The crappiest day of my life.
Before I came on the race I had expectations. I know they tell you not to. But seriously, is that even possible?
One of my expectations was that I would be miserable. The crazy thing is I was ready to be miserable and have to “choose joy” and all that jazz. I expected lots of crappy days that pushed me to my broken point and left me sitting on the floor sobbing “I can’t do it. I want to go home.” And I have been waiting for that moment.
So now, as month five on the race draws to a close, I can tell you…Today was the crappiest day of my life. No wait…the crappiest week of my life.
But it was one of the best and most memorable weeks of my life. Let me tell you about it. Just when you thought the poop talk was done… (Another thing they tell you at training camp: don’t blog about poop. Oopsie.)
Our ministry this month has been manual labor. The list of jobs we have done is long and varied. Lime-washing walls, clearing brush by a fence, painting, weeding, wiring vines in a garden, building a playground, cooking, washing cars, plastering, sanding, more and more painting, more weeding, nursing an abandoned puppy back to health, emptying cleaning and restocking a warehouse, rearranging an entire tool shed, painting a playground….I could go on and on.
But on Monday, I happened to unknowingly volunteer for the hardest job this month. Our host told us we would be digging a channel. Great. I thought “surely I can shovel some grass.” I knew something was awry when he told us to meet him at the warehouse so we could get gunboots. Instantly my mind was assaulted by a flash image of the pig-pen that I wrote my last blog about. Maybe you remember it… The one where I stood outside the pen painting the fence as my shoes got covered in poop.
Within ten minutes we were walking hesitantly through the pig stall making our way to the last pig-pen. Froc, the overseer at LightForce, opened the top half of a small wooden door and the strongest odor I have ever encountered, along with a million of those little white flies came rushing in to attack my nose. Once again, I just started to laugh. The laughter continued as Heidi, one of my squad mates crawled through the small opening to begin our trek in to no mans land. There were seven of us.
An area knee-deep with pig poop. It is purely indescribable. Some of that poop has been sitting in the hot sun for months at least, with stagnant water on top. It was one of the foulest things I have ever experienced. With each step we all bogged down a little deeper.
Can you even imagine?
The farmer, walking to give us instructions fell. I was afraid he was going to face plant but he caught himself. He was covered in poop to his elbows.
That’s why I wasn’t even surprised when people started crying, some were vomiting and others were just complaining. Stating simply, “I can’t do this.” I can’t blame them for their negativity. It’s justifiable. I mean that’s to be expected right? No one WANTS to spend their time in Europe shoveling the most rancid thing possible. It was seeping in over our knee-high boots. Our hands, arms, legs, and even faces were splattered with pig poop.
The cool thing?
That’s not actually what happened at all.
What actually happened is seven people accepted the task for what it was and chose to have fun instead. We danced. We sang. We laughed. We made tons of punny jokes. There was a ten minute grace period while everyone worked their way in to the poop. The occasional “oh man this is gross.” But no one complained.
There is something strangely satisfying about sucking it up and doing the hard job that no one else wants to do. We asked God to use us and if this is what it looks like today…This is what we say yes to.
It’s satisfying because we know who we are working for. And I know with absolute certainty if it weren’t for Him, for His glory, I wouldn’t be able to make it through. But He has given me a new heart and all I want to do is bring Him praise. No matter the cost.
So we all smiled and had fun even in the face of a really crappy job. We created memories that we will still laugh about in ten years.
But oh… This is not the end of the story. To find out what happened Wednesday and Thursday when the crap hit the fan, stay tuned for Part 2. “The Crappiest Week Of My Life.”
