A Road Less Travelled

To old friends and new missions.
God be with you, Evans.
Farewell.

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Some random thoughts from my latest trip to Erie-

My sisters can cook! For Thanksgiving we had a big family brunch at Adiel’s house. There was an enormous amount of really, really tasty food. There was this blueberry French toast casserole thing and then a fruit and yogurt trifle plus muffins, quiche, breads, sausages, spice cake and something more I’m sure. Mmm, it was good. Elizabeth made us lasagna with sausage, lots of cheese and more sausage. Actually, she made it about a week before we showed up and froze it so I had to watch it defrost before we could put it in the oven and then I had to smell it bake for over an hour. Mmmm, lasagna.

We had two Thanksgivings feasts in one day. There was the family brunch and then Elizabeth put on a traditional turkey meal Thursday evening. And even though I was confronted with two prime opportunities to overindulge I only ate until I was full. Both times. It was a beautiful thing. I could enjoy the post meal chatting and cleanup without feeling horrible. That was really nice.

Tom and Elizabeth were very careful to warn us that they have a cold house. They have an old, drafty house, they said, and it would probably be cold. So we were careful to pack warm clothes and were all prepared to be a little bit cold. Compared to our house their house is positively tropical. I was all prepared to be cold and I woke up overheating more than once.

Faith Reformed Church, of which my father is the pastor, is very quiet. I was sure Isaac was yelling his questions, but it turns out that everyone else was just being very quiet. Right before worship started it was almost silent. And then someone from our row would cough or wiggle or shout something incomprehensible. You could almost hear the silence crack and fall to the floor.

I have recently discovered that my family is not very, how shall I say, delicate in terms of what we think is appropriate to converse about in polite company. I’ve noticed this before, but just having more of us around made it painfully obvious. We had an entire conversation about bathroom euphemisms. And if you think about it bathroom in itself is a euphemism. You say ” I’m going to the bathroom”, but you make no mention of what you plan on doing in there. I mean, you could be going to change a light bulb for all we know. This conversation led to a new euphemism for the remainder of the trip. “Excuse me, I have to go change a light bulb.”

Finally, I realized that I like my family. We’re sinful and faulty and we’ve all got our issues, but I like us. I like us when we get together and just enjoy being around each other. We talk loudly and we laugh louder. We go to the beach and throw rocks at the waves simply because it’s fun. Seth pushes the children on the merry-go-round and then we eat pizza and laugh some more. It’s beautiful and I love it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope yours was as pleasant and crazy as mine.

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I have started this post three times now. I seem to be having trouble figuring out what I want to say. I want to say something about how I was glad to be gone and I was glad to come back. I want to say something about how things at home look fresh now that I’ve been gone for a time. But mostly I want to talk about how I forgot where my plant was.

Yesterday I realized I should probably water my plant. But then I couldn’t find it. My room is not that big and I had somehow lost a three foot high palm tree. I spun in place and searched, but the plant was no where to be found. I finally found Nigel right where I had left him, but I realized that I was so used to seeing him there I was looking right over him. I went into my room to get my space heater for the children and I couldn’t find it. Turns out I had been stepping around it and looking around it for so long that I couldn’t stop when I wanted to find it. This is what it felt like to be gone.

There are so many things assume. Being away from them, but still assuming them made me realize what wasn’t where I thought it was. We ran out of something early last week and Crystal’s first thought was “Maybe the Lansberry’s have some.” Then she laughed at herself because they don’t have Lansberrys in Erie. They are Lansberry-less. At first I wasn’t sure I could function Lansberry-less, but with a little practice I found I did just fine. But I missed them. They are such a part of my life it felt odd to be without them. I tend to overlook how special it is that they live down the street because them being down the street has become part of the landscape. Being away for a time brought them into focus and made me appreciate them.

On Tuesday my sisters took me out for an early birthday celebration. We went to Grasshoppers, a hippy boutique, and then we were going to get some refreshment of some kind. My first thought was “We could go to One World.” But alas, they have no One World in Erie. Now, I’m not trying to equate our dear friends the Lansberrys who have stood with us through thick and thin with a nifty restaurant much as I do enjoy One World. Those were just the two things that came to mind that I would reach for and be surprised when I realized they weren’t there.

So, I’m glad I was gone for a time. And I’m glad I’m back. And I’m glad I found my plant; he really needed some water.

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Gabrielle and I collect brothers. Call it a knack, a habit, or just an unusual providence, but it seems to be the case for both of us. Specifically, we seemed to collect older brothers–until we joined Providence. Suddenly we were confronted with a slightly unexpected new species: younger brothers. It might have applied to several people, but specifically Colton and Samuel E. were in that perfect age range of old enough for intelligent conversation–indeed, I’m quite sure they often have to bring their conversation on subjects such as military history and weapons down to the level where I can understand it–and young enough to be safe to talk to. (I don’t have to explain that any further, do I?)

