When A Chore Becomes A Blessing

Two twin beds found themselves up for donation, and I found myself volunteering to take them off someone hands and offering them to the Afghani refugees that I had come to learn about through my dear friend, Bindia and One Always Matters.  In a matter of minutes I had set the wheels of my upcoming free weekend in motion without considering what it would actually take to pull it all off.  I do not own a vehicle, and moving furniture in NYC is not an easy or desirable task to those who do have the means to transport it.  As soon as I committed to the endeavor, panic and anxiety set in about the logistics.  I had a car I could borrow, but there was no way both beds would fit in it.  I would need parking, in the city, on a Sunday.  I immediately regretted getting myself into this task, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me from getting these beds to this family.  I had committed, and my parents always insisted we follow through with our commitments.  The family were expecting beds, so one way or another, we were going to do it.  As the days went on, more items and tasks were added to our day of delivering beds.  Two other families needed curtains with rods, delivered and installed.  I have a drill, and extra hardware for mounting the rods, so I was on board for that.  I was all in, and looking forward to helping and meeting other families.  Though the more tasks we piled on, the more stressed I was about the time needed to complete these tasks.  My type A brain was overwhelmed with worry about being out late, finding parking at all of our stops, how to get the beds apart, who was going to help load them, and being out late on a Sunday evening.
  I spoke with Bindia the week before and when she told me we would be leaving the city around 3:30pm.  The day would be mostly done already and it would take hours to build these beds, plus installing the curtain rods at multiple other homes.  I was now not looking forward to this day that was now an evening.  I had to work on Monday and didn’t want to be out late.  It was far too late to back out, so I had to push through.  I would live, and children needed beds.
The first family we stopped at needed curtains and a rod installed.  We did that fairly quickly, and they insisted we stay for tea.  We couldn’t stay very long because we needed to get to the other families.  This family was so kind and loving.  I sat down to have my tea, and it was the BEST tea I’ve ever tasted.  It was so lovely to sit down and chat with the family.  Bindia did most of the talking because I didn’t speak any of the languages they spoke.  I just took it all in and was amazed at this family that had lost everything, yet they were so loving and kind, and welcomed us into their home with open arms.
We went to the next family, and started unloading the beds.  I looked across the street and saw a small clan of children coming down the street followed by their fathers.  The other family had just moved in above, and would be helping get the beds together for this particular family.  They all greeted us with smiles and excitement, introducing themselves, the children squeezing through one another to say hello to me.  They were so full of joy and genuine love for people.  Seeing their faces and their excitement was enough to wash away all of the anxiety and stress that I had been working so hard to feed for the past week.  We quickly said goodbye and left to install the curtains, and at some point Binda looked to me and said, ‘I’m not getting home before midnight, am I?” 
“No, you’re not” I replied amusingly.  I wasn’t deterred in the least.  I was looking forward to the rest of our evening, as we ventured out to install curtains.  The second family needed many curtains, and we got right to work.  The husband of this family was a carpenter in Afghanistan, so he was very helpful with hanging the rods.  He helped us get everything finished and we were eventually out and on our way to the last home.
We made it back to the house to make the beds around 8pm and we got started on building the beds.  The fathers were eager to help, and before I knew it, we were teaching each other the names of tools in our respective languages.  The language barrier was the least of our worries as we talked with our hands and let our hearts do the rest.  They spoke their language, and I spoke mine, and we conquered those IKEA beds (without instructions) like pros.  The children came in to join in the festivities holding bolts and tools, excited to see their new beds come together.  After a couple hours of trial and error, we had finally finished the beds and could spend some time before calling it a night.  They had made us dinner while we were working and we sat down as the children piled around us.  One child brought a phone to Bindia and they took selfies and then asked about games.  “That’s not my phone, who’s phone is this?” Bindia asked.  I looked over and realized it was my phone.  In all the commotion I didn’t even realize it was missing, nor could I fathom how she got it.  I brought up the only game I had on my phone and immediately gave it back.  I’m not one to let any child have my phone, but for some reason, there was no hesitation.  These children were so sweet and kind, they could have whatever they wanted from me.  I was already in love with all of them.  These two families (and the other 2 we had seen earlier) were so lovely and amazing, I could have stayed there all night.  I felt so much love for these people and could feel their respective love.  We had such a great time, I didn’t want to leave.
Eventually we did leave, and headed back to Manhattan.  I had to drop Bindia and still make it back to Brooklyn.  The night was going to be a little bit longer, but I didn’t care.  I just had the best time I’ve had since the pandemic began.  I didn’t care how late it was, I wasn’t worried about parking.  I knew it would all work out no matter what time I got back.  I was so grateful that I said yes to the day.  Had I not pushed through my hesitations, I would never have experienced the blessings at every turn.  The timing always worked out.  The parking spaces always appeared.  The words were always communicated.  The love always given and received.  It all worked out because God loves us, He loves these people, and He loves it when we love each other. 

Nicole Wolfe Coursey