"We still need to mop up here..."

A Young Life camp sits in the center of a circle of beautiful, misty mountains. Windy Gap is not far from Asheville, NC and is the spot for our annual high school retreat. As we caravan four tour buses full of almost three hundred students, we kick off the school year with the hopes that our kids will have the right vision of what lies ahead. I don't necessarily look forward to it like I used to when I was younger, but the truth is every year I end up loving the time with the kids and relishing in spontaneous conversations with spiritually hungry teenagers. It is worth every minute.

My other responsibility every year is taking the seniors to the middle school retreat were we serve them as the work crew. I would love to try to explain the nature of this trip and why I love it more than the previous one described, but it would be hard to summarize. As I drove home and reflected, I knew I needed to write a little bit about this time as it is always so special, but this year was extra ordinary. It is telling enough if I just say, that I didn't want to leave and I wish I was headed back again this week with the same kids. That actually says a lot.

So what made it so sweet? Why in the world would I want to go back to scraping dirty plates covered in middle school grime and milk spilled on pancakes and rice splattered all over the floor and dirty napkins stuck to tables from syrup? Why would I want to lift chairs, sweep floors and empty trash cans filled with soured , old food? What would make me miss late nights, early mornings and giggly girls? How in the world can I be sitting outside on my deck with a glass of wine and a soft bed awaiting me and wish I were in a bunk bed, with 11 other girls and a hard, long day ahead of manual, tiring labor? "Why do you always have to be the one to chaperon that trip Dawn? Why don't they get someone else, you do it every year?" Good question. And every year I battle the same hesitation and it gets a little harder to be motivated to go. My back aches, I want good sleep, and I am in charge of too many girls, many of whom have no work ethic. It's like a woman saying she wants to go through labor again. Absurd. Right?

This year was like no other. Hope comes to mind. After many years of coming home feeling like it was worth it because any investment into kids who seem to have no anchor, is worth it. But this year reminded me that there are classes and individual kids that are in a good place. Respect for authority, work ethic, willingness to do whatever is asked. Being proactive in what needs to be done. Humor with no compromise. The rare question of, "What can I do now?" A random group getting along like they are all friends. Hardly any complaining. Laughter. Fun. Singing. Dancing. Taking picture after picture. Talking late at night on blankets under the stars and wishing I could bottle it up so as to never lose it.

I wonder what it was. I do know these particular kids are a unique group. I know most of them have some qualities that make them exceptional in many ways. It is also clear that the mix of kids is not typical. It was a story unfolding. It was in many ways, though they would never see this, a picture of the gospel. The evidence of Jesus. Serving is the key to joy and true satisfaction. Working together to do a hard job and to see it come to pass. Getting dirty, having sticky hands, breaking backs, long hours and no thanks...sounds like Jesus a little bit. Sounds like the life He calls us to. I know at the end of the day, this trip with the seniors is always the more rich one. The first trip to Windy Gap is to serve the kids...a speaker, good food, fun games and free time to hang out...the other one is to serve messy, immature, loud kids...sweat, early mornings and one more task, followed by one more task. It is the grunt work, the washing of dishes with steaming hot water, emptying trash cans full of nasty liquid and going to bed only to wake up with aching feet to do the next job, the next day.

Serving others. Spending yourself. It's not what our culture is telling us. I think it both fascinating and disturbing that there is a small business that actually cleans up your dog poop in the yard. People are paying for this to be done because they don't want to do it themselves. We have lost the rewarding reality of hard work, of dirty, humbling work. Smiles were on the faces of the kids in the kitchen. Laughter was coming for the ones breaking their backs and mopping the floors. The upside down Kingdom. We taste it every once in awhile. We want it all the time...