Wall Words for People Like Us

If you are not living under a rock and decorating your house with moss and acorns, then you know that Wall Words are all the rage.

"BELIEVE," you are instructed in vinyl letters in a bold script above a bookshelf as you step inside the front door.
"Be kind, be silly, be honest" waltzes down the wall of the hallway.
"Create joy" says the sewing room.

If you automatically do everything you're told your whole life, like me, it can be a bit overwhelming.

I have been just a bit sniffy about wall words, mostly because when you have no talent for decorating or being up on the trends, you can kind of salve your ego by being lofty and superior.  "Well.  THAT will soon show up at garage sales next to the ceramic geese with blue bows."

But then someone gave me a wall plaque with SMUCKER in the background overlaid with "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord," and I really liked it.  It is hanging in the kitchen.

I am considering buying some wall words, especially since someone is selling them as a fundraiser for a mutual friend.

So I have been going through the online catalog, and oh dear, I am getting sniffy again.

A lot of the words are about families.

They are beautiful words, in dreamy arrangements, balanced and flowing and artistic, in appropriate script.

And to me they seem to apply to dreamy, balanced, appropriate families.  Not to us.

"In this home we are family, we give hugs, we do love."

"The love of a family makes life beautiful."

"Family memories are treasured heirlooms."

Don't get me wrong.  We are a family, we love each other, but somehow we do not do dreamy and mushy and follow our example to get it right and wander arm-in-arm across the meadow picking daisies.

I give you, as an example, a bit of today's supper-dishes conversation:

Jenny: If you can't think of things to do at my funeral, quote this line from Walk Two Moons.  It's in the book at least twice.  You can alter it if you need to.  It's really sad: [soft mournful dramatic voice] "It can't be dead.  It was alive a minute ago."
Steven: I'll remember that.  I'll remember to call you an 'it.'
Jenny: I SAID you can CHANGE it to fit the OCCASION!!!


Maybe I need to design some wall words just for us.

In this home

we are family

(even those who lag behind so no one will think they belong)

We do snark.

We do glares.

we do hugs and hugs and HUGS until

we say GAAAAHHH!! Knock it off!  I'm feeling trapped!

We hijack facebook accounts

and send wacky texts on sisters' phones

and eavesdrop from the porch roof.

We interrupt

We yell

We tell how it ought to have been done

and how it really was

(not like THAT, believe me)

We dawdle.

We honk.

We go to church mad now and then.

We laugh a lot.

And in our own way

(flawed but uniquely us)

We do love.

Intriguing Insights

I don't normally write about political issues but lately a question has been on my mind.

"Why do they do that?"

And its corollary:  "I just don't get it."

I'm talking about the wild eruptions in the Middle East over the (dumb) (little) film on YouTube.

And I'm sure many of you share my confusion.

We think, Ok, these are human beings, like us.  They get up in the morning and go to work.  They like a good meal.  They worry about money.  They want the best for their children.  They hope for a good night's sleep.  And obviously we are different cultures but still, maybe not that different deep down.

But the wild over-the-top anger over a film.  We just. don't. get. it.

Today as I often do I talked with my sister who is in my opinion an expert on the Middle East, being fluent in Arabic and having lived there for years.

I asked her about this.

She had some intriguing insights which I will paraphrase here that might give us all a bit more clarity.

Keep in mind, she said, that:

1. We are all subject to the mob effect, but Westerners are somewhat less so because we've been taught all our lives to think for ourselves.  In the Middle Eastern culture, it's important to think and act like the group, and children aren't usually taught to evaluate and analyze and stand alone, so they're more likely to get caught up in a group display of anger/violence without quite understanding why.

2. Remember that what looks like a big crowd on TV may not be a very big percentage of the population.  Maybe 2000 young men demonstrated in Sanaa over the film.  Sanaa is a big city.  Most people, young men included, were minding their own business and studying for tests, cooking dinner, taking temperatures, picking fruit, or driving a taxi instead of demonstrating.

