The Fabric Of Life

After living abroad for 4 years I was surprised when I was in the states for three weeks how everywhere I turned seemed like I was surrounded by nostalgia and memories. Not really in Wisconsin because this was my first time doing anything there besides passing through. But when I went to South Dakota a whole host of memories tickled my brain. Memories of spending 4 months living there with David and Ida many years ago. Its where I got my drivers permit and my license and where I had my first and only accident. How I managed to find a tree in the middle of the prairie and smash into it I will never know nor how I walked away with only several cuts and bruises. It was a miracle. Another thing I will never forget about that accident is that my brother in law David never said anything that made me feel badly even when the mechanic said I had just totaled their family van. And that made me feel even worse. But it was something I never forgot and it made me a much safer driver. It was the only accident I ever had in 13 years of driving. I have a lot of other memories of that place too. Just driving through the tiny town of Milbank past the same grocery stores, the same restaurants, the old windmill, the park, the bank…Most of it was still amazingly the same and it gave me a funny ache inside. Later I had memories of chasing trains with a van load of hollering kids and loud music, two old tramp brothers,  going to auctions, eating at Dairy Queen after a long hot afternoon of working in the garden and many many other things that will forever be stamped in my heart.

Traveling with Rachel and her children brought back memories of years gone by when we’d load up the big van with six little children, diapers, formula, wheelchair, feeding pump, meds, food, and camping supplies! Seriously, how crazy could we possibly have been!! But the memories I have of those times, I would never trade. How can one ever forget hearing the horse mounted police making their rounds through the campground in the middle of the night or peeking out of the tent door early in the morning to see a door swing open on a horse trailer leaving a poor lady sitting stranded on her camp commode!! And then falling back on our beds and shaking with quiet laughter until our sides ached! I remember heating cans of soup over smoky fires and roasting marshmallows after dark, setting up the tent while the children explored the forest, and how can one ever forget that feeling of dread when awaking in the dead middle of the night soaked with kid pee and hearing rain on the tent. Later there would be early morning showers before packing up to go find some hot breakfast because invariably someone would forget to put the wood inside and who can make a fire with wet wood? There were campgrounds in the middle of nowhere where we camped and never saw another living soul. Or in one case the living souls were cows who stood mooing into our tent early in the morning while Rachel and I clenched our teeth and lay still and tense for fear of the babies waking. We tried those cool places where they have those little cabins and we even slept in covered wagons way out on the De Smet prairie where Laura Ingalls Wilder lived as a young girl!! We sat out side on the stoop at night and watched the moon hover so large and low it seemed as if one could reach out and touch it! I remember looking at Rachel sometimes and saying, “ I’m sure we have way more fun than other people!”

In Michigan I had memories of trekking up to visit our Amish cousins, spending a week at a time eating their good food, driving their horses in the hay field, going to the chocolate store, going out to the bay and eating at the fish and chips shop. I remember being at my cousin’s wedding surrounded by solemn little children watching while I took care of my little boy’s feeding pump and burping him through his g tube, I decided this would be an educational moment so proceeded to explain to them in dutch step by step what I was doing and why. After a moment of silence a small girl leaned over and breathed into her friend’s ear, “ Who is that lady talking too?” I figured they’ll always remember a crazy lady talking weirdly to herself in the nursery a long time ago!!

Coming down through Ohio I had a rush of memories of my troubled teen years when I spent a month at a counseling center for girls and the turbulent days I spent there trying to come to peace with life.

The weekend I spent in Ohio at my Haiti family reunion was spent doing a lot of reminiscing of days gone by when we were all in Haiti together working together like a family. During good times and hard times we stuck together and most of the time stood strong and created bonds that will last a lifetime.

Then it was back to Lancaster and WOW!! so many memories on literally every street corner. Whether it was the little grey stone house  smack in the middle of Intercourse where we first lived after moving up from a sleepy little town in North Carolina or the mouse infested farmhouse in Ephrata where we’d sit out on the roof at night to get away from those scampering little feet, memories came flooding back faster than I could even process them. I had a lot of memories of foster children we cared for and how we used to spend so much time on the road going to appointments and visits in Philadelphia where we’d spend hours walking through china town sipping on bubble tea and slurping  warm tofu, finding bits of pink meat in gloppy corn mush. We’d wander through the Italian market sampling exotic cheeses, fine wines, and sausages. Then we’d count our money and hover over  big wooden barrels drooling over fat, gourmet olives floating in their salty brine, agonizing over the decision of which kind to try this time.

There were memories of early morning yard saling, free  piles and dumpster diving for fun!! Going to community days, farm fests, museums, parades, pettings zoos… toting loads of eager children. Then there were places I used to work, and people I used to work with. There were restaurants where we first learned to love sushi, curries, and pho. Narrow city streets where Amy and I used to go to visit Sulley and learned how to parallel park quickly and to move when she’d say, “ Get out of this area fast.” I remembered how her mom used to yell at us that we’re messing up her house and how she’d tell Sulley to stop hanging out with those amish girls!!

Driving past the Ephrata business center was hard for me every. single. time. So many things connected to that building, things I never want to forget and things I wish I could forget and never remember again. It is the place where I really and truly met God and my life was forever changed. In that place is where I received years of rich teaching and hours of discipleship that has shaped my life and given me a solid foundation. And it was also in that place that my foundation was rocked to its core. There were bible schools, weddings, baptisms, communion services, missions conferences, benefit suppers, and even girls cookie bakings in the kitchen, good and fun times. Then there are memories of those first niggling fears and thoughts that something wasn’t right. And later of trying to deny and close my eyes to things happening around me that were rocking my world. There is still the bitter feeling of walking out of those big glass doors, hearing them close behind me knowing that a chapter of my life was ending. A chapter was ending and a new one was starting but at that point I could not see it. Perhaps the hardest part about these memories is the fact that I still have unresolved questions about things that happened during those turbulent times, I have a keen sense of loss that has scarred me deeply. I grieve for many relationships lost and broken.

But that is life and it is how the fabric is woven.

All the time I was in the states I kept thinking about memories. They flooded me almost overwhelmingly. I was thinking about memories past and also the memories we are making today. They are the substance with which we weave the fabric of life. Every single day we are weaving our lives by the choices we make and the things we do. I have always been fascinated with memories and how powerful they can be. They are like a thick blanket we weave throughout life and when we are old and feeble we pull up our thick blanket and it is up to us now if our blanket will be warm and comforting or dark and suffocating. It is what will carry us to our graves. Oh, for a life blanket that is full of God, full of light and grace, laughter and love and no regrets.