A Window into Grace and Hope

Pastor Kim Van Brimmer, Orange Beach Presbyterian Church

On Friday night I made one last phone call to the church member who was heading up the church work day the very next day. “I’m not sure how many people will be there – we might have ten, we might have twenty. We’ll just have to wait and see,’ he said. I assured him we would be just fine with whoever was there, but inside I worried just a little bit. There was so much to do. A little congregation, Orange Beach Presbyterian just hasn’t had the numbers or the healthy bodies needed to keep up with all of the landscaping. The lawn gets mowed every two weeks by a professional, but this was so much more than cutting the grass. How could we get it all done? What projects could fall to the wayside if only a few people came?

We weren’t sure of the total number of people because there was no sign up sheet, just a lot of verbal invitations, encouragements, and exhortations to come help. One church member asked everyone in the AA and Alanon groups that meet 6 days a week in our building, I asked the congregation every Sunday for three weeks running, and our food pantry volunteers assured our clients when they saw the flyers that no work is ever required to receive food, but their presence and fellowship is always enjoyed.

Saturday morning, 9:00 am, the coordinator and I were at the church, the rakes and tarps and clippers dragged out from the closet, and the first car pulled in. It’s a man I only know as Cowboy, a tall guy on his 60’s who comes every week to get food from our pantry. He let me know he’s been a landscaper his entire life and began pulling tools out. The coordinator and I exchanged a glance and just started laughing – it was all going to be okay.

By 9:15 Cowboy was on a ladder trimming the bushes by the front doors. A steady stream of people leaving the morning AA meeting were grabbing tools and jumping in. Church members came with food for lunch, tools to work, and a trailer to haul all of the vegetation to the street. Children were handing out waters from a safe distance, and sandwiches were being put together in the kitchen. All told, we had 40 people there. A group from the sober living house. More landscapers. Hurting people and hopeful people all working side by side, no egos, no judgment, just love, sweat, and hard work.

We broke for lunch at 11:30 and I looked around the tables in the fellowship hall, set in their usual position, a large U shape so everyone can see each other. Tomorrow was World Communion Sunday, and I thought, ‘No, it’s today. This is it. This is communion. This is church.” The youngest person at the table was 18 months old, the oldest was 87. We had a person who was ten days sober, trying to find a community of support. A man who’s been sober for 20 years. A few of our food pantry clients. Different ages, races, socioeconomic levels, different denominations, faith beliefs, and spiritual maturities. All sitting at the table, laughing and eating and talking together. The hedges got pruned, the trees trimmed, the gardens all weeded and mulched. But the hope I felt wasn’t in the trees and the leaves and the bushes – it was in the people gathered around the table for a meal. Pruned trees grow back and are even healthier. Apparently that’s true for churches, too.

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