Further along the trail

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”

Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

A week ago Tuesday marked the 22nd anniversary of the beginning of our ministry in Chetek and to celebrate the day I drove to the Taylor County woods northeast of Rib Lake and hiked along the Ice Age Trail for the afternoon. I was in sore need of alone time and went there deliberately in hopes of hearing a "word" from God. For the past six years, the fall has become a busy time for me as I have juggled my responsibilities of both pastor and coach of Chetek-Weyerhaeuser High School's Cross Country team. A lot of times at this turn of the year it feels like I pastor just to pay my way as CC coach and this fall has been no exception. So, on Monday night I cancelled next day's practice and on Tuesday morning I drove the two hours over to eastern Taylor County.

The way we were in the fall of 1991

It was a glorious day to be out on the IAT. With temperatures heading to the mid-70s and the leaves at or near peak, the hike promised to be invigorating to all the senses. More importantly, I needed the solitude of the trail and for God to speak to me. I didn't want the day to pass without the attempt to mark it with prayer and reflection. And so as I shouldered my day pack and headed down the path I began with a simple prayer, "Father, do you have anything you want to say to me?"

As I passed under the green canopy of hardwoods mottled with gold and red, I reflected on.twenty-two years of ministry: the first days, Ultra high frequency (Uhf), learning to preach, when we were CFGT, Focus, becoming Refuge, ministry at the Justice Center and other happenings along the way. For all of it I find myself so grateful to be here, to be given an opportunity to "work out my salvation with fear and trembling", to work my craft and grow and develop as a disciple of Jesus Christ. Every pastor needs people to care for and nurture, every preacher needs a congregation to listen to him and I've been fortunate over the past two decades or so to be given that. 

Along the hike there were moments when my train of thought would detour and I would start to reflect on my deficiencies, inadequacies and mistakes I've made over that span of time. Clearly, other men - and for that matter, other women - could have done it better than me. But at those times I had to forcibly interrupt that flow of disparaging reflection and get myself back to gratitude. Certainly God didn't bring me to the woods to tell me that I sucked.

Before we moved to Chetek, we were living in southern Wisconsin for a season where we hoped to plant a church in a community there. I was 26 years old and Linda and I had just become parents a few months before when we moved to town. It was a two-year experiment of blood, sweat and tears that ultimately led to disappointment. In the fall of 1990 we moved into my in-laws' cabin north of Madison in what we believed at the time to be only a temporary arrangement. But that's not how it played out. In fact, it was the beginning of maybe the darkest ten months in my life - at least thus far. Since 1982 it had been my ambition and perceived calling to be a pastor. Over the next eight years I had attended and graduated from Bible college, completed my internship at the large congregation that had nurtured me, and, after getting married, returned to school for more education. Along the way I had helped a couple of my friends plant fellowships of their own and picked up preaching gigs now and then. But by the fall of 1990 I was no closer to "breaking in" to ministry than I had ever been. During that fall of 1990 and winter of 1991 I interviewed at a couple of fellowships to no avail and then things dried up. No one was looking and no one was interested in taking on a guy with little or no experience.

I was working full-time nights and in retrospect that contributed to the darkness of that season in my life. I was tired all the time and that weariness made me vulnerable to a thought that was planted like a bad seed in my mind: that somehow or other I had "missed" my calling, that all those teachers at the Bible college I had attended and all the pastors who had encouraged me to pursue ministry along the way had, in fact, lied to me, had only said those things just to profit from the tuition money that they got off a chump like me. That's not a logical sequence of thought nor is it fair to those who were my instructors but eight years into my quest to be a pastor I was no closer to getting there. Some days it was just easier to dwell on the disappointment I was feeling at the way my life was unfolding. We lived an hour from where I worked and when you're tired that's a long time to try and fight off dark thoughts like these. But to have to do that twice a day was just wearing me down. I recall one drive to work being so angry that I just banged away at the steering wheel while I cried bitter tears to a God whom I felt had forgotten where and who I was and who had better things to do than listen to me beg Him for an opportunity to serve Him anywhere.

