. 

No matter what you do this one week, just make yourself vulnerable to the other. Oh yeah, keep in mind that this week you are the stranger. There is so much for you to learn in this place. Feel a little discomfort. Experience some hunger. Lean into the tension. God is not found in the ease, He awaits you on the battlefied. 

A quick drive through Allen last night and I saw her. A little girl wandering alongside the road covered head to toe in mud. A clothe diaper was her only protection. No shoes, no shirt, and no-one there to hold her hand. She had fallen and the blood was dried, caked, and crimson on her face. 

Common here. Not shocking to anyone here. Just the norm. 

The vision of God is stronger here. Change that begins with the light of a single human pausing to meet and see another. Don't be afraid to love. Lean in to the voice of the Spirit. You are here for a purpose, for such a time as this. 

Look a person in the eye. Take a hand into yours. Give them something that you can't give up. Understand that the loss you feel is simply their everyday state of being. 

This trip isn't about us who have traveled. It is about authenticity. Loving God and loving neighbor as self. We all agree that the world needs more of this. So let's begin here.

Sunlight Shines Down Heavy

Sunlight shone down heavy today. The sky was so brilliant here that it hurt to take it in. The Paper-Wasps circled around my head harmlessly. I knew they had the ability to sting, but somehow the day just felt calm. Safety is nothing more than an illusion.

I awoke this morning to the screaming parade of emergency vehicles kicking up dust down the dirt road past the mission. The wail of the sirens seemed endless... it seemed another tragedy had taken this place.

Last week a pillar of the tribe was lost and a community was shaken with news of the fifth sudden death in only a few short weeks. His seemed sudden, although many knew of his heart condition, complications brought on by years of choices and behaviors. Still though... death is too sudden, too sharp.

I looked out the door through the sunlight and saw children playing. I walked out and began a conversation with a native man, tattoos on his face, standing between his two youngest children, alternately pushing each of their swings as they rose and fell. I asked him, "Do you know of a man with the last name of 'Yellow Bear' that died last week?"

He did... and he told me that his death felt too oppressive to even breathe. He asked me, "Why does the reaper come for us here?" He shared that he doesn't want to believe in God anymore... he is angry at God. His own brother was shot and killed... and now all these deaths just seem overpowering. 

This is what it must feel like to drown.

He asked, "Did you hear all the sirens this morning?" He told me that a man had burned alive in his trailer. It was thought to be a homicide. While the young man was burning, his family tried to reach him, but were overpowered by the flames and forced to dive out a window. He was lost.

Six deaths, one right after the other with barely time to bury the dead. This small town can be fully seen from the mission here, nestled tightly on a hilltop. How can so much death descend on such a bright place? 

This evening as the sun fell below the horizon of Allen, the little town here... I dropped to my knees on the hard earth. I felt myself pulled back through the pain of the day, the darkness of the past month here, and farther into the blood that stained the earth when Native American women and children were slaughtered in the hills.

This land has known too much sorrow. I prayed for atonement. I prayed for mercy. I prayed for grace to again find this place. I prayed for hope to replace doubt. I prayed for a bold faith to drive out fear. 

I prayed that all those things take root in my own soul. I prayed for the father I spoke with as he swung his young children. I prayed for the women and men who live on the hilltop awaiting the next death.

As I stood, looking at the sun shadowing my back, I realized that this darkness grips our nation and our world. Are we not all living with a sense of fear at this time. Some belief that things are getting worse, or that disaster is around the corner? 

I reject that notion. I breathe deep as I search the horizon. Sunlight shines down heavy today and that light is from my Father. He made all this and He holds me even now. Our fears are nothing more than Paper-Wasps that we can walk through. Death is nothing more than an illusion. 

There is a great victory that has taken place, and there is an endless cry in heaven of, "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God almighty. Who was, who is, and who is to come." And so as the sun has fallen over the horizon in this place, I pull the covers tight in the darkness knowing that there is a promise of a Risen Son. 

I pray for more chances to talk with my new friend tomorrow. We parted today with an agreement that we just want a better world for our children. We want to be better men so that they can have a chance. 

We must chose to see the sunlight, even when it shines down heavy.

Thinking On Stars

And He took him outside and said, "Now look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to count them." And He said to him, "So shall your descendants be."

-Genesis 15:5

I found myself drinking coffee with the natives of the Oglala Lakota Sioux tribe at the Pass Creek Church in the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota this morning when the phone rang. Our conversation had been about a couple of mountain lions that had been taking down horses. 

I suppose the ringing of the phone shocked me back into the present and away from imaginings of meeting one of those big cats face to face in the darkness. The reality on the other end of the line was no less life-threatening.

