It was my husband’s idea. I decided not to go on our church’s mission trip to West Virginia, but Dail signed himself up. Home repairs were planned, and he’s something of a construction expert. I’m a writer and a computer key tapper. What could I do to repair a house?

Besides, I didn’t think my schedule would allow it. And it seemed like a hot, uncomfortable way to spend a week in July. While our congregation planned and raised funds, I declined.

But, in the end, I decided to take the risk. I thought it over, listened to spousal persuasion, and checked the weather forecast. I could finish my work before I left town. It was supposed to cool off. I’d like to work with others from our congregation. I wanted to see what mission is like.

And, finally, I decided to go because it was a way to serve, and service is what we do if we want to live out our faith. Our pastor, Harold Steindam, put it another way: "I went with an openness to allowing God to use me—and the week—however needed." So I went.

On July 7, the Westerville Nine, as we started calling ourselves (Lise, Kendra and Ken Wadkins; Kristen Baldauf; Harold, Jenny and Sara Steindam; Dail and I) arrived at the Appalachian South Folklife Center in Pipestem, West Virginia. We were just in time for orientation. We met people from Congregational UCC in Lakewood, Ohio; the Congregational Church in Nelson, New Hampshire and two Disciples of Christ folks from Indianapolis.

We learned about the week’s schedule, the work we would do and the people we would serve. The joint UCC/Disciples program in which we participated, Faithful Advocates Serving Together, provided hosts for us to organize activities, solve problems, and shop for food and supplies. Our groups would take turns cooking, cleaning up and planning worship.

On Monday morning, we loaded up our caravan of vehicles, ready to start on our adventure.

Twenty-five miles of winding mountain roads later, we first saw the modest house perched on the side of a mountain where we would spend the week. We were greeted by the family’s eight dogs, barking excitedly as we arrived.

The family came outside to greet us, too. After some initial awkwardness caused by this ‘invasion’ of 14 strangers, Regina, the homeowner, daughters Kimberly and Jessica, and our group started to become comfortable with each other.

We were eager to get started. Most of us started staining the exterior of the house. Regina and the girls stayed to chat, and relationships developed as we worked and talked.

The more skilled members of our group—and those not afraid to get really ‘grubby’—worked in the kitchen and bathroom all week, repairing plumbing, replacing the kitchen cabinet and countertop and laying new kitchen linoleum.

Most of the group helped them with these tasks. Several young women built the cabinets; some of us measured and carried. Some even searched through garbage bags for a lost piece of hardware. "There wasn’t anything that I asked someone to do that they didn’t agree to do," said Dail. "Even nasty, dirty things. Everyone wanted to help."

While the exterior staining was being completed, some of us scraped and caulked the windows and applied white paint to doors and window trim. We were gratified when Regina reported that her husband, coming home from out of town at the end of the week, said that he "hardly recognized the place."

Spirits remained good and work continued, even though we grew hot, dirty and tired. I discovered that I could tolerate being hot and sticky. We learned that service is not always fun, or comfortable or convenient. But it takes you out of yourself, allowing you to touch someone else’s reality while you stain their stairs.

We packed lunches each morning, some of us complaining about the monotony of it. One day Kimberly offered to take the group to eat by a stream close to the house. We were chastened to realize that she had nothing to pack for lunch, so Ken offered her his lunch in a way that made it easy for her to accept, and she left with the group.

"I think what touched me the most about the trip was Ken’s giving the lunch he had packed to Kimberly, and how much that meal that was so ordinary to us meant to her," said Harold.

By Friday noon, the painting and staining were done. The kitchen-bathroom crew stayed for a few more hours to finish their work; by Friday evening everything was complete.

We took home memories of hard work, people not very different from us who live in poverty but are surrounded by breathtaking natural beauty, new and strengthened friendships, and a deep appreciation for our own blessings.

"Having experienced that small part of Regina’s life," said Lise Wadkins, "I am so glad that I was born to my own parents and didn’t grow up in that culture. However, having been there helps me to understand the people who have chosen that life."