Bright and Dark Places

On the flight home from Virginia, we stopped off in Chicago. Almost all of the first flight was over a dreary landscape--obscured by gray clouds beneath us. We had left behind a wintry mix of sleet, snow and rain in Mission Home and Richmond. Darkness arrived about the time we landed in Chicago. In the air again, west of Chicago, the skies were clear and every light below looked cheery and sparkling. I leaned my head against the side of the cabin and looked out all the way home, ignoring my seatmate entirely, except for a brief greeting when he arrived.

I knew I must be seeing Illinois and Iowa and Missouri and then Kansas, but I couldn't tell which was which. Too lazy to keep track of the time, the approach to Wichita was announced long before I was expecting it.

The past week and a half has seemed too full of gray and dark. I think all of us who knew Esther felt that her death meant way too much loss--she herself missing out on the years of her life that could have brought reward for all that she had invested in her children and in others. Her tiny grandchildren someday feeling cheated for not having learned to know her. All of us feeling that our time with her was too short.

Before we had left Virginia we got word of yet another death--Marvin's dad, Elmer Mast. Marvin and Lois rerouted their trip home to Kansas and went instead from Chicago to Tennessee. The only two children still at home met them in Chicago. Benji and Heidi were to fly in from Mexico where they had gone for a six-week Spanish language course. Hans could not come from India.

Linda and I flew home as planned. Elmer had died very suddenly from a heart attack. He had planned to come to Galichia Hospital in Wichita next week to have his heart problems investigated. He never made it, despite his cardiologist earlier having told him that his problems weren't urgent. Out of time. Again. Elmer was 76.

The first full day that I was home, Shane's dog, Lexi, got hit and killed on the road by our house. In the overall picture, this wasn't such a big deal, but she was a great little friend, and I miss her. Shane feels the financial loss. She was a registered bitch, and was to pay her own way in life by producing salable puppies. He's raised her from a pup. We don't have a kennel here in which to confine the dogs, but they usually stay here when Shane is gone.

Tonight when I left school a conversation was in progress that called forth a mixture of emotions on my part--a little disgust, a little pity, and a lot of relief that it wasn't my problem to deal with. Also, after school I had to fulfill a promise to withhold privilege from a student who failed to hand in a simple little paper--the first assignment for the Home Environment class I'm teaching this semester. That didn't feel good.

My grading has not advanced much this week. I was too busy with getting the new class underway. I've also spent time on the Rural Roots project--correcting the electronic file, gathering and recording the income from sales, going to the bank with the small bills and coins to exchange them for less bulky money.

We've had ever-so-windy and cold, cloudy weather during the middle of the week.

It's Shane and Dorcas' turn to clean the church this weekend. They came home from Virginia on Thursday morning, after driving most of the previous day and night. A stop-off in Tennessee for the calling hours for Elmer Mast took some time out of the long drive. Shane left again this morning on a two-day trucking run. (So much unexpected time away from work--spending money instead of making it takes a toll.) Danny went along to help drive. I'm not sure how Dorcas feels about this much time alone except for the baby. Understandably, all of us were oblivious to the cleaning obligation and did not plan for it.

Hiromi's car has a problem in its cooling system. He changed a leaking radiator hose in the biting cold yesterday, but it still has a problem. We took it to the repair shop before school this morning.

Mom and Dad's next-door neighbor died night before last of a heart attack. He was 72. They were babysitting someone's dog, and on that cold night he had taken the dog outside and died there. Hiromi had worked with him earlier--at Collins Industries perhaps.

Marian's 95-year old mother is sick, although she seems a bit improved today over yesterday. I called Marian this morning and told her she needn't come today to help with cleaning if she's needed at home. She took me up on the offer.

Quite enough dark and dreary stuff.

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The ladies in Dorcas' Sunday School class made plans to do the church cleaning for her. After the plan was made, some of the ladies ended up traveling to Tennessee for Elmer Mast's funeral. I can't imagine that cleaning works very well for them this week after all. However, the gesture is greatly appreciated by all of us who know that kindness and mercy is being extended. That's a bright spot in how the world looks right now.

Lois says that she wonders if Elmer would have survived his surgery if he had come to Galichia and had surgery as "planned." It was so much better for him to die at home than hundreds of miles away here in Kansas--possibly after having endured more pain and expense in the process. Another thing to be thankful for.

Lois and Marvin almost went to India for this week. Lois said that if they had gone when they planned, they would have just arrived there when Elmer died. If they had gone, Elmer would almost certainly not have come to Galichia till after they got home, and the delay would surely have gone beyond next week. They're very thankful that he didn't die while waiting for them to come home from India so he could plan for his surgery.

The story of their decision not to go to India is another bright spot. Earlier they had hoped the whole family could go there together for Vacation Bible School. Then Benji felt that he should spend his winter break from FB studying Spanish, and Heidi wanted to share that experience, so it became clear that the whole family would not go to India together. They all decided to give it up, except for Hans, who was able to go. Their would-be hosts in India were disappointed.

When Marvin and Lois heard how much extra work and responsibility their absence was costing their friends in India, they reconsidered, and decided that only Marvin and Lois would go. They called India to tell their friends they were coming. That afternoon Lois talked to Jayapradah, who is a dear Christian friend from India--now living in Florida. Lois told her that they were planning a trip to India--and could hardly believe Jaya's response. "No. You do not go to India. Not now. Later you can go, but not now."

Jaya could not say why, although she did mention vaguely that their family needs them, their business needs them . . . "In the states, you can go where you're needed, but not if you're in India."

