Our 2017 Mission Trip: A Belated Report 1

I’m happy to report that we all survived this year’s mission trip to Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. It was a good trip (as always), and I think we did some good out there. I’m also pretty sure that the trip did us more good than we know right now. I feel bad that normally I try to keep you all updated throughout the week of the trip via the Facebook, but wasn’t able to this year for various reasons. Today, I’m finally feeling somewhat rested, and had intended to unload the trailer, but it’s raining (thank God), so I’m taking that as a sign that I need to do this.

First, before I get to the report part, filled with charming, heart-warming anecdotes of our adventures, I have an apology to make: To everyone who was forced to be in fairly close proximity to my disgusting self, I apologize–with the caveat that my disgustingness was not all my own fault*.

But enough of that. Our group was pretty small this year–only 17 managed to make it**, but we managed to do quite a bit. Due to the small size of our group, we were only able to really work at Potato Creek, but there, we managed to do 5 days of VBS/Street Ministry for about 30 kids. We also fed the kids (and quite a few adults) a hot lunch every day. It was nothing fancy, just hot dogs and chips, sloppy joes and chips, and walking tacos, but it is very possible (or even likely) that that was the only hot meal a lot of those kids (and adults) would have gotten.

The Adult Ministry team distributed approximately 22 bags of groceries (coffee, sugar, flour, beans, peanut butter, salt, pepper, laundry detergent, canned vegetables, etc.) to the families of Potato Creek, and visited/shared/witnessed with several of the families. We also distributed several bags and boxes of donated clothing to the folks in Potato Creek, and took the remainder to the senior apartments in Kyle.

We also mowed–a lot. At least two playgrounds, two or three yards, a baseball field, and around the dump. We also mowed about five acres for the Sundance, a ceremony of great religious and cultural importance to the Sioux. Dave and I have both noticed in the past that, when we talk about mowing for the Sundance with folks back home, that reactions are kind of iffy–a lot of folks see a disconnect between our avowal of Christ, and our assistance in perpetuating what most see as a pagan ritual (dun dun DUUUNNNNN!). As a result, we’ve thought a lot about it: should we, shouldn’t we, etc. Neither of us want to do anything to undercut the message that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, and that we can be reconciled to God and Saved only through him. On the other hand, Dave and I both believe that both Christianity and the traditional Lakota religion both worship the same God, the Creator of all things, and even in Christianity, there are some groups with some fairly wonky ideas–like the snake-handlers in Appalachia, the Catholics (Scala Sancta), the Baptists, Episcopalians, etc.

What we always come back to is that, by mowing the Sundance grounds for them, we are showing them unconditional respect and love. To us, it is no different than a Christian Church helping a vandalized mosque remove graffiti or repair damages. To us, it all comes back to Love.

In addition to the mowing, we also repaired damage to the playground equipment at Potato Creek, and fixed the backboards on the basketball court.

We took two sets of bunk beds and a baby bed with us, and were taken to two houses that needed them. The kids in those houses, as far as I could tell, had been sleeping on blankets on the concrete floor. The looks on their faces when we got those beds assembled made the whole trip worthwhile. It was all we could do to keep the kids off them until we got them built. The little guy who got the baby bed seemed equally excited, although in a more subdued way: his dad put him in it, and he laid down and went to sleep, sleeping through all of the hammering and noise we made putting the bunk beds together.

The resilience and toughness of the Sioux, particularly the young ones, never ceases to amaze me. I look at the conditions in which they live, conditions largely created by us white folks, and I’m amazed that any of them will even speak to us, much less sit down and share laughter, food, and drink with us.

We also built another outhouse, this time at the Catholic Church in Potato Creek. The Church has been boarded up for years, but apparently either it, or another building nearby, are still frequently used for wakes and memorial services. The old outhouse was truly terrifying: the ground in front of it has eroded into the hole, which means that in order to get into it, you have to step over the hole, and onto a plywood floor with way more give to it than is desirable in an outhouse, making it not only a problem, but an actual hazard, especially for the older folks and mobility-impaired. I know this because not only did our friend Marian Whitemouse show it to us, but, in the process of building the new one, I was forced to resort to the old one. It was not a happy time.

For me, and many of the rest of us, the best part of the trip was the first couple of days. Our dear friend and, in many ways, spiritual Grandmother, Eleanor Charging Crow came out to the camp and stayed with us. Eleanor is well into her 80’s, and just a couple weeks ago suffered the loss of her daughter, granddaughter, two great-granddaughters, and an unborn great-granddaughter. Such a loss is just unimaginable to me, but despite her grief, Eleanor continues to plug away at life, continuing to work as an EMT/Mentor. She is an incredible example to her community, and to us.