At the time I was working as the night supervisor of about 40 employees of a large nursing facility that oversaw the personal care of 300 disabled adults and children. I was grateful for the job in that it paid the bills but it obviously wasn't what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. One night on my rounds, I had a conversation with Dale, one of the crew I oversaw. He had been a pastor but had decided to leave pulpit ministry and open a Christian book-store in the town where this nursing facility was. Knowing my aspirations for ministry from time to time he would ask how the pursuit was going. That night I must have opened up the vault a bit more than usual for Dale gently admonished me, reminding me that the Lord knew where I was and if he had need of me He would come looking for me. Whether he knew it or not, his words were light and the curative to the darkness that was infecting my soul.

That season of feeling lost eventually ended and in time the Lord did have an assignment for me. And now look where I'm at all these years later. I've been blessed to pastor the same fellowship for over two decades in a small community that I now consider home and have experienced the joys and (at times) the sorrow that goes with the territory. As a good friend of mine once said to me: "You have a wife and kids who love you, a house of  your own and a church to work out your calling. What more could you ask for?" (I guess "a cabin in the woods" is out of the question?)

My hike along the Ice Age Trail lasted all afternoon. I had no "burning bush" moment, no Elijah-in-the-cave-beneath-Mt.-Horeb-still-small-voice incident. But something did happen that gave me something to chew on. The IAT is a 1,000-mile trail that snakes through Wisconsin over all kinds of terrain and accesses many kinds of trails - ski, ATV, road and foot-travel only paths - along the way. Having hiked about an eighth of it, I can tell you that in some parts if you've seen a mile of it you've seen it all - kames and kettles, ice-walled lake plains and, especially, eskers. Every 100 feet or so, a yellow blaze attached to a tree or post reminds you that you're heading the right way. For myself, after awhile a certain monotony can set in as I  hike mile after mile after mile. Because the trail runs along all kinds of other trails, it's easier than one would guess to get lost, to miss a turn and be still in the woods but not on the path. On that Tuesday afternoon it happened to me twice. The first time, I had proceeded a couple of hundred feet before recognizing that I had not seen a yellow blaze in awhile. I backtracked only to discover that while I was looking to my left I had missed a blaze with an arrow that was pointing right. The second time I noticed I was going in the wrong direction I actually was walking a section wide enough for cars to pass in opposite directions. Somehow it didn't feel right. And so I walked back down the hill to where the previous marker was and slowly turned clockwise until I noticed a little yellow blaze that had been partially covered by yellow leaves with an arrow pointing north.

The juxtaposition of the wide lane and the narrow path was serendipitous, a Biblical lesson come to life. It made me think of Jesus' words:
 “Don’t look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life—to God!—is vigorous and requires total attention." (Matthew 7:13-14, Msg)
The lesson I took to heart was that in this journey with Jesus vigilance is required. I can never get to a place in ministry when I say, in so many words, "I got this figured out. A little preaching, a little prayer meeting, a little board meeting, some visitation and public appearances is the sure-fire equation for job security."  In the monotony of living my daily, pedestrian life I can both lose my way - and my soul. Lord, spare me from both ends! The goal of my ministry is not just to notch years of consecutive service in one place and thus win a prize but to be found faithful and - with a wave to Thoreau - to be found doing so deliberately, sucking the marrow out of the life I have been given whether it amounts to a hill of beans or something a little bigger. Either way, I pray to stay vigilant as I hike the trail he has laid down for me.

Further along the trail

Not at home and out of sorts

“The family is dispersed. There are empty bedrooms in the house and the parents no longer have to retreat to their own bedroom for privacy. The two-seat car has replaced the station wagon. The children are independent and have their own relationships and life goals. They are gone.”

 - from “The Season of the Empty Nest” in Seasons of a Marriage by H. Norman Wright, pg. 87

Ed left from "the 40" camp-out

Suddenly we are “empty-nesters.” During the last five weeks our household of six has been reduced to three as Christine, Ed and Emma have all resumed or begun school. In mid-August, Ed returned to Superior where he is a sophomore at the University of Wisconsin extension school there. Ten days later, we moved Emma, our “baby” girl, into her dorm room in Nelson Hall on the campus of Bethel University in St. Paul. And just last week we dropped Christine off at the YWAM-Madison facility near Columbus where for the next four months she will be participating in a Discipleship Training School before heading overseas somewhere for another two months. Their rapid departure has left Linda and I feeling a little – or a lot – out of sorts and not at home.

