Soul Lotion

I scrolled through the Facebook updates on my Facebook wall, or whatever it is called where I can read the updates my Facebook friend's post on their Facebook timelines.

Son's ex-girlfriend had posted a video of her recent mission trip to Nicaragua.
I clicked the play arrow and the digital slide show began its 12-minute journey.
No narration, only music as the backdrop behind each frame.

Young adults, mostly Caucasian.
Young children, Nicaraguan.
Smiling faces.
Shacks.
Dirt streets.
Singing.
Food.
Hugs.
Shovels.
Mixers.
Cement blocks.
Mortar.
Trowels.
Blue paint.
Linoleum floors.
Bright colors.
Protection.
Food.
Dirt streets.
Shacks.
Singing.
Smiling faces.
Young children, Nicaraguan.
Young adults, mostly Caucasian.

As I viewed the rolling photos put to music, I surmised that this mission trip was about more than teaching Jesus.

I was impressed that the mission was to build.

I noted the cement blocks as they were being stacked to form walls for a new central village building - perhaps a church building, but I don't know.
Such a contrast to the shanties in the village.
Why couldn't all the village families have better houses?
Maybe their houses are fine; it's all those families have every known.
A sturdy cement block structure with fresh colorful paint and perhaps even air conditioning, would provide respite for the village from the heat.

I could smell the sweat as the young masons laid block upon block.
I could feel the endurance of arising each day for the physical task ahead.
I could sense the deep satisfaction of a job well done.
I could touch the sadness when it would be time for the young people on their mission to depart.

I thought, "I want to build something....with my hands."
My inner dialog continued,
"Your hands are not in a physical condition to build something."
"Well, they could try. Sure, they would hurt a bit and they would tire and certain fine motor tasks might be impossible."
"Your hands and wrists are unable to lift heavy items."
"But they could get stronger as you would build something day after day, wouldn't they?"
"Maybe Carol as you take the action to build something...maybe...maybe...maybe...somehow in the process of building, your hands would be healed."
"But what if they aren't?"
"So what?"

Buildings are temporary; they fall.
Hurricanes.
Tsunamis.
Earthquakes.
Fires.


Relationships are eternal; they endure.
Security.
Love.
Kindness.
Courage.

Carol, remember that time after Dr. Piva gave Son Dr. Piva's huge baseball card collection?
You later told Dr. Piva, "I don't collect anything."
Dr. Piva knew of my journals; I was known to read from them at my appointments.
He responded, "You collect thoughts. You collect solutions."

All those scribbles on all those pages in all those books.
Letters.
Words.
Thoughts.
And even a few solutions.
All penned by hand, not typed from a keyboard.
Are not letters simply small drawings to symbolize ideas or scenes or thoughts?

I like to sometimes spell solution as soul-lotion.

*******