Reflections
on the 2007 Mission Trip
Every evening, after we had all eaten dinner together and made our lunches for the next day, we would gather for chapel and journal time. One evening, I was listening to music and writing in my journal, and I came across this
quote, “Lay hold of the hope set before us. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast. Hebrews 6:18-19”
It had been a very hard day. We had helped out at a preschool for underprivileged children and then traveled deep into South Boston to volunteer at a men’s drug halfway house. It was at this worksite that I met Richard—well, he actually preferred to be called Country. He was very skinny and his eyes were sunken deep into his head. He had no teeth. When we entered the house, Country was overly excited and wasn’t sure what to do, so he kept following us around and telling us that his name was Country.
Finally, after all the youth were busy scrubbing walls or cleaning the kitchen, Country cornered me, eager to share his story. Country was an HIV-Positive heroin addict who recently had spent two weeks in a heroin binge and had all of his front teeth knocked out when he got into a fight. He shared with me that he had been sent to a boy’s home when he was eight. Both of his parents had died and no one else wanted him. He had been in and out of the halfway house for the past few years. Over the course of twenty minutes he continued to share his whole story with me—including how he contracted HIV.
It was hard to spend this much time with him; he pushed all of the social boundaries and stood deep in my personal space, which made me a little uncomfortable
I kept thinking to myself—what have I gotten our group into and later, what have I gotten myself into? All I could do was listen to this man, Country. He stood there, drinking his coke and was extremely excited that youth from the Community Church were there to clean the house that he lived in with 24 other men. Where, in Country, was this hope that we read in Hebrews? What was the anchor in Country’s soul? Country was excited about his story, who he was and what he had learned. He was determined to share his life lesson with others even if he didn’t exactly “practice what he preached.”
What are the lessons that we can learn from this lonely man and, why do they matter?
Country explained very clearly that he wasn’t dying with HIV, but, in fact, he felt that he was living his life with HIV. He wanted me and everyone else to know that they needed to be careful with their lives, make decisions that were thought out and not dangerous to themselves or to the people around them. He wanted to matter to someone and he had hope that he did matter. That was Country’s message and that was Country’s anchor of hope—that he mattered to someone else.
What a great message for all of us on the mission trip and, in fact, all of us in this community—We matter to others.
As I continued reflecting on my encounter with Country, I looked around the sanctuary at all the youth writing in their journals. They matter to each other and they matter to me. I matter to them. We had formed a united community where we lifted each other up and held each other when we needed it. There were tears and there was laughter. There were arguments and there were moments of forgiveness. All of these mattered because together they made us who were are—one group united by God serving others. That is why the mission trip is so important.
The lessons learned, the people we meet, the growing that we do—together—it all matters.
Kristen DelMonte
