Preventing Grace
Kept a sort of running blog last week, adding to it on and off, and so here it is. It was really restful, actually, not to truely blog, even though it’s one of my favorite things in the whole world, just like it was nice not to cook, even though I love cooking. A beautiful week in a beautiful place. And now back to reality.
Arriving
We are ensconced in a cunning cabin/room with all sorts of cupboards and shelves and beds. “Everything is made of wood”, the children all cried, as soon as we walked in, and “There’s a tiny tiny fridge!” and, all in unison, “I want to sleep on the top!” Some children, then, frolicked in the sand and ran around screaming with the relief of cool, crisp air, trying to wake the bevy of sleeping ducks on the edge of the water, running back and forth in wonder and joy. Other children, well, just Gladys, gathered all the shoes and put them in a row on a shelf and then methodically unpacked and put everything in order. Some little babies finally ended up sloshing around in the real bath and screaming So Loudly. Then their mother bored them all to tears with the first two chapters of My Side of the Mountain. And there was evening and morning…
The First Day
Woke up quite early because of a pile of cold children ramming their icy feet against me for warmth. Neglected to turn the heater on their room the night before. Escaped to a hot shower, letting them gently dismember my bed as thy squabbled and fussed. Bundled them all and wandered off to look for the dining room. There we discovered a lovely young lady whose job it is bring us drinks and help us cope with the great quantities of juice and milk that we sling on the floor at every meal. Next to us is a table of calm, nearly grown up teenagers and their relaxed looking parents. They look at us, bemused, I look at them, in envy, as The Baby dumps her juice over my lap “because she doesn’t want it any more.”
After breakfast we find a playground wherein the two little girls insist on repeatedly positioning themselves around the swings in such a way that they will definitely be kicked in the head. Stand basking the sun and praying that they live through childhood. Then they all go off to class, although that’s not really what it is. More like glorious glitter covered play time with other children and Jesus. The four youngest get to be there for. the. whole. morning. And, get this, it’s so lovely and safe and fun and delightful here that Elphine and Alouicious, after their group/class time, wander away, each with five dollars in their pockets, to. do. whatever. they. want. I feel like I should repeat that so that you can grasp the full import of this glorious reality. Alouicious parked himself at the snack shop and drank soda and ate a large cinnamon roll and when I saw him at lunch time, he looked really happy, like for the first time in his whole life. No mother, no father, no work, just a beautiful lake and himself by himself eating food. Elphine, on the other hand, found another little girl and they wandered far and wide and chatted about this and that. She returned her five dollars to me and looked equally happy.
Matt and I put our hands in our sleeves and heard a cold (as in the building itself was a touch chill) but up building talk on Ephesians One and then after that, an excellent class on Matthew. Perhaps by the end of the week I might be able to synthesize my notes and put it altogether into some bloggable format. Or I might just listen and not do that. We shall see what we shall see.
After lunch I forced The Baby to take a nap and then turned over spades of sand with Marigold while the four oldest played mini golf. I think they played mini golf something like seven or eight times over the whole day. And after a bit I took Alouicious and Romulus over to climb on a rock wall. I don’t think I had ever seen an actual rock wall. It takes some real dexterity to get all the way to the top. Coming down seemed fraught. Was happy to stay on the ground and watch them toil away.
Then Matt had to go into the town to buy toothbrushes for all the children. That was the one thing I forgot. Always have to forget something. How cliche of me to forget all their toothbrushes.
The Second Day
Woke up to beauty and wonder.
The talk on Ephesians Two and Three and the class were excellent. The children wandered and mini golfed and squabbled and rock climbed and dug in the sand. I read more of an actual book in the afternoon and took an actual nap and sat in the sun. In the evening the children got to jump in bouncy castles and were given piles of candy for playing games. Mushed them into bed and fell immediately asleep, even though there had been a great worry in the back of my mind that having once had a nap, I might not be able to sleep at night. Turned out I was that tired. Slept and slept and slept.
The Third Day
Matt took Alouicious to zip line from some great height while I sat with Elphine in the sun and drank a hot chocolate. Read through all my solemn communion lessons and discovered, to my great shock, that I rewrote the lessons last time and that they are quite good. Spent the extra time making sign ups and packed it all back into my suitcase for next week.
Also, as I sat basking in the sun, put my finger on a certain ephemeral pleasantness. Being here with six children, as anywhere else in the whole of the continental US, is still occupying the space of The Odd One. As we walk around, people still count. But at the end of the counting, here, as opposed to everywhere else I go, comes a smile, and sometimes even, “That’s wonderful! What a blessing!”
The Fourth Day
The rain rolled in over the night. Alouicious thought it looked rather “Lord of the Rings”. “Wish I could be in Lord of the Rings,” he said, and then he said, “no I don’t. What a lot of work.”
Marigold left her shoes outside during the night and they were soaked. I dug out a second pair of shoes, because I’m a good mother, and she put them on and ran outside and jumped in an enormous puddle. Handed the soaking second pair to the nice young lady teaching her class and covered myself with apologetic confusion, because I’m a bad mother. How much my fortunes change moment by moment. Discovered also that all the children have worn all the clothes and that laundry had to be done after all.
Found the laundry in the afternoon at sat reading The Return of the King. Did all the laundry, folded it all, and then found that it smelled not much better. Packed it all into suitcases and resolved to have Elphine do it all again when we got home.
The Fifth Day
Woke up to a feeling of dread and sadness. Couldn’t think why. Went to breakfast and thought more about crying. Remembered it was my birthday. Resolved not to cry no matter how much I wanted to but then did anyway during chapel. “Why are you crying?” whispered Matt, during a loud enough song.
“Because it’s my stupid birthday” I snuffled. As he does every year, he looked baffled. “I can’t help it,” I said, “I have to cry on this day no matter what.”
After lunch took the little girls and bought them an ice cream. They mushed it around and then asked for popcorn. Then Matt got up and left for a while and came back with a new ESV Bible, just like the one I’ve had, except new and clean and not scribbled in and not falling apart. Also, a necklace I’d been fingering in the gift shop, as I stood with Elphine endlessly as she tried to pick out two rings, one for herself and one for her best friend.
Really did want a new bible. Felt so extravagant, and also disloyal. Also, the troubling effect of a new bible has rippled throughout. Elphine made a cover for the old one, to hold all the pages together. “You can make me a new cover” I said to her, “and I’ll be using my old one as well, because it will be helpful to have it sitting at my desk, and me not always losing it.” She and all the others stood looking dubious. Then Gladys observed, “your old one matches your Sunday skirt.”
“That’s true” I said, “and I continue to love it very much.”
After the receiving of a these two wonderful presents we went on a gentle hike with Romulus and the two little girls.
The Sixth Day
Woke up early to pack up. Made everyone stand around for a picture before going off for one last glorious breakfast which always included eggs, sausage, cereal, and a rotation of waffles or pancakes or muffins or bagels or toast. And hot chocolate. Big vast mugs of hot chocolate. Every morning. Without fail.
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