“Mint Ting-a-Ling.”  “Piece of Cake.”  “Bittersweet Symphony.”  “White Lightning.”

No, those aren’t brands of moonshine – those are the different ice cream flavors that I have tried so far from The Ice Cream Shack.  Much like Wegman’s grocery story, I have become enamored with this local lactose staple.  I’ll keep you updated on the newest flavors…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

As for my experiences, I am learning that this is a journey of human interaction.  It is a year defined not by the church services I participate in, nor the vacation bible school decorations I put up – It’s not even about the different culinary delights.  Rather, it is about relationships I have the opportunity to develop, and the conversations I have with real people about real problems.

Driving with my pastor across town the other day, I asked her what evangelism meant to her.  She responded that every action which shows the love of God is a form of evangelism.  Every act of service to a person in need, a community impoverished, or a grieving family, is an offering of Christ.

I have had the opportunity to see this type of service in action through hospital and home visitation, one of the most relationally intimate part of a pastor’s job.  Quite regularly, my pastor makes time to visit members of her congregation who are in critical care.  I have joined her on several of these trips over the past week, and I would like to share a few stories from the visits:

1.  After my first Sunday morning service at the two churches, the pastor and I made a special trip to see the most fun couple with which I have ever had the pleasure to talk.  We will call them Susan and Steve.  Susan has had a laryngectomy, leaving her unable to speak without the help of an “electrolarynx” – a machine that produces sound for her, allowing her to shape words via a tube that sits in her mouth.

Susan was a performer – she sang, and I believe they said she acted as well.  While her primary vocation was always work with her hands, creating furniture and later pictures and cards, this is a woman who had one of her greatest natural talents taken away from her by disease.  Yet, I have never met someone more determined to make the most out of a bad situation.

As she told us in her mechanical – yet somehow human-sounding – buzz, “The other day, I was at the craft fair – ”

“Honey, you need to work on your F’s.  Nobody wants to go to a ‘CRAP fair’!” (The always-encouraging husband).

“Crap-T.  Crafff.  Whatever.  Anyway, this little boy was staring at me, so I stared back at him for a minute.  Then I got a real serious look on my face and said… ‘Luke:  I am your father.'”

It continued like this for an hour or so, just listening to stories from their past.  Stories that were frequently peppered with observations of how “blessed” they have been.  You hear about those people who are “inspirations,” but this is on a whole new level.  Susan and Steve are dedicated to finding and spreading joy in every facet of their lives, and it is apparent that nothing is going to stop them.

2.  Our next visit, on Monday morning, was at the end of a 45-minute drive to Erie, PA (tracking your mileage is another key pastoral skill) to see a hospitalized member of the church.  She is among the top three most active church-goers, leading several ministries devoted to the service of those in need.  I don’t know the details of her hospitalization, but it had been a rough week from the sound of it, Monday being the first time she was able to really talk and think without a “cloudy” mind.

When we arrived, she had a bagful of letters for the pastor to deliver to the women served by this church’s prison ministry.  My pastor kept trying to ask about how she was feeling and what her plans were, etc., but all this woman could think about were the different responsibilities that would fall through if she didn’t stay on top of them.  Probably in her 80s, she showed me my next example of perseverance and dedication to higher ideals.

She was sad to be incapacitated, and our visit ended with some very real tears.  Yet, it was not self-pity.  She was upset that she could not serve.  Imagine being so dedicated to others that it breaks your heart to be unable to give more of yourself.

3.  One of the previous woman’s favorite ministries is serving Communion to a group of about 15 people at a nearby nursing home.  As it turned out, the next scheduled date was on Wednesday.  So, yesterday my pastor and I drove out to a small “Adult Home” located in what looked like an old farmer’s estate.

Waiting for us in a large meeting room were about 5 rows of elderly folks sitting in complete silence.  It was intimidating.  I have never been one who is especially comfortable in…these sorts…of settings, and this was no exception.  My initial reaction was one of sadness:  These poor old people, who knows if they’ll even be able to understand what we’re doing.

My pastor, though, seemed much more accustomed to this setting.  She immediately began speaking in a steady, booming voice that reverberated throughout the room, “Hello!  My name is Pastor __, and this is my intern, Gabe.  I don’t sing very well, so he is going to help us out with some music!”

Laughter.  Thank goodness!  They are responsive! (As you can see, I am pretty inept in diagnosing the capabilities of the elderly).

Anyways, we started out with the classic hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”  I was hammering out the melody on a small keyboard, and after the second stanza, I remembered that we had to hurry somewhat.  Lunch in the adult home was at 12PM sharp, and from what they had told us – nobody keeps them from getting to lunch.  So, in a quick moment of decision, I paused and said, “Let’s skip the third verse and finish with the last stanza!”

As we neared the end of this verse, I thought I could hear someone still singing the third verse, and I knew that I had messed up.  Of course that was a bad idea – you don’t skip a verse in the middle of a song with a group of people who have difficulty hearing anyway!

When the rest of us finished singing, it was affirmed: one lone voice continued on, gargling out to the best of her aged ability, “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty!”  Oh, it was awkward.  My pastor looked at me in exasperation, the nurse put up her hands in helplessness, and it was about to be really sad.

So, I did the only thing that could be done at that point:  I started in on the next line with all the strength I had, pounding away at the piano and belting out, “All thy works shall praise thy name, in earth and sky and sea…”  The rest of the group soon joined in, and we finished that last verse (for a second time) with the most vigor we could.

I took it as a testament to the ability of God to use absolutely anyone to pull on the hearts of others.  I know, it was just a silly verse in a song, but I think that every person there was moved by this one woman’s determination to finish out the hymn.

That’s all for now.  Going to Niagra Falls on Friday!  Talk about seeing some of God’s handiwork…