Maybe kind of like the Occupy movement in the U.S.

3. The demonstrators tend to be the angry, unemployed, and disenfranchised rather than the polite, connected, mature, and responsible.

Again, possible parallels to many American demonstrations.

4. People in power are only too happy to manipulate the young and angry for their own purposes, like to divert attention from unethical political maneuverings.  Also, if you want to pull people together, America is an easy target.  You can take a lot of differing factions and unite them under the "Wrath to America" banner, a great strategy if fifteen different groups are about to rise up against the government for fifteen different reasons.

And of course the various media would never dream of exploiting or encouraging the demonstrators for their own purposes.  Surely not.

5. The Arab/Muslim culture is all about shame and honor.  You're expected to fight for the honor of your family or religion.  So if someone insults or shames either one, you're expected to do some yelling and I don't know, maybe break a few things, to show that you're doing your duty of fighting for the honor of things that matter.


I found that interesting.

Novel and Castes and Kids Leaving

Recently I was very happy to discover a new author/novel.

Backstory: Emily and I were in BigLots a while back and in the book section she found this funny-looking book in pink and orange called The Marriage Bureau for Rich People, by Farahad Zama.

I should buy it, she said, and I was suspicious because any of you with children know this strategy, like "WE" really need this a.k.a. "I" really need/want this but I will earnestly try to convince you the FAMILY needs it so you'll pay for it.

Five dollars.  I said no.

I forgot all about this and a few months later gradually became aware of this book as one that has a similar tone to the #1 Lady Detective Agency books which I am crazy about.

So I ordered a used copy on Amazon.

For about $5.

It's all about this guy in India who arranges marriages and all the colorful little stories that weave in and out of that plot.

I devoured it.

I was fascinated with many of the cultural things, especially how the different castes are so important.  Brahmin, Vishnu, and various others, with various sub-castes and this complex system of whether and when it's ok to marry outside of your caste.  Education and income are important too, but everyone was always most relieved when they were the same caste and compatible sub-castes.

The American in me said, "How silly, unenlightened, and foreign."

But then the Mennonite in me tapped me on the shoulder.

The Indian people have nothing on us.

Let me list a few castes of ours and if you have any Mennonite in your blood at all you'll have a good idea right off if people from one group could or absolutely could not marry someone from another:

Pacific Coast Conference, Swartzentruber Amish, Western Fellowship, Nationwide, Charity*, Beachy Amish, Conservative Conference, BMA, Keystone, Southeastern, New Order Amish, Holdeman, Eastern, Wenger, Wisler, Old Order Amish, Fellowship, and Mid-Atlantic.

*Except they say they aren't Mennonite, but we know they really are.

Novels are actually a nice distraction from the fact that three of my children have moved off to new adventures in the East in the last two weeks.

Half of them, at once!

I miss them a lot.

Quote of the Day:
"You look like you're trying to look young.  Keyword: Trying."
--Jenny, when I combed my hair without a poof the other day

Today's Awful Moment and the Amazing Rescue

First of all, you need to know that edits are the literary equivalent of your least favorite chore.  Maybe cleaning the oven or wiping cat barf off the floor.

Also, I can use a computer but it still scares me.  I have my faithful little cow paths that I tread, but if anything rustles in the bushes beside me I freak out.

And Matt the faithful rescuer was leaving his place in Corvallis this morning for a new job in Washington, D.C.

So, I am working on a new book--yet another collection of my Register-Guard columns.  I'm self-publishing this one with the help of a graphic designer who works for the RG.  I told him I'd have the proof-read manuscript to him by noon today.

So I have been keeping my nose to the laptop, making sure every clause is properly comma'ed, every capital letter and hyphen and semi-colon is in its place, every story says what I want it to say, every Scripture reference is duly noted on the small-print page, every fact is factual, and everyone who might not like to be written about gets their name changed or even deleted.

