(in the immortal words of Calvin and Hobbes)
Now Playing: "Concerto for Violin and Orchestra", by Samuel Barber.
This morning after breakfast I helped out with some little chores: sweeping up grass clippings around the sidewalk, packing, etc. I spent three hours cleaning at Mrs. B's house, and returned home in time to watch the end of "The Fellowship of the Ring" with everyone over lunch.
After lunch, I finished packing, read an issue of the "Smithsonian" (sent to me by my grandmother), and generally just relaxed. Philip and I went out for ice cream at Braum's. We sat in the booth and talked for an hour-and-a-half over cups of peanut butter-and-chocolate ice cream. A most pleasant time: praying together, discussing our devotions, sharing funny stories from our mission trips, talking about Crooked Creek next week. A grizzled woman mopped the tile floor nearby, and someone sat down at the booth behind us with a steaming plate of fried meat and mashed potatoes.
When we left the restaurant, I gave a gasp of delight: a wall of clouds had swept up suddenly and covered the eastern sky. Grey as kites' wings, like a sudden forest of silver trees in the wind. Philip and I drove to Wal-Mart, where he bought a pair of khaki shorts, then to Staples so that he could buy some pink Sharpies for the two Irish girls on his mission team. They're at Whitelake camp in the northeast. Our quest for Sharpies was unsuccessful, so we rushed to make it to the Post Office in time for Philip to mail his package to the girls. Philip plastered the package, sealing it with masking tape in the car. The man who took his package at the desk asked, "Anything perishable? Liquid? Breakable?" "No," Philip said. "You sure? Masking tape is the worst stuff to put on a package." "It's the only thing I had," Philip laughed. "Ok. I'll do you a favor, since it's Friday," the man said, and efficiently wrapped a couple of lengths of clear packing tape around the package.
We listened to Natalie MacMaster on the drive home. Philip told me about MTC. Sam is going into machining this fall. Philip said that if they were to work at a factory, he would be the conceptual designer (he's in pre-engineering), and Sam would be the one who actually carried out the design on the machines.
At home, I saved tracks onto my MP3 player for the trip to Crooked Creek tomorrow. My father fixed spaghetti for supper, and my mother cut up a wonderful sweet bell pepper. Mandy sprawled on the floor by my mother's chair during the meal, her eyes half-shut, her whiskers drooping luxuriously. After supper came our usual "Three Stooges" session: an extremely ridiculous short in which the heroes of the film build an airplane, the "Buzzard", and promptly crash it.
I curled up on my bed to finish my "Smithsonian" (an article about Jean Laffite, a pirate, and the War of 1812), but the sense of contentment was too deep. All the little noises of the house around me: the clink as Laura set her hairbrush down on the bathroom counter, the gurgle of water while Stephen took a shower, the sweeping chords of a heartbreaking piece that Philip was playing on the piano downstairs, the distant rattle of silverware as my parents washed dishes and put away the food in the kitchen. Cicadas rasp outside. The evening is dim, the silver maple leaves silhouetted like the veining of a cathedral ceiling against the grey sky.
We're off to Iowa for family camp tomorrow. Sarah is coming with us. We'll be gone for a week, from tomorrow to next Saturday.
God bless!
28 July 2006
26 July 2006
beginning to put the pieces together again
Now Playing: A track from a Michael Flatley CD, "Lord of the Dance", kindly given to me by Anna, and (I believe) used to dance the two-hand reel by my ceilidh dancing friends.
Yesterday was fairly quiet in morning and afternoon. I spent the morning finishing my Scotland scrapbook, helping Laura unclog the bathroom sink, and doing chores. In the middle of the morning, my father called to tell my mother that Philip's flight from New Jersey had been cancelled. She immediately phoned the airline and went through a wringer of grouchy secretaries and automated systems to reach him.
During lunch, we watched some of "The Fellowship of the Ring". After lunch, I spent the afternoon collecting pictures for my Stillwater/Enid scrapbook and writing a couple of very long e-mails. Stephen had to go to basketball practice, but when my father left to pick Philip up from the Tulsa airport, Laura and I went along.
The car ride was long and quiet. My father requested that I bring the "Master and Commander" soundtrack, so we listened to it on the way. I read Busman's Honeymoon by Dorothy L. Sayers and stared out the window. I was shocked by how many groves of trees have already turned brown. A cottonwood tree stood like a plume on the edge of a hill, turned silvery-gold by sun, heat, and drought. It seemed as though the sun had played Midas with the countryside.
In Tulsa, we drove past the University. I stared down the turn I usually take to see if I could spot the apartments. We went to Braums and ordered food to go, then went to the airport.
(I can hardly sit still with this music playing!)
At the Tulsa airport, we sat in a corner of the baggage claim to eat our suppers: chocolate milkshake for all three of us, chicken strips for Laura and me, and chili for my father. Behind us, a young couple tried to entertain their exceedingly cute and energetic small daughter. The mother chased the girl as she toddled toward the escalators, and headed her off toward the revolving door. "Enough! Your turn!" the mother said finally, dumping the plump little girl into the man's lap.
After we ate, we walked up the long hall, lined with flags, to another waiting area, right outside the security checkpoint. We stood and waited for ten minutes or so. Philip's plane had been delayed three or four times, but finally people started to come down the long hallway from the terminal. I stood by a pillar and watched them: Businessmen grouchy and travelworn. A woman talking on a cellphone, but she had an earpiece so that it looked as though she was talking to thin air. A mother and three children hurried out to meet a dark Hispanic man. Man and wife held one another tight while the children piled around them. A lanky, ditzy girl in a short, flounced skirt ran down the hall to make a noisy reunion with her family.
One couple in particular interested me. The husband was lean, with stubble on his grey face. He carried a carseat. His teeth were brown, and he looked Eastern European. The wife was a bit rounder, with soft, white skin and waves of soft, black hair. She balanced a round, dark-haired child on her hip. They were met by a stout, elderly man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a floppy sun hat. The couple looked a little as though they might have been missionaries or emigrants, and when they spoke with the old man, their accent was a little odd.
Laura, my father, and I crowded as close to the barrier as we could. We waited and waited. The stream of people began to grow thin and slack off. Finally, at the end of the long hall, I spotted someone who definitely could have been Philip: lean, head almost touching the low ceiling, with that silly lick of hair sticking up over his forehead.
And it was Philip. Very tired and careworn, sauntering toward the gate. He dropped his satchel on the floor just outside the barrier and braced himself as Laura and I flung ourselves toward him. He shook hands with my father, and we walked out to pick up his bags: my mother's largest, heaviest duffel bag and a box full of books. Trust Philip to bring home books!
The ride home was quiet again. Laura talked brightly about the odd people she'd met in Enid, but after awhile, the conversation died away. I stared out the window, thinking hard about things that have been on my mind lately. Laura asked to turn on "Adventures in Odyssey", so my father let her choose a CD. The sun set westward over the low hills. We left Tulsa, lush river valley, bowls of the hills full of oak trees and blue mist, and came out onto the cross-timbers. I could hear the rasp of cicadas through the car windows as we whizzed past pastures rough with juniper trees.
Back at home, my mother flew out of the house to greet us. When we got upstairs, Stephen came out of his room with a little mischevous grin and a half-cocked eyebrow. We carried Philip's things to his room. Laura was being exceedingly silly. Philip asked if we could stay up talking, and I said we could. He offered to let Laura stay, too, but she was in no mood to be serious, so she went off to have a bath. Stephen was already in bed. I brought in my laptop to show Philip some pictures, as he requested. Before we started to do anything, we prayed. We stayed up late talking. Among other things, we talked about the Psalms: Christ's thoughts while He is on earth, moving from sombre to the triumphant praise of Psalm 150 as Christ returns to His Father. It's wonderful to read the Psalms not as detached poems but as chapters of a book.
For awhile, we looked at pictures. I showed him pictures from Stillwater and Enid mostly, since the Scotland CDs are out on loan to the Fisher/Spitler clan.
It was eleven-thirty by the time we went to bed, but I stayed up for awhile, furiously writing down a poem I'd thought of while I was getting ready for bed.
Today things are still quiet. Laura and Stephen want to wash the car this afternoon, so that will be fun. Philip has been rattling around in his room. He told me yesterday that he's only slept four hours out of the past forty-eight, so he probably tried to sleep in this morning. Unfortunately, Laura and Stephen have school to do, so they were up early, banging away on the computer in the schoolroom.
I hear that the TFYP group returned home safely. So some of the birds are beginning to fly home again for the winter. Praise God for watching over us at our going out and our coming in.
Yesterday was fairly quiet in morning and afternoon. I spent the morning finishing my Scotland scrapbook, helping Laura unclog the bathroom sink, and doing chores. In the middle of the morning, my father called to tell my mother that Philip's flight from New Jersey had been cancelled. She immediately phoned the airline and went through a wringer of grouchy secretaries and automated systems to reach him.
During lunch, we watched some of "The Fellowship of the Ring". After lunch, I spent the afternoon collecting pictures for my Stillwater/Enid scrapbook and writing a couple of very long e-mails. Stephen had to go to basketball practice, but when my father left to pick Philip up from the Tulsa airport, Laura and I went along.
The car ride was long and quiet. My father requested that I bring the "Master and Commander" soundtrack, so we listened to it on the way. I read Busman's Honeymoon by Dorothy L. Sayers and stared out the window. I was shocked by how many groves of trees have already turned brown. A cottonwood tree stood like a plume on the edge of a hill, turned silvery-gold by sun, heat, and drought. It seemed as though the sun had played Midas with the countryside.
In Tulsa, we drove past the University. I stared down the turn I usually take to see if I could spot the apartments. We went to Braums and ordered food to go, then went to the airport.
(I can hardly sit still with this music playing!)
At the Tulsa airport, we sat in a corner of the baggage claim to eat our suppers: chocolate milkshake for all three of us, chicken strips for Laura and me, and chili for my father. Behind us, a young couple tried to entertain their exceedingly cute and energetic small daughter. The mother chased the girl as she toddled toward the escalators, and headed her off toward the revolving door. "Enough! Your turn!" the mother said finally, dumping the plump little girl into the man's lap.
After we ate, we walked up the long hall, lined with flags, to another waiting area, right outside the security checkpoint. We stood and waited for ten minutes or so. Philip's plane had been delayed three or four times, but finally people started to come down the long hallway from the terminal. I stood by a pillar and watched them: Businessmen grouchy and travelworn. A woman talking on a cellphone, but she had an earpiece so that it looked as though she was talking to thin air. A mother and three children hurried out to meet a dark Hispanic man. Man and wife held one another tight while the children piled around them. A lanky, ditzy girl in a short, flounced skirt ran down the hall to make a noisy reunion with her family.
One couple in particular interested me. The husband was lean, with stubble on his grey face. He carried a carseat. His teeth were brown, and he looked Eastern European. The wife was a bit rounder, with soft, white skin and waves of soft, black hair. She balanced a round, dark-haired child on her hip. They were met by a stout, elderly man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a floppy sun hat. The couple looked a little as though they might have been missionaries or emigrants, and when they spoke with the old man, their accent was a little odd.
Laura, my father, and I crowded as close to the barrier as we could. We waited and waited. The stream of people began to grow thin and slack off. Finally, at the end of the long hall, I spotted someone who definitely could have been Philip: lean, head almost touching the low ceiling, with that silly lick of hair sticking up over his forehead.
And it was Philip. Very tired and careworn, sauntering toward the gate. He dropped his satchel on the floor just outside the barrier and braced himself as Laura and I flung ourselves toward him. He shook hands with my father, and we walked out to pick up his bags: my mother's largest, heaviest duffel bag and a box full of books. Trust Philip to bring home books!
The ride home was quiet again. Laura talked brightly about the odd people she'd met in Enid, but after awhile, the conversation died away. I stared out the window, thinking hard about things that have been on my mind lately. Laura asked to turn on "Adventures in Odyssey", so my father let her choose a CD. The sun set westward over the low hills. We left Tulsa, lush river valley, bowls of the hills full of oak trees and blue mist, and came out onto the cross-timbers. I could hear the rasp of cicadas through the car windows as we whizzed past pastures rough with juniper trees.
Back at home, my mother flew out of the house to greet us. When we got upstairs, Stephen came out of his room with a little mischevous grin and a half-cocked eyebrow. We carried Philip's things to his room. Laura was being exceedingly silly. Philip asked if we could stay up talking, and I said we could. He offered to let Laura stay, too, but she was in no mood to be serious, so she went off to have a bath. Stephen was already in bed. I brought in my laptop to show Philip some pictures, as he requested. Before we started to do anything, we prayed. We stayed up late talking. Among other things, we talked about the Psalms: Christ's thoughts while He is on earth, moving from sombre to the triumphant praise of Psalm 150 as Christ returns to His Father. It's wonderful to read the Psalms not as detached poems but as chapters of a book.
For awhile, we looked at pictures. I showed him pictures from Stillwater and Enid mostly, since the Scotland CDs are out on loan to the Fisher/Spitler clan.
It was eleven-thirty by the time we went to bed, but I stayed up for awhile, furiously writing down a poem I'd thought of while I was getting ready for bed.
Today things are still quiet. Laura and Stephen want to wash the car this afternoon, so that will be fun. Philip has been rattling around in his room. He told me yesterday that he's only slept four hours out of the past forty-eight, so he probably tried to sleep in this morning. Unfortunately, Laura and Stephen have school to do, so they were up early, banging away on the computer in the schoolroom.
I hear that the TFYP group returned home safely. So some of the birds are beginning to fly home again for the winter. Praise God for watching over us at our going out and our coming in.
22 July 2006
a picture
Nathaniel, I couldn't find your e-mail address. So here's the picture.
Enid kids! A whole new world for me....
21 July 2006
SRPC's First Talent Night
176 posts! :o)
Now Playing: Something on Logan's laptop in the office. I'm not sure what it is--sounds a little bit like a soundtrack at times.
After VBS today, we went back to the Wagners' house to pack up. Mrs. Wagner had grilled bratwursts, so we fixed sandwiches and packed them in the car to eat on the drive to Stillwater. Ruth and I rode with Beth, Katie, and Christi in one of the Wagners' little cars. We had to swing by the sewing shop where Christi works to pick up a projector. Then we started the drive to Stillwater, taking the northern highway that runs between Enid and Tulsa, then heading south on the road from Ponca City. We ate our sausages, and the juice dribbled all over our wax paper wrapping. Ruth produced half-a-dozen clementines from a plastic bag and shared them around, while I shared nuts and M&M's. The Wagner girls discussed their skit for tonight, making it up as they went along.
We arrived in Stillwater a little late for the talent show. I hurried down the long halls in the Community Center, where we normally meet for church, into a wing we don't usually use. For the talent show, we're renting a newly-renovated assembly hall. It used to be a gym. But the old drywall has been stripped off to stylishly expose the worn bricks underneath. Black sound boards in diamond patterns have been mounted on the walls to make the room less noisy. The fine wooden floor has been refinished. There's a stage at one end, and under the stage, chairs had been set up. I sat in the front row with Rebekah, Rachel, and Laura. Christa perched on my lap for a little while, wiggling uncomfortably.
As soon as we arrived, the show started. Daniel sat on the side of the stage with the sound equipment. Mr. Yost was our emcee. He poked jokes at various states, especially Ohio, Texas, and California.
The first act was "We're Doin' a Show" by the Guys and Dolls Choir--i.e., the mission team plus the Wagner girls, Anna, and Ruth. Christi took the piano, which was wheeled to a convenient spot just below the stage. The guys lined up behind, and the girls in front. They sang and danced to a Broadway tune to introduce the show. The boys were rather hard to hear, but it was still a fun song.
