Feeding His Lambs

John 21:15  NRSV
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter,
"Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?"
He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you."
Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs."

When our daughter Alida was 16, she asked our permission to join a group of adults and young people for a two-week trip to Bosnia, where they would run day camps for children.  The trip was sponsored by our church's New Jersey synod.  The purpose?  To give these children, who lived with the grim shadows of their civil war all around them, a day of pure fun . . . and to let them know that people cared.

Her father and I discussed it; we decided that 16 was too young for this.

We told her to wait a year, and see if she still wanted to go.

She did.

With some many misgivings, and after prayer and much discussion, we said Okay.

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But I asked her, wouldn't it be better to send money to Bosnia,

for rebuilding, for job creation, for schools?

Why did a bunch of Americans

have to go and play with Bosnian children?

Because of Alida's age, Howard and I went to the planning meetings for this trip.

Not surprisingly, this question came up from more than one parent:

why not fund raise and send funds, instead of yourselves?

The trip coordinator, Jason Reed, quoted the Bible verse I put at the beginning of this post.

In that post-Resurrection conversation,

Jesus tells Peter to feed His lambs.

To feed a newborn lamb takes patience, and presence;

you can't just throw food at it from a distance.

You need to hold it, and bottle feed it, and care for it faithfully.  It needs you to be there.

That, said Jason, is why we go.  We are feeding His lambs,

feeding them with our love and care, our games and laughter and song.

Those weren't his exact words -- it's been a long time -- but you get the idea.

And I got it, too, and (kind of reluctantly) understood.

 The physical presence of the Americans

among these children was in itself a gift to them.

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I thought of Jason and his explanation today, as Anne and I helped bring bagged lunches

to people who have lost so much in the recent flooding.

  

They were hungry as they cleaned out their sodden living rooms

and began hacking at their walls and flooring; the food was certainly welcome.

That's daughter Anne knocking on the door; no one was home at this house.

But I realized as we moved through this once-lovely neighborhood, that being there was also important.

Waiting for the trash trucks.

It means a lot.  If you've been in a similar circumstance, you know what I mean.

Even the smallest kindness, like a simple bagged lunch, and a smile, can lift your spirits.

Someone came.  Someone cares.

Annie has gone back to school; classes and her work start tomorrow.

But I will be joining the other church ladies for as long as there is need,

feeding His lambs.

Thank you Anne and Judy and Emily for being the runners for the red minivan today!

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Best comment of the day:

Elderly lady, sitting amidst the rubble of her home, to Anne:  "Where are you from again?"

Anne:  "The Lutheran church on the Turnpike."

Elderly lady:  "Ah, trying to show up the Reformed Church, are ya?"

How did she know?  :-)

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I'm afraid I can't remember how many times Alida went back to Bosnia.  Four?  Five?

I can't say that those two weeks each summer weren't fraught with anxiety for me,

and seeing her come through customs at Kennedy Airport each time was a great joy.

Alida has written about a few of her experiences in Bosnia on a blog (like mother, like daughter).

Some posts are book reviews, others are about the trips.

You can visit Journeys of a Jersey Girl by clicking here.

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And special for my Jersey Girl who now lives in California,

a final flood picture for today, of a favorite high school destination:

Anne and I drove through this little downtown area on our way home from church;

the waters have left the streets and shops, but it's a massive cleanup job.

I'm sorry I am not posting my usual stuff,

and I apologize for not getting to as many of your posts as I'd like;

I'll be back in form soon, I promise!  -- Cass