It's like going through a 50-acre cornfield and pulling all the thistles and timothy and cockleburrs, down to the tiniest little sprouts.

I hired an editor to make sure everything was in Chicago Manual of Style, but I wasn't sure how to work with her finished product which was full of little markings and colored speech balloons in the sidebar.

So I figured out how to have the original manuscript I'd sent her on the left of the screen, and her edits on the right.  Then I went through the left half and made all the changes she'd suggested, plus a lot more.

I kept saving as I went, anxiously, having lost work in the past.

This morning I was at it by 6:30 and at 10:00 I added the last period to the dedication and I was done.

Whew.

I went to get a cup of coffee and then sat down to send the finished product to the page-designer guy.

It was gone.

I am serious, it was GONE.

I clicked on Word, and there were three other things I had worked on today but not the manuscript.

I went all over that laptop screen, clicking on everything.  I dug through the Recycle folder and the Recently Changed, through Works and Word and Adobe, through pictures and files of gibberish.

It was nowhere to be found.

I panicked.  I prayed.  I promised to give God the glory if he rescued me.

I broke down in desperate tears.

It was just GONE.

What what WHAT was I going to do?

I would have to do all those horrible fiddly little edits all over again.

It was too much, so I cried some more.

Finally, I called Matt, who has rescued me countless times, knowing he might be halfway to Idaho and even if he wasn't, this was probably beyond him.

He had just left Corvallis.

He delayed his going and came to help me.

I explained.

He looked cautious but with a little gleam of hope.

While I watched, tied in knots inside, Matt Googled something mysterious and then went digging in the basement of the computer, deeper than he had ever gone before, past rats' nests and wine cellars and forgotten subway lines, on and on, to a file marked TEMP.  There in a long list of meaningless letters I saw it--oh, glory, could it, could it be?

He opened it up.

There it was.

My new introduction, all my careful edits, even the dot behind the dedication that I had added last.

Perhaps we should draw the curtain of charity over my reaction except to say it was noisy and heartfelt.

I was saved.

Matt sauntered out to his packed-full car, grinning, and took off.

I sent the precious manuscript on its way, glorifying and praising God for all that I had heard and seen.

I want my children to be like Jesus in kindness and love and humility, but Matt is also like Jesus in one other area.

He can work miracles.

Quote of the Day:
"Ok, I've got Dad on a smartphone and Mom on 5-hour energy drinks.  My work here is done."
--Matt

[Ok, this is what I did wrong.  To start working, I opened my email to the editor lady and opened the attachment I had sent her.  I should have saved it in my documents before I ever started working on it.  Since I didn't, when I exited out of it, all my carefully saved changes disappeared and it went back to how it was when I sent the original email.

Believe me, I won't do that again.

What saved me was that the computer had backed it up in that hidden TEMP file, who knows why or how.]

Goals and Goings-On

If you've tried to explain something to me in the last few days and I've seemed a bit distracted, it might be because in the last week I did most of the legwork for taking 8 people camping, sent my middle son off to New York (and then Toronto after that, for a year of voluntary service) (weep), made some big decisions regarding a forthcoming book, found and hired an editor for said book, got the school people off to the first day of school, situated plans for Christmas and a women's retreat in January, sewed two dresses for Amy, gave advice for some major decisions, plus all the normal routine, and a few things that are not for the world to see at this point.

So life hasn't slowed down yet, but somehow I keep expecting it to.

After 50 years of it not doing this, I somehow still expect life to slow down and let me catch my breath.

I had 253 goals for July and August.  Since I am very ADD and forget anything that's not right in front of my nose, I printed them all off and taped them on the cupboard doors.

So you don't see this decor featured on Pinterest.  Well, this is the lovely thing about being queen of your own kitchen.  You can do what you want.

Well-- "Goals."  Maybe more like "things to do."

Anyway, I met 156 of them which is pretty good for an ADD woman who has a hard time finishing anything.