We agreed that we rather liked this whole little brother thing. Indeed, with their uncanny ability to turn up whenever a crockpot needed to be carried and their reliable determination that girls were not fair targets in whatever game happened to be going on, I mentally noted that I was getting rather spoiled having them around. It was supposed to be tongue-in-cheek. Then we found out they were moving away, and I started to wonder if it was more true than I’d thought.

I mused along the changes there would be. No one was going to care anymore if I played ultimate frisbee–I mean really, who else would track down one of the worst players and insist that she should play? Jacob was just getting to the age where he would join our conversations, and I wanted to watch it happen. Gabrielle and I would once again be the only ones who would notice the world-altering reversal if I happened to wear a brighter color than she did. It seemed like dumb stuff I really shouldn’t care about. And then I realized, being a little slow as I usually am about these things, that somewhere along the line they’d moved from just ‘little’ brothers to friends, and I hadn’t noticed when it happened.

And the rest of the family, of course: The one of my elders that I was pretty sure had an idea how freaky odd I really am (and no, hadn’t started avoiding me yet). I also hold to the personal opinion that everyone should have an elder who reccommends the Terminator style of pumping a shotgun. Kim, who just understands. I should have better words than that, but that’s all I can come up with right now: whatever it is, she understands. And Gracie, and Levi, and Jedidiah… And Faith who wrinkles up her nose and says, “I don’t like it.” in this growling monotone. Seriously, you have no idea how cute this is until you’ve heard her do it. And walking into church on Sunday and seeing them all sitting there in a row in the back…

People keep saying things like, “God’s calling them someplace else” and though I intellectually assent, it’s just a phrase. This is what I can wrap my mind around: They’re being transferred to a different unit and redeployed at another base of operations, and while we hold down the fort here, they’re needed to go conquer ground somewhere else. And somehow that helps, even as I’m sitting here crying because it still hurts like Tennessee really is the ends of the earth. Because even though I don’t understand the military strategy I know our King’s strategy always works, so maybe this brings us one step closer to victory. And that brings us one step closer to Heaven. And Heaven is where you never have to say goodbye again.

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Tonight I am thankful for near-spontaneous gatherings of friends, chili with cheese, sour cream and oyster crackers, generous friends and even the ride home on the highway in the dark. For all these things and what they stand in for I give thanks.

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Last night we celebrated the Night of the Burning Plum. Many of us were nursing coughs or colds so the night was punctuated with sniffles, coughs and the hunt for the tissue box. And still it was delightful.

I went over to the Lansberry house early to help set up. Theresa commented that this was exactly the dinner party she always wanted to have. There were the regular folks- us, Lansberrys- and then there were the almost regulars- the Peiffers. There were the every-now-and-againers- the Creaths- and then there were the random people we kept adding in. Heather from Seth and James’s workplace, Ryan who we met at our previous church and have kept in contact with, and Ralph and Keith who started out Ben-Ezra friends and have become Lansberry friends, too. Altogether there were 27 people, 14 adults and 13 children. We feasted on pork raised by people we go to church with, mashed potatoes, salad and apple salad. For dessert we enjoyed the traditional ice cream with flaming plum cherry brandy sauce. When our hearts had been made properly merry we went into the living room to tell our stories.

Of the 27 of us only three adults and two children did not contribute anything to the stories. And even then there was lots of shouting, laughing and comments from the adults and joyous screaming from Margary. David Peiffer was really the only person who didn’t contribute anything, but he was asleep upstairs during the story telling. People told all manner of stories from wacky to serious to satire. I was impressed with how much most (most) of the children had improved from last year and definitely from the year before. There was a lot of audience participation even in the stories that weren’t designed that way. In fact, my voice was already going hoarse at the beginning of the evening and with all the shouting and laughing I have now lost almost all of my voice. I sound like a boy going through the worst stage of puberty. It’s kinda funny actually.

The night was a complete success. We had about twenty people packed around one long table and yet most of the time the conversation crisscrossed the table from end to end. James wrapped up the evening by talking about a family who’s life had been full of death. But then a baby had come to them and had helped to reawaken the joy and hope of the family. And he reminded us that that was what the Burning Plum was about. It was about love and hope together in a world filled with death and sorrow. It is our devotion to and our joy in each other that makes the Plum burn bright and strong. And it is because of evenings like last night that the Plum still burns. May its light carry us through this year and into the next.

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Hey Adiel, someone else is copying you! See?

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So, recently Seth has been interested in improvisational theater. He found a book at the Bradley library about how and why to do improv. This has made life rather entertaining around here. At least, I think it has. Perhaps someone should ask Crystal what she thinks.

