1,046 cookies, brownies, and muffins, baked by at least 14 people.

300 boxes assembled and filled with baked goods and Chapel Next business cards or handwritten words of encouragement, all prepared by 20-ish people.

5 barracks buildings and almost 300 soldiers uplifted and greeted by 15 people with heartfelt conversation and the love of Christ and community.

1 amazing and blessed first outreach by the Baking Brigade.

Sadly, there is only one photo of Alan because he was our photographer for the event.

I intended to blog about this earlier, but I couldn't find the right words to describe what an amazing, God-filled experience this was. I still don't have all of the words, but if I wait for "perfect," I'll never hit the "Publish" button.

The night before the Baking Brigade outreach, I prayed myself to sleep. I was ridiculously nervous and kept grabbing my phone from the nightstand so I could add quick reminders--don't forget scissors for cutting the twine, and markers for decorating boxes, and print off your notes for Sunday Morning Life Group!

So, while I was casting my cares on the Lord, I was also making sure that I was doing absolutely everything in my power to be prepared. You know--just in case. (read: I was really just paying lip service to God.)

Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved. -Psalms 55:22

I was afraid that we wouldn't have enough cookies, that even though the list of people who signed up looked decent, people would forget or not bother or not make enough. It was almost 1 a.m. when I toyed with the idea of getting up and making even more cookies (one of my closest friends down here arrived home on Saturday after visiting family on the East Coast, so we went to dinner with them and then they came over so she could bake muffins).

And I was reminded of Jesus feeding the five thousand.

I told myself that if Jesus could do that, then He would make sure that we would have enough to go around. His will would be done. I had to keep myself in check.

Sometimes, we have to live by faith and trust that God will provide. I told God that I was entrusting Him with the entire outreach. That if it succeeded, it was only because He is good and that all the glory went to Him. That if it failed, I knew that this was a me-thing, and not a God-thing. I asked Him to use me as a vessel to minister to others and advance His kingdom.

Coincidentally--or not--I taught about leadership in Life Group the next morning. Leaders have extraordinary faith because they trust that their visions will be fulfilled, as long as people are motivated and God will provide.

And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 4:19

And I thought to myself, "Wow, I wish I had that kind of faith!" Instead, I was too busy worrying, and had clearly forgotten the prayer I'd said the previous night. I wanted to end class fifteen minutes early, so I could check on cookies and one of the other ladies could go home to pick up a forgotten Children's Church lesson plan--we barely finished praying by the usual end of class. At that point, I decided to recommit my cares to God.

Would more people drop off cookies? Would we have twine to finish the boxes? Would enough people volunteer to package, to go to the barracks? Was I forgetting something? What if we didn't have enough cookies? What if, in spite of my heart for this mission and my excitement, it failed?

I sometimes get the impression that I--as a woman? as a young woman? as an introvert who hates to be acknowledged in the congregation?--am dismissed by some of the men, and if this failed, well, it would just be proof that women should sit down and be quiet and listen.

So, I prayed some more.

After Life Group, Alan and I went to the mall to pick up a classmate who'd volunteered to help (and, the day before, we drove to the university to pick up cookies another classmate had baked). We grabbed lunch in the food court and then returned to chapel to assemble 300 kraft boxes. Around 2 p.m., more people started to show up and we began to start packaging and talking about our plan for the barracks. And there was prayer. Lots of prayer.

The process went quickly with so much help, and by 3:30, we were ready to drive over to the barracks. We divided the boxes into three garbage bags to make everything easier to carry. It was awesome to see a caravan of eight vehicles pull into the barracks parking lot.

We met some really great men and women while we made our rounds in five buildings, and the experience opened my eyes to the fact that more of this is needed. More time. More conversation. More love. More community. More God.

Sunday was one soldier's birthday. A box of cookies was the first birthday present he'd received all day.

Two soldiers were so excited about the cookies that they opened their boxes and started eating while the four (some of us paired off) of us stood in their doorway, chatting.

Countless soldiers were in disbelief that someone was offering free homemade treats, that someone cared. One soldier desperately needed someone to talk to.

One soldier asked if it was finally his turn for a box of cookies, because he'd seen so many other guys with them.

Some of them asked if this was a church outreach. And, from what church? Where? When is service?

However, several knocks went unanswered. On the upside, the chaplain's response to that was to make this a monthly event--the soldiers will know to be home on the last Sunday of the month if they want free baked goods.

And who doesn't want free cookies baked with love?

stove not included

A chaplain and I reconnoitered the barracks on Monday in order to decide how best to go about this outreach.

Which, by the way, is still nameless.  But at least we're down to four names: Batter Buddies, Batterground (they were tied for first), Baking Brigade, and Bake.Pray.Love.

I had a hard time sleeping that night, because I kept thinking of what I saw in the barracks (or maybe it was the fact that I wanted to give my friend the night off, and babysat her toddler for 24+ hours with little sleep).

Seriously, it's worse than the honors dorm I lived in for three years of undergrad.  I didn't know that was possible.

They don't even have a stove (in the particular building I visited).  I kept thinking of the guys at the gas station when I stopped on post Sunday night.  The one who really left an impression had a frozen pot pie and a sports drink.  At the time, I thought, "That's so sad.  But maybe he just doesn't feel like cooking tonight."

Or, you know, maybe he doesn't even have a stove.  That was clearly my second thought.

Granted, I used the stove once the entire time I was in a dorm, and that was to bake cookies (I used the stove frequently when I lived in an apartment).  But it's the principle of the matter.

We chatted with a soldier in the orderly room to find out the best time to stop by and gauge how well-received this outreach would be.

And while I was happy to hear that it would really boost morale, it saddened me to hear that many soldiers don't have a lot of contact with family and support systems, that a couple of cookies from some arbitrary people would really show them that their commands care about them.

I mean, think about it.  Maybe you're 18, and you're away from home for the first time, but unlike orientation week at college, no one's around to send you off to mandatory fun and keep you from feeling homesick and you never get mail from your parents or hang out with your coworkers.  Maybe you don't have a car.  Apparently, you don't have a stove, either.  And your housing is so old that it's condemned, and if Air Force personnel would have to live where you do, they'd receive a higher housing allowance because of it.  (I mean, I used to complain because my dorm didn't have an elevator and no one held the door open for me when I traipsed up four flights of stairs with a laundry basket.)  And some free cookies and a sincere "hey, how are you doing?" would totally make your day.

I am more excited and ... rushed? (I think I feel rushed, or anxious, or ready yesterday, or something like that) than ever to get this underway.  People have approached me in chapel to ask when this is going to finally start.  More people have asked for information.  The colonel in charge of the second barracks we'll be visiting (the barracks that I visited today) is all for this.  And I want to bake some fresh cookies on Sunday afternoon so they can be delivered, still warm.  Except, the stove at the chapel is broken, and there are higher priorities.