Saying good-bye to Emma

Christine in her dorm room

When we learned that we were going to be parents for the first time back in 1987, I was 25 and Linda, 22. We were living in a small basement apartment in one of Chicago's northern suburbs. Linda was the bread-winner of the family while I worked part-time nights and attended school full-time. We had been married but 14 months. Now I am 51 and she's 48. We live in our refurbished 100-year-old-plus house that has been our home since 1993. We reside in a small community in northern Wisconsin where I have served a local Christian fellowship as pastor for the past 22 years. This past April, after devoting herself to the raising of our children, Linda went back to full-time employment for the first time since before babies working now as a teller at a local bank. And this past summer we celebrated our 27^th wedding anniversary. A lot of living has gone on in the past three decades.

Where the kids would normally pose

Solomon said it first, right? “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NIV). Now we are in an entirely new season for us – the season of the empty nest. And just like we were told it would be, the silence is so loud at times it is disorienting. I felt it poignantly on the first day of school. All over Chetek parents were taking pictures of their children in their new set of clothes and shoes as they headed out the door to begin a new school year. But at 825 Fifth Street there were no “first day” pictures to be taken. What's more, there was no one to read to. Since the fall of 1994 when Christine began kindergarten, we have begun each day as a family by reading from the Bible or, as the children grew older, from other books – The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, and so many other titles. But on September 3 there was no one to read to – even Linda had to be to work early on that day. (It's true that Charlie is with us but he has the temperament of a middle-aged cat, content to keep to himself and only show up at meal times.) While Ed and Emma were excitedly heading off to their first day of classes at UW-Superior and Bethel University and Christine was emotionally caught up in her upcoming new adventure, for me it was a day of feeling loss.

 

No one to read to

Homecoming sure was different this year

“Children affect a marriage not only when they arrive, but also when they leave.” - H. Norman Wright, Seasons of a Marriage

For Linda and I we are home but not at home at the same time. I remember the first Friday night home football game a few weeks ago. During the years our kids were in high school as a family we would walk over to the football field to watch the game as well as our kids who played in the band. But that Friday night neither Linda nor Charlie felt like going so I sat out on the porch listening to the crowd cheer and clap and the distant voice of Mr. K calling the play-by-play on the loud speaker. I think the 'Dogs won that night but for me I only felt a tinge of sadness as I reflected upon memories of going to Friday night games as a family, cheering the boys on and then walking home again afterward, sometimes racing each other as we took different ways, seeing who could get there first.

Now it's just us again, like it used to be before kids, but it's like we have to figure out how to hang out together all over again. It's not that we haven't had a date in 25 years – we've had plenty. But when we returned from whatever we had done – whether we had gone out for dinner or spent a weekend away – it was always to resume our parental responsibilities and obligations. No longer. Now it's just me and her, a middle-aged couple with no grandchildren to spoil and suddenly lots of extra time on our hands. In fact, for the first time since 1994, we will have no C-WHS athletic contests, school concerts or other functions to attend this next school year. Frankly, I won't miss the parent-teacher conferences but I will miss everything else because I loved it all.

A race for the ages

Linda and I treasure the memory of Ed's last run as a Bulldog. It was the 3200m race at the Bloomer Regional in May of 2011. What transpired over those 8 laps was pretty epic. Only the Top 3 finishers would qualify for the Sectional meet and he was running step for step with a kid from Stanley-Boyd. Since the first two runners had already crossed the tape, who ever won this race within the race would be moving on. In the end, that kid had him by a step and a half. When the meet was over and Linda and I got in the car to drive home we wept yes, in part because Ed had failed to qualify, but mostly because it was over. After running in CMS or C-WHS events since he was 11, never again would he wear the purple, orange, white and black. We wept again this past spring during Emma's last concert. Because we had loved it all – even the years when we were attending concerts at all three buildings. (Christine asked me why I didn't cry at her last concert and I tried without success to explain to her that at the time I knew I had many more concerts ahead of me but with Emma it was the last.)