The book Seth read even has some exercises to help practice your ability to be interesting on the spur of the moment. One of the exercises in called Expert. One person thinks up some wacky, off-the-wall thing and then interviews the other person who pretends to be an expert on the subject. For example, I say “Seth, tell me, is it difficult to extract walrus tusks?” He says, “I’m glad you asked. When I first got into the field of tusk extraction I didn’t have many tools for the job…” and so on. Or, to pick another perfectly hypothetical example, Seth says, “Today on our show I will be interviewing Gabrielle Ben-Ezra, the leading expert in knitting with steel. So, Gabrielle, how did you get into the field of steel knitting?” Now, this is all very well and good, but sometimes you just want to have a conversation about something without the burden of a full blown interview. So we have adapted this exercise so that I will just be holding something and Seth will ask me, “Gabrielle, what is that?” And I will come up with some bizarre object and what it’s for such as, “This is my nose snapper. I collect noses you know.”

So last night the Lansberrys came over for dinner. Seth, Theresa and Raquel had already had a conversation about improv and some of the exercises. Theresa and Raquel both thought it sounded like fun. James on the other hand just thinks we are weird. Actually, I think he thinks that pretty much about everything. And Crystal, as usual, just watched with an air of amused detachment.

Right before dinner started Seth accidentally put something under the table which was very hard to kill. Seth tired to kill it with his crossbow, but I think it was some sort of slime monster, so that didn’t work. We managed to blow it up with the pin from a grenade and then dinner started. Somewhere in the middle of dinner Raquel asked if there was any more water in the pitcher. There was, but there was also a live beaver. When Seth tried to get it out he only got half of the beaver out so he had half a live beaver in his hand and there was half a live beaver in the jar. We managed to fish it out, but what does one do with two halves of a live beaver that rapidly change from ‘live’ to ‘not live’? We fed it to Justice who thought that was really cool. In fact, after I finally passed to water on to Raquel Justice cried until we brought it back and he could pretend to put something in it. Or maybe he was taking something out. Anyway, he was playing with us which is more than I can say about some people.

But the best part of the evening was after dinner. We’d cleared the table and I thought that we should take the leaf out to make it easier to maneuver in the dining room. So I unclipped the clasps on my side of the table and asked Theresa and Raquel, who were on the other side of the table, to unclip that side. Theresa then cleared off the glasses people were still using and flipped the table up on its side. She claimed that she was trying to find the clasps, but I know better. Seth had just put a basket on his head which looked like some demented sort of helmet so we decided he was in some kind of army. Naturally, this means that I am on the other side of the fight. So Seth leaped behind the table with Theresa and Raquel and I ducked out of the room and began returning fire first. We had a splendid little firefight between the dining room and the breakfast room. My weapons got bigger and bigger, but their fortifications were far more advanced than mine. I finally went down to whatever Raquel was firing (we don’t know what it was, but it made a cute, little ‘Pew!’ noise) and I died dramatically after throwing my last grenade. And then we all stood up and pretended we were mature adults.

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Today I am thankful for Margary. About a year and nine months ago I talked to James on the phone. There were hard events going on at the time and I had called to ask him a question. He told me Theresa was pregnant with an emotion that was almost sadness in his voice. Perhaps it was just foreboding. I almost cried right then and there. God, I called out, please don’t take this baby. About a week later I watched Theresa cut potatoes and cry as she talked about her baby. She said, through her tears, that even if God chose to bring this baby Home before they could meet him she was still happy to be pregnant. It was still a new life. And I nodded and cried with her and pleaded with God to let them see their child’s face in this life.

And then, one Sunday afternoon, I bopped over to ask if Raquel wanted to go for a walk. She said she thought she probably shouldn’t because Theresa was in labor. I was so excited. We’d waited so long (Theresa longest of all) and we had all prayed so hard. And then she was there, all gooey and beautiful. She looked like Peter. Raquel put wrote Margary Rose on the cake and we all rejoiced together at 2:30 in the morning. She was here! We could see her, we could touch her and she was so beautiful. God had answered our prayers and given James and Theresa their baby.

And now she is one. She is still beautiful and most of the time she is still gooey. She points at what she wants and makes her face scrunch up with delightful. She crawls on her hands and feet and into whoever’s lap happens to be on her level. She is a joy.

Happy birthday, Margary Rose. I thank God for you, though not as often as I should. May your Heavenly Father give you many more years of wonderful life. May you live to see your children’s children and to bring them joy. Amen.

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 Providence held it’s first annual Reformation Day Faire last weekend. Alas, I did not get any pictures of my costume so you will have to imagine just how stunning, elaborate, and otherwise regal it was… Okay, it was actually a plain peasant costume made out of an old sheet, but I did really like how it turned out. Maybe I can get a picture of it to post later.

Since I got a bunch of pictures I decided to upload them elsewhere and provide a link. That way those who are interested can browse through my average photography of spectacular costumes–yes, I really do mean spectacular this time, some of them were quite elaborate–while those with dial-up can choose to forgo the graphic heavy experience.

Since we were missing our first-string photographer I made an extra effort to capture some of our great historical moments on film–err, electrons.  I  did try not to post any the unflattering pictures I accidentally snapped, but if you find a picture of yourself that you don’t want posted, or just don’t want any photographic evidence of your existence. let me know and I’ll remove the picture(s).

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