Next Nathaniel sang the "Yellow Rose of Texas". He has a good, high-pitched voice, and he projects well.
Then came the bit of the show the Wagner girls were all looking forward to: "Steve Blue's Roadkill Band". Fans of the band screamed and cheered as members of the band ran onstage: Manager Mr. Fisher and behind-the-scenes tech crew Dani, Ben, and Greg. Everyone shouted and cheered (with laughter) as the tech crew unveiled the band. The band was mounted on a bench, lined with twinkly Christmas lights. Steve Blue (news flash! his name is really Dinky the Duck) took spotlight on the stage. Dani, Ben, and Greg took their spots behind the stars, Mr. Fisher adjusted the sound system, and the show began. All through it, the fans laughed and screamed. I had to physically restrain one of them (Christa) from running up onto the stage, and Beth behind me had to restrain Mary and Raychel. Steve Blue sang a Christian rock song, his head tipped back, while the drummer thumped away on the drumset, and the guitarist swung some cool moves. When the song ended, everyone cheered. Some fans shouted for an encore. But the stage crew had to escort the band off the stage, grinning broadly.
This wasn't as nefarious as it sounded, actually. Dani, Ben, and Greg had set up their Beanie Babies on a bench, with little instruments made out of cardboard, paper, and other things they'd found around the house. They then manipulated the Beanie Babies like puppets during the song. It was ridiculously funny: the dishevelled Beanie Babies howling to the Christian rock song, the audience laughing their hearts out, and Dani, Ben, and Greg peeping through the back of the bench, grinning rakishly.
The fourth act was another musical number, more appropriate with an older demographic: Christi played a couple of serene hymns on the piano.
The fifth act was done under duress, which became a theme for the rest of the night. "What could be a Reformed Presbyterian gathering without something from Tolkien?" Mr. Yost asked with a grin. And I ran up onstage with the microphone to recite the troll poem, Sam's composition from The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. I made a disclaimer first: "Missy made me do it!" It was actually fun to recite--throwing in some gestures, pausing for laughter. But my legs were shaking from adrenaline, and I was glad to leave the spotlight.
Next came David with a musical piece, "The Eagle's Cry". First he recited a couple of Ogden Nash poems. Then he told us about a time when he was in the mountains and saw an eagle swoop down, catch a fish, and leap away from the water with a wild cry. "It inspired me... to sing this song," he said, with a deeply moved look on his face. He picked up Katie's guitar, strummed it with deep emotion-- and then squawked. His voice broke on the high pitch. Everyone burst out laughing as he jumped up from his chair with a melodramatic flourish. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing.
Stephen played a piece by Bach, "Invention No. 4 in D minor". He did quite well.
The Yosts were up next with random goofiness from the Yost children. Mr. Yost tried to get Raychel to recite her catechism questions. She pranced up onstage beside him, grinning at the audience. But when he asked her to recite the questions, she buried her face in his shoulder. "Well, I guess we'll move on," he laughed a little sheepishly.
Next up was an Irish dancing show with Rebekah, Hannah, Laura, Dani, Abigail, Will, and my mother. They danced well: quick joy, fleet feet in black shoes dancing over the boards. They performed the four-hand reel to a song from their Irish dance teacher's CD.
After Irish dancing came the Wagner girls. They stood below the stage and recited Proverbs 31 with hand motions. They projected calm confidence. Hands and words fit together to make pictures honoring Godly womanhood.
For the eleventh act, we had more music: Betty on trumpet and Jessie on flute to play "The Little Czech Suite". Betty said with a laugh before they started that if they messed up they meant to. When they were playing solo, it sounded really good. Jessie has especially good tone.
A skit came next. Mr. Parnell, Sam, and J.D. set up three chairs on the stage in formation as though the seats of a car. They performed a skit called "Cow in the Road". The three of them started out by talking about how great they'd done an the rappelling trip. "It sure was hot," one of them said. "Yeah. Just like you guys rappelling," Mr. Parnell said, and everyone laughed. "It was like--cowabunga, man!" Sam said. "Cow in the road!" J.D. squealed from the back seat. "No, no, cowabunga man!" Sam and Mr. Parnell corrected. Then Mr. Parnell "saw" the cow, and the three of them tipped and tumbled as though the car was swerving madly. Everyone laughed. Then they replayed the skit, once in slow motion and once in fast motion. Their faces for slow motion were absurd, especially Sam's big-eyed look of astonishment when the cow appeared. J.D.'s squeaky voice on the fast motion run-through was hilarious.
Yet another musical piece followed. Missy and Anna ran onstage. Missy pulled on Christa's little red cape, and Anna took the microphone. The two of them proceeded to perform a ridiculous rendition of the Goat's song from "Hoodwinked". Anna warbled and yodeled into the microphone as Japhetha the Goat, while Missy rolled her eyes in disgust.
Logan was up next, exhibiting his vocal talents. He put a disclaimer before his act just as I had done: "Missy made me do it!" Missy, sitting in the middle of the audience, laughed fit to burst. Logan used his voice to imitate the Strongbad voices. Then he hopped down on all fours and did the best Gollum I've ever seen. Speaking for myself, I nearly died laughing: Knowing Logan even a little, it was so funny to see a young man whom I know to be courteous and deeply interested in matters of God pretending to be Gollum. He performed a snatch of the scene in "The Two Towers" where Gollum/Smeagol have their debate--performed it verbatim, the voices perfectly matched. Then he gave an impersonation of Jonathan and Mr. Fisher, which had all the Fisher kids laughing.
Next was another skit: "Stimulating Health Foods", the show Katie, Beth, and Christi had been brainstorming in the car. I scurried up onstage with them to help setup. I had to run down into the audience to ask Logan and Nathaniel to hold up a sheet to form a screen for us. Then Mr. Wagner, Stephen, Ruth, Christi, Missy, and I hid behind the screen. Katie and Beth set up a table. Katie acted like a talk show host, and Beth took on the persona of her guest, Delicious Tofu, "But I go by Deli," she giggled. Beth praised health foods to high heaven. "To show just how good they are, I'd like to give you some examples," she said. Christi joined her onstage. "This young woman really wants red hair," Beth said, patting Christi on the shoulder. Christi pulled a long face. "Yes, blond hair is just so boring. I've always wanted red hair," she said plaintively. "Well, just eat this organic carrot, and I'm sure it will do wonders," Beth assured. Christi walked behind the curtain eating the carrot, and I stepped out the other side. Everyone burst out laughing. I flirted with my curls, giggling and squealing with delight as Katie and Beth congratulated me. I went and sat down in the audience. Next came a girl who desperately wanted long hair: Ruth. "I really wanted long hair, but Christi just chopped it all off," she complained. "Well, I'm sure this will help," Beth promised and gave her "organic orange juice with lavender oil". Ruth stepped behind the curtain sipping the juice, and Hannah hopped out the other side with a huge grin. "My hair is long!" she cried happily. However, the next testimonial took a darker turn. Beth called David up from the audience. He ran onstage, waggling his arms. "I really want to be muscular," he complained. "Well, sir, I'm sure this will help," Beth said soothingly. She handed him tofu marinated in rosepetal water (watermelon). He went behind the curtain, and Stephen came out the other side. He was a bit confused, but he caught on fairly quickly. "Oh, sir! Oh, oh dear!" Beth exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!" Stephen's cocky grin turned crestfallen. "It didn't work," Katie sighed worriedly. "I'm sure this one will work, though," Beth promised, with a little frown. "I'm sure it was just a fluke." She produced a sack of crackers. "These are guaranteed to help you lose weight," she proclaimed. Katie sneaked a cracker out of the bag while Beth called Betty up from the audience. "Do you want to lose weight?" she asked. "Well... yes, yes, of course!" Betty said. Betty went behind the curtain nibbling the cracker--and Missy jumped out the other side. She was grinning at first, happy and proud, showing herself off. But Katie and Beth looked at her, horrified. "I'm glad I didn't eat that!" Katie whispered, stage-fashion. Missy plumped off the stage, while Katie and Beth pulled shocked faces behind her. Next up was Mrs. Yost with Joseph. "This food will make your child grow into the man you want him to be!" Beth promised. Joseph sucked on a little toffee bar, and Mrs. Yost carried him behind the curtain. Mr. Wagner shuffled out the other side, his hand on his lower back, hunched over like an old man. Mrs. Yost came out behind him, her hands over her mouth. "Oh, sir! Sir!" Beth cried. "I'm so sorry!" Mr. Wagner staggered down the steps from the stage, fumbling after his dentures. Katie marched back to center stage and proclaimed, "I guess, when all is said and done, drink Dr. Pepper!"
Next Laura played "Adagio Cantibello" by Beethoven. Lush Romantic music filled the room, serious, pathetic.
For the final act, the Wagner girls and Clay (leader of the mission team) ran onstage. Missy and Katie held up a curtain in the middle of the stage. All the girls except Beth were dressed in white. Beth had a black poodle skirt on (Oldies rock), and her long blonde hair flipped up in a high ponytail. She took a fake microphone, and they lipsynced with a song, "The Leader of the Pack". Beth lipsynced the main singer's part, a girl who fell in love with "the leader of the pack". At that point, Missy and Katie dropped the curtain, and we saw Clay sitting behind it, dressed up as a motorcycle dude. He had on a leather jacket, a baseball cap tilted backwards, sunglasses--and was perched on Christa's red tricycle. Everyone burst out laughing. The electric guitar on the song revved and Clay pretended to push the pedals of the tricycle. Beth sang plaintively about how her father forced her to say good-bye to "the leader of the back", while Missy and Katie hummed into their "microphone", and Christi tried to comfort Beth, who sobbed ridiculously on Christi's shoulder.
What a show!
Now Playing: Something on Logan's laptop in the office. I'm not sure what it is--sounds a little bit like a soundtrack at times.
After VBS today, we went back to the Wagners' house to pack up. Mrs. Wagner had grilled bratwursts, so we fixed sandwiches and packed them in the car to eat on the drive to Stillwater. Ruth and I rode with Beth, Katie, and Christi in one of the Wagners' little cars. We had to swing by the sewing shop where Christi works to pick up a projector. Then we started the drive to Stillwater, taking the northern highway that runs between Enid and Tulsa, then heading south on the road from Ponca City. We ate our sausages, and the juice dribbled all over our wax paper wrapping. Ruth produced half-a-dozen clementines from a plastic bag and shared them around, while I shared nuts and M&M's. The Wagner girls discussed their skit for tonight, making it up as they went along.
We arrived in Stillwater a little late for the talent show. I hurried down the long halls in the Community Center, where we normally meet for church, into a wing we don't usually use. For the talent show, we're renting a newly-renovated assembly hall. It used to be a gym. But the old drywall has been stripped off to stylishly expose the worn bricks underneath. Black sound boards in diamond patterns have been mounted on the walls to make the room less noisy. The fine wooden floor has been refinished. There's a stage at one end, and under the stage, chairs had been set up. I sat in the front row with Rebekah, Rachel, and Laura. Christa perched on my lap for a little while, wiggling uncomfortably.
As soon as we arrived, the show started. Daniel sat on the side of the stage with the sound equipment. Mr. Yost was our emcee. He poked jokes at various states, especially Ohio, Texas, and California.
The first act was "We're Doin' a Show" by the Guys and Dolls Choir--i.e., the mission team plus the Wagner girls, Anna, and Ruth. Christi took the piano, which was wheeled to a convenient spot just below the stage. The guys lined up behind, and the girls in front. They sang and danced to a Broadway tune to introduce the show. The boys were rather hard to hear, but it was still a fun song.
Next Nathaniel sang the "Yellow Rose of Texas". He has a good, high-pitched voice, and he projects well.
Then came the bit of the show the Wagner girls were all looking forward to: "Steve Blue's Roadkill Band". Fans of the band screamed and cheered as members of the band ran onstage: Manager Mr. Fisher and behind-the-scenes tech crew Dani, Ben, and Greg. Everyone shouted and cheered (with laughter) as the tech crew unveiled the band. The band was mounted on a bench, lined with twinkly Christmas lights. Steve Blue (news flash! his name is really Dinky the Duck) took spotlight on the stage. Dani, Ben, and Greg took their spots behind the stars, Mr. Fisher adjusted the sound system, and the show began. All through it, the fans laughed and screamed. I had to physically restrain one of them (Christa) from running up onto the stage, and Beth behind me had to restrain Mary and Raychel. Steve Blue sang a Christian rock song, his head tipped back, while the drummer thumped away on the drumset, and the guitarist swung some cool moves. When the song ended, everyone cheered. Some fans shouted for an encore. But the stage crew had to escort the band off the stage, grinning broadly.
This wasn't as nefarious as it sounded, actually. Dani, Ben, and Greg had set up their Beanie Babies on a bench, with little instruments made out of cardboard, paper, and other things they'd found around the house. They then manipulated the Beanie Babies like puppets during the song. It was ridiculously funny: the dishevelled Beanie Babies howling to the Christian rock song, the audience laughing their hearts out, and Dani, Ben, and Greg peeping through the back of the bench, grinning rakishly.
The fourth act was another musical number, more appropriate with an older demographic: Christi played a couple of serene hymns on the piano.
The fifth act was done under duress, which became a theme for the rest of the night. "What could be a Reformed Presbyterian gathering without something from Tolkien?" Mr. Yost asked with a grin. And I ran up onstage with the microphone to recite the troll poem, Sam's composition from The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. I made a disclaimer first: "Missy made me do it!" It was actually fun to recite--throwing in some gestures, pausing for laughter. But my legs were shaking from adrenaline, and I was glad to leave the spotlight.
Next came David with a musical piece, "The Eagle's Cry". First he recited a couple of Ogden Nash poems. Then he told us about a time when he was in the mountains and saw an eagle swoop down, catch a fish, and leap away from the water with a wild cry. "It inspired me... to sing this song," he said, with a deeply moved look on his face. He picked up Katie's guitar, strummed it with deep emotion-- and then squawked. His voice broke on the high pitch. Everyone burst out laughing as he jumped up from his chair with a melodramatic flourish. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing.
Stephen played a piece by Bach, "Invention No. 4 in D minor". He did quite well.
The Yosts were up next with random goofiness from the Yost children. Mr. Yost tried to get Raychel to recite her catechism questions. She pranced up onstage beside him, grinning at the audience. But when he asked her to recite the questions, she buried her face in his shoulder. "Well, I guess we'll move on," he laughed a little sheepishly.
Next up was an Irish dancing show with Rebekah, Hannah, Laura, Dani, Abigail, Will, and my mother. They danced well: quick joy, fleet feet in black shoes dancing over the boards. They performed the four-hand reel to a song from their Irish dance teacher's CD.
After Irish dancing came the Wagner girls. They stood below the stage and recited Proverbs 31 with hand motions. They projected calm confidence. Hands and words fit together to make pictures honoring Godly womanhood.
For the eleventh act, we had more music: Betty on trumpet and Jessie on flute to play "The Little Czech Suite". Betty said with a laugh before they started that if they messed up they meant to. When they were playing solo, it sounded really good. Jessie has especially good tone.
A skit came next. Mr. Parnell, Sam, and J.D. set up three chairs on the stage in formation as though the seats of a car. They performed a skit called "Cow in the Road". The three of them started out by talking about how great they'd done an the rappelling trip. "It sure was hot," one of them said. "Yeah. Just like you guys rappelling," Mr. Parnell said, and everyone laughed. "It was like--cowabunga, man!" Sam said. "Cow in the road!" J.D. squealed from the back seat. "No, no, cowabunga man!" Sam and Mr. Parnell corrected. Then Mr. Parnell "saw" the cow, and the three of them tipped and tumbled as though the car was swerving madly. Everyone laughed. Then they replayed the skit, once in slow motion and once in fast motion. Their faces for slow motion were absurd, especially Sam's big-eyed look of astonishment when the cow appeared. J.D.'s squeaky voice on the fast motion run-through was hilarious.
