A Road Less Travelled

This haiku on photographs came out much more scathing than I intended, but I still rather like it–

unnaturally frozen moment

yanked from life

to decay on paper

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We have returned from our many and adventurous travels. Gabrielle and I both plan to write up our experiences as blog posts at some point, but I think today we were both still recovering from our adventurous travels. While you’re waiting here are our actual quotes from the trip. As always these quotes are entirely anonymous and none of us accept any responsibility for them.

“I am not occupying the same underworld as them.”

“Fire escapes–they’re like alleys only they’re stairs.”

“You knew the guy in the orange hat would always be there…until the raid came.”

“Angsty fish hanging out in the shadows–what’s not to like?”

“No, no, I’ll get it–you have blood on your hands.”

“It’s very loud.” “So’s the beef.”

“When you want to boil something in burning oil… I mean, you can’t wait around for these things.”

“My saliva burns you alive.”

“Could you get your glass out of my pocket?”

“Come here, let me smell your lips.”

“Masked assailants don’t usually tickle.”

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Hello to all you fair, blog-reading peoples. I have an announcement. Today Raquel and I will be getting on a train that will take us here and then we will get off and then we’ll get on a different train that will take us over there for a while. The result of all these gallivantings are that we will end up in Erie, PA, to visit my family. We will be there for about a week and then we will board a train and it will go for a bit and then we’ll get off and get on another one that goes for a smidge and then we will be back to our blog writing and such like. If you get too lonesome for us when we aren’t there you can always go read the archives. And now please restrain your tears as I must bid you a very fond farewell. We know your thoughts will go with us on this endeavor, but I’ll remain vague on what I think these thoughts are of. Farewell, goodbye and something in French I will never be able to spell.

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Today Gabrielle and I take a train from Bloomington to Erie, with a five hour layover in Chicago. Next Monday we will return, again with a five hour layover in Chicago. In the week between we will be in Erie visiting Gabrielle’s old haunts and various members of her family (and Barb). So will our heroines survive spending hours together on a train? Will they still be speaking to each other at the end (or will they be giggling too hard to talk)? Will they discover evidence that Chicago does indeed exist? Will they write blog posts while in Erie, or merely attempt to catch up on a week’s worth of blog posts when they return? Tune in next week….

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February–

cold coffee grounds

settled in my mug

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safety–

an unsheathed

sword

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Gabrielle and I have been discussing the description of our blog. According to the description this blog is about us not going to college. In actuality, this blog has been mostly about our lives chasing after children. But then, the reason we’re here chasing children is we think this is a better training for the rest of our lives than college would be. It seems to me that our description needs to be expanded. It should include the fact that we’re not going to college, but also more about what we are doing with our lives. So far I haven’t had any really good ideas. I thought it might help to ask our readers. So why do y’all read this blog? What’s the main thing you get out of it? Whats sums up the blog the best in your mind? Ideally, Gabrielle and I will sort through our myriad of responses and weave the best parts together into a simple and cohesive description of our blog. In reality we will probably get two responses saying, “I read this blog because I’m related to one of you.” and Gabrielle and I will discuss (read ‘fight over’) what this blog is really about. Oh well, it’s worth a try.