Now I'm starting a new list for September to December.

We note that one of the goals was "Go to John Day."  We got this done one weekend in July, driving some 5 hours to a lovely spot where the John Day Mennonite Church had their annual church camp.  Paul was the speaker which meant we got the little cabin, truly a "Little cabin in the wood," homey and beautiful, but not exactly, "Little man by the window stood, little rabbit hopping by, knocking at the door."

More like, tall man, bent over his laptop, getting ready for his next talk, and running out of power and unable to recharge, with no electricity.

Even with no running water or electricity, we did not suffer discomfort.  They had provided a big tank of potable water, and had fridges powered by propane to cool the food and stoves to cook it.

One special thing was the hayride, and a very special aspect of the hayride was the old tractor, now sold and refurbished, that used to belong to my SIL Geneva's dad who had several acres of luscious produce and a stand to sell it at.


A less-special but still memorable part of the weekend was the little green caterpillars that came dangling down from the pine trees on invisible threads like those tissue paper balls you see all over Pinterest, hanging over cribs and parties and such.

Intrepid little girls collected the caterpillars in paper cups and let them crawl on chunks of wood.

Good times were had, and we felt honored to be invited.

Jenny, reading this over my shoulder, says, "What about all the other goals??"  You don't want to read about all 253, trust me, especially "Attack boys' room/pray for wisdom" and "Aus misht lamb shed."


 Quote of the Day:
"Well, if you cut off Steven's arms, he might turn out like that."
--Jenny, when we were discussing the amazing Matt Stutzman, the Inspirational Archer who just won a silver medal at the Paralympic Games.

LFH: The Wedding

Naturally, I wrote about Janet's wedding.

Here it is.

Moments & Memories

One of Paul's goals in life is to feed everyone efficiently at his daughters' wedding receptions.  Every time we go to a wedding he discusses this afterwards.  He doesn't notice the decorations.  He doesn't go on about how nice it was to see old friends again.  He doesn't wonder if the second bridesmaid had a crush on the third groomsman.

No, it's all about how to feed people efficiently.

I don't think Janet's reception was over for an hour before he started in.  "Now, girls, it's ok to have an elegant wedding and when you plan your food, plan something nice, but basically don't give people any choices.  They fed these 130 people very quickly, and it was good food, but they didn't give them any choice of salads, or chips, or dessert."

Emily: "So my idea of a potato bar is a bad idea?"

For some reason Emily is all into planning her wedding and making it as inexpensive as possible.  What if she planted flowers out here in the 1-acre field where we put the sheep?  And if she had the wedding outdoors here she wouldn't have to rent a place.

But: what should she do for restroom facilities?

She and Paul talked about this on the drive from Sioux Lookout to Grove City.  Somehow I had never thought of Emily being that much like her dad but on this trip it struck me that they both love discussing hypotheticals.

I let them talk because I believe in dads discussing life with their daughters.

Although they never touched on the important little detail of who Emily would marry at this frugal wedding of hers.

So apparently Anita from next door said the PortaPotties were a big expense at their son Barney's exquisite creekside wedding last summer.

So, Emily wondered, what if she borrows a few motorhomes instead?  People could use the restrooms and comb their hair and stuff which you can't do in a PortaPot.  But what if the holding tanks start to smell?  And would it work to have people stay in them and help set up beforehand?  But they wouldn't want guests tromping through their living quarters.  Oh dear.

Well, I am sure it will all work out when the time comes.

*      *      *
On Sunday afternoon we looked up our old friends Gary and Chris Quequish who pastored the church in Round Lake two of the three years we lived there.

It was wonderful to catch up with them.  Gary is as crazy/serious as ever and Chris is as laid back.

Gary was full of stories as always, including the time he was on an Air Canada flight to Toronto and lightning hit the wing and broke off the end, causing the guy sitting next to Gary to decide maybe he believes in God after all.

