Last Words

I just got off the phone with my grandpa. He'll be going in for a second surgery in a few moments. Things don't look good and I am faced with the reality that he might not make it.

People tend to die quicker than we would like them to. They leave at inconvenient times, like when you are asleep or in another part of the country. Rarely do people have the opportunity to say a few final words knowing that there might not be a next time.

The question is, what do you say? Do you try to sum up a lifetime worth of experiences, maybe talk about that time that you turned the wheel on the boat while your grandfather was untangling string that you caught in the motor? Maybe he'd laugh about the glasses that were still at the bottom of the lake. They are still there aren't they?

The problem is, there is really nothing left to say other than I love you, or maybe thank you. And in an instant the phone is pulled from their ear and you face the reality, the possibility of losing earthly access to a lifetime of experiences, memories, recipes, suggestions, family stories, and songs from the fifties about a man who gets fired from a Chicago department store for getting frisky with the female customers.

It is cliche' but sometimes things are cliche' because they are continually true. You don't realize what you have until it's gone.

The Way We Remember

It has been just under a year since Courtney and I began life together in marriage. For our anniversary, this past weekend we went to Yellow Springs, Ohio for a couple of days. I had been to the area two times before and thought it would be a good getaway spot. We were particularly excited about walking through Clifton Gorge.

It is funny how certain events trigger memories. It is particularly hilarious how we tend to remember those things. Somewhere near Lima, Ohio as she thought about the past year Courtney remarked, "You know, looking back on our honeymoon, it was really great. I mean it was perfect!" I stared at her for a few moments, trying to decide whether or not I should jumpstart her memory and whether or not it would ruin our trip. I knew exactly what she was thinking about. A section of our honeymoon was perfect. Maine was beautiful, we had a great place to stay, we ate wonderful food, watched the sunrise over the bay, stayed up late on the dock and listened to the breeze and the water lapping on the shore, we biked around the island, it was a great time. What she was failed to remember was the 20 hour drive there, the crappy hotel in Albany, the too small tent in Connecticut, the wasted drive to Rhode Island, the food poisoning, the last second really crappy hotel, the food poisoning, the hospital visit, sleeping on the floor at a friends house whose air conditioning was broke while their entire family was there. We had some great times but perfect seemed a little far fetched. I reminded her which made her laugh at her oversite. We decided we remembered it as perfect, therefore it was.

Upon arrival we scoped out our hiking route through Clifton Gorge and headed through the limestone carving. As expected it was beautiful. I can't say this is the most amazing place I've been in my life, or even the top ten, but living in Northern Indiana for several years gives a person the ability to appreciate any minor change in geography; It is sort of like having your eyes gouged out in order to gain a better sense of smell or hearing. All joking aside, as you walk through the gorge the rock walls and trees filter out the oppressive elements of an 85 degree day, multiple brooks make their way to the stream and produce the ever calming sound of running water on rocks, and the birds work like DJs during rush hour playing all your favorite hits. Mixed with some hearty exercise the hike made for a relaxing experience.

By the time Courtney and I had made our first 2 mile pass through the gorge we were a bit pasty but not winded. As we looked at the trail map we considered our options for the return trip. Our top two nominees were the North Rim Trail (which was more inviting to our sweaty feet as it was a half mile shorter) and the Conestoga trail that was a bit longer and made us eventually pass parts of the trail that we had already walked. Though we thought the second half might be a bit boring as it would involve some retracing, we wanted to stick close to the river and see if we could catch some new scenery.

We made a good choice. After a while we started seeing familiar territory, but at a different angle. We started seeing things a little differently than we did the first time. We caught different angles of the river, saw some new vistas that we didn't turn are head enough to see the first time. It actually felt like it was a new trail, new but still familiar.

Courtney's comments earlier that day, mingled with our trail experience got me thinking about memories. I had been to Clifton Gorge before. Being there brought back strong scenes, some great, some not so great. As I went back over the memories I noticed things I hadn't before, partly because of things that had happened since then, but mostly because looking back brings a new clarity and muddiness. The harsh edges are taken off the bad memories, making it possible to think about the softer moments you couldn't experience at the time; it's mercy really. Forgetfulness is a form of mercy.