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I just read Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. Once again, Gabrielle was right–I did enjoy it, and it was a harsh book. The main character is a little boy named Ender, who is being trained as a soldier. Because he has the best potential to be the commander they desperately need, his training is especially cold and hard. He is honed into the perfect soldier at the expense of his family, any chance of friendship, and anything else that got in the way. I bonded with the main character for a series of odd reasons. It started when he doubled numbers in his head to distract himself. 1,2,4,8,16… I’ve done that. Unlike Ender I can’t get as far as the ten thousands before I have to stop, but I understand having a brain that works that way. Then I read this: “Graff had isolated Ender to make him struggle. To make him prove, not that he was competent, but that he was far better than everyone else. That was the only way he could win respect and friendship. It made him a better soldier than he would ever have been otherwise. It also made him lonely, afraid, angry, untrusting. And maybe those traits, too, made him a better soldier.” This resonated with me far more strongly than I would have liked. My childhood was nowhere near as difficult as Ender’s–I had my family. Ender was trained to rely only on himself. The only people I believed could really rely on were my family or myself. I didn’t have very many friends as I grew up. Outside my family circle I unconsciously assumed that no one would like me unless I was perfect–better than everyone else. Looking back, this really threw a wrench into my early attempts at friendships. In the end I think that was why I moved up here. My family will always be there no matter where I live. But if I’d moved back home after a year of living here I would have turned my back on the first real friendships of my life. Gabrielle and I might have e-mailed for a few months or longer, but sooner or later our real lives would have gotten in the way and the friendship would have slowly crumbled apart. Now a few thousand miles between us would be a strain, but I don’t believe it would pull us apart. I hesitated to acknowledge this because I’m afraid if I admit it I’ll have to do it–that God will say that I belong somewhere else now. That’s what would have happened to Ender. I know better than to think this way, but I still catch myself in it. As though my life were directed by frazzled commanders desperately pulling together resources for a planet they may or may not be able to save. As though my skills might be needed somewhere, but in the grand scheme I am personally expendable. But God already won the battle that we fight. He trains us as soldiers, not because He needs us, but because He loves us. He trains us up as His soldiers to His glory not at the expense of who we are, but to the fulfillment of who are. Every small happening, whether easy, harsh or beautiful is planned to be the best possible thing for each one of His children at the same time. He’s training me for my place in His church, whatever and wherever that may be. I suspect that I’ll need my determination, the tone that Gabrielle calls my ‘No’ voice, my perfectionist streak, and all my other not-so-lovable qualities many times before I’ve finished my job. I’m also going to need the ‘it’s okay’ voice, the ability to care about people even when it hurts, and many other things I’m trying to learn right now. I hope that I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life here in this city, even this same street, practicing these skills. If God calls me somewhere else I’ll know that it’s better, not just for me, but for everyone around me. And in the end the struggle will not make me lonely or afraid. Instead I will be surrounded by friends and fellow soldiers as we sing praises to the God who brought us through it all. However harsh the story that came before, I’d say that’s a happy ending.

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Theresa and Moriah left this morning on Moriah’s special tenth birthday trip to St. Louis. The first thing that strikes me about this is that four is such a small number of children to deal with. Two years ago I would have been on edge trying to keep everything under control, wondering if I could make it for two days with Theresa gone. Today I have only a general awareness that I need to pay attention to what’s going on because Theresa isn’t here to keep the house running smoothly. Before I moved up here I had a general understanding of how this whole homemaking and raising children activity worked. If I’d gotten married immediately on graduating from high school I could have stepped into the role and wife and later mother much more smoothly than many teenage girls could. But knowing how to do something is entirely different from doing it over and over again every day. When I first learned to crochet I understood how the stitches worked, but it took a lot of concentration just to make one stitch. Now I can crochet (often without any official pattern) while carrying on a conversation or planning out a writing project in my head–because I have experience. Theresa can leave for two days, and though I’m not as experienced as she is, I can take over the house with very few snags. The second thought I’ve had is this–I haven’t gotten a lot done this morning. I ran the breakfast dishes through the dishwasher, but they haven’t been put away yet. I got a load of my laundry washed and in the dryer, and had the boys put away their clean laundry, but that’s about it. Except for one other thing–I haven’t yelled at the children yet. Okay, technically I yelled once, but only because they having a fight at a pretty impressive volume level of their own. Let’s say I haven’t lost my temper with the children yet. It may not look so impressive on the to-do list, but I’ve finally figured something out. When I’m conscious of having a very productive day I tend to get focused on that and make grandiose plans for being yet more productive. Then when the children throw off my schedule by a few precious seconds I get snappish. I’m not at all against productivity. In fact, I’m in favor of it. But sometimes focusing on productivity is a very bad thing. Today would be one of those times. On the other hand, I probably should go produce some lunch for hungry children before they become cranky children. And after I clean up the kitchen from that I could grind some wheat. And wash the windows. And shine the doorknobs. And… Then again, maybe not.

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“After I drain the blood out of it you can play with it.”

“If it were fixed it wouldn’t be leaking…blood.”

“You still have…blood on your hands.”

“I think she bought the one I thought I had.”

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