Rhoda Tait, the very respected matriarch of Round Lake, joined us for a while.  I thought she was old when we lived there, 20 years ago, but now she looks exactly the same and is 74 years old.

Far too many of the stories involved a strange wind sweeping the North.  Just in the last few years, there's been a rash of people getting addicted to a prescription painkiller called Oxycontin.

"Oxy's," they call them.

This former student.  A granddaughter of Rhoda's.  That young man.

Oxys take away your pain, both physical and emotional.  They sell for about $40 per pill in pharmacies, but on the northern reserves they go for $500 to $1200 depending on the strength of the pill.

Recently a young girls in Round Lake was caught with 100 Oxy's and $150,000 in cash, said Gary.  No, said Chris, it was close to a million dollars.

Once they're addicted, people think they need one a day. 

The profit margin is so enormous that organized crime is getting involved.  Obviously, there have to be some conspiring doctors and pharmacists involved up to this point.

The fallout and destruction are not to be described or comprehended.

Gary flew in to one reserve I think this past winter.  Just minutes before his plane landed, another plane coming in had crashed and was on fire, with live people still inside.

The baggage had fallen out of the plane as it crashed.  The locals, instead of rescuing the burning passengers, rushed to the boxes and tore through them trying to find Oxys.

Gary and the others ran to the burning plane.  Gary tried to pull out a woman.  Her hair was on fire, he said, and burning hair actually has this noise it makes as it burns.  He grabbed her shirt pocket to try to pull her out, and the shirt gave way and there was a packet of Oxys.  He somehow got her out, but she didn't survive.

Gary is involved in a rehab program where they give people a substitute drug to wean them off of Oxy.  If they're motivated, it works.

*     *    *
Life at my parents' is very quiet yet surprisingly entertaining.

Mom gets a can of Ensure out of the fridge and drinks it.
Jenny: Grandma, what are you drinking?
Grandma: Oh, it's this stuff to make me fat.
Grandpa: So, Jenny, you're interested in --what is it called?-- psychology?
Jenny: Why are you asking that?
Grandpa: Well, you asked Grandma what she was thinking.

*     *     *
 We got to babysit little Justice while Annette was at her grandma's funeral.  Jenny sat in the rocking chair and gave him his bottle, hesitantly, as she had never done this before.

"So you just do it like you're feeding a lamb?"

Well yes, I guess that works.

*     *     *

As always we looked through the fridge for dead food to throw away.  Among other specimens we found a few slices of moldy cheese.

Fred: I can give it to the cats.
Me: Cats eat cheese?
Fred: Yeah.
Matt: Maybe it helps them catch mice.
Fred: Yeah.  They eat the cheese and then they sit by the mouse-hole with baited breath.


Good memories.

The Trip, The Wedding, The Baby, And More--Lavishly Illustrated

Would all our comings and goings to and from Janet's wedding somehow work in my future novel about a Mennonite wedding, I wondered.  Or would that put everyone to sleep?

Amy and I flew to Minneapolis where my brother Fred picked us up and took us to Mom and Dad's.  The next morning we left for Ontario, along with my sister Rebecca.  Meanwhile Paul, Matt, Emily, and Jenny drove straight through to Sioux Lookout.

Ok, that puts you to sleep.  Suffice it to say that we went hither and yon in all sorts of varying combinations that people like Paul like to figure out.

And I am happy to report that on the flight from Phoenix I finally started on a list of characters for my novel, and who they are and what they want, having had the terrible epiphany that I am just like the perfection-or-nothing brother of mine whom I harangued for years because he danced all around that novel without writing it.

Although I think he did eventually write it, after many years.


We got to stay at the home of Bill and Susan who have lots of Kalona, Iowa, connections and who invited us to stay with them even though we know each other mostly through Facebook.

They have a to-die-for place on the lake, with a few cabins they rent out, and they have the gift of hospitality.

Susan reads everything I write.  She said, "Everyone was just like I expected.  Amy was just as sweet, and Jenny just as cute, and Matt just as intelligent, and Paul, well he's just Paul, and Emily's just as articulate as you said."

