Moving easier done barn-raising style

By Colleen Roy

I will never move again. If I never see another box, tape another door frame, or prime another wall it will be too soon. My hands are dry and aching from paint brush handles, and each of my fingernails is torn because I have resorted to clawing boxes open just to avoid looking for the scissors.

This whole moving thing is quite an experience. I guess I should have known that moving three boys into a 990-square-foot home with pink walls would be a challenge. My sons lived on peanut butter sandwiches for three days because there were too many boxes in the kitchen to get at the real food in the fridge.

Well, except for Elijah. He managed to find a bag of orange peels and an apple core that he ravaged with his 9 1/2 teeth. You'd better believe an auntie was called in to change that diaper!

It's something that I can't imagine a person doing alone (moving, I mean, ... although the diaper was at least a two-person job). I think of days when villages would gather together for a barn-raising, everyone contributing what he or she had to give. The older men would work with the younger, sharing from their years of experience. Women would mind the children and prepare the food. It was a community event; each home had a part of the people within its framework.

When moving day came I really thanked God for my family and friends. Helpers arrived on time and got to work. They even seemed happy to be there. Upon arriving at the new house, a few men tore up the living room carpet, which was more cat hair than flooring. At 11 p.m. we still had friends over laying the floor so that I wouldn't die from dander-induced asthma.

The lilac walls in the bedroom were painted on arrival, baseboards and all. Some brought drinks, some brought tools. Today a good friend came over to give a few hours of her time, even bringing lunch that consisted of real food for me and my boys.

To top it off, the auntie actually agreed to the orange-peel diaper change. She ended up having to strip the poor boy and hose him off in the bath tub, but the job got done. It was teamwork at its finest, barn-raising style.

My cousin and I were talking as the floor was being laid. I told her for the hundredth time how thankful I was that she and her handy husband had come to help us. She actually said that it was a gift to her to be able to help because she feels that she gets to be a part of my life. "I'm a part of those floors now," she said, "Do you know what that means to me?" I was speechless.

She was actually thanking me for letting her stand in an ice cold house, in Mission, organizing floor pieces until 11 o'clock. What humility! Her declaration was straightforward but to me it meant many things. It meant that she understood what it meant to love her neighbour.

She understood that in order to love and to be a part of someone's life you must sacrifice and make yourself available to them in their time of need, and that you should do it happily! I think that sums up our Christian faith and the act of evangelization pretty well.

I had to honestly look into my own little world and ask myself how available I am to others in need. Do I go out of my way to be a true friend, to love like Christ? What makes my cousin all the more admirable is that I don't think we even asked her to help on moving day. She anticipated the need and brought what she had to give.

I wonder what would happen in this world if we all did the same, if we also brought what we had to give. One of the mottos within the Cursillo movement is, "Make a friend, be a friend, bring a friend to Christ." We have to anticipate the need within every person we meet; the need for Jesus and His Church.

Not all of us have the knowledge or poise to discuss the truths of the faith with diplomacy and conviction, to make Christianity appealing to others, but each of us has something to share that can make Christ more knowable to another. True humility acknowledges those gifts and uses them, happily.

I think the next time I see a moving van pull up at a nearby house I just might bring over a plate of cookies and a print-out of Mass times with directions to nearby churches. I might even bring along my handsome husband who is especially gifted at moving boxes and assembling furniture. He also has a handy knack for discussing the truths of the faith with diplomacy and conviction in way that makes Christianity appealing.

That's teamwork, barn-raising style.