Window washing is holy. Yes, holy.
Two weeks ago our youth went to the Kansas Christian Home for our summer mission trip. KCH is a residential community with older adults who live independently, live with some assistance, or live in the skilled nursing facility. Our youth were ready to serve in any and every possible way. Tree trimming, gardening, painting, house keeping, and yes, window washing. The most common request was for us to wash windows and so we did. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Over and over we washed windows.
For us it may have seen mundane, but then we realized what we were doing. For many of the residents, mobility and heat can be difficult to cope with thus leaving windows as the primary method of experiencing God's creation. If we were able to help make God's creation more tangible, then by golly we needed to do it.
Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down.
Washing windows also gave us a great opportunity to remain somewhat stationary and visit with the KCH residents. Window after window, we were given a different view of God's creation. Instead of grass and blue skies, we saw who God created, not what.
Each person had a story. Many of these stories involved their late spouses, friends, children, siblings, parents... And as we washed each window we heard more and more stories - usually brought up by someone pointing out a photograph or treasure in the home.
The importance of hearing these stories hit me on the last night of the mission trip over pancakes, bacon, and of course, diet coke. A good friend of mine from the Kansas DOC camp coordinated our trip and works for KCH. On the last night, Jason Ault joined us as we ate breakfast for dinner. As the youth were cleaning up, Jason and I sat at the table catching up like old friends do and he asked me a question that lead to a significant chapter of my story.
"So, I've been following all of your postings on Facebook, but how are you doing with everything? Tell me about your cousin. What happened?"
Though normally one may assume this question would cause me to break down in tears (and depending on the day it would be a fair bet), but I couldn't. As I told the story about us bringing Philip home and how our community rallied around us, I felt nothing but joy. Yes, it hurts to tell that part of the story, but there is so much more to be proud of and so much of the story left untold. Telling Philip's story made me feel like he wasn't so far away and like he'll never be truly gone. Our stories build our legacies. Our stories continue on long after us and as we share the stories of those we love, we keep a part of their soul alive.
Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down.
It's an excellent beginning to a story isn't it?
I have so much to say about Phil and being able to share his life is a gift. I think as a society we are afraid to ask people about their lost loved ones or about tragedy. We are afraid that we could say the wrong thing, trigger a painful memory, or unleash emotion. What if we stopped being afraid and gave one another the gift of sharing one's story?
Our youth did so much more than wash windows that week. They helped share the legacy of so many and gave the residents of KCH the opportunity to share a part of their souls. They learned about the many "who's" of God's creation. They learned to listen intently, to ask bravely, and to give abundantly.
My hope is that we will let go of that fear - that we will share the stories of those who mean so incredibly much to us and to give a glimpse of the joy that we find in knowing that God has added so many wonderful characters to our stories.
Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down. Open the screens, spray the windows, wipe them down.
... & listen.
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