Yet another musical piece followed. Missy and Anna ran onstage. Missy pulled on Christa's little red cape, and Anna took the microphone. The two of them proceeded to perform a ridiculous rendition of the Goat's song from "Hoodwinked". Anna warbled and yodeled into the microphone as Japhetha the Goat, while Missy rolled her eyes in disgust.
Logan was up next, exhibiting his vocal talents. He put a disclaimer before his act just as I had done: "Missy made me do it!" Missy, sitting in the middle of the audience, laughed fit to burst. Logan used his voice to imitate the Strongbad voices. Then he hopped down on all fours and did the best Gollum I've ever seen. Speaking for myself, I nearly died laughing: Knowing Logan even a little, it was so funny to see a young man whom I know to be courteous and deeply interested in matters of God pretending to be Gollum. He performed a snatch of the scene in "The Two Towers" where Gollum/Smeagol have their debate--performed it verbatim, the voices perfectly matched. Then he gave an impersonation of Jonathan and Mr. Fisher, which had all the Fisher kids laughing.
Next was another skit: "Stimulating Health Foods", the show Katie, Beth, and Christi had been brainstorming in the car. I scurried up onstage with them to help setup. I had to run down into the audience to ask Logan and Nathaniel to hold up a sheet to form a screen for us. Then Mr. Wagner, Stephen, Ruth, Christi, Missy, and I hid behind the screen. Katie and Beth set up a table. Katie acted like a talk show host, and Beth took on the persona of her guest, Delicious Tofu, "But I go by Deli," she giggled. Beth praised health foods to high heaven. "To show just how good they are, I'd like to give you some examples," she said. Christi joined her onstage. "This young woman really wants red hair," Beth said, patting Christi on the shoulder. Christi pulled a long face. "Yes, blond hair is just so boring. I've always wanted red hair," she said plaintively. "Well, just eat this organic carrot, and I'm sure it will do wonders," Beth assured. Christi walked behind the curtain eating the carrot, and I stepped out the other side. Everyone burst out laughing. I flirted with my curls, giggling and squealing with delight as Katie and Beth congratulated me. I went and sat down in the audience. Next came a girl who desperately wanted long hair: Ruth. "I really wanted long hair, but Christi just chopped it all off," she complained. "Well, I'm sure this will help," Beth promised and gave her "organic orange juice with lavender oil". Ruth stepped behind the curtain sipping the juice, and Hannah hopped out the other side with a huge grin. "My hair is long!" she cried happily. However, the next testimonial took a darker turn. Beth called David up from the audience. He ran onstage, waggling his arms. "I really want to be muscular," he complained. "Well, sir, I'm sure this will help," Beth said soothingly. She handed him tofu marinated in rosepetal water (watermelon). He went behind the curtain, and Stephen came out the other side. He was a bit confused, but he caught on fairly quickly. "Oh, sir! Oh, oh dear!" Beth exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!" Stephen's cocky grin turned crestfallen. "It didn't work," Katie sighed worriedly. "I'm sure this one will work, though," Beth promised, with a little frown. "I'm sure it was just a fluke." She produced a sack of crackers. "These are guaranteed to help you lose weight," she proclaimed. Katie sneaked a cracker out of the bag while Beth called Betty up from the audience. "Do you want to lose weight?" she asked. "Well... yes, yes, of course!" Betty said. Betty went behind the curtain nibbling the cracker--and Missy jumped out the other side. She was grinning at first, happy and proud, showing herself off. But Katie and Beth looked at her, horrified. "I'm glad I didn't eat that!" Katie whispered, stage-fashion. Missy plumped off the stage, while Katie and Beth pulled shocked faces behind her. Next up was Mrs. Yost with Joseph. "This food will make your child grow into the man you want him to be!" Beth promised. Joseph sucked on a little toffee bar, and Mrs. Yost carried him behind the curtain. Mr. Wagner shuffled out the other side, his hand on his lower back, hunched over like an old man. Mrs. Yost came out behind him, her hands over her mouth. "Oh, sir! Sir!" Beth cried. "I'm so sorry!" Mr. Wagner staggered down the steps from the stage, fumbling after his dentures. Katie marched back to center stage and proclaimed, "I guess, when all is said and done, drink Dr. Pepper!"
Next Laura played "Adagio Cantibello" by Beethoven. Lush Romantic music filled the room, serious, pathetic.
For the final act, the Wagner girls and Clay (leader of the mission team) ran onstage. Missy and Katie held up a curtain in the middle of the stage. All the girls except Beth were dressed in white. Beth had a black poodle skirt on (Oldies rock), and her long blonde hair flipped up in a high ponytail. She took a fake microphone, and they lipsynced with a song, "The Leader of the Pack". Beth lipsynced the main singer's part, a girl who fell in love with "the leader of the pack". At that point, Missy and Katie dropped the curtain, and we saw Clay sitting behind it, dressed up as a motorcycle dude. He had on a leather jacket, a baseball cap tilted backwards, sunglasses--and was perched on Christa's red tricycle. Everyone burst out laughing. The electric guitar on the song revved and Clay pretended to push the pedals of the tricycle. Beth sang plaintively about how her father forced her to say good-bye to "the leader of the back", while Missy and Katie hummed into their "microphone", and Christi tried to comfort Beth, who sobbed ridiculously on Christi's shoulder.
What a show!
20 July 2006
Enid VBS, Day 3
Now Playing: "In My Hands", by Natalie MacMaster. "Flamenco Fling". (Per Anna's request)
July 19, 2006
After breakfast, I sat and read Busman’s Holiday in the living room. Nathaniel was AIMing with a friend on his laptop. Ruth was reading a magazine, andLogan
Mr. Parnell and Laura arrived a little after nine-thirty. We prayed, then went door-to-door. Anna and I were paired up for door-to-door. We worked with Logan and Laura, though after about fifteen minutes, our pairs got separated. Anna and I would go around one block, then stop and look for Logan and Laura, then go around another block, and then stop and look again. We met three confused people, one man who was grumpy and shut the door on us as soon as the name of Christ was mentioned, and two wonderful women who gave strong, cheerful testimonies. One of them was an elderly woman, housebound, and the other was somewhat younger. It was blazingly hot. Anna and I fanned ourselves with brochures. We met up with Logan and Laura on the walk back. We stood on a corner under a tree and talked until everyone else arrived.
Directly after going door-to-door, we all drove over to the YMCA. We signed in. Christi led Laura and me to the lockerrooms, where we changed, and then hurried in to the indoor swimming pool. All of us spent about forty-five minutes in the pool. It felt wonderful! The water surrounding me, lifting me, flying along the floor.Logan Scotland Logan
When one-thirty came around, we had to scramble to clean up while the kids arrived. Singing came first, as always. The kids seem to be making good progress. Then the kids were broken up into two groups: four years to eight years old, and nine years to twelve years old. We have one fifteen-year-old girl, but she hasDowns syndrome, so mentally she relates to the younger children. The older kids were sent to the racquetball court to do the memory verse with Anna, while the younger kids stayed behind to listen to Logan Logan
After snack, it was the young kids’ turn for Bible memory verse. I stayed behind in our room with the small children. I sat behind one little boy, who was eager to learn, and showed him the hand motions, which he couldn’t quite see over the heads of the kids in front of him. Anna did an excellent job teaching the group. She seemed to mature even while I watched her. Sitting back, seeing her interact with the kids, I was amazed again by what God has done. Over this month, I’ve seen our talents put to use. The CY and the mission team have grown and matured so much. Each individual has abilities, and God has been enabling us to use those abilities as a unified whole. After memory verse/Bible story, everyone came together again for the skit, performed this time by Anna and Ruth. After the skit, parents came to pick up their children. Missy and Brad were busy making sure that all the parents had turned in consent forms so that their kids could climb the rock wall tomorrow. Leeanna is too small to climb the wall, though. She rode around on Laura’s back, her little head cradled on Laura’s shoulder. They were both wearing lime green shirts, as Leeanna noticed gleefully.
After everyone had gone, Mr. Parnell gathered us around and checked up on our wellbeing and how we thought the week was going. Then we left. On the way back to the Wagners’ house, Missy stopped in at Sonic so that David could buy a drink. At the Wagners’ house, we packed up, split into cars, and drove to the Covingtons’ house for supper. I rode with Katie, Beth, and Missy in the Wagners’ little red car. We followed Brad and David in Brad’s car.
Eventually we turned off the highway onto a dirt road. Fine dust billowed over the cars so that we couldn’t see Brad in front of us. The sunlight turned rose-rock-red. We could tell where Brad had turned because the cloud of dust ended, and clear road opened in front of us. The Covingtons’ house sits up on a rise over a creekbed. Stepping into their house is like stepping into the heart of serenity. High white walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, white curtains, honey-gold wooden floors. Huge rooms with hardly any furniture: but the furniture that they do have is rich—elegant, dark wood formal dining tables, an old roll-top desk, an oak upright piano, a long sofa, rocking chairs. The rooms are high and cool. White slants down on the walls through shadowy blue to sunlit yellow. The boys all went outside, where Brad grilled juicy chicken for supper. Logan sat and read Schaff’s history, while the rest of them listened to Mr. Wagner and Mr. Covington share stories. A little dun-colored calf slipped under the fence. Brad chased it back to its mother, and it capered rebelliously across the pasture. Mrs. Covington was busy in the kitchen, with Beth and Katie helping her. They prepared a tray of cheese-and-crackers and a bowl of beautiful grapes, iridescent as peacocks’ eyes. Beth and I passed the food around, carrying it outside to the boys, too.
The girls sat inside in the living room. I perched on the stairs, which have no rails, and stuck my feet out in front of me. Mrs. Wagner started a game of twenty questions. Ruth went first, and Anna guessed her plant: seaweed. So it was Anna’s turn, and she chose Frozone from “The Incredibles”, which I guessed. I chose the Phantom of the Opera. The Wagner girls guessed and guessed, and I couldn’t help laughing because I’d thought they would guess it easily. Missy did ask me if the character was from a movie we had differing opinions on (she hates it), but I refused to answer that question. Ruth and Christi lounged on the sofa, half-asleep. Anna sat and read a magazine. She guessed correctly, so she chose Christi to play next. Christi thought of a European plum, so one of her sisters had to figure that one out. Nathaniel prowled around shooting flies with a rubber band. When the meat was ready, Brad passed it on a tray through the dining room window. Spicy grill smoke wisped through with the meat.
Everyone gathered in the living room while Mr. Covington prayed for our meal. Then we lined up in the kitchen for the food. Christi and I sat at the “high” table in the formal dining room with Mr. and Mrs. Covington, Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, Logan, and Clay. The meal was a little stiff. We all heaped compliments on the food: fresh produce bursting with summer’s flavors and good meat. Logan laughed at Brad riding the tractor up the driveway, with a bucket of ice cream perched on the steering wheel. Dessert was delicious: fresh peaches, vanilla ice cream, and cinnamon-and-oatmeal cake. Mr. Covington and Mr. Wagner discussed energy sources. Evening sank slowly outside. The walls washed from gold to cream to quiet grey-blue. After dessert, everyone sat outside on the front porch. Brad pulled the tractor into the front yard and showed us how to drive it. We took turns, the Wagner girls going first. Mr. Covington fed the half-a-dozen black cattle that had gathered at the fence. The cattle lowed and bleated as he carried the food out to them. A gentle south breeze smelled like cattle, hogs, and hay. Oklahoma—open sky, open land, a myriad of rough colors fading to calico blue. Cliff swallows spun and danced through the warm evening air. A nighthawk winged slowly over the pasture. Mosquitoes hovered over a patch of warm earth. Logan found a bit of barbecue crackling and dropped it into the middle of a red ant hill. He and Ruth watched as the ants scurried over to the sweet meat, crawling on top of one another to get near it. When it was my turn to drive the tractor, I drove it in a circle around the house. The ride was bumpy, especially since I couldn’t sort out which pedals to push at the right time. I much preferred another amusement: standing on the machinery bar protruding between the wheels, with my hands looped through the overhead roll bar, while someone else drove. When it was Clay’s turn, I hopped on behind. He went really fast at first, and I had to remind myself to treat the tractor like a ship, giving to its movements. I braced myself with my arms against the metal bar as we bounced down a little rise, the bar under my feet leaping and shaking as the big wheels trundled over the rocky ground.
After we’d all taken turns (except Anna, who steadfastly refuses to participate in such amusements), Katie hopped on the back while Brad drove the tractor. “That’s not fair! I wanted to do that!” Missy shouted. Brad took off fast, and Katie clung to the back, laughing. They disappeared down the driveway and into the pasture. When they reappeared, we saw Brad alone on the tractor. Then we saw Katie’s head poking up just over the level of the class, flying along smoothly. When they pulled into the front yard, we saw why: Brad had found one of the plywood sledges, and Katie was perched on this, dust billowing back over her feet. Christi and Missy took a ride. Red dust blew over Christi in her cool white trousers and T-shirt. David sat on the sledge next, but Logan stood up on it, like a surfer. I gave a running leap onto the machinery bar and clung tightly, glancing back over my shoulder to watch the boys. Logan struck poses as the sledge bumped and jerked under his feet. He tumbled off at one point, then jumped back on. The metal bar quivered in my grip. Diesel and dust blew up from under the big wheels. I rode twice while Brad drove, and then Brad took the tractor back to its shed.
Mr. and Mrs. Wagner left with Katie, Christi, and Beth. The rest of us stayed behind. It was almost completely dark. Brad offered to take us on the nature trail through the pasture. Mrs. Covington was distressed that we might run into a panther or a rattlesnake, but Brad laughed her off. He stepped on the electric fence that runs around the pasture so that we could climb over it. I paced at the end of the line, behind Logan. Deep sky and pasture turned one color. We followed the trail down towards the creekbed, through a grove of juniper trees. The rough trunks showed darkly through the dusk. Rough needles crunched under our feet. We climbed up the creekbed into a pasture, a pool of grass cradled in the arm of the creek, walled by juniper and oak trees. Fireflies flashed along the edge of the woods. I paused to run my fingers through a patch of sagebrush, and the silvery smell leaped up to meet me from the pale leaves shining in the dusk. Jupiter flashed above the trees. The Big Dipper was coming out, and Mars shone red near Jupiter. The quiet land welcomed us gently as we walked through the deep shadows. Missy, David, Brad, and Anna were teasing each other, their laughter drifting back. Brad led us on a winding trail through the pasture, then back to the house.
We sat on the picnic table behind the house. Mrs. Covington, concerned that we’d all contracted poison ivy, came out with soap, water, and paper towels. To oblige her, Missy and I washed our feet. She twittered to Clay that she’d promised the Wagners that he would be responsible. He nodded and smiled uncomfortably. We sat outside for awhile, laughing and talking. Everyone was in a holiday mood, as though the gloaming had made us all giddy. Brad was being especially absurd. Missy and Anna teased him ruthlessly. Brad decided that it would be a grand joke if all the boys ran up to the back windows and smacked against them like zombies. So Clay, Logan, David, and Brad hunched over, howling and snarling, and smeared into the windows with dreadful faces. They plastered themselves against the glass. Mrs. Covington, sitting at the dining room table with Mr. Covington, leaped up with her hands to her mouth. I could see Mr. Covington laughing through the window. All the boys walked back to the table, laughing and joking.