To be able to take her to the Black Hills with our group, and spend a couple days surrounding her with love and prayers was an honor and a privilege, and, I hope, gave her at least a little strength to carry on. She also went with our Adult Ministry group to distribute the food, and spent a great deal of time at the VBS, sitting and watching the kids. I hope and pray that it helped her at least a little bit. She is truly a great lady, and we have been really lucky and blessed to have her as a part of our lives and work.

We had a good time at dinner every night with several of our Lakota friends joining us each night. We all enjoyed sitting around, telling stories and visiting while the kids ran and played. Also, Flora Bullman and the other folks from Potato Creek continued the tradition of making Indian Tacos for dinner, Friday evening. They were awesome, as always. So were the popovers that Gwen Reddest brought out to camp on Thursday night. It’s like every night out there is kind of a little family reunion. I know that most of us think of those folks as family, and I believe that many of them feel the same way about us. That’s one of the great things about doing the same trip every year: it allows us to break down barriers, and build genuine trust, affection, and love for the folks we’re trying to help. To those of us who’ve made this trip several times, they’re not “the Lakota People”, they’re Duane and Nancy, Eleanor, Agnes, Andrea, Gwen, and Flora, and every year, the group of friends gets a little bigger. It’s pretty cool.

We also made our standard trips to Mt. Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Monument, Wounded Knee, and the Badlands, both inside the Nat’l Park and outside. Our friends Wilbur Morrison and Chub and Marian Whitemouse held a sweat lodge ceremony for us, and we were also invited to a Lakota Prayer Ceremony at Chub and Marian’s house where, once again, Eleanor was held up in prayers. We also got lucky and the Oglalla Sioux College, right across the road from the lodge where we stay, had their graduation Powwow on Friday night.

The trip was not without its challenges however: aside from my own disgusting misery, the ticks were exceptionally bad this year. I don’t believe anyone was bitten, but I know I found one on myself at least once a day, and suffered the creepie-crawlies every time I felt a hair move, as a result. We also had our traditional storm, complete with horizontal rain, 50-60 mile an hour winds, and incredible displays of constant thunder and lightning. It was one of the few storms we’ve had out there that scared me a little bit, but it was overall pretty cool, plus we didn’t lose any tents. I don’t think anybody’s stuff even got seriously wet. We have clearly learned much over the last 14 years about tying tents down.

Finally, a few thanks:

to all the folks who went, and to all the folks who didn’t/couldn’t go but supported this work through donations, prayers, etc., Thanks!

to the gang from West Towne Christian Church in Knoxville, TN who started out with us 3 years ago, and this year went out the week before us, as well as the gang from Morrison Hills Christian Church, who’ve been making annual trips out there for the last 7 or 8 years–Thanks for sticking with it all these years! You guys are Aces!

To Eleanor, Duane and Nancy, Flora, Andrea, Agnes, Gwen, Wilbur, Chub, and Marian, as well as all the rest of our Lakota friends–Thank you for allowing us to become part of your lives, and for becoming part of ours. We couldn’t do what little good we do, without your help and friendship. Wopila!

Anyway, I think that’s about it. All in all a very good trip. You shoulda been there. Maybe next year you will be.

Also, you should check out the pictures on the Facebook.

*For those who are interested, the week before leaving for S. Dakota, my allergies went on the warpath, and turned into a nasty head-and-chest cold which caused an incredible amount of vile, semi-fluid substances to require forcible expulsion via constant hacking, spitting, blowing, etc., as well as causing frequent spectacular coughing fits. This was, in turn, complicated by the fact that my stomach cannot handle gravy, which was generously provided at every meal by the awesome Connie Davis, whose biscuits and gravy taste just like my mom’s did (there is no higher praise). Sadly, my nostalgic love of biscuits and gravy (and Mom) overcame what little self-control I have, which led to the awkward and frequent experience of trying to limit the public expulsion of disgustingness from one end only. It was cause for grave concern, not only to me, but to everyone within a 30′ radius of me. I’m happy to report that I was successful (more or less) every time, but, as horrible as it was to experience, I can only imagine how bad it was to witness. I imagine it was akin to living with a self-propelled piece of very cranky unexploded ordinance. Again, I apologize.

**To give you a better idea of the demographics for this year’s trip, we had two ladies in their 80’s, four folks in their 60’s, two in our 50’s, four in their 30’s, one in her 20’s, three teenagers, and one 6-year-old. We had folks with health issues like diabetes, bad backs, high blood pressure, Aspergers, and just grievously out of shape, as well as at least one foul-mouthed, chain-smoking, coughing, horking, expectorating, cranky, insomniac old fart with a bad back and serious digestive issues who had to spend almost the entire trip in a full-body clench to avoid total abject humiliation, so if you think there’s nothing YOU can do on a trip like this, you’re wrong.