Emma's last concert

“…the experience of the empty nest is always something of a crisis. It can leave a devastating sense of emptiness and purposelessness. Loneliness can set in. The silent house is full of memories. There was once so much to do, and now there is so little. The crowded, busy years seemed arduous at the time. But now, looking back, it is clear that this was far outweighed by the deep, solid satisfaction of being needed.” (Seasons of a Marriage, p. 89)

Lots of empty bedrooms now

On the weekend we drove to Madison, Linda had to work Saturday morning and Ed was racing in River Falls a little over an hour and a half away. On the spur of the moment, Christine, Charlie and I decided to make the trip to see Ed run. St. Paul was but a half hour further and if Emma had a vehicle it would have been fun if she could have joined us. So while we were waiting for Ed’s race to start I called her on her cell. I asked how she was doing and how classes were going and then there was this awkward silence at which point she politely asked, “Well, was there anything else you needed, Dad?” “No,” I replied. “I just thought I’d give you a call and tell you I wished you could be here.” Yeah. I had interrupted the flow of her day and she had other things to give her attention to. Cue Harry Chapin’s ballad Cats In the Cradle here.

On the up-side, it's clean...

 I’m aware that our children will be coming and going for awhile, that Christine will probably come home in March as she figures out her next move and that Ed and Emma will most likely be home again next summer to work. But the growing-up elementary-thru-high school years are over for us and we are feeling the loss of place and purpose. We are looking for a new normal not just in terms of the ebb and flow of our week but for the rhythm of our life. It may take awhile. For the time being I feel somewhat like Bilbo, who while curled up on a rock someplace out in the wild “…dreamed of his own house and wandered in his sleep into all his different rooms looking for something that he could not find nor remember what it looked like” (from “Out of the Frying-Pan Into the Fire” in The Hobbit).

Coming and going

As we enter Holy Week, Refuge is in a state of normal flux. People are literally coming and going. Yesterday – Saturday – Jim & Jessica flew off to Guatemala for a week long exploration of what the Lord may be calling them to do. I've known this couple for many years now and Jessica has had something of a homing beacon going off within her for ministry – specifically, cross-cultural ministry – during all that time. At different seasons of their lives they have hosted a Bible study in their home or oversaw the youth ministry at another fellowship they used to belong to but Jessica's passion for missions has never really dimmed. In fact, it was this passion that factored into their pursuit of adopting three Columbian triplets in 2011. While Jim has always been a supportive spouse, in recent years something has been stirring within him to the point that this week he and Jess travel together not just to visit their friend Anita who serves at an orphanage just opening up outside of Guatemala City but to essentially, “spy out the land.” We're all waiting to see what will come of this exploratory journey.

Soon to be living with a Guatemalan zip code?

Hope to be running down this road soon

They are not the only ones from Refuge who will be out of town this Easter. As I shared a few posts ago (see Back to Africa), a group from here will be traveling to Africa to reconnect with some friends we met their last year. Troy, Tina, Sheryl, Hanna, Hunter, Charis, Emma and myself will be flying out of Chicago tomorrow – Monday – afternoon on a long circuitous flight to Nairobi (where we hear it's spring there.) While there, we will be praying, sharing, visiting, walking (and as far as this muzungo is concerned, running), seeing the neighbors who live a couple of ponds apart from us.

Down but not out

About the time we will be heading for home, Duane & Lois will be returning for a six-week visit to the Philippines. Their original plan had been to return there sometime in February but then there was the accident. Last fall, while cutting down a tree in his backyard, Duane broke a couple of vertebrae in his neck and suffered nerve damage to his left eye when a large branch from that tree landed right on top of him. Several months later, his neck brace is off but his eye remains in a “cross-eyed” position. While the accident may have cramped Duane's style a bit, he has continued to do here what he normally does “over there” - father and mentor people. It's just that this time we have been the beneficiaries. But they miss their friends there and so they are going for a visit. Most exciting for Duane, he will be traveling up to Palanan to stay in his nipa hut in Dibunko, the Agta village where he has spent so much time over the last ten years or so. 

Who could blame him wanting to get back here?

He's had a lot of face time

Our son, Ed, has been home on spring break this past week but sadly, it has come to an end and so he will be returning to UW-Superior this evening. It has been wonderful having him around the house and having to maneuver around all the stuff that goes with him – books, movies, clothes and such. We've watched some movies together, gone out for dinner or ice cream a time or two, he got to connect with his siblings, a few of his friends, and his former boss (and an elder at our fellowship), Troy. It's been restful and renewing for him but later this afternoon he'll head back to school. The fact that he'll be home in less than two months makes leaving for him a little more easier.

