Monday I worked out after work. It was the hottest part of the day. We did weighted exercises in the shade. And sprints in the sun (it was all that was available). Did I mention it was the hottest part of the day? I wondered if heatstroke would be my reality at one point. Don't worry - I made it through alive and well!
George is a regular at this workout, and he always brings a huge jug of ice water. At the end of the workout, with my water depleted, I refilled with his glorious, amazing, wonderful ice water. It was then that I decided that if Camp Gladiator doesn't have a camper of they year, they should, and George should be it. That water was the best thing in the world to all of us, we were so happy and thankful for it, and we may NOT have fared so well without it! I told him he knew how to win friends and influence people. Seriously. I hardly know the guy, but he was a hero to me that day.
It reminded me of 15 years ago when I helped to build our senior pastor's house. I went to help, and I was tasked with getting the guys water.
Honestly, this irritated me. I figured if 25 people came, 10 would be girls. Nope. Two. Two were girls. I'd helped build a house with Habitat for Humanity before, so I figured I could jump into hammering and climbing on top of wall frames to pull 2nd floor trusses into place. Nope. Sweep. And deliver water. To tell you the truth, in my initial reaction, I was offended! I'm sure many others would feel the same way -- especially today.
But I remembered that Jesus said something about giving someone a cup of water. "Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in My Name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward." Mark 9:41 So I decided to set aside my pride and offense and go with Jesus, who said that this "small" task was important to Him. I decided that this must just be a cultural difference that I needed to learn to maneuver. Yes, I was still in the United States. But different states have different cultures. I was a mid-western girl from Nebraska, considered a "northerner" by some, living in Texas. Texas girls don't build houses. I'm not a Texas girl. And the thing is, the guys just wanted to protect us - make sure we didn't get hurt. Step on nails (did that when I was 8), cut ourselves (do that while cooking), and so on.
Despite the disappointment in my function at the construction site, I continued to come. Both me and that one other girl. After a day or two of faithfully sweeping and fetching water, the guys got brave and asked us to carry the trusses (basically) from one location to another. For those who don't know, these are wooden planks put together and held together by metal plates about the size of my hand. The metal plates have sharp edges and spikes that dig into the wood to hold it all together. Trusses frame the roof, and but these were the base for the 2nd floor of the house (and they may actually have a different name, but, I'm an amateur and a girl).
The point here is this: large, very sharp metal plate. While the spikes dig into the wood, the edges and some of the spikes are also just left exposed in the space near where the boards come together. The guys had told us, "Be careful!" Because there are sharp edges. Well, I picked up a board, didn't carefully look at where I was putting my hand, and grabbed an edge of the metal plate, slicing my hand. I was mortified. Not that I was free-flow bleeding, but that if the guys found out, I would be on sweeping and water duty forever. I can't remember what I did to hide the fact that I was bleeding, but I managed to keep my little secret and continue carrying the dangerous trusses.
By the last time I was able to come to help, I found myself in charge of putting up the waterproofing, eh, stuff on the house. Hey, I know how to do it, I don't know the technical name for it. It was waterproofing.
At the time, I was immediately aware of one thing: If I wouldn't have happily helped in the "menial" tasks, I never would have been trusted with "bigger" tasks. If I would have grumbled and complained and insisted that I could wield a hammer just like the guys and gone over my credentials, maybe they would have given me a hammer, but it wouldn't have been as pleasant an experience for any of us. Instead, I did the thing that wasn't my first inclination to do (hand out water), and in the end they did what they weren't first inclined to do (let me touch construction things!).
But thinking about my Monday hero, George, I realized that what I thought was a menial task was probably the most important job on that work site. My imminent death by heatstroke (I'm being dramatic) was assuaged because George provided a cup of water. Until that moment on Monday, it never occurred to me how relieved those guys could have been for someone to come up to them and say, "Here's some water." Sometimes things carry much more value and importance than we realize. That's something that needs to stick in my head.
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