We decided to go. Ruth and I rode in the back of Logan’s car, with Nathaniel. Missy, Anna, David, and Clay followed us. As we dipped down under a hill, Logan turned off his lights. We drove along in the gloaming for awhile. A narrow lane of sky stretched above us like the blue wake of a ship through the sea of grass. Dust swirled over the car. When Logan turned his lights back on, the lush tassels of Johnson grass along the fence on either side of the road stood out like plumes of fireworks against the dark fields behind them. Logan leaned back and asked about Calvin. Logan, Nathaniel, and I prayed for Calvin. Nathaniel read portions from other Psalms. Ruth, curled in the corner of the back seat, sobbed softly while he read. I put my arm over her shoulders. We sang Psalm 127A and Psalm 23B, as Ruth requested, our four voices mixing clearly in the car, like light and water. After we sang, Logan heard Ruth sniffling in the back. He offered her his handkerchief, the camouflage bandana he’s been wearing around his head for these two VBSs. “Umm… I don’t know….” Ruth said doubtfully. “It’s fairly clean,” he coaxed. “Will you wash it? You won’t wear it tomorrow?” she asked. “I promise I’ll wash it,” he said, and tossed it back to her. She held it skeptically. “It’s not a dead animal,” I laughed. She began to wipe her face gingerly. “You need it more than I do,” Logan called back.
Back at the Wagners' house, we all went to bed.
July 19, 2006
After breakfast, I sat and read Busman’s Holiday in the living room. Nathaniel was AIMing with a friend on his laptop. Ruth was reading a magazine, and
Mr. Parnell and Laura arrived a little after nine-thirty. We prayed, then went door-to-door. Anna and I were paired up for door-to-door. We worked with Logan and Laura, though after about fifteen minutes, our pairs got separated. Anna and I would go around one block, then stop and look for Logan and Laura, then go around another block, and then stop and look again. We met three confused people, one man who was grumpy and shut the door on us as soon as the name of Christ was mentioned, and two wonderful women who gave strong, cheerful testimonies. One of them was an elderly woman, housebound, and the other was somewhat younger. It was blazingly hot. Anna and I fanned ourselves with brochures. We met up with Logan and Laura on the walk back. We stood on a corner under a tree and talked until everyone else arrived.
Directly after going door-to-door, we all drove over to the YMCA. We signed in. Christi led Laura and me to the lockerrooms, where we changed, and then hurried in to the indoor swimming pool. All of us spent about forty-five minutes in the pool. It felt wonderful! The water surrounding me, lifting me, flying along the floor.
When one-thirty came around, we had to scramble to clean up while the kids arrived. Singing came first, as always. The kids seem to be making good progress. Then the kids were broken up into two groups: four years to eight years old, and nine years to twelve years old. We have one fifteen-year-old girl, but she has
After snack, it was the young kids’ turn for Bible memory verse. I stayed behind in our room with the small children. I sat behind one little boy, who was eager to learn, and showed him the hand motions, which he couldn’t quite see over the heads of the kids in front of him. Anna did an excellent job teaching the group. She seemed to mature even while I watched her. Sitting back, seeing her interact with the kids, I was amazed again by what God has done. Over this month, I’ve seen our talents put to use. The CY and the mission team have grown and matured so much. Each individual has abilities, and God has been enabling us to use those abilities as a unified whole. After memory verse/Bible story, everyone came together again for the skit, performed this time by Anna and Ruth. After the skit, parents came to pick up their children. Missy and Brad were busy making sure that all the parents had turned in consent forms so that their kids could climb the rock wall tomorrow. Leeanna is too small to climb the wall, though. She rode around on Laura’s back, her little head cradled on Laura’s shoulder. They were both wearing lime green shirts, as Leeanna noticed gleefully.
After everyone had gone, Mr. Parnell gathered us around and checked up on our wellbeing and how we thought the week was going. Then we left. On the way back to the Wagners’ house, Missy stopped in at Sonic so that David could buy a drink. At the Wagners’ house, we packed up, split into cars, and drove to the Covingtons’ house for supper. I rode with Katie, Beth, and Missy in the Wagners’ little red car. We followed Brad and David in Brad’s car.
Eventually we turned off the highway onto a dirt road. Fine dust billowed over the cars so that we couldn’t see Brad in front of us. The sunlight turned rose-rock-red. We could tell where Brad had turned because the cloud of dust ended, and clear road opened in front of us. The Covingtons’ house sits up on a rise over a creekbed. Stepping into their house is like stepping into the heart of serenity. High white walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, white curtains, honey-gold wooden floors. Huge rooms with hardly any furniture: but the furniture that they do have is rich—elegant, dark wood formal dining tables, an old roll-top desk, an oak upright piano, a long sofa, rocking chairs. The rooms are high and cool. White slants down on the walls through shadowy blue to sunlit yellow. The boys all went outside, where Brad grilled juicy chicken for supper. Logan sat and read Schaff’s history, while the rest of them listened to Mr. Wagner and Mr. Covington share stories. A little dun-colored calf slipped under the fence. Brad chased it back to its mother, and it capered rebelliously across the pasture. Mrs. Covington was busy in the kitchen, with Beth and Katie helping her. They prepared a tray of cheese-and-crackers and a bowl of beautiful grapes, iridescent as peacocks’ eyes. Beth and I passed the food around, carrying it outside to the boys, too.
The girls sat inside in the living room. I perched on the stairs, which have no rails, and stuck my feet out in front of me. Mrs. Wagner started a game of twenty questions. Ruth went first, and Anna guessed her plant: seaweed. So it was Anna’s turn, and she chose Frozone from “The Incredibles”, which I guessed. I chose the Phantom of the Opera. The Wagner girls guessed and guessed, and I couldn’t help laughing because I’d thought they would guess it easily. Missy did ask me if the character was from a movie we had differing opinions on (she hates it), but I refused to answer that question. Ruth and Christi lounged on the sofa, half-asleep. Anna sat and read a magazine. She guessed correctly, so she chose Christi to play next. Christi thought of a European plum, so one of her sisters had to figure that one out. Nathaniel prowled around shooting flies with a rubber band. When the meat was ready, Brad passed it on a tray through the dining room window. Spicy grill smoke wisped through with the meat.
Everyone gathered in the living room while Mr. Covington prayed for our meal. Then we lined up in the kitchen for the food. Christi and I sat at the “high” table in the formal dining room with Mr. and Mrs. Covington, Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, Logan, and Clay. The meal was a little stiff. We all heaped compliments on the food: fresh produce bursting with summer’s flavors and good meat. Logan laughed at Brad riding the tractor up the driveway, with a bucket of ice cream perched on the steering wheel. Dessert was delicious: fresh peaches, vanilla ice cream, and cinnamon-and-oatmeal cake. Mr. Covington and Mr. Wagner discussed energy sources. Evening sank slowly outside. The walls washed from gold to cream to quiet grey-blue. After dessert, everyone sat outside on the front porch. Brad pulled the tractor into the front yard and showed us how to drive it. We took turns, the Wagner girls going first. Mr. Covington fed the half-a-dozen black cattle that had gathered at the fence. The cattle lowed and bleated as he carried the food out to them. A gentle south breeze smelled like cattle, hogs, and hay. Oklahoma—open sky, open land, a myriad of rough colors fading to calico blue. Cliff swallows spun and danced through the warm evening air. A nighthawk winged slowly over the pasture. Mosquitoes hovered over a patch of warm earth. Logan found a bit of barbecue crackling and dropped it into the middle of a red ant hill. He and Ruth watched as the ants scurried over to the sweet meat, crawling on top of one another to get near it. When it was my turn to drive the tractor, I drove it in a circle around the house. The ride was bumpy, especially since I couldn’t sort out which pedals to push at the right time. I much preferred another amusement: standing on the machinery bar protruding between the wheels, with my hands looped through the overhead roll bar, while someone else drove. When it was Clay’s turn, I hopped on behind. He went really fast at first, and I had to remind myself to treat the tractor like a ship, giving to its movements. I braced myself with my arms against the metal bar as we bounced down a little rise, the bar under my feet leaping and shaking as the big wheels trundled over the rocky ground.
After we’d all taken turns (except Anna, who steadfastly refuses to participate in such amusements), Katie hopped on the back while Brad drove the tractor. “That’s not fair! I wanted to do that!” Missy shouted. Brad took off fast, and Katie clung to the back, laughing. They disappeared down the driveway and into the pasture. When they reappeared, we saw Brad alone on the tractor. Then we saw Katie’s head poking up just over the level of the class, flying along smoothly. When they pulled into the front yard, we saw why: Brad had found one of the plywood sledges, and Katie was perched on this, dust billowing back over her feet. Christi and Missy took a ride. Red dust blew over Christi in her cool white trousers and T-shirt. David sat on the sledge next, but Logan stood up on it, like a surfer. I gave a running leap onto the machinery bar and clung tightly, glancing back over my shoulder to watch the boys. Logan struck poses as the sledge bumped and jerked under his feet. He tumbled off at one point, then jumped back on. The metal bar quivered in my grip. Diesel and dust blew up from under the big wheels. I rode twice while Brad drove, and then Brad took the tractor back to its shed.
Mr. and Mrs. Wagner left with Katie, Christi, and Beth. The rest of us stayed behind. It was almost completely dark. Brad offered to take us on the nature trail through the pasture. Mrs. Covington was distressed that we might run into a panther or a rattlesnake, but Brad laughed her off. He stepped on the electric fence that runs around the pasture so that we could climb over it. I paced at the end of the line, behind Logan. Deep sky and pasture turned one color. We followed the trail down towards the creekbed, through a grove of juniper trees. The rough trunks showed darkly through the dusk. Rough needles crunched under our feet. We climbed up the creekbed into a pasture, a pool of grass cradled in the arm of the creek, walled by juniper and oak trees. Fireflies flashed along the edge of the woods. I paused to run my fingers through a patch of sagebrush, and the silvery smell leaped up to meet me from the pale leaves shining in the dusk. Jupiter flashed above the trees. The Big Dipper was coming out, and Mars shone red near Jupiter. The quiet land welcomed us gently as we walked through the deep shadows. Missy, David, Brad, and Anna were teasing each other, their laughter drifting back. Brad led us on a winding trail through the pasture, then back to the house.
We sat on the picnic table behind the house. Mrs. Covington, concerned that we’d all contracted poison ivy, came out with soap, water, and paper towels. To oblige her, Missy and I washed our feet. She twittered to Clay that she’d promised the Wagners that he would be responsible. He nodded and smiled uncomfortably. We sat outside for awhile, laughing and talking. Everyone was in a holiday mood, as though the gloaming had made us all giddy. Brad was being especially absurd. Missy and Anna teased him ruthlessly. Brad decided that it would be a grand joke if all the boys ran up to the back windows and smacked against them like zombies. So Clay, Logan, David, and Brad hunched over, howling and snarling, and smeared into the windows with dreadful faces. They plastered themselves against the glass. Mrs. Covington, sitting at the dining room table with Mr. Covington, leaped up with her hands to her mouth. I could see Mr. Covington laughing through the window. All the boys walked back to the table, laughing and joking.
We decided to go. Ruth and I rode in the back of Logan’s car, with Nathaniel. Missy, Anna, David, and Clay followed us. As we dipped down under a hill, Logan turned off his lights. We drove along in the gloaming for awhile. A narrow lane of sky stretched above us like the blue wake of a ship through the sea of grass. Dust swirled over the car. When Logan turned his lights back on, the lush tassels of Johnson grass along the fence on either side of the road stood out like plumes of fireworks against the dark fields behind them. Logan leaned back and asked about Calvin. Logan, Nathaniel, and I prayed for Calvin. Nathaniel read portions from other Psalms. Ruth, curled in the corner of the back seat, sobbed softly while he read. I put my arm over her shoulders. We sang Psalm 127A and Psalm 23B, as Ruth requested, our four voices mixing clearly in the car, like light and water. After we sang, Logan heard Ruth sniffling in the back. He offered her his handkerchief, the camouflage bandana he’s been wearing around his head for these two VBSs. “Umm… I don’t know….” Ruth said doubtfully. “It’s fairly clean,” he coaxed. “Will you wash it? You won’t wear it tomorrow?” she asked. “I promise I’ll wash it,” he said, and tossed it back to her. She held it skeptically. “It’s not a dead animal,” I laughed. She began to wipe her face gingerly. “You need it more than I do,” Logan called back.
Back at the Wagners' house, we all went to bed.
17 July 2006
Enid VBS, Day 1
Now Playing: "Rigoletto" soundtrack by Kurt Bestor. Track 9, "Singing Montage". (Playing on Missy's laptop)
This morning when I woke up, the mission team boys were already outside mowing the Ws' lawn. We're all staying at the Ws' house in Enid to do door-to-door work and VBS this week. Anna and Ruth are here, too. Anna, Mrs. W, and I ate breakfast together before the W girls had returned from running, and before the boys had come inside from mowing. When the guys came in, they ate breakfast in shifts. Anna and I sat cross-legged on the dining room floor with my laptop, reading blogs and typing comments.
This morning, Mr. P and Laura drove over from Stillwater to go door-to-door for us. We prayed in the Ws' front room, then drove to the neighborhood Mr. P had chosen. It turned out to be a lower middle class neighborhood down by the grain elevator. Katie and I went together, leapfrogging with Brad and Nathaniel. We were out for about two hours. During the whole time, Katie and I met nary a person willing to talk to us. Everyone either shut the door in our faces, waved us away, or said, "No, thank you." Katie said she'd never before felt such a cold shoulder. "This is a town full of fuddie-duddies," she complained. "They all want to stay Baptist or Catholic. Those are ok. But conservative Presbyterians are fanatics." It was horribly hot, though a light wind helped to cool the boiling sunshine a little. We walked from house to house, standing on the small porches under the broad eaves. Occasionally someone would peep out at us, but hardly anyone came to the door.
Back at the Wagners' house during lunch, everyone sat around sharing stories of people they'd met. David and Anna had spent awhile arguing with an angry Gnostic, who'd produced classic Gnostic arguments and who'd yelled at them. Logan and Laura had met a female Pentecostal pastor, who'd prayed with them, spoken in tongues, and sung a song for them in tongues. They'd also met a man who'd just been released from jail. Christi and Beth had met a highschool girl who seemed confused about her beliefs but interested in learning about Christ.
After lunch, we drove over to the Enid YMCA for VBS. The YMCA is hosting our VBS this summer. The facility is large, with an indoor pool, a rock climbing tower, gyms, and a variety of weight lifting and exercising rooms. We checked in at the front desk, then trooped downstairs to the studio that has been set aside for our use. The studio had exercise balls stacked in racks on one wall and kickboxing equipment in a corner. One wall was lined with full-length mirrors. We set up a check-in table by the door. Missy and Laura sat down behind the table with forms, pens, and nametags to welcome the children. I wrote up nametags for the children as they signed in. In the end, we had thirty-three children, ranging from four or so to ten or twelve. Some of them were friends of the Ws, but most of them were either in the regular YMCA daycare program or from the community. Laura had to ask a Hispanic mother for her children's names several times. Missy calmly signed up six kids despite the frustration of their mother. As the kids arrived, Brad and Logan drew them into a big game of duck-duck-goose. The circle soon stretched from one long wall of the rectangular room to the other. Most of the kids participated wholeheartedly, running and shouting. Their voices bounced off the hard walls, sandals and flip-flops sliding on the smooth floor. Some of them pulled faces in the big mirrors as they ran by. They cheered when Brad was chased, running with insoucient grace, and doing fancy flips as he slid into his seat. They laughed when Logan made horrified faces as a giggling little girl scurried after him, one tiny hand stretched out, trying to slap his waist.
