Saturday morning, 7 am.
A hundred young men and women - all friends and neighbors - greeted each other at our church fellowship hall. The sky was barely waking from the darkness of shortening autumn days, and the cool air was lit with energy.
I ate my breakfast burrito and exchanged a few jokes with my friends Ezra, and Stephen - who directs these kids in our church youth choir. Everyone huddled for a word of direction, and a short prayer of blessing and safety for the day ahead.
The kids piled into a string of vans and trucks, pulling goosenecks loaded with skid steers and chippers, rakes and shovels and chainsaws and all manner of equipment.
At 8:30, we pulled off the highway and into my friend’s field.
We were here to surprise him.
The first time I poked my head into the thicket of trees, greenbriar, and deadwood bordering the back of the field about a month ago, I had a special feeling for what this place could be - and left with a few scratches, a good bit of poison ivy, and an encounter with two copperheads.
Our entire childhood, from five or six years old on, my brothers and I lived to be in the trees - exploring, cutting trails, building forts and towns behind our homestead. I guess I’ve never lost that wonder for the woods.
After that first visit, I’d brought the idea to my friends, and we’d spent a month scouting, planning, and strategizing this day.
Now it was time.
We split into ten teams of ten, each with a pre-planned scope of work. My friend Tim and I scurried through the thicket, doing our best to line out each team toward their objective.
It’s easy to delete trees and branches, and not easy to undo or add them back.
Striking the balance between wildness and order is tough to master yourself sometimes, much less convey to a hundred kids at once. But Tim, a fine furniture maker and builder, is a true artist in everything he touches - or steps foot on. All day he moved through the woods like a general: directing, encouraging, pitching in wherever needed to keep the whole team going strong - and having the time of their lives.
The goal?
A beautifully dressed forest, laced with walking trails, bridges over the hidden creek, and groves and meadows ready for building. There’s a bigger plan for this place, but I must save that for a future letter.
When six o’clock came - the pre-ordained end of the work day - the place was unrecognizable. I knew it could be special, but I hadn’t pictured this.
We emerged from the manicured woods on a winding trail and climbed up the grassy knoll in the golden light. Another team had been hard at work grilling burgers and lighting campfires. The big trailers which had hauled equipment were now platforms for a gourmet burger bar.
Muscles ached from an honest day of use, arms were scratched by ravenous briars, but there were wide smiles on every face.
A few minutes after the sun disappeared, leaving behind a magnificent dome of ruby, orange, and indigo, somebody rolled out a keyboard they’d brought along, and somebody else grabbed a guitar from a truck.
The kids wanted to sing, so there in the middle of the field the choir assembled.
A hundred voices spilled out in boisterous, magnificent harmony over the darkening land, hands raised in joy and celebration - a brush of heaven on an ordinary hillside.
This is how I spent Halloween, and I won’t forget it.
Our friend was surprised - speechless even. So was I, so were all of us. There’s no joy quite like serving - together - in nature - with an all-out revival under the stars to end the day.