Janet has had face time, too

Janet & Lynn have been in Texas the last few weeks visiting their son and daughter-in-law and being present for the birth of their second grandson. Through exchanged posts on facebook they have been enjoying themselves capitally but later this week they will have to say good-bye and head reluctantly for home. For how long is not clear to them. Perhaps they'll resettle in the Houston-metro area or perhaps they'll stay here for awhile. Time will tell.

Soon to be together again

Tara and Lyla are slated to fly out of Des Moines tomorrow to return to Colorado where Justin awaits them. Tara has been staying with her folks this last month or so due to complications that have arose with her pregnancy. While I'm sure she is eager to get back to her husband a heaviness is upon their family given the grave prognosis the doctor has given them regarding the little girl that continues to form within her.

Meanwhile Deborah remains at sea aboard the USS Mahan about half way through her five month deployment in the Mediterranean. At the same time, her husband, David, is moving to China for the next six months doing some business consulting. It's a separation they are not keen to prolong any longer than necessary but that is where his work is taking him.

Deborah's  home for the past few months

Comings and goings are the flow of our lives whether that going is down the street to school or across the ocean for a visit. Lord willing, we will all return to our places soon enough with stories to share of the things we saw and heard. And of course, we'll post the pictures on Facebook just as soon as we get back.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

Psalm 121, NIV

Eager to see Ed

Before...

Six months ago in mid-July we drove Ed down to Kansas City to begin his six-month internship at the International House of Prayer. Since that time he has spent most of his days in class, serving at the ministry center or praying in what they refer to as the Global Prayer Room, where for the last 12 years there has been day and night prayer and worship. He’s made a lot of new friends, introduced the Muffin Joke to the IHOP-KC community and has pretty much loved every minute of his time there. He graduates on Tuesday and this Saturday Linda and I will be heading south to retrieve our son. As far as we are concerned, we can’t wait.


The cleanest version of the Muffin Joke I could find on-line

I think of all that has happened since he’s been gone that he’s missed out on – “the 40” camp-out, Grandpa Darrell’s 75th soiree, Emma’s 16th Blessing Celebration, our annual visit to the Orchards, the 20 Year Celebration at Refuge, Thanks-bringing, the Indoor Marching Concert, and the Annual Candlelight Worship Service at the Wiesner Chapel. He missed all but one meet of the C-W Cross Country season, deer hunting and Thanksgiving. At each gathering, at every meet, at Refuge and at Focus, his presence has been (by me) keenly felt.

Notably absent...




The closest he got to our Thanksgiving celebration

 At first I shared his excitement of being on a new adventure and missed him in a cursory manner. But as the weeks and months have passed, my longing for his company has grown keener. I have missed the joy of bantering movie, Seinfeld, and Chad Vader quotes with him at dinnertime, his laughter after sharing the quintessential Edwardian quote “You can lead a horse to water but a pencil must be lead” for the ten thousandth time and the simple joy of watching him go out on yet another run. The long and short of it is I miss my son.

When our friends Rick & Sandy blessed us by flying him home for his mid-term break back in October, those four days were very special – he came to practice and ran with the team, he was there for Sam’s baptism, he was at Focus, he connected with former classmates and teachers. He was home. It was a sheer gift which Linda and I reveled in. Throughout this six-month season of his life fairly regularly he has either borrowed someone’s cell and phoned home (thanks, Sarah, Josh, et. Al.) or skyped us on Thursdays from Higher Grounds, the coffee shop next door to the House (of Prayer). But as neat as these mediums are there is nothing quite like being there. And soon…soon we’ll be there.



With his teammates again in early October...



...and with his fellow members of Focus

That first night he’s home-home I hope I can beat off the temptation to be like the mother in Robert Munsch’s wonderful book, Love You Forever. But in my mind’s eye I see myself doing just this very thing. I’ll try and be discreet.

I realize it is the way of things – little kids grow up to leave home and ultimately make one for themselves somewhere else. My father did it and I did, too. And I’m fully aware that this first leaving will not be his last – that he will go off to some state school or return to IHOPU and, eventually, call another place home. It is yet another reminder to me that these years that we have our children all under one roof, stressful as it can be at times, is also a gift over before we fully appreciate it.

We have tickets for the Packer-Chief game at Arrowhead Stadium this Sunday and according to the most recent weather report it’s supposed to be sunny with a high of 52. It will be my first regular season professional football game. And unless the Pack travels all that way to lay an egg, it should be an exciting atmosphere for those of us who wear the green and gold. To be there will be awesome but to be there with Linda and Ed will be, yes, priceless.