The wedding was simple and beautiful.  Rebecca and I both burst into tears right on cue when my brother Marcus walked Janet up the aisle and gave her a big hug.

Me: Wait.  Did Marcus walk Janet up the aisle or down the aisle?
Jenny: It depends if you're a pessimist or an optimist.


Marcus and Anna's lovely family.  We all miss Leonard but had a keen sense of healing and restoration going on, what with that fine new son-in-law and Jay and Annette's new baby, Justice Creed.
 

Paul and I helped with the food preps.  The girls helped serve the food.
 
 Sisters above and below.



 After the action was over we went canoeing on the lake.  We heard a far-off tooot-toot and a long train came slowly around the lake and across the trestle.  The engineer waved at us.  Rebecca has a thing about trains, maybe from being in trainless Yemen for 17 years, and she thought she had died and gone to Heaven.

On Sunday the remaining ones of us went to church and found out that Anna's mom, which would be Janet's grandma, had died that morning.

So Annette and the baby ended up down at Grove City, and Janet and Mark cut their honeymoon short, and I took Mom and Dad to the viewing.

 Meanwhile, to say we are all crazy over that new baby is putting it very gently.


 Here's Nana Anna.

 
 Meeting the great-grandparents.

 Here's Great-Uncle Paul.

At Mom and Dad's we had good Yoderish visits and the kids and I did as much work for Mom as we could cram into a day and a half.

 Mom read the Budget and also helped us in the kitchen with amazing determination for a 92-year-old who broke her hip last April.

 Fred drank his coffee and told stories while Emily smushed applesauce through the old-fashioned applesauce smusher.
[Fred cut up all the apples, so he's not as lazy as he appears.]

Jenny with her grandparents.  Mom is wearing the dress she wore to the viewing.
I had to swallow my Amish shame because I didn't have any funerally clothes along and courageously wore a white skirt and bright floral shirt to the viewing.  No one seemed to mind even though I was the gaudiest guest by far.

It was a wonderful trip.

Quote of the Day:
"So my sister, who is a MENNONITE PASTOR'S WIFE, went to Africa and met this guy...and fell in love. TOTALLY fell in love. And nine months later she had a black child."
---my brother Fred, who has actually told people this. About me. Multiple times over. Oh how I have suffered at his hands for 50 years.

Off to the Wedding

I love happy occasions.

And I really really love weddings.

Today a bunch of us are taking off for my niece Janet's wedding in Sioux Lookout, Ontario.

Janet is a little older than Amy and has been dating her Mark for some time now.  I've never met him, but my mom reports that he is very nice, which means he is.
 
Mom also says Janet talks a lot and Mark is quiet.

That sounds like a workable arrangement to me.

So by various ways and means we are going first to Minnesota and on up north to Ontario.  Amy and I are flying today, at different times.  Paul and three of the children are driving out.

Then we'll do a switcheroo and a different combination will fly or drive home afterwards.



[On the way to the airport this morning: sunrise and Mt. Hood with a cool cloud swoosh off the south side.  Not sure if you can see much on this phone pic but trust me it was amazing.]

I've heard you shouldn't announce on the Internet that you're going to be away from home.  So, all you potential thieves, just so you know, two big intimidating teenage guys are staying home.  And one of them will be home at any given time.

So if you have designs on the used laptop that's worth about $25, forget it.

A few especially nice things about this trip: my brother's family has had a lot of grief and just hard stuff, so now to see them with both a new little grandson AND a new son-in-law [relax--not from the same daughter]--will just feel redemptive and healing and good, I think.

Also, it's up in Canada in our old stomping grounds, kind of.  We never lived in Sioux Lookout but passed through there many times and we know a bunch of people there.  Once you drove through wilderness for six hours, Sioux Lookout seemed like the bright lights of a big city.