At two o'clock, Clay came up and welcomed the children. He'd donned Mr. P's floppy hat and heavy knapsack, complete with rappelling ropes. He told the children a little about Christ as the rock of our salvation. Then Beth came up to lead singing, the same portion of Psalm 18 that we used for Stillwater VBS last week. The kids were a little cold at first, but Beth acted silly, exaggerating her enthusiasm, and slowly the kids warmed to her. Anna and David made funny faces at the kids while they held the posters with the words on them.
Next, everyone sat down, and Clay came up and told the story of the stoning of Stephen. Logan acted the part of Stephen, and David played the part of Saul. Clay talked about how Saul had a heart of stone, hardened to the Gospel. He explained to the children that Saul's heart of stone led him to be evil, to look the other way while Stephen was being killed.
After the Bible lesson, Brad marched all the kids up in two lines, their hands on one another's shoulders to make two trains. We all trooped upstairs to the basketball gym to play lions-tigers-and-bears. Brad lined everyone up against the wall and counted us off into kinds of animals. Then we ran to the two opposite ends of the gym, and the game began. Brad yelled, "Lions!" Logan and I ran forward with all the other lions, dodging the three kids who'd had yellow batons bestowed on them by Brad. These kids were the "hunters" and tried to tag the "animals". When Brad called for tigers, Clay and David roared and raised their arms while they ran, which made the kids laugh. The gym echoed with shouts, squeals, and laughs. The room wasn't airconditioned, but a couple of huge wire fans chugged away on the floor, puffing out warm air. The usual gym smells of old basketball rubber and sweat hung on the air. Mr. Parnell scooped up one of the smallest girls, Leeanna, and she clung to his back with thin white arms and legs. Her short, brown hair flopped into her face, but her two big, pansy-blue eyes smiled with glee as he ran carefully forward. Ruth held the brown hand of another small girl, Naomi.
One of the older girls, Katie, latched onto me. She had dark blond hair, a snub nose, and snapping blue eyes: a vivacious, confident girl. After the game, during snacks back in our room downstairs, she told me all about her family. She's the youngest, nine years old. She has five brothers and two sisters, but most of her siblings are grown-up. She has a cat named Spats and a couple of dogs. While she talked, I listened, keeping half an eye on the rest of the kids. The kids were sitting around in several large groups, mixed with the helpers. Logan had spotted some of the kids who'd been troublemakers and was sitting with them. The W girls were sitting with their friends, and Anna was sitting with another Anna, a little girl who'd been reluctant to participate. Mr. W strolled around with a big broom, sweeping up crumbs from the crunchy granola bars.
After snack, Anna lined everyone up against the mirrors. She asked Clay to hold the sign with the words of the verse. Laura helped her show the kids how to make the sign language motions to fit the verse, Ezekiel 36:26. Four boys goofed off until Mr. P came and stood by them. Most of the kids participated happily, though I doubt they'd ever seen anything like this before. After they'd gone through the verse a few times, Anna chose some of them to come up and help lead the verse.
When the memory verse time ended, Brad split the kids up into two groups. Some kids stayed behind to play duck-duck-goose, but most of the kids ran down the hall to play red-light-green-light in a racquetball court. In order to enter the racquetball court, we had to duck under a little low door. I stood against one wall and watched. Christi lined all the kids against the far wall, but she put Katie, the girl who's been hanging onto me, in charge. Katie had a little pink whistle, shaped like a train. "Green light!" Katie shouted. Everyone raced forward: Ruth with Naomi on her back, Logan with Leeanna on his back. A pair of small Hispanic boys stomped enthusiastically so that the echoes thudded like the noise of giants' feet. Then Katie blew her whistle for red light, and everyone stopped. We played games for thirty minutes or so, then returned to our room for the mission story.
Christi pulled on a nice blue jacket and sat down at a table in front of the kids. Missy sat down in a chair, and they did a TV-interview-style-skit about Sudan, giving the kids basic information about the climate, population, religion, foods, and culture of Sudan. After the mission presentation, at four o'clock, most of the parents arrived to pick up their kids. During this process, another massive game of duck-duck-goose was in progres.
A few of the parents had gotten the wrong message that VBS ended at four-thirty. We picked up the room so that it could be used for a kickboxing lesson, then sat outside in the hall area. There were fusball and air hockey tables. Logan played ping-pong with a boy who happened to walk by, while Mr. Parnell organized a running game of fusball with the left-behind kids. After most of the kids had been picked up, helpers started to leave. Katie took a load of girls in her car, and most of the boys drove in Clay's car. Mr. P and Laura left to drive back to Stillwater. I found myself left with Logan (still playing ping-pong), Brad, and Mr. W. Mr. W and Brad were playing air hockey. I sat on a bench and watched weight lifters in the weight lifting studio nearby. One man hefted some huge dumbbells ten times. His fat muscles heaved under his sunburned arms. Three Black boys sauntered past, sweat beaded on their foreheads. A family led by a mother with four small, blond girls and a couple of little boys pattered past, the girls' flip-flops thocking on the tile floor. The ping-pong ball skipped back and forth between the paddles, and the puck whacked against the sides of the air hockey table: staccato sounds.
Finally, the boys were ready. Mr. W and I drove back in Brad's car. Logan followed Brad.
At the Ws' house, people lounged around in the living room, resting. The W girls organized everyone to practice a song for talent night on Thursday: "We're doin' a show and we're doin' it right!" I sat in a corner with my laptop. Mrs. W served spaghetti for supper. We had to sit at two tables: the main dining room table, and a side table.
After supper, Mr. W took Brad, Logan, David, Nathaniel, Clay, Ruth, and me to Vance AFB to use the aircraft simulaters. Mr. W is an instructor for the airforce. The base sits aloof from the town in the middle of broad, flat pastures. Wind-beaten elm trees line the narrow road out to the base. Housing for airforce members huddles at one end of the base, low brown houses hiding under grey overhanging eaves. Mr. W flashed his ID to the guard at the gate, then pulled past the dormitories where the USAF unmarried students lived, and stopped in the parking lot in front of one of the training buildings. We trailed behind him as he led us inside.
We walked through long, narrow corridors. Cinderblock walls, concrete ceilings, tile floors. Naked piping ran along the ceiling, and bare flourescent bulbs gave a greenish, flickering light. We walked past many doorways: one for a Boeing maintenance room, one for a generator, and several classrooms. The hallway smelled like coffee, but also of other things, which I didn't recognize--bitter, rubber and metal smells. At the end of the hall we came to one of the simulator classrooms, and Mr. W escorted us in. The room smelled sterile and bitter--a smell like computer dust. On the right was the power generator against the wall. The room stretched to the left. Three huge black boxes marched down the room, taking up almost all the space except for narrow walkways between the boxes and the walls. These boxes were the simulators. The room was full of the whirr of the big fans which cool the computer and TV screens inside the simulators. Mr. W led us to the middle simulator. These simulators are for T-38 aircraft. There's a small platform, surrounded by a metal railing. On the platform is a desk with three monitors perched on it. The desk sits to one side of the platform. In the middle of the platform the pilot's chair is set, low down, and the screen opens above, in front, and on either side of the pilot's chair. Mr. W warned us that the screens are frangible, so we had to be careful as we ducked in and out of the pilot's chair.
Brad flew first. He took off, zooming the plane up the runway. Flying crazily, he managed to go above G level several times. David flew, and then Ruth flew. We watched the altitude, speed, and velocity indicators on one of the computer monitors. The green dials on the monitor were an exact replica of the cockpit indicators. There was also a monitor with video feed of the images on the simulator screen inside the cockpit, and a monitor for the instructor (Mr. W), which allowed him to control what the simulator showed. After Ruth flew, it was my turn. I flew fairly even most of the time, only trying one barrel roll. The brown-and-green countryside streaked past under the nose of the plane. A pale sun stood like the pointer of a compass in the blue sky above the low-slung seat.
Logan flew next, with a big grin on his face. "Exhilarating!" he said as he clambered out of the seat. He chatted with Ruth, the two of them hanging onto the metal railing around the edge of the platform. Clay and Nathaniel both flew next.
Then Mr. W led us back down the hall. He opened a door and briefly showed us the old hydraulic systems, which used to be the standard simulators. Next he took us to another big room. This room had a much higher ceiling than the T-38 room. The simulators in this room are for T-6 aircraft. When Mr. W opened the door, Ruth and I gasped a little. The T-6 simulators have a 270 degree surround screen, not like the 180 degree screen on the T-38 simulators. So the T-6 simulators are like big cylinders, black tubes--or like observatories. Stairs run up to a room inside the simulator. The bank of computer monitors is set to one side, and the pilot's seat is set low in the floor to the left of the monitors. The simulator screen runs almost all the way around inside the room, and slants up overhead, too. Ruth flew first. Mr. W moved her along the simulator map so that she flew over Stillwater. She and I laughed with delight as we recognized Boomer Lake, the football stadium at OSU, San Born Lake, Lake Carl Blackwell, and our home neighborhoods. Mr. W set the program to late dusk, and stars leaped out on the smooth simulator screen. The brown-green-cream land darkened, flecked with city lights. The square fields were like tiles of a mosaic.
Then it was my turn to fly. As I scrambled into the cockpit, Mrs. W and Anna stuck their heads into the simulator. They'd come to take Ruth and me home. I did a couple of barrel rolls, which made Anna woozy. It was fun to watch the countryside streak past below, to make the plane come about, banking the white wings. As close as I'll ever come to flying....
After Ruth and I had flown, Mrs. W drove us back to their house. The boys are still out at the simulator. Katie is asleep on her bed upstairs. Christi is trimming Ruth's hair in the kitchen: I can hear Ruth giggle, the soothing murmur of Christi's voice. Beth and Missy listen to 1950s music in the office, chuckling as they try to choose a piece for their skit on talent night. Mrs. W and Anna both sit in the living room. Mrs. W folds brochures for church, and Anna checks her e-mail on Missy's laptop. The computer plays the soundtrack to "Rigoletto", dreamy, fairytale music. The ceiling fans rattle and creak. A gentle close to the evening.
This morning when I woke up, the mission team boys were already outside mowing the Ws' lawn. We're all staying at the Ws' house in Enid to do door-to-door work and VBS this week. Anna and Ruth are here, too. Anna, Mrs. W, and I ate breakfast together before the W girls had returned from running, and before the boys had come inside from mowing. When the guys came in, they ate breakfast in shifts. Anna and I sat cross-legged on the dining room floor with my laptop, reading blogs and typing comments.
This morning, Mr. P and Laura drove over from Stillwater to go door-to-door for us. We prayed in the Ws' front room, then drove to the neighborhood Mr. P had chosen. It turned out to be a lower middle class neighborhood down by the grain elevator. Katie and I went together, leapfrogging with Brad and Nathaniel. We were out for about two hours. During the whole time, Katie and I met nary a person willing to talk to us. Everyone either shut the door in our faces, waved us away, or said, "No, thank you." Katie said she'd never before felt such a cold shoulder. "This is a town full of fuddie-duddies," she complained. "They all want to stay Baptist or Catholic. Those are ok. But conservative Presbyterians are fanatics." It was horribly hot, though a light wind helped to cool the boiling sunshine a little. We walked from house to house, standing on the small porches under the broad eaves. Occasionally someone would peep out at us, but hardly anyone came to the door.
Back at the Wagners' house during lunch, everyone sat around sharing stories of people they'd met. David and Anna had spent awhile arguing with an angry Gnostic, who'd produced classic Gnostic arguments and who'd yelled at them. Logan and Laura had met a female Pentecostal pastor, who'd prayed with them, spoken in tongues, and sung a song for them in tongues. They'd also met a man who'd just been released from jail. Christi and Beth had met a highschool girl who seemed confused about her beliefs but interested in learning about Christ.
After lunch, we drove over to the Enid YMCA for VBS. The YMCA is hosting our VBS this summer. The facility is large, with an indoor pool, a rock climbing tower, gyms, and a variety of weight lifting and exercising rooms. We checked in at the front desk, then trooped downstairs to the studio that has been set aside for our use. The studio had exercise balls stacked in racks on one wall and kickboxing equipment in a corner. One wall was lined with full-length mirrors. We set up a check-in table by the door. Missy and Laura sat down behind the table with forms, pens, and nametags to welcome the children. I wrote up nametags for the children as they signed in. In the end, we had thirty-three children, ranging from four or so to ten or twelve. Some of them were friends of the Ws, but most of them were either in the regular YMCA daycare program or from the community. Laura had to ask a Hispanic mother for her children's names several times. Missy calmly signed up six kids despite the frustration of their mother. As the kids arrived, Brad and Logan drew them into a big game of duck-duck-goose. The circle soon stretched from one long wall of the rectangular room to the other. Most of the kids participated wholeheartedly, running and shouting. Their voices bounced off the hard walls, sandals and flip-flops sliding on the smooth floor. Some of them pulled faces in the big mirrors as they ran by. They cheered when Brad was chased, running with insoucient grace, and doing fancy flips as he slid into his seat. They laughed when Logan made horrified faces as a giggling little girl scurried after him, one tiny hand stretched out, trying to slap his waist.
At two o'clock, Clay came up and welcomed the children. He'd donned Mr. P's floppy hat and heavy knapsack, complete with rappelling ropes. He told the children a little about Christ as the rock of our salvation. Then Beth came up to lead singing, the same portion of Psalm 18 that we used for Stillwater VBS last week. The kids were a little cold at first, but Beth acted silly, exaggerating her enthusiasm, and slowly the kids warmed to her. Anna and David made funny faces at the kids while they held the posters with the words on them.
Next, everyone sat down, and Clay came up and told the story of the stoning of Stephen. Logan acted the part of Stephen, and David played the part of Saul. Clay talked about how Saul had a heart of stone, hardened to the Gospel. He explained to the children that Saul's heart of stone led him to be evil, to look the other way while Stephen was being killed.
After the Bible lesson, Brad marched all the kids up in two lines, their hands on one another's shoulders to make two trains. We all trooped upstairs to the basketball gym to play lions-tigers-and-bears. Brad lined everyone up against the wall and counted us off into kinds of animals. Then we ran to the two opposite ends of the gym, and the game began. Brad yelled, "Lions!" Logan and I ran forward with all the other lions, dodging the three kids who'd had yellow batons bestowed on them by Brad. These kids were the "hunters" and tried to tag the "animals". When Brad called for tigers, Clay and David roared and raised their arms while they ran, which made the kids laugh. The gym echoed with shouts, squeals, and laughs. The room wasn't airconditioned, but a couple of huge wire fans chugged away on the floor, puffing out warm air. The usual gym smells of old basketball rubber and sweat hung on the air. Mr. Parnell scooped up one of the smallest girls, Leeanna, and she clung to his back with thin white arms and legs. Her short, brown hair flopped into her face, but her two big, pansy-blue eyes smiled with glee as he ran carefully forward. Ruth held the brown hand of another small girl, Naomi.
One of the older girls, Katie, latched onto me. She had dark blond hair, a snub nose, and snapping blue eyes: a vivacious, confident girl. After the game, during snacks back in our room downstairs, she told me all about her family. She's the youngest, nine years old. She has five brothers and two sisters, but most of her siblings are grown-up. She has a cat named Spats and a couple of dogs. While she talked, I listened, keeping half an eye on the rest of the kids. The kids were sitting around in several large groups, mixed with the helpers. Logan had spotted some of the kids who'd been troublemakers and was sitting with them. The W girls were sitting with their friends, and Anna was sitting with another Anna, a little girl who'd been reluctant to participate. Mr. W strolled around with a big broom, sweeping up crumbs from the crunchy granola bars.
