The People Who Do Things

My mother and I frequently like to muse that there are two types of people in this world. There are those who, when there’s something around them that needs to be done, will ignore it, or perhaps not notice it at all. And then there are those who do see the need: the ones who can’t help but notice that there’s something lacking and will step up and do it.

We call the people in the latter category, “The People Who Do Things.” My mother and I have always considered us to be among the People Who Do Things and frequently lament that so many tasks fall on us, just because we’re the only ones willing to step up—or indeed, the only ones to notice that they need doing at all.

We’re not the only People Who Do Things, of course, but we are a rare breed, and others like us often seem to be few and far between. That’s what I’ve always thought, at least. Lately, though, some things have happened in my life to alter my perspective. What, exactly, does it mean to be one of the People Who Do Things? And are we really as rare as all that?

Getting Complacent

When my mother and I talk about The People Who Do Things, one of the areas we’re usually talking about is our respective churches. Everywhere we look, there’s something that needs to be done, that should get done, that USED to get done… But that nobody’s doing. Who’s going to step up and do it? Well, at my mom’s church, it’s often her, and at my church, it tends to be me. Because if we don’t… Who will?

There are a few others who will. At my church, there’s one couple in particular who are always eager to help out with anything they can. From the moment they first started attending, they got involved. He joined the music group. She started putting together the church bulletin every week. He served on the church council (our church’s governing body) and very quickly became council president. She took over keeping the church stocked with basic necessities like paper plates, plastic forks, paper towels, toilet paper…

And then last year they moved away. All of a sudden, everything they did, every job they’d taken on in nine years of church membership, had to be filled by someone else. They helped us, of course. Fortunately, there were a few tasks they could still do from afar, and they agreed to continue, at least for a few months, while we got things sorted and put an alternate plan into place. For all the rest, we spent an entire Sunday figuring out who needed to do what, dividing up the jobs amongst the other People Who Do Things.

It was an eye-opening experience. I knew that they did a lot in our church, but until that Sunday, I never realized exactly how much. All of these things just sort of got done, week after week. And I, a self-proclaimed Person Who Does Things, never really bothered to consider how or by whom.

The List Goes On

Even after dividing up all the tasks, it became clear over the next few weeks and months that that was only the tip of the iceberg. There were still more things that needed to be done—not just picking up the slack for our departing Power Couple, but things other people in the church used to do, who had since left or passed on.

It turned out, there was nobody left with full administrative access to the church’s Facebook page anymore. I’d been given limited access by our former pastor, but he had since left as well. Plus, there were events people used to plan, things that people used to provide, even some basic maintenance and upkeep. As our church lost more and more of our People Who Do Things… Who was left to do all of these things?

Upholding Traditions

The times when our church’s deficit of People Who Do Things became most apparent were holidays. If something only happens once a year, it’s easy to forget about it. Until suddenly, you turn around, and that thing that always happens isn’t happening anymore, because the person in charge of it is no longer around.

Thanksgiving: Who’s planning the annual potluck dinner? Advent: Who’s lighting the candles? Christmas: Who’s helping out at the Christmas Eve service? Are we even having one this year? Is anybody going to come to it? 

Which brings us to the last few weeks: Lent, Holy Week, and Easter. A time filled with traditions, rituals, and observances for any church. So who’s carrying them out? Whose job is it to make sure we do all the things we’ve always done? And what if it’s someone who’s not here anymore?

Some of those traditions, our church decided we just don’t have the capacity for right now. Evening services on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are a bit much to ask of our aging, semi-retired, unpaid pastor. So we decided instead to partner with another Lutheran church in the area, which was holding services not just for those two days, but also for Maundy Thursday, and even mid-week services on Wednesdays throughout Lent—something our church hasn’t been able to do for many years. So anyone in our congregation wanting the full Lenten and Holy Week experience could just head up the street a bit. Problem solved.

A Problem of Palms

Our church would still, of course, hold our traditional Palm Sunday service. Our pastor reminded us of this the week before. “Next Sunday is Palm Sunday,” he said. “So, everybody be sure to bring in palm branches.”

