I love mission trips. It's been two summers since I got to go on one. Last year I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and the year before my husband landed in the hospital three days before we were scheduled to leave in order to have a heart stint inserted. We love drama at my house. This summer I decided to do two mission trips to make up for lost time. I'm one of those boneheads that think God shows up brighter, better and just for me on these things. I guess I'm just able to get more in tune. I had the opportunity to take my son Max on the first mission trip. What the heck? I could teach him a think or two about interacting with people, how to swing a hammer and seeing the beauty of God's creation in the mountains of western North Carolina. I was so wrong. Turns out all he needed me for was to remind him to put on clean underwear and make sure his shoes were tied. Our first task was to clean out old paint cans to be recycled. I have skills that can be put to better use mind
you. But Max jumped in head first and made a game out of peeling the longest gob of paint from the innards of the cans. He found the job extremely rewarding and very important. But then something else caught his attention .... a pill bug. He picked it up and let it climb through his latex-stained fingers. "This is my favorite kind of bug, mom." Surrounded by beautiful lakes and tall pine trees with a pristine view of the Georgia mountains and Max is befriending a pill bug. Later in the week we worked for a lady who needed a few things done around her home. I thought I'd find a good stopping point from painting and take Max to talk with Mrs. Connelly a while. But when I walked in the living room he was pointing at a folded American flag hanging on the wall and asking her lots of questions. The flag had been on Mr. Connelly's casket; he was an Army veteran. So much for teaching Max about how to engage strangers in 
conversation. He had it covered - and reminded me that Mrs. Connelly was not a stranger. That night when we did our group devotion the scripture was from Jesus' sermon on the mount. I listened with a half-hearted ear. I knew the passages backwards and forwards. Max got up from his spot on the floor and plopped down on the couch beside the person who was reading the scripture. He leaned in and tried to follow along. The next line came, "Blessed are the pure at heart, for they will see God." My heart skipped a beat and I realized what I was witnessing -- the pure at heart was Max. He had been seeing God all along. As adults I think we feel like it's our duty to teach children - where we fall short is when we forget to learn from them. So God bless the pill bugs and the pure at heart.
