Further Musings

You know you’re old when a 23-year-old approaches you at church, mentions that he’s interested in cross-generational friendships, and finally realize that he means you.

Two friends had an unusual one year wedding celebration.  Some of the best pictures I’ve ever seen. It’s a shame what happened to the dress but what a way to go!

For their wedding Drew wrote a song about sharing Wendys together.  Continuation of a theme eh?!

Earlier this week we had the C’s over.  The light on Kaelen’s eyes was pretty dramatic and she was a good sport about the shot.

Today in class I asked one of my students, who’s a local high school senior, if the architecture at their school is as brilliant as Kaelen’s sister describes it.  The class laughed when I said I had a good friend who was 15.  I think it less amusing than amazing.  I’m pretty thankful to have friends who are 15 years my junior.

Last night we were invited to a truly fabulous meal by our friends Jane and Scott.  They served up 12lbs(!) of fresh mussels covered in a fantastic tomato, cilantro, bacon sauce with fresh homemade multi-grain french bread, roasted potato slices, and homemade strawberry short cake.  Gin and tonics, cucumber gin drinks, red and white wines, and coffee were served in succession.  It was all very, very tasty.  I was in awe of these newlyweds whirling around their small kitchen, delighting to furnish us with such food and drink.

That was last night, today it’s Sunday and as a driving rain descends for the second straight day I’ve realized that more than the fantastic food they served, I’m deeply encouraged by rest that Scott and Jane gave me last night.

My only efforts of the night were reaching to the back of the top cabinet for new wine glasses (I’m seven inches taller than the host).  Otherwise I bantered with Steve, teased Kaelen, and talked about work with Elizabeth while Scott and Jane whirled around me pouring wine, refilling water, and replenishing the mussels and the bread.  As I caught up with Drew and Lauren, plates disappeared and new ones appeared furnished with deserts.  As Kaelen and I played paper football with a spoon, wine glasses vanished and coffee arrived.  When I looked up, the counter was clear, the sink empty, and the stove wiped.

I didn’t realized until today, the day of rest, how much I needed the rest that they provided last night.  The food was great, but the rest was better.  Today I’m hungry again, but the peace they brought to me still stills my so often frantic spirit and balms my tired soul.

Thanks Scott and Jane.

Thanks God for such a gift and such a community.

On Tuesday Charity and I drove over to UNC hospitals to met Marjorie, the first child of our friends, Bret and Rachel.  Marjorie was asleep for most of our brief visit.  She was small, wrinkly, and lovely.

I’ve known Bret and Rachel for many years now (I love being able to say that about Chapel Hill folks).  Bret and I have watched each other switch careers, get married, and now I’ve met his daughter.

I keep thinking that when she’s a toddler I’ll scoop her up and say “I’ve known you since the day you were born.”  Perhaps I will still know her when she’s a middle-schooler and I’ll look at her and say “I remember the day you were born.”

I don’t know how many people can say they met me on my birthday.  I think Marjorie is the only person I can say that about.  I’ll probably remind her about that enough that she’ll just blow it off as another repetitive statement from Andy, Mom and Dad’s big bearded friend, but I think I’ll always think it’s amazing that I’ve known her since she was born.

At my regular Saturday breakfast with the guys (where we generally banter and speculate like the old men) one of the fellows told us how his new daughter-in-law gave away her bouquet when she married his son last weekend.

At the reception the DJ asked all the married couples onto the dance floor to start dancing.  Then he ordered everyone married less than six hours off.  Jonathan and Kim (bride and groom) exited.  Then he asked everyone under a year, then under five years, then under 10, and so on to step off the dance floor.  At the end only the groom’s grandparents, married 53 years, were left dancing.

The bride walked out and presented her grandmother-in-law with the bouquet.  Beautiful: honoring to them and humane to all the singles.  Charity kept hers but if we had given it away this way (or a variation) would have been pretty cool.

What do you do when you go visit people’s houses?  We read their poetry.  We challenge the words they use.  We’re triumphant when we’re right.  Turns out that “buttfarts” is two words not one.  Ahha!  Take that you smart 13-year-old!  Her suggestion after Charity was triumphantly vindicated by the dictionary?  Our young author said without flinching “Use this pen, write it in.”

I love that I hang out with women who argue using dictionaries, use words like “butt farts,” and aren’t afraid to write words in themselves.

I’m thankful that our visitors can feel so cozy as to bring slippers and feel like they don’t even need to talk to us.

Charity and I were both traveling last weekend.  While she had her taste of rural living in MN I traveled to Boston for a conference for a few days and then on to Amherst for two days of visiting the C’s who where an easy train ride away from Boston towards Springfield.

On Sunday we went peach picking, harvested collard greens from the garden, and cooked them both up as a part of a very tasty Sunday dinner.  It was a real pleasure to see the C’s again and to rest at their home under the care of their hospitality.

Laughter is a divine gift to the human who is humble. A proud man cannot laugh because he must watch his dignity; he cannot give himself over to the rocking and rolling of his belly. But a poor and happy man laughs heartily because he gives no serious attention to his ego.

A quote from this morning’s reading:

Many people are looking for an ear that will listen.  They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking when they should be listening.  But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either; he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too.  This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life, and in the end there is nothing left but spiritual chatter and clerical condescension arrayed in pious words.  One who cannot listen long and patiently will presently be talking beside the point and be never really speaking to others, albeit he be not conscious of it.  Anyone who thinks that his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God and his brother, but only for himself and for his own follies.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together

This morning we assembled again at the C’s and enjoyed much delicious food and some wonderful . Though the discussion was about the Life Together one of my favorite parts of the long morning was just staring up at the brilliant blue sky and listening to the wind tear through the leaveless trees. It was beautiful and soothing, a much needed balm on this day.