One by one the posts go up, ten men around them, Thai and American. The men walk across the concrete slab we worked on in 100 degree heat for days. This is our house we are building, bought by our sweat.
Of course, it’s not really ours though. Or if it is, we’re giving it back to YWAM when we leave in a few days. But until then, we’ll labor as if it is ours.
It’s the Thai men’s too. There are about ten of them here this morning. They got here at 7 or 7:30 to help, but none of them are paid. They were all asked here by Arun to help. They come because of favors he’s done for them.
“When you help people,” he told us, “They’ll help you too when you need it.”
It’s a good system. Arun owns, with his sweat equity, small portions of dozens of farms in this area, and these men now own a small portion of his farm.
The last post goes up. Eight in all. All weighing three to five-hundred pounds, big and round posts some of which are too big for a man’s embrace. They’ll support a deck for the second story of the house.
It would be impossible to get them up for one person. We have to rely on each other.
Ma Ping sends out a plate of pancakes and coffee for the men. Some sit in a circle and eat. Others get up to leave on their scooters, time to go to their own farms for a long day of work. They have to work hard during the dry season, sometimes 16 or more hours a day, to prepare for the rains coming next month.
I have never been one to help people much. When the women at church would call me to help them move, I would usually say no or forget to go. I was never in a hurry to help.
This month though I wanted to serve my teammates. I did dishes (dishes for 11 people can be a lot!) once or twice a day. I worked as hard as I could as we did concrete or digging work, and I looked for opportunities to say yes to service.
It has changed my life. There is an inherent joy in service. It’s good when people notice and are grateful, but it’s almost better when they don’t, when the only credit you get for your hard work is from God.
I also notice when I serve I feel more part of the community, my team. I feel more confident that I have something valuable to offer them, that I am valued and respected as a member of the community.
You don’t feel like good about yourself when you hang back and avoid as much work as possible. You feel guilty, and kind of ashamed.
So I’m sold on service. I’ll work myself down to the bone for my friends and feel better for doing it. I’ll fight with my body to say yes when I really want to say no. I’ll be better off because of it.
That’s it. The men have gone home. Breakfast is ready. Food: another reward for hard work.