A native woman was desperate to get her father-in-law to the hospital in Rapid City, about a two hour drive away through the Badlands. He needed immediate care. She had been counting on the sale of a Star Quilt to cover necessary costs, and the buyer had recently cancelled the order even though she was nearly finished. 

Star Quilts are rich in tradition from the Lakota tribe. It is considered a deep honor to invest the time, labor, and skill that is necessary in crafting the textile, using local dyes and materials... to then give it away to honor the life of a person or a great accomplishment. Tradition has passed down that it represents the brightest star in the sky, and offers hope, and is believed to lead toward understanding.

The woman on the phone was asking if anyone at the church might purchase the unfinished quilt from her so that she could use the money to get her husband to the hospital. I watched as the group of Lakota considered her plight. I knew that I had the money in my pocket to cover her expense, but I wanted to better understand the gravity of the situation. 

Each person in the room checked his or her pockets for the needed amount, commenting that she needed help and I could see that her situation was legitimate. I listened as she was told, "I am sorry, but no-one here can help." 

"I can." All heads turned to me, the odd-ball of the group. I've been the minority since arriving yesterday afternoon, the single Caucasian for miles around. "Tell her that I'll buy it." I pulled the cash from my pocket, project money from Connection Point missions, my church in Sidney, Ohio. I chuckled to myself, realizing that I'd need to explain to our Mission Board why we now own a partially finished Star Quilt. 

The sound of a slamming car door a few minutes later alerted me to her arrival. I saw her face at the door, eyes searching for the unknown stranger who had agreed to receive her labor of love. I felt so human in that moment. The pain that I saw in her eyes was pain that I'm all to familiar with myself. It's in those moments when we're so desperate for an answer, that we fear that somehow it will just slip through our fingers at the last second.

The pastor later today would talk about how we waste our lives sometimes in fear, how most of the things we fear never come to pass, and that we should think on things that are true, noble, right, pure, and lovely. 

Along with the fear in her eyes, I also saw something lovely, pure, and noble in her face. Isn't this the story that pulses in us all? We push back fear with hope. We answer crisis with action. We work hard and we give of our sweat, tears, and sometimes even blood to honor those we love and to protect what is good in this world. 

God made a promise to Abraham all those thousands of years ago, "Look up into the heavens. Can you count the stars?" Think on things that are lovely, that are true and right. God honored Abraham as he hung a giant tapestry of stars in that ancient night sky. Those same stars shined down on that promise fulfilled in the Son of God, Jesus Christ as He continued to shine truth into the earth.

We all are honored to receive the light from heaven, and this quiet exchange this morning somehow just seemed to bring it all home. It won't be all that hard to explain why Connection Point Church now owns a Star Quilt... we are honored to receive what it represents, the capacity to give. 

We were created by God who gave us His own nature to love, to give, and to live in community together. May we all continue to remember that there is honor in giving.

"...children must early learn the beauty of generosity. They are taught to give what they prize most, that they may taste the happiness of giving." 

- Charles Alexander Eastman, Wahpeton Santee Sioux

Postscript: I hope the Quilters Club, AKA the Church Mice, are looking for a great project to finish!

1000 Miles to Sidney

The sun crested over the horizon and began to cast its beams onto us in the West. It's been a week since we set out from Connection Point Church of God in Sidney, Ohio. The day finds us with our part of the mission accomplished... at least for this trip. 

Security Door & new walls.

Unusable porch

The two buildings have been structurally refitted to serve as a women's dormitory and a men's dormitory that will be able to comfortably house up to fifty team members who come and serve at Pass Creek Mission through the summer months. Our own team will be returning, with a goal of 30 team members on June 23, 2018.

We'll return to adopt a Oglala Lakota family to walk alongside for a week, to play with their children, share our life-stories, pray together, eat together, and meet some of their physical needs by making repairs and improvements on their house. We'll also host a Bible School for the kids at the mission church, teaching them, feeding them, and by exchanging with them Christ's love and compassion.

And, we're likely to also catch some sights along the way. On the way home this morning, we swung up north a bit to view Mount Rushmore. Next year our hope is to also see Crazy Horse and to learn more about native history and culture.

You'll want to reserve your spot soon, June is only nine months away and we will begin planning in January. For now, our group heads East as the sun again warms us as it edges along the opposite horizon. To our friends and family, we hope to see you mid-day tomorrow. We'll drive through the night until the sun catches us again. Godspeed.

Me, writing in the back of the van as we travel East.

Where the Losses Are Personal

The hammering and sawing has gone silent for a few brief minutes as our team of ten, The Get'er Done Gang gathers around a few tables in the kitchen of the Pass Creek Church. Although we won't depart until tomorrow, we're already aware of closure. Nearly all of the work has been completed and the clock is accelerating.

