Rear Echelon, Monday to Friday

Dearest Rachel –

Given that I do most of my writing to you fairly early in the morning, when the house is quiet and there’s not much else for me to do (other than go to work out – which provides a lot of the fodder for letters, as I suspect my reluctance to do what I feel I have to do is a fairly common emotion among those possibly reading over your shoulder), it’s no surprise that my topics disproportionately tend towards the events in my life that take place in the morning. It probably doesn’t help that I try to do as little as possible in the evenings, since I’ve resolved to limit my consumption after a late lunch, as part of my dietary process. And between the fact that I’ve been up for so long and my fuel levels are starting to deplete at that point, it’s no surprise that there isn’t as much to report on from the latter side of noon.

But that’s given rather short shrift to the things that happen in my evenings that are beyond my control to schedule. Life goes on at that hour of the day, and I contribute to it; shouldn’t I be talking about it at some point? 

This week in particular, ought to be worth commenting on, given the fact that Vacation Bible School has been going on throughout the week, and I’m working the booth every evening, getting there at five and leaving at around eight. For those living a standard work life, this is a big commitment; one only gets so much down time, especially when you’re putting in forty, fifty hours as a cog in the machine that is the work farce. To serve every night for a whole week like this is a major deal.

But that’s not my situation, and hasn’t been for years now. I don’t have to hope that everything is done at the office before daring to leave at five on the dot, drive home, eat, change, and rush over to take my place. I commend those who do, and all the juggling they have to do with their schedules in order to make this happen. I may spend more time in the booth than I used to, but that’s because I can; I’m taking advantage of the luxury I’ve been afforded (in part thanks to you, honey).

To be honest, I’m probably not using that time all that efficiently, either. I mentioned arriving at five; that really only applied on Monday, as it became clear to me that I wasn’t actually needed until something more like five-thirty or so. Still, one has to budget travel times (both driving and walking from the parking lot a block away, leaving the church lot for parents bringing their kids) and eating as late as possible beforehand, so I think of five as the moment to head out for my assignment; whenever I get there will still give me ample time to do what I need to in order for my part to go smoothly.

And it’s not as if “my” part is a large one these days. Sure, the hype songs at the beginning need me to provide the lyrics as the twenty-somethings lead the kids both in worship and burning off excess energy, but after that, things are so well-oiled that my presence is barely necessary. For all intents and purposes, I’m only there in case something really goes haywire – which, if that actually happened, I’m not entirely sure how much help I could be, but none of us have had to find out. I will put up certain countdowns to let the speakers know how much time they’re supposed to have to talk to the kids as they cycle through, but as far as the slides they present to the kids, they have their own remote controls and go through their lessons without my assistance. I’m not entirely superfluous, but I’m less and less necessary each year, as more is set up beforehand to reduce the need for my direct involvement.

But it still requires me to be there, in the booth, just in case, and as a result, I couldn’t tell you what goes on with the kids and the individual groups. If you were to ask me how things were going at VBS, I would tell you to ask someone else. My little niche doesn’t give me a good vantage point to see how things are going; I’m neither a pair of boots on the ground, nor am I in a position to see the “big picture” as our regiment storms the gates of hell. I am, as I always have been, an REMF (Rear Echelon, Monday to Friday – yes, that’s bowdlerized from the original military term; I’m sure you can figure out what MF really stands for). I take my position and perform my task as needed.

Once upon a time, I worried that such a position wasn’t a worthy one in the midst of the spiritual warfare that encompasses our earthly lives. I wasn’t out there winning souls, nor was I leading or encouraging those who did. But the longer I’m at this, the more I realize that sometimes, just making sure that the army functions as smoothly as possible is just as essential as doing the fighting itself or working up the strategy. The fact that it doesn’t cover one in glory makes it all the more so; after all, this war isn’t being waged for our glory, and we need to remember that. What’s being done in the back of the church is so that those in the front have the tools they need when they need it to reach out and win those who need to be brought in. It’s a niche that I can fill, and while it doesn’t lead to wonderful stories (another reason why I haven’t written you about this week thus far, even as it’s about to come to a close), it’s a way to support those that will so that they will have them. They’re not my stories to tell (since they happen out of my range of sight or hearing), but at least they’re happening, and I (and all the others functioning here and there in the background) had this tiny part in making sure they would.

So that sums up the week of evenings, honey. I’m sorry I don’t have more color to tell you about, but there’s not much to see from where I am. I just have the faith that things are getting done that I can’t always see. Maybe you can from your vantage point; in which case, perhaps you’ll need to keep an eye on all of us, and wish us all luck, as we’re still going to need it (if only for this one last day).