"Cast your cares on him, for he cares for you."
We stood before a roomful of kids, kindergarten to sixth grade depending on the day, chanting the verse over and over and over again. Each word was coupled with a motion to cement it in the child's mind: swing both hands away from you like you're casting a fishing rod, circle one scissor-fingered hand on the other like you're stirring in a bowl (sign language for "cares"), point upward for "him" and "he," four fingers for a "for," crossed arms covering your heart for "cares," and a final emphatic, Uncle Sam finger jabbed out for "you." We varied the volume occasionally - "Which side of the room can be louder?" leading to an up-and-down rhythm in the words (CAST your CARES on HIM, for HE CARES for YOU!!!!!!!!), and "Which side of the room can be quieter" sounding like silver mountain breezes whispering through aspen leaves.
There are no aspens here, though. The scrub oak, cottonwoods, ponderosas, and other mountain trees are still about a thousand miles to the west. Instead of spiky yucca and coarse grass with hardy roots for survival in the dry soil, cornfields compete with natural undergrowth for a place in the rich loam. And the air! Far from the Colorado "Got Oxygen?" quips, the air in Sterling, Illinois feels a little bit like the rush of wet air on your face when you lift the lid from a pan of boiling water.
We've been here five days now, and we only expected to stay for one night in the sweet little farmhouse just outside the sweet little town. But last Saturday morning, barely a mile onto the interstate, our fifteen-passenger van went kaput and we headed back to town while the vehicle was towed to the shop. The next day, the embarassed mechanic admitted that after an entire day of tests and examinations, he couldn't find anything wrong and suggested we have it towed on Monday to a dealership.
"Perfect!" Valorey, the temporary caretaker of the farmhouse said with her lively grandma grin. "You guys wanna come to church with me tomorrow?"
(Valorey bought us dinner twice, introduced us to her chubby-cheeked and brilliant-blue-eyed grandsons, and lent us her 8-seater suburban for the duration of our stay.)
At church, Carolyn, Katie, Elizabeth, Tiffani, Alax, Joel, Micah, PJ, Jason called George, and others surrounded us with instant friendship and gave us a home among strangers.
"Come to youth group tonight, guys!" As if we needed any persuasion! At youth group, they begged us to join them for Go Loco, a week of VBS volunteering and community service around town.
"If we're still here, we definitely will!" We said. That became our answer to any invitation for the next three days.
At Go Loco, three friends and I volunteered to help an elderly lady who had recently lost her husband of over sixty years. Ms. Wanda spoke tearfully of the her loneliness and helplessness and gently kissed the picture of the uniformed man on the dresser. We hugged her and gave the word-comfort we could. At the end of each day, she came smiling with a box of ice cream bars and said that she'd eventually get all our names down in her mind (she was disappointed because she couldn't remember speeches she'd memorized in elementary school anymore).
Today, they found and fixed the problem with our van (something about a timing belt? I don't speak car.). We're headed back to the Springs, and Sterling is fading behind us. But in the time we've been here, God has shown us more of his infinite love by providing for our every single need - from basic shelter and food in the farmhouse and delightful homemade meals given to us by gracious friends from the church, to giving us kind friends and allowing us to serve others in our time here.
Why?
For he cares for you.