After snack, Anna lined everyone up against the mirrors. She asked Clay to hold the sign with the words of the verse. Laura helped her show the kids how to make the sign language motions to fit the verse, Ezekiel 36:26. Four boys goofed off until Mr. P came and stood by them. Most of the kids participated happily, though I doubt they'd ever seen anything like this before. After they'd gone through the verse a few times, Anna chose some of them to come up and help lead the verse.
When the memory verse time ended, Brad split the kids up into two groups. Some kids stayed behind to play duck-duck-goose, but most of the kids ran down the hall to play red-light-green-light in a racquetball court. In order to enter the racquetball court, we had to duck under a little low door. I stood against one wall and watched. Christi lined all the kids against the far wall, but she put Katie, the girl who's been hanging onto me, in charge. Katie had a little pink whistle, shaped like a train. "Green light!" Katie shouted. Everyone raced forward: Ruth with Naomi on her back, Logan with Leeanna on his back. A pair of small Hispanic boys stomped enthusiastically so that the echoes thudded like the noise of giants' feet. Then Katie blew her whistle for red light, and everyone stopped. We played games for thirty minutes or so, then returned to our room for the mission story.
Christi pulled on a nice blue jacket and sat down at a table in front of the kids. Missy sat down in a chair, and they did a TV-interview-style-skit about Sudan, giving the kids basic information about the climate, population, religion, foods, and culture of Sudan. After the mission presentation, at four o'clock, most of the parents arrived to pick up their kids. During this process, another massive game of duck-duck-goose was in progres.
A few of the parents had gotten the wrong message that VBS ended at four-thirty. We picked up the room so that it could be used for a kickboxing lesson, then sat outside in the hall area. There were fusball and air hockey tables. Logan played ping-pong with a boy who happened to walk by, while Mr. Parnell organized a running game of fusball with the left-behind kids. After most of the kids had been picked up, helpers started to leave. Katie took a load of girls in her car, and most of the boys drove in Clay's car. Mr. P and Laura left to drive back to Stillwater. I found myself left with Logan (still playing ping-pong), Brad, and Mr. W. Mr. W and Brad were playing air hockey. I sat on a bench and watched weight lifters in the weight lifting studio nearby. One man hefted some huge dumbbells ten times. His fat muscles heaved under his sunburned arms. Three Black boys sauntered past, sweat beaded on their foreheads. A family led by a mother with four small, blond girls and a couple of little boys pattered past, the girls' flip-flops thocking on the tile floor. The ping-pong ball skipped back and forth between the paddles, and the puck whacked against the sides of the air hockey table: staccato sounds.
Finally, the boys were ready. Mr. W and I drove back in Brad's car. Logan followed Brad.
At the Ws' house, people lounged around in the living room, resting. The W girls organized everyone to practice a song for talent night on Thursday: "We're doin' a show and we're doin' it right!" I sat in a corner with my laptop. Mrs. W served spaghetti for supper. We had to sit at two tables: the main dining room table, and a side table.
After supper, Mr. W took Brad, Logan, David, Nathaniel, Clay, Ruth, and me to Vance AFB to use the aircraft simulaters. Mr. W is an instructor for the airforce. The base sits aloof from the town in the middle of broad, flat pastures. Wind-beaten elm trees line the narrow road out to the base. Housing for airforce members huddles at one end of the base, low brown houses hiding under grey overhanging eaves. Mr. W flashed his ID to the guard at the gate, then pulled past the dormitories where the USAF unmarried students lived, and stopped in the parking lot in front of one of the training buildings. We trailed behind him as he led us inside.
We walked through long, narrow corridors. Cinderblock walls, concrete ceilings, tile floors. Naked piping ran along the ceiling, and bare flourescent bulbs gave a greenish, flickering light. We walked past many doorways: one for a Boeing maintenance room, one for a generator, and several classrooms. The hallway smelled like coffee, but also of other things, which I didn't recognize--bitter, rubber and metal smells. At the end of the hall we came to one of the simulator classrooms, and Mr. W escorted us in. The room smelled sterile and bitter--a smell like computer dust. On the right was the power generator against the wall. The room stretched to the left. Three huge black boxes marched down the room, taking up almost all the space except for narrow walkways between the boxes and the walls. These boxes were the simulators. The room was full of the whirr of the big fans which cool the computer and TV screens inside the simulators. Mr. W led us to the middle simulator. These simulators are for T-38 aircraft. There's a small platform, surrounded by a metal railing. On the platform is a desk with three monitors perched on it. The desk sits to one side of the platform. In the middle of the platform the pilot's chair is set, low down, and the screen opens above, in front, and on either side of the pilot's chair. Mr. W warned us that the screens are frangible, so we had to be careful as we ducked in and out of the pilot's chair.
Brad flew first. He took off, zooming the plane up the runway. Flying crazily, he managed to go above G level several times. David flew, and then Ruth flew. We watched the altitude, speed, and velocity indicators on one of the computer monitors. The green dials on the monitor were an exact replica of the cockpit indicators. There was also a monitor with video feed of the images on the simulator screen inside the cockpit, and a monitor for the instructor (Mr. W), which allowed him to control what the simulator showed. After Ruth flew, it was my turn. I flew fairly even most of the time, only trying one barrel roll. The brown-and-green countryside streaked past under the nose of the plane. A pale sun stood like the pointer of a compass in the blue sky above the low-slung seat.
Logan flew next, with a big grin on his face. "Exhilarating!" he said as he clambered out of the seat. He chatted with Ruth, the two of them hanging onto the metal railing around the edge of the platform. Clay and Nathaniel both flew next.
Then Mr. W led us back down the hall. He opened a door and briefly showed us the old hydraulic systems, which used to be the standard simulators. Next he took us to another big room. This room had a much higher ceiling than the T-38 room. The simulators in this room are for T-6 aircraft. When Mr. W opened the door, Ruth and I gasped a little. The T-6 simulators have a 270 degree surround screen, not like the 180 degree screen on the T-38 simulators. So the T-6 simulators are like big cylinders, black tubes--or like observatories. Stairs run up to a room inside the simulator. The bank of computer monitors is set to one side, and the pilot's seat is set low in the floor to the left of the monitors. The simulator screen runs almost all the way around inside the room, and slants up overhead, too. Ruth flew first. Mr. W moved her along the simulator map so that she flew over Stillwater. She and I laughed with delight as we recognized Boomer Lake, the football stadium at OSU, San Born Lake, Lake Carl Blackwell, and our home neighborhoods. Mr. W set the program to late dusk, and stars leaped out on the smooth simulator screen. The brown-green-cream land darkened, flecked with city lights. The square fields were like tiles of a mosaic.
Then it was my turn to fly. As I scrambled into the cockpit, Mrs. W and Anna stuck their heads into the simulator. They'd come to take Ruth and me home. I did a couple of barrel rolls, which made Anna woozy. It was fun to watch the countryside streak past below, to make the plane come about, banking the white wings. As close as I'll ever come to flying....
After Ruth and I had flown, Mrs. W drove us back to their house. The boys are still out at the simulator. Katie is asleep on her bed upstairs. Christi is trimming Ruth's hair in the kitchen: I can hear Ruth giggle, the soothing murmur of Christi's voice. Beth and Missy listen to 1950s music in the office, chuckling as they try to choose a piece for their skit on talent night. Mrs. W and Anna both sit in the living room. Mrs. W folds brochures for church, and Anna checks her e-mail on Missy's laptop. The computer plays the soundtrack to "Rigoletto", dreamy, fairytale music. The ceiling fans rattle and creak. A gentle close to the evening.
15 July 2006
VBS, Day 5
Now Playing: "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" soundtrack by Howard Shore. Track 1, "The Prophecy". I've been listening to this on my "bug", but now it's playing on my laptop. I'd forgotten how magnificent this music is.
July 14, 2006
This morning after breakfast, Laura, Ruth, Anna, and I lounged around in the living room, reading. Anna curled up on the sofa with The Lays of Beleriand, while Laura sat down beside her with a book by Gene Stratton Porter. Ruth took the lazy boy with a “Dear America” diary, and I sat on the rocking chair with a Dorothy Sayers mystery. When my mother finished checking e-mail, we watched a “
At ten o’clock, I drove out to Mrs. B’s house to clean. Mrs. B pottered around the house, did some yardwork until it got too hot outside, then settled down on the back porch with a glass of water, a chanter, and sheet music for scales. She’s learning how to play the bagpipes, and while I mopped, the harsh buzz of the chanter whined behind the swish of the sponge over the tile floor. Her Siamese cat stared at me blankly from a leather rocking chair. I worked from ten until two, and when I returned home, I found everyone sitting around watching more “
Our first stop was the Salvation Army building. The door was locked, so we knocked until someone opened. Anna ran inside and grabbed her purse, which she’d accidentally left behind yesterday afternoon. Back in the car, we drove to Hobby Lobby. On the way, I asked Anna how she’d seen God working this week. She talked about the love that’s been shown through the mission team and the CY, and how encouraged she’s been to see the team interacting with the congregation and forming relationships. “I keep remembering, ‘Where two or more are gathered together in My name’,” she said. She talked what a delight it’s been to work with the kids, especially with the new kids from the neighborhood. We talked about J.D. and Stephen, whose testimonies were a big encouragement to both of us. It’s amazing to see these two boys grow up together.
At Hobby Lobby, we looked at scrapbooks for awhile. I’ve been trying to find a plain one to use for the RPM trip pictures (Scotland and Stillwater teams), but haven’t come up with anything yet. We spent most of our time browsing through the sticker collection, which was half-off, thanks to Crazy Dayz. I found sheets of stars and Fourth of July stickers, as well as some long-eyelashed sea creatures. Anna found ivy stickers and some elegant little party stickers to go with the pages from the costume party: black-and-white stickers of roses, stars, costumes, and picnic utensils. We also found a sheet of camping stickers with a raccoon peeping out of a tent, which seemed appropriate to the rappelling trip last week. We had lots of fun laughing at weird sports stickers, oohing and aahing over embossed irises and pansies, fingering glitter and sparkles. Our final stop was the bank, where I briskly deposited the check Mrs. Blair had given me. On the way home, we sang along with “Nickel Creek”, “When You Come Back Down”. Anna sang harmony, and I sang melody with Chris, both of us just enjoying the music. The song ended just as we pulled into the driveway.
The mission team had already arrived for supper. Logan, Clay, David, and Nathaniel were all camped out in the living room, talking to Laura, Stephen, and my father. During supper, my mother explained to the team about King Ranch in Texas. We had to eat briskly and leave by five forty-five in order to arrive at VBS in time. On the last day, VBS is always in the evening, at six o’clock. When we arrived at the Salvation Army building, though, the doors were locked. Anna and I sat in the car with the doors open, listening to “Ode to a Butterfly” and “In the House of Tom Bombadil”. Sweat trickled down my back. The bass blasted out of the speakers, and Anna mimicked the bassist with a goofy grin, her fingers boinking on the strings of an imaginary instrument. When the doors were open, everyone trooped inside.
While the kids went upstairs for opening exercises, I stayed downstairs with Katie and Mrs. P to prepare for crafts. Katie searched around in the big craft box for some little containers to hold her beads, stars, and sequins. As the teams cycled through the craft station, we helped them use the glitter and sequins to decorate cards with the day’s memory verse on it. Each time a team came through, they’d do their chant for us. The littlest group:
“Who are we?” Ruth asked.
“The Pebbles!”
“What do we do?”
“Get in your shoe!”
Then J.D.’s group. He and Stephen have the boys trained to march like soldiers.
“Attention!” J.D. roared. “Line up!”
All the boys stood with military precision at attention.
“Ok. At ease!” J.D. shouted in best sergeant style, and the boys spread their legs apart.
“Who are we?” J.D. yelled.
“Amish Flintstones!” the boys shouted back.
“What do we do?”
“We rock!”
The last group is the oldest group, led by Laura, Jessie, Betty, and Logan.
“Who are we?” Laura shouted at them as they marched upstairs.
“The Boulders!”
“What do we do?”
“We roll!”
Since the craft this time was fairly simple, my main job was to write the kids’ names on their cards. I’ve been the “name Nazi” all week. After that was done, I sat and watched. The Wagners brought three friends with them today, friends who are visiting from New Mexico. The middle child, a girl fourteen years old, said that her name is Naomi. She’s a beautiful girl: long reddish-brown hair that waves into long ringlets, slender, with freckles and slanted blue eyes. I sat and chatted with Missy and Naomi. Missy described how God has provided food for the Enid VBS. Beth, on the spur of the moment, went to a couple of restaurants. The managers at Chick-Fil-A and Western Sizzlin both gladly donated food to the cause: a hundred chicken nuggets and a hundred cookies. Missy, Naomi, and I told funny stories about age mix-ups. Nathaniel joined in by saying that when he’d first come to church, he thought Jessie and Betty were college-age, and Laura was twelve. I laughed about times when Anna has been mistaken for the mother of her siblings by clueless postmen.
As the evening went on, parents began to arrive. When games were over, Mr. P called everyone upstairs for the final presentation. He mustered all the kids up front in their groups. Beth and Anna led them in singing the VBS Psalm, “The Lord liveth! And blessed be my rock! And let the God of my salvation be exalted….” Then Anna and Rachel ushered the kids through their memory verse from Ezekiel. All the kids, from Dani and Rebekah to Mary and Emily, recited the verse smoothly, performing in unison the sign language to go with each word. Everyone clapped when the kids finished. Then Katie gave a slideshow presentation with pictures of the missionaries in Sudan for whom we’ve been raising money all week. Mr. P said we’ve raised over two hundred dollars, which is an amazing amount. After the slideshow, Mr. P prayed.
As soon as he finished, I raced downstairs to help Mrs. P fix rootbeer floats for everyone. While she scooped vanilla ice cream, I poured in the rootbeer. It foamed over the edges of the cup, making a white froth as it mixed with the ice cream. Soon everyone tramped downstairs. The kids were very eager. James, one of the boys who’s been visiting from the community, pushed to the head of the line, but Clay made sure he went back with his group. We served the littlest ones first, then the boys, and then the oldest ones. Kids brought sodas to their parents, who sat on chairs around the edge of the basement. Everyone seemed to be talking at ones. Dribbles of ice cream and rootbeer melted on the counter. Missy helped Mrs. P scoop ice cream, and Clay made sure that everyone had a spoon.
Standing behind the counter, I watched everyone. My mother, Katie, Mrs. F, and Beth were on one side, talking busily, laughing about something. Mr. P had sat down beside Mrs. D and was chatting quietly with her. Logan, my father, and Mr. Y were grouped around Mr. C, who was telling a funny story, or so it seemed. Clay, Nathaniel, Rachel, and Mr. S were back in a corner of the kitchen. Rachel stood next to her father with a big grin on her face. The small kids were literally climbing up the walls. Sam grabbed Christa and helped her shimmy up one of the poles that support the basement ceiling, while Hannah hefted Emily up to touch the ceiling tiles, and Susannah scrambled partway up another pole by herself.
Then Mary and Christa grabbed me and hauled me off to the quieter end of the room so that I could tell them a story. Emily, Raychel, and Susannah sat down, too. With Christa on my lap, Susannah on one side, and Mary on the other side, I launched into another preposterous alien story: about the two “baad” little aliens (whose names are Ruth and Anna, to Christa’s delight), who repented, and how they were chased by a bad guy in a black mask, who came to Christa’s house and scared everyone. This part of the story terrified the little girls. They shivered and clung to my arms. I went on to tell about how Christa and co. (in the story) trapped the bad guy in a net and threw water balloons at him until the police came. The little girls cheered and giggled delightedly when they heard about how the bad man’s boots got all soggy, and his gun and his cloak got all wet. While we sat there, people began to leave. The Ys left. Mrs. S came to collect Susannah. Logan and Nathaniel swept up grass, paper, and doo-dads, while Mr. P mopped.