When the chicks begin to fly the coop

Fly the coop (mainly American)

to leave somewhere, especially to leave your home for the first time in order to live away from the family thefreedictionary.com

Last night we went to bed with a house with only four people in it – Charlie, Emma, Linda and I. It's not like it hasn't happened before. Through the middle school and high school years camp, school outings and the occasional sleep-over have reduced our household by three or more. But last night, maybe for the first time, Linda and I experienced what will be our new normal at least for the immediate future. We have entered the beginning stages of becoming “empty-nesters.”

Packed and raring to go

A week or so ago, we drove Ed down to Kansas City, MO so that he could begin a six-month internship at the International House of Prayer there. On a hot, Thursday morning we moved him into his apartment, helped him get his clothes and things situated and then connected at Applebees for lunch with our friends the Lamberts who were there to do the same with their daughter, Sarah. It was like a collective “last supper” together. After lunch, Sarah jumped in our car and together we went in search for a Wal-Mart to buy things like laundry soap and the like. Then after dropping Sarah off back at the House of Prayer, we tooled over to Justin and Tara's house, former Refuge-es, to rest a bit before dinner and the orientation to follow. The plan had been to join Ed for dinner in the cafeteria at the main complex on Red Bridge Road with all the other interns and their parents but apparently there was a little mix-up between the kitchen and administration because when we arrived, the queue was decidedly all interns. Not wanting to seem like we needed to hold Ed's hand, we told him we would meet him after dinner and we stepped outside and grabbed something at Higher Grounds next door (as well as ran into our girls who were down in Kansas City attending the Fascinate Young Adult Conference).

Outside the door of his new digs

After dinner, we drove over to IHOPU to attend orientation. Linda became quiet and pensive knowing that the time for saying good-bye was nearing. Orientation was held in a large room that was already buzzing with idle chatter as we entered. The set-up was awkward to say the least. They had arranged 9 large circles around the room for the interns to sit and be oriented by what is referred to as their Core Leaders. There were chairs for parents placed just outside the circle so that we could listen in but it felt like we were spectators at some kind of athletic event. The guy who is over the Onething Internship (OTI) introduced himself as well as a dozen other leaders and asked each to share their heart for the next six months. Almost to a man (there were women leaders as well), however, they each said the same thing: “We hope your son or daughter has encounter with the God who loves them.” Well, duh...that's why he's here. I'd rather had heard what a normal day in the life of an IHOP intern would look like and what kinds of classes he would be attending. And then the guy said, “We're going to be filling out forms and the like for the next three hours. You're welcome to stay but we just want you to know it's going to be awhile.” And just like that it was clear this was the time to exit stage right. So, I whipped out my video camera, had him record a few thoughts and then hugged him and we exited the room. We drove over to Justin and Tara's home and they took us out for ice cream but that night as we lay in bed, the pang of separation was keenly felt by both of us.

Ah, those were the days...

Christine's new place

Last Friday, we helped Christine move her things and clothes into the house she will be sharing with Hope, a young woman from Refuge. At 23 years of age, she has been despairing that she would ever get out of the house but about a month ago Hope approached her with an offer. While she's not out of Chetek yet, at least she's one block further away from home. Grandma Martin bought her first two new pieces of furniture – a nightstand and dresser – but assembly was required. The nightstand was easy but the dresser became a consuming event for Friday afternoon and evening. We may have not been making clocks, as the guy who remodeled my house loved to always quip, but we put that thing together at least twice before we moved it into her room.

Moving day

Emma stayed with her Friday night but last night was her first night “on her own” in her new home. Of course, a severe thunderstorm came through our area around 10:30 p.m. causing the sirens to go off and when lightning struck a nearby utility pole knocking out power all over town, I realized we had never discussed where she should hide in case of such a scenario. So I tried to reach her on her cell phone to no avail. She called around 11 asking for the number for the power company but we assured her that they were aware and were working the problem. The rain was coming down in a torrential downpour and the wind was gusting and suddenly I had the urge to run down the street and stay with her until the storm passed. But, she sounded okay on the phone and reckoning that sooner or later she would have to deal with just this kind of trouble, I turned over and went to sleep.

