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This post is in dedication to my dear friend, Earl Smith, and his wife, Bonnie.
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Hey all, glad you could join me in this post from Malaysia!
But while I write to you from Malaysia, my thoughts still dwell on my time in Bulgaria. Let me fill you in on the deets of last month.
My team was working in a conference center run by Mission Possible in the little village of Dobromirka. From cleaning the whole center to clearing a field of brush, our ministry was varied. It was a very special kind of ministry, however, that I had the pleasure to perform this past month that I want to share with you now.
About a week and a half into our ministry the center was hosting its biannual conference for women, ministering to them, guiding them to inner healing and forgiveness, and leading them in ways of discipleship to bear with them back to their churches and communities. But they were not our only arrivals that week.
I believe it was the second day of the conference in the morning as I sat in the dining hall that I saw him first. It was the father of our one mission host, Emi. Very slowly and gingerly he with his wife entered the side door of the building into the hall where I sat. Every step he took, which were honestly half steps, was a struggle for him and he could only get about 20 or so steps in before he was winded. I had no idea how he would make it to his room on the second floor. But gradually, and with much effort, to his room he made it.
The following day we had just come in from the morning’s work and as I exited the dining area and walked up to our teams’ bedrooms I found Emi with her father by her side walking in the stairwell as she led him to the railing and proceeded to have him do some exercises up and down the stairs to work on regaining his strength. But again, it wasn’t long before he was depleted of strength and asked to return to his bed.
When we all joined to receive our daily tasks the next day and Emi’s husband, Val, explained/demonstrated what we would be doing, Emi stepped forward and posited her own request.
In more or less words she said, “I need two people to help me today. My father is with us here and is not in good health as you saw. I want to get him out of bed and walking twice a day. You may decide who will help with that.”
Instantly my heart was drawn to this.
You see, in recent years I had the privilege to become good friends with a married couple in my church. Some of my supporters reading this may know him and if not I thankfully have the picture you saw above to share of him with you. Earl took to me as a friend but was also to me like a grandfather. I would help him at church each Sunday to get back to his car with his wife and when I would visit him I would help him around as I may and spend share some delightful conversations with him. When I came to know him, though, he was already in the midst of his battle with Parkinsons Disease. Anyone who has a loved one that suffers from this ailment knows the toll it gradually takes on the body. But that never quelled his spirits! He always had a story to share, whether it was about life growing up on the family farm in Big Pond, Pennsylvania or his time and adventures in ministry. He had a wealth of life experiences, and I consider myself very fortunate to this day to have been an inheritor and keeper of those memories. What’s more, he was always such an encouragement to me in my own path to ministry. Whenever I thought I couldn’t do it or wouldn’t measure up he would always follow it up by saying something like, “I think you’re doing just fine.” or “I think you’re great at it.” Small things, but meaningful, as I later pondered.
As you’ve undoubtedly marked, though, I speak of all these things in the past tense. Though I am glad that he no longer must carry on his battle against this illness, I am still deeply saddened that we were parted as he passed away this past March.
But now you see a little more clearly why this ministry was so impactful for me. To help this man, the same way I helped Earl, was a sweet reminder to me.
To me, it was as being visited by my old friend.
This man, who’s name [I believe this is the right spelling] is Aradi which, in Bulgarian, means “joy” (seems fitting, doesn’t it?), continued each day to grow stronger and faster in his pace. He would joke around in Bulgarian and his daughter would share with me in English what it meant. He’s a caring man, much like Earl. One day, in fact, as we sat out on the porch, he moved his feet so I could sit my feet on the carpet so they wouldn’t get cold, and then proceeded to chide me in his native language for not wearing shoes.
I am glad to say that when he departed back to his own home he was far better than when he arrived. It blessed my heart very deeply to have this as part of my ministry this past month. Ministry is not limited to leading a Sunday School class, standing behind a pulpit, or working in a soup kitchen (all highly commendable ministries, mind you), even on the missions field. I myself am guilty of seeing this year largely spent building houses and churches, evangelizing on street corners, and running youth camps (and those things have already or are going to happen). But ministry is anytime, anywhere.
Ministry is a way of life- a way of life lived as Christ did!
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” + Matthew 25:40