When the story ended, I played duck-duck-goose with Mary and Christa until the brooms and mops came too close for comfort. We went outside. Laura calmed the little girls down a little bit by organizing a game of hide-and-seek with them. They hid behind the pillars outside the west wall of the church, while Laura, blindfolded, searched for them. I sat in the grass and watched. Treefrogs rasped in the elm trees in the neighborhood to the south. A nighthawk whirled through the dim sky. I hugged Anna a long good-bye and helped Clay and Nathaniel carry craft supplies to the Ps’ car. The women whose children had come to VBS, and who work for the Salvation Army, locked up the building. The F and P kids ran around on the lawn, playing tag, until their parents called them.
After the Fs and Ps left, it was just Laura, Stephen, me, and the mission team. Stephen and Laura were busy talking to Logan about a movie that J.D. wants to make with Logan in it. David asked me if there were any museums in Stillwater. He wants to visit museums tomorrow, which is the team’s free day. I told him about the museum in Gallagher-Iba Arena, and when he inquired about museums in Tulsa and Oklahoma City, I suggested the Gilcrease, the Philbrook, and the National Cowboy and Western Hall of Fame. He seemed quite interested in Western artwork, so I told him about the huge paintings of Western landscapes in the meeting hall of the Cowboy Hall of Fame.
Finally, I told everyone good-night. Laura and Stephen trailed behind me to the car. We drove home with the windows open. The sky had turned the color of a full-blown hydrangea flower, watery pink and blue and purple. As we drove past the restaurants on Hall of Fame Street, the greasy smell of fast food blew into the car. Neon lights glowed along the strip, spilling fluorescent color in the gloaming. Beads of water from the humid air condensed on the windshield, breaking lights into thousands of tiny, many-colored pieces. Streetlights striped the road with long strips of light and shadow. A monster pickup truck chugged diesel beside us at a stoplight. A police car purred past. Crickets rasped from an empty lot along the creek bed. We passed Kyoto, one of the last restaurants on the road home, and the smell of spicy Japanese food wafted through the windows. Back at home, Laura and Stephen bathed. My mother and I sorted out logistics for the weekend and the week ahead: tutoring Hannah and Rebekah tomorrow afternoon, Anna coming over to spend the night again tomorrow, packing for the trip to Enid for VBS next week, planning for the visit of Uncle Edd and David next Friday.
Then bed, at last.
13 July 2006
VBS, Day 3
Now Playing: "Harvest Storm" by Altan. Track 3, "King of the Pipers".
July 12, 2006
At nine-thirty, Laura, Stephen, and I drove to VBS. As always, the kids had organized another big game of duck-duck-goose to play while people arrived. As kids came, they joined in. Today small Emily C came with her siblings. She’s been sick with a fever these past days, but today she participated with delight in all the activities. She sat and beamed at us during the game, clueless as to what she was supposed to do. So when it was her turn, I took her by her little brown hand and led her around the circle, patting each child on the head.Logan
July 12, 2006
At nine-thirty, Laura, Stephen, and I drove to VBS. As always, the kids had organized another big game of duck-duck-goose to play while people arrived. As kids came, they joined in. Today small Emily C came with her siblings. She’s been sick with a fever these past days, but today she participated with delight in all the activities. She sat and beamed at us during the game, clueless as to what she was supposed to do. So when it was her turn, I took her by her little brown hand and led her around the circle, patting each child on the head.
Today I visited all three stations during VBS. First, I sat with Katie at the Bible story station.
Next I went to the memory verse station, which is led by Anna and Rachel. The littlest group, the Pebbles, were at the station while I was visiting. “Who are we?” asked Ruth, their leader. “The Pebbles!” the little girls shouted back. “What do we do?” she asked. “Get in people’s shoes!” they returned, which has a double meaning when applied to these small creatures. They participated in the memory verse with some help: Mary seemed more inclined to talk about her dogs and cats than to make the hand motions that fitted with the verse. After being at the memory verse, I went out to help the girls with their craft. Today they’re putting verses into their fan-shaped books. I cut and glued for kids who were lagging behind.
When all three groups had rotated through all three stations, from 10:30 to 11:30, it was time for snacks and games. The oldest two groups went outside, but the little ones stayed indoors for their snacks. Mary and Christa were being fractious, so I sat down beside them and told them another outlandish story about aliens. Christa and Mary demanded that it be about “bad little aliens and one good little alien and Christa and Mary”. (At the mention of the “good little alien”, Christa batted her eyelashes.) Christa giggled evilly whenever the “bad little aliens” were mentioned in the story. When the kids finished their snack, I turned them over to Ruth and Hannah. Ruth and Hannah marched the little ones outside for games, passing the troop of older kids as they marched inside for snacks. Beth and I passed out water and trail mix to the older kids. After all the kids had been marched upstairs for closing exercises, Katie and I swept up. The harsh broom bristles slithered over the linoleum floor. When the kids came back downstairs after closing exercises, I passed out books and bags of trail mix.
Then the helpers settled down around the table for lunch. There was the usual dose of silliness: teasing Anna and Ruth about drinking blue bug’s blood (they were drinking Gatorade), stealing J.D.’s hat, and Anna and Ruth singing songs about viruses, phylum, floem, algae, and fungi to the tunes of “Yankee Doodle”, “Oh, Susannah!”, “My Darling Clementine”, and the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”. Laura went home right after VBS today to bake cookies for crafts/snacks tomorrow and to help my mother with supper for tonight, so Katie joined me for the traditional after-lunch game of Scattergories.
At one-thirty, Mr. P came back with the clipboards, flyers, and brochures. We prayed, then went out for door-to-door. We drove over to the Will Rogers Elementary School neighborhood, to the north of OSU. Mr. P didn’t go out with us, and Laura was missing, so we had a team of three: Logan, Ruth, and me. The three of us went with David, Clay, and Brad into the east part of the neighborhood. Many of the houses in this area have been bought by OSU and are slated for demolition in preparation for OSU’s new “sports park”. It was sad to see some of the older houses with their shutters torn off, their porches aslant, and their wooden siding rotting away. Logan, Ruth, and I knocked on many empty doors. We had perhaps half-a-dozen people in the two-and-a-half hours we were out.
The afternoon crawled away slowly. A cicada buzzed and thudded on the concrete in its death throes. Cottonwood fluff, feeling some current of air, floated like falling stars in the deep shadow of the trees along a creek. On the still air, I could hear phones ringing, dogs barking, a door slamming. Across McElroy Street, closer to the university, demolition had already begun on an apartment complex. A huge backhoe cranked over the heap of boards and bricks. I heard wood crack and glass shatter as its trap-like bucket shoveled through the pile. Logan walked quickly down the street, but Ruth lagged behind as we returned to the cars. Logan threatened that if she didn’t hurry up, he’d ring the doorbell when it was her turn and make her run to the door. She said she had a headache. At three-thirty, we drove back to the church office, and more people shared their testimonies. Katie gave a candid, strong testimony. Anna gave an intense testimony. Mr. P dismissed us at four-thirty. Anna and Ruth came home with Stephen and me to spend another night.
At home, we found my mother wrapping up preparations for supper. The tables had been pushed together in the dining room and set with places for twelve. The smells of curry, rice, and blueberry muffins trailed through the house from the kitchen. Since most of the work had already been done, we settled down in front of the DVD player and watched a little bit of "The Chronicles of Narnia". Just as we reached the part in the battle where the Narnians are in full gallop toward the Witch’s host, their spear-points lowered, pennants flying, Brad rang the doorbell. We howled with mock disappointment. Brad and Logan were the only ones to arrive: Clay, David, and Nathaniel had borrowed Logan’s car and were coming later. When the rest of the mission team arrived, it was suppertime. We all sat around the long table in the dining room and ate a sumptuous meal. During the meal, my mother quizzed Brad about his training and work as a firefighter in Idaho. As soon as supper was over, I changed into my swimsuit. Everyone else sat downstairs and watched a “Three Stooges” short, “You Nazti Spy”. Then Laura, Anna, Nathaniel, and I drove to the Carrolls’ house to pick up Katie, who was going to join us for the usual CY swimming night.
At the pool, we found the Ps waiting. The Ys and the Ss with Dani joined us. This was the first time I’d been in the water all summer, and I delighted in it: leaping in with a splash, swimming from one end of the pool to the other, diving, turning cartwheels, spinning, shooting underwater on my back, gliding along the bottom. Light feathered my arms with rippling pinions, and I flew through the water.
Laura and I went down the slide together. A little black girl with two frizzy ponytails was standing in line in front of us. She turned around, squinted up, and chirped, “You two look like twins.” Laura and I looked at each other and laughed. Whizzing down the slide into the deep end, the water was cold against my legs. A satisfying splash ended the ride. Logan was going down also, and he made several large splashes. Back in the big pool, the boys had found a nerf ball and were tossing it around. One boy would take the ball and stand back four or five yards from the rest of the boys, who would cluster together. The single boy would toss it at the other boys, who would all try to grab it. While I watched, other kids in the pool started to play. A trio of ditzy girls stood between the single boy and the rest of the boys, giggling and trying to snatch the ball. A couple of black boys joined in.
After awhile, when Nathaniel asked me for my car keys to get something out of the car, I scrambled out of the pool to oblige. Instead of getting back into the water, I sat on the side of the pool and watched the activities. Evening was coming down. Instead of sunlight lacing the pool floor, the water opaquely reflected the sunset. Smooth waves like marbles rolled the sky between them: black, turquoise, peach, aquamarine. The mural of the Japanese wave in front of Mount Fuji on the half-moon back of the nearest building began to fade into twilight. I watched the kids playing in the pool. Right beside me, Joseph clung to the metal gutter running along the side of the pool. Stephanie held him gently around his waist. He quacked and splashed cheerfully, grinning up at me. Mr. Y came up with Raychel, and the four of them made a pretty family group together, the two little ones dabbling happily in their parents’ arms. In the middle of the pool, Will had confiscated one of the long foam noodles. He squinted down it as though it were a telescope, then blew down it and squirted water out, then smacked it down in the middle of a group of little girls. They started to splash him. Brad was being chased by a boy I didn’t know. His tanned arms slashed through the water. Stephanie and Joseph, strolling away through the pool, splashed Brad as he passed by. Brad grinned at Stephanie as she, with an innocent grin, pointed to Joseph as the culprit. Logan, J.D., Sam, and Stephen were engaged in a water fight. Logan grimaced and ducked in mock-superhero style as J.D. pretended to punch him. Anna, Laura, Ruth, and Hannah were chasing David and Clay around the pool. Clay had swiped one of their noodles, and they were trying to win it back. Clay shouted that the orcs were after him and called to “Frodo” (David) to help. I shook my head, with a little laugh, because David had apparently “stolen” “my” name. Mrs. S and my mother were in the water, standing by the side of the pool, talking and giggling like a pair of little girls—but giggling about their children. Mrs. Spitler’s hand slipped on the metal gutter, and she flipped upwards. She and my mother collapsed into laughter. Katie was sitting next to me, hugging Joseph in her arms. He was shivering, blue with cold, but he still smiled and chuckled happily as she cooed at him.
I sat, remembering it all: Watching the light glancing up off the water onto their faces, watching the stars start to gleam out like silver leaves flashing in the sky. Chlorine-stiff hair, cool skin, water splashing my toes, rough concrete under my haunches. “It couldn’t be anymore beautiful….”
Eventually, I did get back into the water, and joined in with Anna, Hannah, and Ruth, who were being teased mercilessly by Clay and David. But then my mother, who’d had to get out of the water because of a foot cramp, called out that it was time for us to go. So I clambered out of the pool, wrapped on a towel, and marched to the car. We had to squeeze into the car on the drive home: Laura, Ruth, Stephen, and Anna in the back seat, and Katie, my mother, and me in the front seat. Everyone bundled up in their damp towels. I rolled down the windows, and we whizzed through town blasting out Altan, “Harvest Storm” on the CD player. “Ah, this is the way to end the day. Listening to Altan with the windows open,” Anna sighed happily. Ruth, Stephen, and Laura were being very silly, tickling each other, giggling, and bouncing up and down in the back seat. They tried to get Laura to lie down across their laps so that no police officer would see the extra head poking over the seat, but Laura refused to stay down for long. We dropped Katie off at the Cs’ house, where she would spend the night, and drove home ourselves. Crickets chirped cheerfully, in tune with the fiddle, from blooming crepe myrtle bushes as we pulled into the driveway.
05 July 2006
Fourth of July
Now Playing: "Nickel Creek", by Nickel Creek. Track 6, "When You Come Back Down".
Here's an edited journal entry from the fourth of July party yesterday. I'll put pictures up on my photobucket when I get a chance. You all know how to go there already.
N.B.: Posts during the month of July will be longer than usual for the sake of Sarah, Elizabeth, and Danielle, who are out-of-town right now, and who asked for updates about the goings-on at home.
July 4, 2006
Here's an edited journal entry from the fourth of July party yesterday. I'll put pictures up on my photobucket when I get a chance. You all know how to go there already.
N.B.: Posts during the month of July will be longer than usual for the sake of Sarah, Elizabeth, and Danielle, who are out-of-town right now, and who asked for updates about the goings-on at home.
July 4, 2006
We ate a quiet lunch this afternoon. Then Laura baked corndish for the Wagners’ picnic tonight, and I baked cookies. Just as the cookies were finishing, at about two-thirty or so, the sky started to get dark. It rapidly got darker and darker, and there were mutters of thunder. My mother ran outside to see if it was going to rain. She soon got her answer: at first a few silver drops, then a pelting hail of rain. Laura, Stephen, and I dashed outside. I swung my arms open wide, and rain spotted my skin. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky, so we stayed close to the house.
Despite the downpour, we left for
My father stood and talked to Mr. Wagner and Mr. Spitler. Mrs. Parnell and Mrs. Fisher brought Calvin outside in his wheelchair. He sat wrapped up in a blanket, peeping over the edge, watching the game. Mrs. Spitler sat on the brick wall with Rachel and Anna. Hannah stood near them and took pictures. To the southwest, lightning flashed. The sky overhead was dark and angry. Mr. Spitler said that they’d seen a house on fire on their drive up to
When the game of football ended, the kids organized a game of ultimate frisbee. I decided to join, and so did Mr. Wagner, though he wore his knee brace. As Austin threw the frisbee for the “kickoff”, the frisbee sprang from his hand, darting upward, kite-like, then angling back as its arc was sheered off by the wind. Throughout the game, the wind made throwing the frisbee an art because every time the blue disc curved over the trees, the wind would either send it spinning far away or slice it backwards. Mr. Parnell, J.D., and Stephen were especially good. It was a pleasure to watch the trio as they hiked the frisbee up the field, J.D. leaping gracefully into the air to catch it from his father, then sending it spinning away to Stephen, who sprinted ahead and snatched it down easily. Several times, the frisbee sailed under the neighbors’ barbed wire fence. Stephen, rolling under the fence, snagged his arm and had to go inside for a band-aid. The game grew quite heated, not only physically—Beth and Mr. Wagner played intensely on opposing teams. Mr. Wagner accidentally whacked Laura in the mouth when she was guarding him, giving her a swollen lip. Beth tumbled over the ground after the frisbee. “That was a boy catch!” Anna laughed as Beth sprang up with grass in her hair, “I didn’t think girls ever dove after the frisbee!” Austin and his brother, Steven, added a happy-go-lucky element to the game. Katie sat by the wall, restraining Reese, who tugged at her collar and whined because she wanted to join the game. The field was too crowded to let her enter, though. I twisted my ankle, so I stood on the wall for awhile and watched. The green field scattered with varying shades of red, blue, and gold, the players’ shirts, looked like a painter’s drop-cloth or a field of wind-tossed wildflowers. Of course, the team with Mr. Parnell, J.D., Stephen, and Austin won.