Tim and Kim, the pastors and missionaries here to the Oglala Lakota tribe, both have oncoming pressing matters. Another recent death has the native community honoring her life with their traditional three-day wake. They have asked Tim to accompany the body along the route, and to act as pastor. He'll be leaving early this afternoon to honor their requests, engaging in a three-day wake and shoveled burial. 

Our team sees the love and compassion of God lived out in the lives of Tim and Kim. She's leaving as well to make a trip into the city to take care of some necessary business. And so we find ourselves here in this room, in this moment, so that we can pause to give thanks, recognize the work done, and hand over some cash to cover some immediate needs.

I begin by presenting our letter of gratitude and Dan hands over the financial gift. Connection Point Church of God was asked to raise $2,500.00 and they gave generously, donating over $4,000.00. What a blessing and joy it is to see their gift go to spreading hope here in this beautiful and desperate place.

I comment that our recently articulated vision for Connection Point is to be "An army of God's servants, doing the work of God with love and compassion." Kim speaks up and adds (my paraphrase) "Yes, that resonates strongly with us here. What you've seen here, now you must take it back with you to your community."

With a nod to the words of Jesus, "... you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and Samaria, and to all the ends of the earth," 

Kim says, "This place is your Samaria. The culture is a little different, the customs and languages are different, and the people's skin are a slightly different color. When you go back home, that's your Judea. There the culture is like you, the people speak like you, and their skin color is the same as yours. Your challenge now is to take that love and compassion that you've lived out here in this place, and to offer it to your neighbors, your city, and to your family."

"You must take it home, and live it out where the losses are personal."

Whoa. That's really it isn't it? How difficult is it for a group of people to go to a faraway place and exercise love and compassion? How much harder might it be to risk extending love, generosity, and compassion in your own backyard? You don't get to love'em and leave'em. You have to live with them every day. If they humiliate you, reject you, or threaten you... you can't just jump back in the van and travel away. 

Faith must come home. The losses must be personal. This is how we fulfill... no, how we live out our mandate to mourn with those who mourn, to weep with those who weep, and to comfort those who need comforting. This is how you and I bring light into dark places. We have to risk. We have to give. We have to love. Sometimes we even have to sweat, bleed, or die. We have to be willing to get down in the dirt right where we live... because we all need the love of God.

Our eyes must be open to the reality that our homes are also the mission. If we aren't living to reach others right where we live, then we aren't really doing it at all. What is it costing us? What are we risking? What might your co-workers, neighbors, and family say about your mission? Are you willing to lose, to sweat, to bleed? How much do you love Him? How much do you accept what He has given you?

The hammering, the sawing, and the sounds of building have nearly gone silent, and now our real work is about to begin.

And Still We Persist (Darkness is Here)

"Do you see that girl over there to our left, all dressed in black? She is the one that was raped by several drunk men earlier this week. There she is, walking along as if nothing has happened. They go numb. They just go numb."

"That house over there is abandoned. It was a Meth House and now there is no money to renovate it. It just sits empty while dozens of families wait to receive housing."

"That building was a youth center, but the directors were fired. They lost control and the kids just began to go in and fight. Now it is unsupervised and the kids are running wild."

This is life in the Pine Ridge Indian (Native American) Reservation, the poorest city in the United States were the median income of a family is barely $3,000 per year. Like all reservations, its technically dry, but alcohol flows like water here as alcoholism powers despair. Poverty is cyclical here and the young are caught choosing between honoring their people's tradition and seeking to find their way in a modern society. There can be shame in rejecting poverty here.

Being a Native American means that you've been oppressed, side-lined, bought-out, and held exile on your own land. I am reminded of the Jewish people in Babylonian captivity. There is a sorrow that tarnishes daily life. But hope also resides in that story. When God is again discovered, a new hope rises. 

Our team is here to lay the groundwork for that hope.

Johnathan and Darryl have been the kitchen crew, transplanting cabinets from a demo'd kitchen to the remodel. They completed their work today while the rest of the crew finished the men's and women's common rooms, installed the new washer and dryer, re-routed the main hallway, and prepped for tomorrows final projects.

Josh patching holes from the former kitchen.

Dan and Terry running power & water for a washer & dryer.

Yes, we are in a dark space. The family structure in this little town is destroyed. Lives are all in a sort of transient dislocation, living on land that is rightfully theirs, but legally someone else's. And yet the work this team is engaging in will enable two missionaries to continue to live here, adopted as family by the Native American people.

This is true and undefiled religion, loving the widows, the orphans, and the wanderers in their distress. Abiding with them, weeping with them, and even laughing with them.

Because it is a great joy to break through the barriers, and to see new possibilities emerge!

And so still we persist. With great expectation and joy. The darkness will be shattered in this place. We've only just begun to strike the flint. Light has come.