From Mountaintop to Valley and Back

About 35 years ago, Mark and I went on a Marriage Encounter Weekend. One of the ideas we embraced was that marriage went through stages of romance, disillusionment, and joy, and these stages were repeated over and over throughout married life. After 6 months at the St. Francis Inn, Mark and I have also been through these phases. When we first arrived, we were excited about our new ministry of service. We were busy learning how to get to the various pickup locations, learning the names of volunteers and guests, acclimating ourselves to the physical work, different climate, simplicity of living--the first two months were a whirlwind of activity. By November, however, we knew the routine pretty well. The reality of our decision to come here and be little cogs in the wheel hit us. It didn't matter that Mark had been a successful director of a nonprofit or that I had been an outstanding high school science teacher for the state of NC. In fact, in the soup kitchen hierarchy, we were at the bottom of the food chain. Local volunteers who had been coming to the Inn for 8 or 20 or 30 years saw our 10 months of service as a grain of sand on the beach. Mark's talent at raising money did not give him any advantage when it came to keeping order in the lineup. I had to accept that I was really nothing, at that everything I had was a gift from God, be it intellect, ability to organize things, our home, our family, my health...everything. Humility has never been a strong virtue of mine, and I have to pray for it each and every day. We both had an "aha" experience in early February when the meditation at morning prayer was about ministering not just to the guests but to "build relationships with those we meet." We meet lots of people every day, including the volunteers who come weekly and the groups who come for a week and work. We realized part of our ministry was to insure these volunteers had a great experience, even if it meant we sat on our hands and let them do things incorrectly or inefficiently.
So now we are at a plateau. I would not say we have attained "true joy." I am trying to ignore the fact that some volunteers refuse to recycle, and so I go through the trash bag after they leave and take out the plastic and cardboard. I am trying to be less critical of the younger volunteers who have trouble getting up in the morning and being in the kitchen on time. If a high school student stops in the middle of mopping the floor and starts chatting, I make a joke and get the mopping back on track. Mark and I are Type A personalities, and it is difficult, but by changing our point of view we can enjoy our assignments more. What will be really interesting is whether we can continue with this attitude when we return to Hickory, or whether we will revert to our former style of getting things done.