After the game, everyone was red-faced and panting. The wind had died down, and the air was dangerously hot and heavy. The Pattersons pulled in, the last people to arrive. Mr. Spitler, Mrs. Wagner, and my father had been grilling the meat people had brought. Everyone gathered on the back porch for supper. Fragrant smoke from the grill swirled over the porch and away through the mulberry tree. Mr. Parnell thanked God for the food, and then we started to eat. Each family had brought their own meat, but we shared the side dishes in common: guacamole and chips, deviled eggs, Beth’s strawberry-and-cream pie, peach pie, cookies, baked beans, corndish, etc. I sat with Brioni and asked her about her grandmother, whom she visited while I was in Scotland. A row of little girls sat in folding chairs across the porch from us. Someone had twisted pipecleaner stars into Dani’s hair, and they bobbed like bunny ears over her two ponytails. Mary and Christa sipped at cans of Coke, trying to outdo one another. Anna carried Calvin inside onto the sofa so that he could eat. He showed off his pipecleaner spider to her. In the middle of the meal, though, he got sick again. A distracted Mrs. Fisher came outside and called her kids to go to the car. As Anna and I walked to the car with the cooler, I offered her a ride home in our car if she wanted to stay for the fireworks. Mrs. Fisher said that Anna could come home with us, and told Ruth to sit by Calvin in case he got sick again. We waved the Fishers’ white van good-bye as they drove away, with our prayers.
Brioni, Anna, and I finished our suppers together. Then Anna went off to try to find some Celtic music to dance to, while Brioni and I sat and watched a game of volleyball with Rachel. Finally, Anna managed to ferret out one of the Wagners’ CD players and a CD of Celtic music from the Parnells. She, my mother, Laura, Will, and Abigail formed couples and performed the four-hand reel and the two-hand reel on the Wagners’ back porch, for an admiring audience. They crossed, spun, and kicked vigorously. Anna grinned, but Laura frowned with concentration. After they finished their ceilidh, we folded up the chairs, put the food away, and headed out for the fireworks display in Enid. As we drove into Enid, my mother and Stephen rubbed themselves with mosquito repellant. The car reeked.
In Enid, we found cars backed up and parked everywhere, clustering around the city park where the display was to be held. We parked in a lot near the park and walked the rest of the way. People were sitting everywhere on the little hills above the small pond. The smells of cigarette smoke and bug repellant hung on the still air. Across the pond, the orchestra played in a pavilion. Speakers broadcast the music across the park. We sat where we sat last year, at the east end of the pond, in a place where the fireworks would be clearly visible over the trees. Below us, the hill fell down steeply to a rocky drainage ditch. Logan, Christi, and some of the younger kids went down the hill and across the ditch to an open place, to play frisbee. My parents sat and chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Parnell and Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, while Missy rounded up nearly everyone else to play Mao. Anna, Laura, David, Steven, Austin, Katie, Beth, Clay, Will, J.D., and Missy sat on a picnic blanket with the cards spread out in front of them. Sam and I watched and made funny comments, especially when Laura smacked down her cards at one point and shouted, “Point of order! No, it’s not!” in contradiction to a penalty card Austin had tossed at her. Dusk fell quickly under the heavy clouds. People’s red shirts turned maroon in the gloaming.
When it was almost fully dark, Mr. Parnell got up and asked Will, Abigail, and Mary if they wanted to play with sparklers. I followed them down the hill across the ditch. Mr. Parnell lit Mary’s sparkler last and told her to be careful with it. She blinked her five-year-old blue eyes at him demurely and waved her sparkler in the air like a scepter. Abigail traced stars and hearts in the dark with the smoke from her sparkler. Will brandished two sparklers out straight in front of him like a pair of lightsabres. The embers bounced onto the dry grass. Mr. Parnell asked me if I wanted one, so I took one and wrote my friends’ names against the sky with smoke and sparkles. Glancing around the park, I could see other sparklers glittering, scattered like fireflies over the green lawns. The little kiddy train chugged past on its rails, its bell tinkling as its wheels clicked over the tracks. In the drainage ditch, knuckle-rubbers chuckled from pools full of bubbly algae. When Mao ended, Anna and I stood and watched the kids play frisbee. When the frisbee flew into the drainage ditch, J.D. and Stephen threw rocks at it to try to push it across a pool to Logan. “Stop that! You’re giving him a shower!” I laughed as Logan jumped back, splattered with filthy water.
After awhile, we scrambled up the hill. I lay down on one of the blankets. The orchestra, which had been playing songs from musicals, struck up Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”. Suddenly, in the midst of the music, a rocket went off across the pond. It arced through the air, then fell into darkness. This marked the beginning of the fireworks display, which was coordinated with the music, so that as each new piece of music began, a different part of the display went off. Rockets burst upwards like arms sleeved in gold brocade. White screamers squiggled outward like tadpoles, or shattered into a thousand angular arms, like firey starfish. Huge Roman candles sent up showers of golden rain, like the drooping branches of willow trees, spangled with stars. Green candelabra laced the clouds, each tier beaded with a golden gem. Rockets blazed up on yellow stalks, then blew outward like seeds from wind-tossed dandelions. When the orchestra played “Oklahoma!”, crimson Roman candles and rockets lit the sky, red as fields of Indian paintbrushes. When the orchestra struck up the USAF anthem, the Wagner girls sang along. Finally, the orchestra played, “Stars and Stripes Forever”. We gasped as red, white, and blue rosettes exploded, staining the sky with brave color. The light of the fireworks was so brilliant that we could see one another’s faces, uplifted to the blazing sky. As if in reply, the sky to the north flashed with lightning. When the display was over, we applauded and cheered. The final echoes of the fireworks reverberated from the city buildings like a full-gun salute. The dark sky was stained with smoke, for there was no wind to blow it away, and the air smelled like sulfur and gunpowder.
We walked back to the cars through thick crowds of people. “There’s only one traffic jam in Enid, and that’s on fourth of July,” Missy giggled. In the car on the way home, Stephen and I sat in the back seat. We watched fireworks burst sporadically from outlying farms, brilliant rings of color flung courageously against the stormy sky. Along the highway, Enid, Hennessy, Bison, and other small towns lay cradled in the dark hills, city lights like embers left behind from the fireworks.
04 July 2006
pictures
Well, my congratulations to the faithful souls who survived and commented upon that last post.
If you go to my photobucket account, you can see a few of the pictures from Scotland. Go to
www.photobucket.com
And type in Elfellyn as the username and psalm84 as the password.
If you go to my photobucket account, you can see a few of the pictures from Scotland. Go to
www.photobucket.com
And type in Elfellyn as the username and psalm84 as the password.
01 July 2006
the Highlands
On the Wednesday before we left, Charles and Graham, two men from the church, took us on a day trip into the Highlands of Scotland. This is a slightly edited version of my journal entry from that day.
June 28, 2006
June 28, 2006
This morning I was really groggy when I woke up. I did a brief devotional on Psalm 114, then helped Rachel fix breakfast. We had half-an-hour until Charles (Mr. Muir) and Graham were supposed to come and take us touring in the
Charles and Graham were somewhat late. Charles Muir is one of the deacons in the church. He’s got grizzled grey hair, and is the father of three or four daughters and one young son, who was baptized two weeks ago. He’s a great joker, especially around Brenda and Missy, but I’ve had several good, serious conversations with him. Graham is short and rather stout, with white hair and dark eyebrows, and a jaunty stride. Charles was our driver, and Graham was our tour guide. He told me that he’s walked from
We drove through Airdrie and Glasgow. Looking out the window, I saw horses and cattle grazing in yellow fields of rape. A deer browsed on the edge of a pasture. To my delight, I also saw a brown-and-white flecked hawk, perched on a fencepost--the first raptor I’ve seen since we came to
Strolling down the path from the church, we came out on the shores of the loch. Swarms of midges hovered in the air. Pale sand sloped down into the water. We walked along the shore of the loch for awhile. Small sailboats clustered along the shore. A woman in a short blue dress threw pebbles into the water, and her white bulldog splashed enthusiastically after them. In a bay, some brown ducks and a pair of white swans sailed placidly. On the other side of the loch, the
We strolled back to the van through the village. Missy and I brought up the rear, sauntering along. The smell of sun-dried hay blew from a back yard where someone was mowing their lawn. The low brown cottages were overgrown with roses, and we paused many times to smell the full-blown flowers. Peach, pale pink, cream, deep red, crimson, and gold edged with vivid magenta. The sweet, citrusy smell of the roses hung like a faint brightness on the air. Above the village, to the south, a green hill reared. Sunshine flamed over the green, iridescent light leaping down the steep slopes. “Look at that green! There are no words to describe that green. You could study the English language forever, and never find words for it,” Missy declared.
Back in the van again, the road ran up steeply. We left behind the verdant area around Loch Lomond and entered the forbidding part of the
We drove down from these mountains, for an hour or so, to Inverary. Inverary has the castle of the Duke of Argyll and is the seat of one of the Scottish clans. It sits on the
We ate lunch sitting in a patch of clover just outside the church’s gate. Charles bit into his sandwich and at first thought that the toothpaste was some weird sort of American mayonnaise, until he got a good mouthful of it. Missy and Brenda were delighted by his disgust.
After lunch, Graham turned us loose to roam the town for forty-five minutes. I trailed off by myself. I climbed down a seawall and walked slowly along the shore of the loch. Among rocks and sand I found purple clamshells and collected them idly. My feet crunched in dried heaps of brown seaweed. Out on the lake, chunky trollers fished on the grey water. The waves were steel grey, rising and falling under the chilly wind. I stood and watched while the sun struck down through the clouds. Sparks of white and pale yellow leaped out on the dappled water. After awhile, I returned to the town and walked along a jetty. People were fishing from the end of the jetty. While I stood staring over the loch, a man flipped in a line with four or five fish flapping and struggling on the end. They were small, wiry fish, with sharply-pointed black fins and white underbellies. I strolled off the jetty to a green area along the shore. People were eating their lunches on benches, or walking their dogs, or just sitting and gazing across the water. I stood on the edge of the seawall and surveyed the area. To my left, the peaks of the castle poked above the trees. On a high hill above the castle, a stone watchtower perched like a crow. Below the watchtower, near the castle, the stone bridge arched over an inlet of the lake. Ahead of me, far across the lake, the mountains marched away, height on height, fading from green to blue to grey. To my right, beyond the jetty, beyond the flat, sword-shining water, a long arm of the mountains bordered the distant shore. I was reminded again of the hills as waves. Not the long, rolling swells of the Lowland hills, but the high breakers of the
Once everyone was back at the car, we drove over to the castle. We didn’t have time or money to go inside, but we strolled about on the grounds that were open to the public (the Duke still lives there, so most of the grounds are private--and we could see mundane glimpses of kitchen counters and trashcans through half-open windows). Peering through the gates, Michaela and I saw a field of lush grass running into a grove of trees. Carefully-manicured spires of spruce and fir draped above the gravel path. A copper beech glinted purple in the sun. In the shadow of a spruce tree, Michaela spotted a stone eagle standing poised for flight on a tall pillar. As we drove out of the castle grounds, Charles stopped the car so that Michaela and Graham could pet one of the shaggy highland cattle grazing beside the road. The cattle stared dumbly at the cameras pointed at it.
We drove up again. Red fir trunks and white birch stems marched up the slopes, tall, slender, and straight. We drove past Loch Awe, where the ruins of Castle Kirkintilloch stand on an island in the middle of the water. Charles drove us to a small church, St. Conan’s Kirk, nestled on the side of the loch. Built out of red stone, the church was covered with clusters of feathery fern and moss. Clematis, fir trees, and massive rhododendron bushes buried the little roofs and the slender spire in foliage. We strolled inside. Missy, delighted with the acoustics, started to sing. Her voice drifted on and off pitch, but she was so happy that no one really minded. The actual sanctuary has been expanded with a curved bay of windows in the front. In the front of the church, I sat down in a wooden chair carved with a pair of feathered fish on the sides. The clear windows behind me in the bay were frosted with moss and grit. A stained-glass rose window, covered with a throng of cherubs, hung over the organ at the back of the church. Flipping through the guest book, I found names from all over the world: St. Etienne’s, France;
After we left the church, the highlands began to remind me of the
Graham and Charles rounded everyone up, and we drove away. The land around
Glen Orchy gave way to Glencoe (which I would spell "Glen Coe" to distinguish it from Glencoe in Oklahoma, but on the maps, signs, etc. it is spelled "Glencoe). And the feeling of proud welcome was gone, turned into stern loneliness. Green became grey. Bracken gave way to short grass, which bowed under the lashing wind. Brown furze, like clots of seaweed, was at first starred with yellow flowers, but at last even the flowers disappeared. Rocks poked like black-barnacled seashells through the grass. The land was not good even for pasture, though a few sheep grazed up high, like fragile flakes whirled against the crags. I opened the window, and the wind roared in--cold, exhilarating, smelling scoured-clean. We were at sea among the crags, as lonely and cold as though we had been in the middle of the
At the mouth of the glen, the land ran up in short slopes. Narrow tracks skirting the edges of the cliffs marked the
A hard, lonely land. Graham used the word “stern” over and over. Lonely. Empty. Barren. Callous. We drove past three houses in an hour, each house separated from its neighbor by many, many miles. One house huddled alone at the foot of a crag, with a couple of barns clustered nearby. Its grey roof blended in with the stone--only the white walls showed against the misty moor behind, and in the snow, even these would disappear. I thought of the whirling cold of the snow, the loneliness of a human being lost in these mountains.
We stopped at a Shell station on the far edge of Glencoe. I bought a double Mars bar and gave the other half to Missy as we drove on. She’d never had one before. “You’re my hero,” she sighed happily. I sucked on the creamy filling, caramel and chocolate, and watched the hills glide past. They were lower now, more like the area around Glen Orchy.
As we drove up toward
Our last stop was
Back outside, we strolled through the shops more. We passed pubs, a butcher’s shop, clothing stores, a library, and a retail store. All the signs were written in English and Gaelic. Michaela stopped into a Scottish store to look for a plaid blanket. Then I led us exploring down to the beach.
We turned away and went back to the town. This time we walked up through the town, which is built in ridges. We climbed steep streets and flights of stairs, up and up, into the neighborhoods which look out over the loch. But there was no path that would lead us out of the town into the mountains, so we returned to the town again. We found
We ate supper at a restaurant similar to the one where we’d eaten on the way back from Wigtown on the last day of the Covenanter tour.
After supper, we were back on the road again for three hours. We drove back through Glencoe. The crags were even more stern, even more lonely, even more dark as night fell. The clouds had begun to come down lower, sweeping quickly over crests and cliffs. I shivered--the mountains were almost evil in their loneliness.
I listened to the “Fellowship of the Ring” soundtrack. The grandly lonely music was appropriate to these cold, open spaces--age-old, unshaken.
As we drove down, the land became more welcoming. Woods of fir trees gathered darkness about themselves. Endless rows of black, straight trunks fleeted past. As the light dimmed, the ferns on the forest floor gleamed faintly blue through the shadows, as though reflecting the darkening sky. The woods gave way to open, rolling hills. I saw a small white cottage huddled under fir and spruce trees, like a cygnet cuddled under dark wings.
Open hills gave way to city. We skirted
The last strains of “May It Be” drifted away as we drove down into Airdrie.
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