Jaya has often spoken prophetically, with knowledge of things no one but God could have told her, and Marvin and Lois both knew after hearing from Jaya that the door had just slammed shut for going to India. They called Sam and Becca and told them they weren't coming after all. They went to Esther's funeral instead, and after Marvin's Dad's death, everything became abundantly clear. That bright word from the Lord had come just in time.

The weather was sunny and calm today, and promises to warm into the upper 50s and 60s over the weekend.

Lexi at least won't be having mongrel puppies, courtesy of Bandit, who sneaks over here whenever he gets a chance. His amorous intent is understandable but not welcome.

We have the use of Joel's car while ours is ailing. A Mitsubishi Eclipse is quite a step up from the old and klunky Chevy Caprice Hiromi drives. If image matters, Hiromi's just got a nice burnishing in the rides department.

The day after Esther's funeral, the Faith Mission Home church service was meaningful and beautiful. A men's group sang about three songs, each of them with words that went straight to the heart, sent there with as much joy as an aching heart can feel.

On this trip I met Sheila, a former student who works now at Faith Mission Home. She loves the work, and if her co-workers are smart they love having her there. I'm almost sorry I never had a chance to write a letter of reference for her. It would have been a good one.

I also met Phil S., who along with LaVerne M. and me made up the group of three 17 year-olds who were on the very first Calvary Clarion staff at Calvary Bible School. We haven't seen each other for at least 30 years and did not recognize each other. (Yvonne was a year or two older, also on the Clarion staff.) Phil's wife Ida was a childhood acquaintance from Iowa and then Arkansas and then Costa Rica. She and Phil were busy and capable food committee members over the time of Esther's funeral. Ida told us that their children have fits at how young CBS students used to be, and how young they let them do things like putting together the Clarion.

I ate among several couples from Canada one evening--Jantzis and Gerbers. One of the men preached the next morning in church. Over supper the evening before, I had learned about a book written about the "Kuepfers in Kansas," as they put it. I bought the book today at Glenns--Will Leona Find a Home. They asked if I knew about the book when I inquired about the Kuepfer family my dad's family had grown up with. The Kuepfer and Miller children lived around the corner from each other and used to ride together to Poplar school.

That same evening I had a good conversation with Sharon Schnupp Kuepfer, who does a lot of writing, much of it right now focused on telling the story of her parents' lives--Clair and Clara. Sharon's husband is married to Mark Kuepfer's brother Steve.

Another writer friend, Verda Glick, was at Esther's funeral. I found myself eating lunch beside her, although separated by about half an empty bench before I looked over and saw who was there, and then scooted over next to her. Verda was in the states to help her mother celebrate her 105th birthday. Verda's family had been in Kenya for a few months and lived across the wall from the Kuepfer family--close enough to hear Esther's hearty and contagious laugh.

One more writer friend, Marie Yoder, shared her home, her time, a packed lunch, and her latest book with us. Sue Ann Miller had served us supper the evening before and took us to David and Marie's house and then to meet Marvin and Lois in Ruckersville. In all these people, the light of Christ shines brightly and I loved spending time with them.

The very first night we stayed with David and Michelle Beachy. Michelle is another author--one whom I had never met, although I've known both her parents for years. They both lived in Holmes County when I taught school there. Good people, preparing to leave the house they built and planned to spend a lifetime in--for voluntary service at Allegheny Boy's Camp in Maryland.

At Mim's house on Sunday afternoon, I learned to know her daughter, who has Down Syndrome. She is very sweet. She and I ended up sort of snuggling down on the couch and taking a little nap after Mary Zook (who has nephews in our school) had gone for a walk and Linda and Mim were chatting away.

We stopped in for a bit at Mark's house and saw where Dorcas had grown up--when she wasn't in Kenya. Mark had built the house. Mark showed us where Esther's bed had been in her last days and pointed out the view through big windows near her bed and across the room from there. Craig and Rachel's twin baby girls and Tristan were all there in the living room nearby--so much life and health and promise wrapped up in their being. Mark asked about Hiromi and Mom and Dad and asked us to take greetings for them.

The upstairs guest quarters at FMH where we stayed for two nights were idyllic. From there I saw the man who lives downstairs enter the bell tower to ring the bell on Sunday morning. I spread out at the table to do some grading or arranged the cushions "just so" and graded papers on the sofa. The bed was comfortable, and the names of each of the three guest rooms and the decor were perfect examples of "inhabiting the site"--an architectural principle we're learning about in home environment class. References to the bell tower, the old post office and St. Anne's gable were included in the names. Those places were visible from the windows in those rooms at one time--the post office gone now, and St. Anne's now called Faith Mission Home. The bell tower still stands--well-crafted and sturdy. The church is right across the drive from the guest house.

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While I was in the lunch line after the funeral, a boy 10-12 years old was in line behind me. He was friendly and courteous, apologizing heartily when he realized he had accidentally almost cut in front of me. So I engaged him in conversation.

"Do you live here?" I asked first.

"No. I live in Tensey."

"Is that a town in Virginia?" I asked.

"No. Tensey."

"Where's that?" (I'm sure he thought I was a hopeless case in the geography department.)

"Tensey," he said one more time.

"Oh. Tennessee!" (Finally.)

This called for an effort to redeem myself. "What town is nearby?"

"Dixon." (Finally something I understood the first time.)

"Do you know Paul and Darlene?" (Darlene is Marvin's sister.)

"Yes. They're our neighbors."

By then it was our turn to enter the church and go down the stairs to eat lunch.

Later I asked Lois if it's common for people from Tennessee to drop a syllable from their state name when they use the name.

"Oh yeah," she said. "All the time."

Whew. So my hearing hadn't totally failed me after all.