Wait a minute… What do you mean “bring in” palm branches? I’ve never heard of that before. Palm branches are something the church provides. Big branches for decoration, small branches for carrying and waving. They’re there when we come in. They’re handed to us at the door. Come to think of it, I don’t actually know where they come from…

Turns out, in our church, for the last few years, they’ve come from the next-door neighbor of our resident Power Couple, who are no longer local and no longer have him as a neighbor. So our church no longer has palm branches for Palm Sunday.

And then, of course, a week after that, there’s another important, seasonal tradition to contend with: the Easter Breakfast. A staple of my church for as long as I can remember, it was always the domain of Leo: one of the most beloved and respected members of our congregation, a (retired) professional baker and certified Person Who Did Things. He would arrive at church at 6 AM on Easter morning and make eggs, sausage, hashbrowns… Not to mention homemade bread, rolls, bagels, and more, which he’d been working on in the days leading up to Easter.

Leo passed away a couple of years ago. The Easter Breakfast is just one of the many, many things impacted by his absence. Another member of our congregation has taken over breakfast duties now, and his eggs and hashbrowns are great… But it’s just not the big event that it was when Leo was around.

Doing Things

It was clear to me this Easter season that if things were going to get done in my church, somebody would have to step up. And being a self-proclaimed member of the People Who Do Things… I guess it would have to be me.

As it happens, my front yard has multiple palm trees at various levels of maturity. There’s one with big, fanlike palm branches, and another with small, wavy leaves. Both at eye level, easy to trim.

As it also happens, I’m pretty handy in the kitchen. I’m not at the level that Leo was. But I’ve got a few breakfast dishes up my sleeve.

And so it was clear what I had to do. Palm Sunday, I arrived bright and early with a trunk full of palm leaves and palm branches. Easter Sunday, I arrived even earlier (and much less bright), with a car full of bread, coffee cake, homemade jam, and more. Even if no one else was willing to step up, our church would have what we needed, courtesy of one of the People Who Do Things.

Stepping Up

So what’s the point of this story? To talk about how I’m a superhero who saved the day? Who single-handedly kept the church going in its time of need? While that’s not why I volunteered to do the things I did, I’d be lying if I said that thought didn’t cross my mind.

But here’s the thing: When I got to church on Palm Sunday, there was already a small pile of palm branches in front of the church, from other members who had brought them from their trees. And as more people arrived, even more branches joined the pile. Plus enough leaves for each of us to be able to wave at least two or three, if we wanted.

And on Easter morning, as I worked in the church kitchen to make a breakfast worthy of Leo’s legacy… other people brought in a host of breakfast items of their own, from rolls to English muffins to fruit plates to coffee and orange juice. It was the biggest spread we’ve had since Leo’s death. Not only that, there were people there to set out plates and forks, put tablecloths on the tables, set up chafing dishes to keep the food warm, and a dozen other necessary things that I never would have thought to do.

Working Together

That’s what this whole experience made me realize. I’ve always prided myself on being of the People Who Do Things. But when it comes down to it, we’re all People Who Do Things. But we all do different things. Which means we all have blind spots, too: the things that we ignore or don’t notice, because they’re not part of the Things we generally do.

While we’re dutifully doing our Things, while grumbling that we’re the only ones who actually do anything around here… Someone else is out there doing those other Things, and perhaps even wondering the same thing. And all the while, the only way anything really gets done is if we all pitch in.

You can have those one or two People Who Do Things trying to shoulder the load or pick up the slack in doing what needs to be done. You may even try to be one of those people yourself. But nobody can do it all alone. And the more you try to do, the harder it will be without you.

Even my church’s decision not to host our own Lent or Holy Week services… It felt at the time like a defeat. Don’t even try, just send everybody somewhere else. But it turned out to be a great lesson in community. We could have had our overworked pastor put together a couple of small services, aided by one or two of the People Who Do Things. It would have had the basic elements of a standard, bare bones Ash Wednesday or Good Friday service.

Instead, we joined with a group that has the resources to really do it right—to do all the things that we couldn’t, and to provide truly meaningful and dynamic services, for both their congregation and ours. And in so doing, foster collaboration and community between us that will hopefully allow us both to do more and greater things going forward.

We all need each other, and we all work better together than separately. To make Palm Sunday happen, or Easter breakfast, it didn’t just take me, or our Power Couple, or any other single person, taking on the weight of the world. It took all of us, working together. And when we did that, we were able to make something truly extraordinary.