 I love family trips, and weddings, and seeing family and old friends, and talking Pa. Dutch, and celebrating, and wedding cake.


 This is where I am right now, drinking coffee and passing time until my flight.  Quiz: what famous fictional character lived here?

Quote of the Day:
[after the VBS program, in which Emily's students acted out some of Jesus' teachings]
Me: When that little guy was walking around with the lamp for letting your light shine, it reminded me of that guy--oh what was his name--who wandered all over with his lamp, looking for an honest man.
Ben: Diogenes!
Me: Yes.
Emily: Did he ever find one?
Me: I don't think so.
Emily: What??  Never?? . . . Well, I guess Mennonites hadn't been invented yet.

Our Anniversary Trip

"Do you know how lucky you are to go away for your anniversary in the middle of August?" said Paul's cousin Trish.

Yes I know.  Believe me, I've had lots of years when our anniversary on August 10th got only a rushed dinner out, if that much, such as the time we dined at The Vault in Harrisburg and I was so tired and stressed from being a single parent to lots of young children all summer that I cried through the whole meal.

Not a high point in our marriage.

We chose our wedding date because Paul was going to be teaching school come September.  We didn't realize that he would spend many years teaching school AND running the warehouse.

August 10th is a very bad date for anyone involved in harvest to get away.

Not only was this getaway in the middle of August, it was also in the middle of Vacation Bible School and the cleaners running 24 hours a day.

But this was Paul's inspiration, to not only celebrate our 28th anniversary but to go up in the mountains, and I most certainly was not going to say no.

A motel at the coast is usually the place we automatically go to, but this time we stayed in a cabin along the McKenzie River.

It was wonderful.

The weather was perfect.

The cabin was adorable.  It was built in 1948.
 
I fell in love with the details, such as the old fashioned latches on the windows, and the deck, on the other side of the wood-framed screen door, with the McKenzie River just beyond those trees.




Paul had to be on the phone a lot but I knew very well that the only reason we could afford this was because he works so hard at keeping everyone happy with his seed cleaning.  So I didn't complain.

(Much.)

The first afternoon we drove further up Highway 126, looking for the trail to Proxy Falls as delineated in Bill Sullivan's hiking book.  Along the way we passed White Branch Camp, where Paul attended Bible Memory Camp a number of times.  And where the boys once pushed Paul's s dad into the pool.

If you can imagine that, you who knew Wilton.

Paul really wanted to see his old haunts there.  The camp was back in a mile or so, and we passed inquisitive campers as Paul reminisced about what was there back in the old days and I felt like an intruder and hissed at him to please turn around and leave.

So we finally did.  And a few miles on found the trail to Proxy Falls.  It was a beautiful, easy half-hour hike through forest and lava beds, and then there before us was a breathtaking waterfall probably 200 feet high.



Paul couldn't believe that in all the years they camped at White Branch they never took a trip up the road to do this hike.

I said only in Oregon can you have this great hike and waterfall just sitting there, that you've never heard of before.

We had time for only an overnight getaway and were home by early afternoon the next day.

But it was worth it.

Marriage takes work and investment.  A hundred details of daily life conspire to slowly pull you apart.  Inevitably, you disappoint and hurt each other, you don't measure up to expectations, you find each other irritating, you get angry, you say things you shouldn't say and don't say what you should.

Or, you simply, silently, grow apart.

That's why we need time away, alone.

We've found that's the best way to get back to who we are and why we love each other and how we can make this work.

I can't say how thankful I am for a husband who values our marriage enough to rent a cabin on the McKenzie in the middle of August.



 Ok, so Paul's eyebrows are up for some reason, and this picture made the kids snicker, and Emily said, "It looks like Dad robbed the cradle," and one of my eyes looks bigger than the other, but it was the only one I had of the two of us.

 Right before we left I ran outside to take a picture, so Paul hauled out the last items--his newspaper and my books and purse.

It takes a real man to carry his wife's purse, I always say.