If April 7, 2014 had brought us a different outcome, if my daughter Maggie’s colonoscopy had revealed a benign and fixable mass instead of a malignant invasion, then today I would be on a plane to Nepal for a mission trip with a team from church. The work was perfect, a custom fit: VBS for missionary kids in a place that has always held intense fascination for me. Not only that, I was leaving my usual role of wife and mom behind to focus intently on my own spiritual “light into darkness” odyssey without the normal obligations and distractions. I had bought airline tickets and started lesson preparation with the group. But April 7th came, and the first email sent in its aftermath was an unnecessary one; I told the mission leader I couldn’t go.

I really thought I had prayed it through and was doing God’s will. I was rising to my pastor’s sermon challenge to risk much for God in light of the Resurrection. A flight into the most spiritually dark area of the world; how much riskier does it get? I had even tacked on that self-pronounced holy endorsement “it’s the Lord’s will” for good measure. Wasn’t I doing all the right things for all the right reasons? I was willing to sacrifice much, arguably my self, to spread the Gospel. What more did God want?

While I made my plans, Maggie had been making hers. She had worked hard, saved, and delayed Christmas presents to have the perfect summer. She wanted to take part in three trips offered to TBC youth: OnePraise choir Orlando mission trip, Camp Cherokee, and Super Summer at Mississippi College. Her love for the Lord and her friends was about to come together in an incredible time of study, service, and, of course, fun. What more could a mother want for her teenager? What more could God want for her?

Repurposing. That’s a popular concept with our culture’s emphasis on recycling and being a good steward of resources. To repurpose is to take an object, change or “tweak” it, then use it in a new way. I love the idea of personally being tweaked and pointed into a different direction. Not. To be totally honest, I only love change when it’s my very own infrequent idea. And you can bet it won’t be radical. It is not in my personality to embrace the novel and strange. Change me, Lord, but only like a drippy faucet eroding concrete. Drag me, sulking and fuming, into a new place and give me a few years to adjust.

But this time seems different. It’s as if I hear the rebuke from heaven. No garden-variety change, for you, Melissa. Nope. We are going beyond anything that your own mind could devise. And you will love it. Trust Me.

In Spring 2013 we were traveling 500 miles north of Vancouver, BC, when our guide pulled his truck over to show us something unusual. On the side of the road, a tall tree was growing next to a stream. Someone years ago had placed a tap into the trunk as if to collect syrup. Instead of syrup, fresh spring water was pouring out continuously. And had been for years. We were able to fill our bottles and drink the coldest, most refreshing water imaginable.

A tree in British Columbia pours out spring water

I’m no botanist, but evidently an enterprising root had plunged into an underground spring, and the tree, using its amazing capillary system formed by xylem plant tissue, was able to transport the crystal clear treasure from below. Repurposing. The tree’s innate design and features were being used in an incredible new way. In work that is performed totally in the dark underground and deep innards, out of sight and sound, a tree was transformed from a silent and still provider of shelter and food into a veritable living fountain.

The process of repurposing an object involves striking a balance between preservation and transformation. Such work cannot be painless. Sawing, buffing, welding, drilling, digging all remove excess and encounter resistance. The sound of roots ripped from the ground is music to the gardener. To the plant? Dismemberment. The threaded needle pierces fabric to forge new seams.

The task is not risk-free. Too much water is death to a tree. Too much sawing leaves a pile of firewood. But the Master Repurposer is in charge of the tools. His measurements are exact and His pressure is sure. In His hands the emerging vessel is secure. In His design, the second use eclipses the first in form and function. Our original summer of 2014 could have filled a scrapbook with compelling stories and beautiful pictures, both meaning and memories. But in His plan, there is more; so much more.

The Lord of hosts has sworn: “As I have planned, so shall it be, and as I have purposed, so shall it stand. Is. 14:24