Serving in the Shadows

Dearest Rachel –

Last weekend, when we were moving most of Sylvia’s stuff out of her home so she can live with Ellen (and be watched over by Jeanette when she can stop over), we moved a lot of stuff into the U-Haul. I could safely assume that the sisters packed up what they considered to be important paperwork and tchotchkes as well, but mostly while I was asleep (and they were up waiting for Erin to show up) or out getting breakfast; in any event, by the time I got my hands on them, they were mostly in boxes for ease of transport. A lot of things got left behind for later trips – or for the estate sale.

Various things caught the eyes of us visitors (by which I mean Kerstin, Erin and myself – the sisters would be so used to their mom’s stuff as to likely overlook certain things). The clocks that their dad built and restored, mostly…

But one item, hanging just outside of the kitchen, managed to snag my attention, and probably no one else’s (which ultimately, is part of the point). And why should it? It’s likely a purchased item (as opposed to something made by someone in the family) containing a bit of boilerplate doggerel in the form of a prayer to God that no one who is working in the kitchen would think of offering, especially when they’re elbow-deep in the various tasks that occupy one in such a room.

Lord of all pots and pans and things,
since I’ve not time to be
A saint by doing lovely things
or watching late with Thee
Or dreaming in the dawn light
or storming Heaven’s gates
Make me a saint by getting meals
and washing up the plates
Warm all the kitchen with Thy love
and light it with Thy peace
Forgive me all my worrying
and make my grumbling cease
Thou who didst love to give men food
in room or by the sea
Accept this service that I do
I do it unto Thee
Amen

You might recall (and this is appropriate for a weekend that sees me hiding out in a separate room for the entirety of the weekend church services) that I think of myself, in terms of the Lord’s army, as what our terrestrial armed forces refer to as an R.E.M.F. I’m not out there on the platform in front of the people, nor am I out there on the front lines winning souls. I can barely relate to people who live without Him, as I can barely remember a time when I wasn’t. People who have dramatic conversion stories tell me how lucky I am in that regard, but at the same time, it means that I literally can’t understand what it was like to be without, any more than I can to go without air or gravity – you assume it’s always been this way for everybody – and so I can’t communicate with them on their level very well, if at all.

As a result, the best I can do, in terms of service, is this rear echelon stuff. Recording transactions, preparing the financial statements, and the every-other-week work in the audio-visual booth. Not the sort of activity that would seem to mark me as a great Christian soldier, any more than whoever designed this plaque (and those who would buy it for their kitchen) would consider what they do there.

At the same time, more than one great general is attributed with the claim that “an army travels on its stomach,” and so whoever performs the KP (kitchen patrol) duties performs a vital service, if not a glamorous one. This plaque was purchased and hangs as a reminder of that vital service, as well as a reminder to not complain about serving in the shadows. Our daily bread is every bit as necessary as any other aspect of our Christian life – more so, if we consider the fact that it’s included as a necessity to ask our Father for on a regular basis (even if it happens to be representative of all of our basic necessities for which we must do likewise).

So, too, I guess I need to consider what I do, despite not being the sort of things that call attention to themselves – and, less selfishly, don’t appear to be directly contributing to the cause of winning souls, which should be our main goal – as part of the whole body of logistics that support His army in their march. What is that old saying? “Amateurs speak of tactics, while professionals talk logistics”? The supply lines – and those who man them – are as necessary as the fighting forces themselves.

My only concern is that this is just an excuse for me to stay safely away from the front lines. Just because I’m handling the things I’m comfortable with and good at (although which came first is a matter of debate) doesn’t absolve me of what might be taken for cowardice. When does serving in one’s best capacity end and a lack of intestinal fortitude begin, honey? For all that you may know the answers where you are (although you’re unable to communicate them to those of us down here who could use that information), it does you no good, as winning souls is the one thing you can’t do in heaven; once one’s soul passes through the veil, it’s either saved or it isn’t. There no more opportunity for redemption, once time runs out on earth; that’s why it’s such an ongoing battle down here.

Still, wherever I’m posted, keep an eye on me, honey, and make sure I’m fulfilling the duties assigned to me by our General and the officers He’s stationed me under. Oh, and wish me luck; I’m still going to need it.