After 10 days of not hearing anything from Ed other than the few items he posted on his Facebook page, he called yesterday. He sounded good and he was excited to share with us some highlights from his life at IHOP thus far. Linda was on one extension and I on the other as we plied him with questions ranging from how he was adjusting to his roommates (“great!”) to his first successful completion of his laundry (“Mom, is it better to put my pink shirt with whites or darks?”) He told me he had figured out a running route down there but when he told me his plan to run between “the House,” as it is frequently referred to, and FCF (Forerunner Christian Fellowship), I immediately reminded him to run facing traffic knowing how busy both Red Bridge and Grandview Roads are and suggested he try a few of the quieter neighborhoods nearby. This letting-go thing isn't easy.

When we had three in diapers (three! - and all in cloth diapers at that), sweet old ladies at church would pat Linda on the shoulder and say, “Enjoy these years, honey, because one day you'll miss this.” To wit Linda would often mutter when they were out of earshot, “I can't wait to miss these days.” For years, my dad has been warning me, “Enjoy your kids and all this activity because one day your house is going to be a whole lot quieter.” I never disagreed with him. In fact, I have thoroughly delighted in the litany of concerts and plays and athletic events our kids have been involved in through their growing up years (okay, I admit, I wasn't a fan of the traveling basketball team that Christine was on when she was in middle school). Back in May following the conclusion of the Sectional track meet where Ed ran his last race as a high school athlete, both Linda and I felt like weeping (and did) because we realized that it was over. While there will be other Chetek-Weyerhaueser athletes to cheer for, never again will our son wear the purple and black. Last night, as Linda and I laid in bed listening to the rain pound upon the roof she said, “Two of our babies have left the nest.” Yeah. And this is just the beginning – by next summer, Emma will be posing for her senior pictures. Where does it go?

Our last meal together for awhile

When we were down in Kansas City, a good friend of mine messaged me on Facebook and asked me how it was going. I shared with her some of the emotions we both were experiencing to wit she replied,

“It's hard but I guess that's what we raise them to do. Most of our life is an adult. The window is so short that we have them. We forget it's a gift.” It's so true. We take for granted what a blessing it is to sit down with your family and enjoy a simple meal. Like we did the night before the girls left for Fascinate. It was a Monday night and fish sticks were on the menu. It suddenly occurred to me that this would be the last time we would all be together for awhile – the girls were leaving in the morning, we would be traveling to Kansas City the day afterward and when we returned, Christine would be moving out. I'm sure we're going to have dinner together again but we have crossed a certain threshold. After dinner we walked down to Dairy Queen for dessert, quoting movie lines, laughing and playing an impromptu game of tag as we have played for years running (Charlie has long since lost any pleasure in the thing). When we got back home, the kids were heading off to the drive-in when Ed suggested we pray together as a family given this would be the last time we would be together for awhile. As he began to pray, he also began to cry thanking God for his family and all the wonderful times we have shared together through the years. His tears provoked a chain reaction in the rest of us – save Charlie – as we each took our turn in giving thanks. Charlie's response to this display was pragmatic: “Can we go now?” He was eager, after all, to see Cars 2 at the drive-in. And that's how our last evening together for awhile ended – with the kids piling into the van and driving off to the movies and mom and dad busying themselves in the garden or sweeping off the porch.

Oh, that terrible storm we had last night? Lightning not only struck the utility pole near their house – it struck their house. Christine first called home early this morning describing a very blackened outlet. Since I wasn't there she reached me at the office and she reported it being “a little smoky” and that it was “sparking a bit”. Honestly, I didn't think too much about it but before I drove home to get cleaned up for worship I stopped in at her place to check things out. When I walked into her kitchen, I knew something was amiss. There was a tinge of burnt something in the room and the outlet had definitely been fried. When I hit the breaker to reset power to the kitchen, however, fire flared out of the outlet. It died down right away but I took her cell and quickly dialed 911. I just wanted someone from the fire department to look at it. But within five minutes there were two fire trucks, an ambulance and a full complement of EMTs, a police officer and about a dozen firefighters on scene. One night out on her own and already we have drama (though not of her own making.) They suspect that thing had smoldered all night long so it could have been far worse.

Ed will be back come Christmas after the completion of his internship. And so may Christine depending on the job market or other unseen factors. But there's no turning back the clock. Our little chicks are flapping their wings in anticipation of flying the coop. And as my dad reminded me just tonight, not only are they getting older I am too.