Someone once told me, the best trips don’t end when you leave, they follow you home. I didn’t really believe that until now. Some places have a way of stitching themselves into you, showing up in your thoughts when you least expect them to. Kentucky did that for me.

Big Creek wasn’t just a mission trip, it was a few days of seeing the world in a way I hadn’t before. Days of realizing how much people can endure, and how much love and hope can still thrive in the hardest places.

For some, it was their first trip. For others, like Ken Ficera, a volunteer from Charter Oak Church, it was another chapter in a long story of service. “I started coming to Big Creek Missions three or four years ago,” he said. “Every trip is different, but all have been a blessing. I just hope to share the love of Jesus, and I always leave feeling blessed by the kindness, humanity, and presence of Jesus in both small and big things.”

Our first full day at Big Creek started with visiting a local church. It had a rustic, welcoming vibe and included a playground where kids could play in a life-sized Noah’s Ark, a building full of free treats and food, a building with a stage and a setting area as well as a fire place for celebrations and festivals, and another building with three big jump houses a few arcade games machines and a room full of sewing machines to make blankets that could then be sold or given away, a gymnasium, and even plans for a bowling alley and theater.  

The service itself was full of warmth and energy. The pastor’s enthusiasm was contagious. He wasn’t polished or rehearsed, he was raw, present, and alive in a way that made everyone around him feel safe and important. Even the smallest things mattered: a kid getting free ice cream, people high-fiving as they left, strangers smiling at one another. It reminded me that joy and hope can live in the simplest moments.

After church, we helped with a huge box giveaway at a nearby high school by handing out around 370 boxes filled with food, cleaning supplies, and water. The line of cars seemed endless, but we worked nonstop loading, smiling, waving until the very last box was gone. The hardest part came when we ran out. People were still waiting, hopeful, and we had nothing left to give, I will never forget how no one got angry. Instead, they thanked us for being there and said they’d just come earlier next time. That small act of grace taught me more about gratitude than any sermon or classroom ever could.

Day two was hands-on in a whole new way. We helped a family with yard work and plumbing. I started off digging and somehow ended up crawling under the trailer, holding pipes while learning how to glue them together with Bob Ross, or “Bob,” as everyone called him.

He taught me about fittings and angles, explaining everything with the kind of patience that comes from a lifetime of helping others. It was messy, tiring work, but also incredibly rewarding. By the end of the day, my hands were covered in dirt and glue, but I couldn’t stop smiling. 

That evening, a few of us, me, Bob, Eliana, and her brother Abram, went to Lowe’s for supplies. What should’ve been a quick trip turned into a comedy show. We ended up riding around the aisles on the big blue carts like kids, laughing until our sides hurt. Afterwards, we stopped at Dairy Queen, where the cashier gave us a discount “just for being nice.”

It sounds small but it felt like one of those core memories that stay with you forever. It reminded me that joy doesn’t need to be planned; it happens naturally when people are simply kind to one another. Abram Held remembered it too, saying, “It was crazy but really fun. Somehow we accidentally missed a turn on the way home, adding ten minutes, but it was worth it.”

Day three brought another perspective. I spent time at a local nursing home, for a quieter day, but one that left the biggest mark. I painted nails with Eliana,

listened to stories, and met residents who just wanted someone to talk to. One woman didn’t want us to leave her room. She kept asking what things were, forgetting the answers, and then asking again. Each time, we smiled and answered as if it were the first time. When she said, “Don’t leave me yet,” I felt something ache inside me. 

When we finally did leave her room, Eliana and her dad sang to the other residents. Watching them reminded me how healing a simple act can be. Jon Held reflected, saying, “Every person we meet here, every place we go, we get to see God move in ways that are noticeable and real. Despite the struggles people face, they remain resilient and faithful. When you serve others through love, that’s how you change the world.” 

That day taught me that sometimes helping isn’t about fixing something, it’s about being present.  It’s about giving someone a moment of company in a world that can be lonely. 

That night, our last night, we sat outside sharing stories from our days there. Some were funny, some emotional, but all carried the same message: goodness is contagious. I asked some of the volunteers from Charter Oak what they thought was the most joyful part of the trip, Rob Carr said, “Seeing the joy on people’s faces, despite their struggles, makes the work all the more worthwhile.”

Sandy and Denny Smith said, “Big Creek is such a special place with so many good moments. We’ve been here seven times and still find new ways to be inspired.”

Ficerai summed it up perfectly: “Every trip is different, but all have been a blessing.” 

Dom Krivoniak talked about what he called the “God moments.” “It’s amazing how many ‘God moments’ you have on a mission trip,” he said. “There are so many of them, big and small. One of the best ones was meeting you and your mom. I hope our paths cross again.”

Those “God moments” came up over and over again, little pieces of kindness that felt too perfect to be coincidence. Eliana Held put it best: “The joy and love that’s evident in every soul you meet, the willingness to serve and be a light, is just incredible. From the tiniest little hand of a four-year-old to the wise knowledge of the oldest person here, every little deed or word or interaction makes a difference.”

And maybe that’s what made the trip so powerful. Not just the work, but the way people came together with people of all ages, backgrounds, and experiences connected by something they couldn’t quite name but could all feel.

All week long, I watched how people carried themselves: the volunteers, the families we helped, the kids running around barefoot and happy despite having so little. There ia this quiet strength in everyone, something rooted in belief. You could feel it in the air, in the way people prayed together or shared stories about how Big Creek had changed their lives.

That’s when I started realizing something important. Being there, surrounded by people whose faith was so intertwined with their kindness, made me think a lot about belief itself. Whether or not you consider yourself religious, there’s no denying the effect that faith has on people. It shapes them. It gives them strength when someone is feeling like they shouldn’t have any left. It helps them forgive, show grace, and love people they don’t even know. Even if someone doesn’t believe in God, it’s impossible to ignore the way belief can bring comfort and connection. The impact is real, and maybe that’s what matters most.

In Kentucky, I saw that faith wasn’t about preaching or proving something. It was about the quiet ways people chose to care. It was in the woman handing out food with a smile even though she didn’t get a box herself. It was in Bob patiently teaching a group of teenagers how to fix pipes. It was in the pastor who laughed at his own mistakes during a song, turning the whole room into one big, joyful mess.

Faith there wasn’t loud, it was lived. And even though I didn’t come home claiming to have all the answers, I came home knowing that what I witnessed was real. You can’t fake that kind of hope.

Looking back now, Kentucky isn’t just a memory, it’s a reminder of what happens when people show up for each other. It’s proof that service doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful. And it’s proof that belief in God, in people, in kindness, can move mountains, even if just one shovelful at a time.

And as someone once told me: the best trips don’t ever fully end.

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Are you ready to make a difference? Learn more about Big Creek Missions or plan your own trip at: https://www.bigcreekmissions.com/