"It Just Doesn't Have to Make Sense" Pine Ridge, Nov. 11-13, 2004

Peggie asked me early in the week if I could go to Pine Ridge that Thursday with a small group. She said she needed someone to serve meals for a retreat. I said no at first, then called back about 15 minutes later to change my answer. One of my benefits of working a seasonal job last summer was that maybe I would be able to help out in missions in some way. Maybe this was itΣ So I went along, open to whatever would be my purpose. This trip I tried to observe what I would otherwise not bother to see. Gas prices seem to run twenty cents higher there than at home. The grocery store doesn,t carry fresh bunches of parsley. I saw a man warming up his pickup early one frosty morning. Then I watched him going back into his house barefoot. I would never walk on frosty gravel and start my cold car without socks and shoes on. Then I noticed a box, a cardboard carton that said 'Fresh Chicken' on it. It was hanging on a broken branch of a tree about shoulder height. I tried to see some reason that it would hang there. Why hadn't it been thrown in a dumpster or recycled or put to some purpose, like putting something in it? Why did it hang in the tree, rather than being discarded on the ground? I mentioned the chicken box to Pastor Larry in the retreat center, and he said, "It doesn't have to make sense."

So much of Pine Ridge "doesn't make sense." One practical example was when the clergy came on Friday evening for the retreat, they stood alone holding their sparkling apple drinks. One stood here, one there, the couple stood together. It "didn't make sense" to me that these people with such common causes and problems should stand apart, not knowing how to approach each other.

Friday's meal was so much fun for me to serve. Coming out the van had been full of enough food to feed the retreat participants, as well as table decorations that Peggie had purchased. When she and I set the tables, we found that it all fit so perfectly. Imagine our surprise when the paper tablecloths were actually the same color as the folding chairs! God had His hand in all that went on that weekend.

It was obvious that our guests had not been served for a very long time. Their faces were lit up by more than the candles glowing on the table. To place each course in front of them, and remove empty plates, and to refill their cups was pure joy for me. "It didn't make sense" that they were so unfamiliar with being served. These individuals give and give and receive so little in return. Lunch the next day was an equal pleasure for me. I kept thinking of the 'loaves and fishes' because the table was so loaded with good food, and leftovers that served up beautifully.

Come Saturday noon, end of the retreat, the participants stood around drinking bottled water and talking with each other. I observed that none of the couples were talking to each other and all of the singles were intermixed. They were excitedly all communicating with one another. Now, to me, that makes sense. As we read some local newspapers over coffee Sat. morning, we came up with some interesting facts of life on the rez:

•  The natives converse with each other about diabetes, the same way we discuss our cholesterol.
   Diabetes runs at about 50 percent there.

•  More Lakota who had left the reservation are now returning to live among their people,
   despite relative comfort on the outside.

•  Pine Ridge has no movie theatre, dept. store, public library, or public transportation.

•  The only source of commercial entertainment is Big Bats, the local truckstop.

•  The "Rapid City Journal" stated, "Failings of the federal government continually undermine
   the efforts here at self-help."

In staying in the retreat center, we were privileged to observe God's servant, Larry Peterson. The center is very multifunctional. People of all ages utilize this building every day. In the morning, Larry meets for devotions with a few regulars. Come lunchtime, he is making sandwiches for whoever may come to the door hungry. After school is free-for-all time. The kids come, and Larry plays with each individual child and knows each of their names. So far, I think I could do that. But Larry does this every single day, with a smile, without hesitation. The way he answers the door mid-conversation is a gift. He just smiles, and says "Excuse me."

As I see it, there is very little that we can do to fix life on the rez. But I believe that God has given us the command to love these people as ourselves. And "it just doesn't have to make sense."