How I Was Changed by My Short-Term Mission Trip

On this episode of Our American Stories, regular contributor and OAS listener Stephen Rusiniak has a special story written by his daughter. She shares how helping those in need can help bring a little perspective to our lives.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:05):
This is Lee Habib and this is our American Stories,
and we tell stories about everything here on this show,
including your story. Send them to our American Stories dot com.
There's some of our favorites. Our show is free to
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(00:27):
gift of five dollars ten dollars a month really makes
a difference in bringing these stories to you each and
every week and just keeping our team on track. Oh
and by the way, you can do that by going
to our American Stories dot com and simply click the
donate button. Stephen Raciniak, one of our regular contributors, has
a special piece for us today. This story was written

(00:49):
by his daughter and he's being read by his niece Sandy.
This story is entitled Please Don't Leave.

Speaker 2 (00:59):
I had done, and so I had no reason to
believe that this time would be any different. I was
sure that when I returned home from my mission trip,
as always, I would bring back nothing more than some
mud of my boots, a whole or two in my genes,
and of course a lot of great memories. Little did
I know that this time it was going to be different.

(01:21):
The summer before my high school graduation, I went to
West Virginia with others from my church as members of
the Appalachia Service Project. Our goals included refurbishing the homes
of those in need, and where we were heading there
was no shortage of need. Along with volunteers from many churches,
we arrived at our destination much like an invading army

(01:42):
in miniature, and we arrived ready to do battle. The
tools that we brought from home would serve as our
weapons as we prepared to wage war against an all
too familiar enemy, substandard living conditions. Our mission was to
make the homes of those we served warmer, safer, and dryer,

(02:03):
and with only five days to accomplish as much as
we could, we were anxious to get started. My group
was assigned the task of rebuilding sections of a home
that had been damaged by fire. No sooner had we
parked on the home's dirt driveway when I saw an
excited little girl no more than five or six years old,
standing in the doorway of the family's temporary trailer home,

(02:26):
shoelas and wearing dirty clothes and the biggest smile I
had ever seen. She yelled, Ma, Ma, They really came.
I didn't know it then, but her name was Dakota,
and four more days would pass before she'd say another word.
Near me, behind Dakota was a woman in a wheelchair,
her grandmother, we'd learn. I also learned that my job

(02:49):
this week would be to help convert a fire damaged
dining room into a bedroom for this little girl. After
meeting several more family members, we got down to the
business of making a difference in the lives. Grabbing our tools,
we went to work. Walls were torn down and replaced,
hammers and nails, saws and electric screw guns, drywall prepping,

(03:10):
and painting. We moved at a fast piece. Over the
following days. I noticed Dakota peeking at us every now
and then as we worked. A few times I tried
talking with her, but she remained shy and aloft, always
fluttering around us like a tiny butterfly, always there but
staying just out of reach, watching us intently, but keeping

(03:31):
to herself. By her fifth and final day, however, this
would change. Before I went to work on her home.
On that last morning, I spoke for a moment or
two with the grandmother. I was especially pleased when she
told me how much Dakota loved her new room, so much,
in fact, that she begged to sleep in it the
previous night, even though it wasn't quite ready just yet.

(03:55):
As we talked, I noticed something I hadn't seen before.
Dakota was hiding behind her grandmother. Cautiously, she stepped into view,
and I could see that, just like her clothes, her
face was still dirty, but no amount of soil could
hide those bright blue eyes and her big smile. She
was simply adorable. I wanted to hug her, but respecting

(04:19):
her shyness, I kept my distance. Slowly, she began walking
towards me, and it wasn't until she was inches away
that I noticed the folded piece of paper in her
tiny hand. Silently, she reached up and handed it to me.
Once unfolded, I looked at the drawing she'd made with
her broken crans on the back of an old coloring

(04:41):
book cover. It was of two girls, one much taller
than the other, and they were holding hands. She told
me that it was supposed to be me and her,
and scrawled on the bottom of the paper were three
little words that instantly broke my heart. Please don't leave now.
Almost in tears, I surrendered to the impulse that I'd

(05:03):
suppressed only moments before. I bent down and hugged her.
She hugged me too, and for the longest time, neither
one of us could let go. By early afternoon, we
finished Dakota's bedroom, and so I gladly used the rare
free time to get to know my newest friend. Sitting
under a tree away from the others, we shared a

(05:24):
few apples while she told me about her life in
the hollow. As I listened to her stories about the
struggles she and her family endured daily, I began to
realize how frivolous various aspects of my own life were. Suddenly,
Things like deciding what to wear when I went out
on a Friday night, or which wannabe celebrity was starring
the latest reality television series now seems so trivial in comparison.

(05:50):
Thoughts like this and others quickly took a back seat
to what really mattered most to me, my friends, my family,
and my faith. More surprisingly, all it took for me
to reaffirm these important truths was a wisdom of one
special little girl living somewhere in the mountains of West Virginia.
I left for home early the next morning, and of

(06:12):
course I returned with muddy boots and holes in my jeans.
But because of Dakota, I brought back with me something
else too, a greater appreciation for all the blessings of
my life. I'll never forget that barefooted little butterfly with
the big smile and that dirty face. And in the end,
I pray that she'll never forget me either.

Speaker 1 (06:38):
And great job on that production is always by faith
and especial thanks to Stephen Resinniac's niece Sandy for reading
Stephen's daughter's words about a simple mission trip. And by
the way we tell these stories because so many people
of faith around this country, what they do with their
families is remarkable. They don't just go to the beach

(06:59):
and eat. They go and they serve. Mama. They really
came and please don't leave. You can picture it in
your hands, and I know you're crying listening to that story.
It's a beautiful story about love, about sacrifice, about gratitude.
Stephen Recinniac's daughter's mission in West Virginia. The story of

(07:19):
her connection with a young girl named Dakota and the
people around Dakota's life. Here on Our American Stories, Lee
Habib here again. Our American Stories tries to tell the
stories of America's past and present to Americans, and we

(07:39):
want to hear your stories too. There's some of our favorites.
Send them to us. Go to Ouramerican Stories dot com
and click the your Stories tab Again. Please go to
alamericanstories dot com and click the your Stories tab