The Labor of Loving: Learning from the Staff at Mustard Seed

As Thursday rolled around, our group began to feel locked-in to a rather rigid schedule. Five-thirty wake-up, a cold shower, Morning Prayer, Mass, a quick breakfast, then hard work all day long. Even after Wednesday’s outing, the whole procedure was beginning to weigh down on our bodies. Loving these kids felt like sunshine and daisies when we were alert, energized and fully able to give ourselves over to the experience. Once we were sleepy and fatigued, however, it began to feel a bit more like the Cross of Christ. The shift in heart was beautiful in its own way; we showed our love not by our emotional investment, but rather by our perseverance through all the little aches, pains and annoyances of life at Mustard Seed.

The caregiving staff at Blessed Assurance exemplified this spirit of enduring love best of all. We would serve there for just one week, but they served all day, every day, from dawn till dusk. They woke earlier than us and retired later. We heard their energetic songs with the children late into the night, their voices ringing out with the same vitality as during the day, when we were there to listen. Their love for the kids was obviously authentic; it was in no way manufactured or “ramped up” as a false display for us visiting volunteers.

The male staff members inspired me as well, albeit in a different, more hidden way. Kevin, our Mission Director, woke up freakishly early (no doubt before five o’clock) to cook breakfast for us every single day. He worked behind-the-scenes to coordinate all of the logistics of the week. Norman, the Maintenance Director, patiently directed our labor on the trench-building project. His skill and work ethic were prodigious, though his tools were old and rusty (his machete handle was held together by duct tape!).

Lastly, there was Bashy, another member of the Missions team, who did a little bit of everything around Blessed Assurance. He directed our outings, worked with the kids and helped with transportation. Most importantly, Bashy spent time with us personally, hearing our stories and sharing his own. His way of loving was subtle, carried out not in grandeur but rather in a thousand small gestures. When I think of Mustard Seed, I will immediately reckon back to Bashy’s warm, brotherly energy.

As the day rolled on, it came time to feed the children their lunch. I was assigned to feed little Sabrina for a second time. I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed; I secretly wanted to feed one of the older children. In that moment, the Lord invited me to endure the labor of fatherhood. I asked myself: does a father grow bored of feeding his same child over and over again? Does he tire of the small sacrifices needed to sustain his sons and daughters? Yes, I concluded, of course he grows weary of these little monotonies; but it makes no difference to him. Instead, the loving father puts aside those passing concerns and picks up the Cross. 

 

Smiling, I dipped Sabrina’s little spoon into the bowl and started to feed her. Amen.

Make sure to follow the rest of our trip on social media using the hashtag #SemsOnMission