I now have new memories of Clifton Gorge and the enchanting Yellow Springs now: Making up stupid poems with Courtney; staying up late talking with our transplanted, in your face, Chicago hostess about faith, life, and polotics and all the other things you aren't supposed to talk about with people; amazing food like fresh dates with goat cheese wrapped in bacon in Yellow Springs; talking music and documentaries with the record store owner named Josh; dangerous mountain bike trails in John Bryan park; great.....uh.... conversation with Courtney. It was a perfect weekend. At least, that's the way I remember it.

God's Vacuum Cleaner Giveaway

Courtney and I have a vacuum cleaner that my parents bought for me a couple years ago. It is blue like a race car, but it is missing the big engine. Despite its noticeable lack of power, it did the job for my once a..... for the one or two times I cleaned. After marriage I was informed by my wife that the sweeper was not satisfactory.

We have a pug named Murray. He is adorable and hilarious. He also sheds like it's going out of style. I'm pretty sure if Jesus were around today and wanted to talk about the power of a bunch of individuals in community he would use Murray's vacuum clogging hair as an example. "You see, each of you are all like an individual hair from Murray. Soon many of you will fall to the ground but it will not be in vain. You will clog the cheap underpowered vacuum cleaner of the enemy."

At least once a month my wife informs me that the vacuum is broken. She tried to clean it out, it won't work -we better get a new one. Once I have it running again she pretends to be grateful that it is alive.

A couple of months ago she was particularly miffed about the whole vacuum thing. Actually we were both feeling the pains (if you can call them that) of not having enough stuff, or at least the bare necessities (if you can call them that) of life in the United States. After a bit of grumbling we both started feeling sticky and gross. After months of general contentment in our circumstances we were becoming something whiny and disgusting.

Enter God.

After God did a little whispering -which we didn't notice till we were done arguing, we realized we were keeping a part of our dirty hearts from Him. We had talked to him about a lot of the boulders,"Dad get rid of selfishness in us (marriage is good for this), open our eyes to what you want us to do, thank you that we have a place to live and food." The pebbles were starting to blister our feet, but they were petty and should be put up with like good frugal content Christians.

So we had a little come to Jesus moment around the table. A 3x5 card became the alter on which we sacrificed/asked for the things that were fighting for our thoughts. At the top of the list was a new vacuum cleaner then a few other items including a trip to Maine for our anniversary. We both felt a little guilty asking God for such things. We both figured he had bigger more spiritual things for us to pray for.

In the following weeks something beautiful happened. I didn't hear Courtney complain once about the vacuum. In fact we talked about squeezing it in the budget but she stopped me and said it was unnecessary. Thankfulness for what we did have seemed to replace (most of the time) the discontentment. The list was inevitably buried under wedding invitations, recipes, and due bills; dismissed from our thoughts but not God's.

This morning I took my in-laws old Dyson vacuum cleaner to get fixed. They had bought a new one before realizing the old one was still under warranty. They are giving it to us. Not only is it a top of the line vacuum cleaner (probably more expensive than I would ever want Courtney to buy without an altercation), it is a pet hair edition. We were reminded again of the list.

The vacuum wasn't the only item checked off the list, in fact it wasn't even the biggest. A few weeks ago, Courtney and I were sitting in the Denver airport on our way to Oregon for my brother's wedding, waiting for our plane. While I sat there oblivious to anything but Muse in my headphones Courtney heard them announce that the flight was overloaded. She jumped into action and got us $800 in flight vouchers for an extra three hours of waiting in Denver. Those vouchers are going to make it possible for us to go back to Maine next year for our 2 year anniversary.

I feel the need to interject a disclaimer. I really do understand that God has much more for us and desires much more from us than vacations and vacuum cleaners. I think He would rather give us something that changes our hearts than make us comfortable. There is a lot of comfort ahead for those who follow Jesus to it. But as much as my frugal Mennonite background wants God to be a frugal Mennonite, God often seems to speak to us in ways we will understand, even if that seems to bend toward my materialistic North American mindset, even when we are not exactly a prime example of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

There are a lot of ways I want to resolve all of this, and make it tidy, but really that's not possible. My mind is too small to tidy up God, at some point I just have to accept who He is and what he does, and be thankful in all things. I am pretty sure this is from God, because I'm feeling more excited about the fact that God is tapping us on the shoulder than the fact that we got a new vacuum cleaner and a trip to Maine. Honestly I think that's what he wanted anyway.