Tuesday, October 19, 2021
Next week we return home. The weeks here have flown by. We've slept in our apartment six times so far. We haven't been here enough to make it feel like we've actually landed. We schedule more connections for the days before we leave.
W digitizes my old college choir vinyl record. I was working on a piano performance degree at the same time and played piano for the choir all 3 years at Summit. The conductor, Sylvia Pitts (Fry), was barely older than we were, a gifted vocalist and composer. She was strict and insisted that we watch her cues at all times. She pulled more music out of us than our collective talent suggested was possible.
I recognize the discipline of a choir that sang together. My dad was astonished that a small college could have such a great sound. He said many times, "The choir was never the same after Sylvia left (to get married.)" True. She had a rare gift and it was a privilege to be her accompanist.
What a blessing fellow musicians are. My siblings and I started lessons early (4 or 5 years old). One brother is still a conductor and this week, he cut an album with a symphony in Poland. The rest of us have retired our instruments, for the most part.
My second year of college, I had mono. I missed 3 weeks of classes but there was no other pianist so I went along on the 10-day tour. I remember looking at Sylvia for the intro, drifting off to sleep, and playing "on automatic" until the downbeat for the ending. Yes, we knew the music that well!
I don't play piano anymore, making room for the next generations to play. What I do miss is the ease that comes from playing week after week. For decades, I'd put my fingers down and the music emerged without thinking. Even now playing is automatic, though I have to pay more attention and the flow of sound is thinner. The clunker in our basement isn't in tune but at least it's not a keyboard.
Wednesday
I sleep in. That is, I stay in bed and clear messages on the computer and phone until 9:00. W's meeting with a theology group most of the day. I do some last-minute shopping. The autumn leaves are blowing across the streets. Today it feels like fall. The yellows and reds drift across the windshield as I drive.
The tropical sun is hard on the skin and Kirsten (daughter) has sent along some face cream. I find more on the T. J. Maxx clearance shelf.
My 2 suitcases are at weight already. We still have chocolate for cookie baking, some frozen foods, and a few other things to wedge in. W's packing up his stuff. Maybe we can shift some of the household items to him. Nope, we give up - we need another suitcase.
Jeremy and Rebekah join the family for a late lunch, on their way to Eastern Washington from visiting my mom in Canada. They have Dad's Mercedes, which is finding new life with them. Mom poses for one last picture with the car that took her a lot of places in the past years.
The family is delighted that someone can use it and enjoy it. And they bring along things we forgot at Mom's. Of course we pose for pictures - a snap in time. (W and I look at these treasures when we miss our family.)
Melissa makes our traditional family meal: Spätzle, chicken cutlets, and a vegetable (breaded green beans).
Kinsey plays us a concert on her violin.
and Little Mak models her fuzzy lion blanket. "It's a meerkat," older sis Kinsey insists. So we look up cartoon lions and meerkats. "Meerkat" makes her happy so meerkat it is.
Opa (W) plays old albums from my parents' hoard on his record player for the grands. The boys' gift today is a clacking wooden play gun. The girls get Bali fabrics - they tie them into skirts, sarongs, and other shapes.
Thursday
There are many global gourmet foods available here that we miss in Indonesia. We load our toast in the morning and think about what we're not taking back.
All week, the trees are throwing their leaves across the landscape. We haven't seen autumn for years. The view out of my single basement window (2'X4') causes me to marvel, day by day, as the branches emerge from their foliage cover.
FridayFor lunch, several old friends converge on Third Place Commons. For years, we used to meet every Thursday morning. Amy takes the ferry over from the island; Sue lives miles away. The rest of us are somewhat closer.
As we age, we value these friendships more than ever. My heart begins to unwind, listening to their opportunities and challenges. I listen to an
excellent podcast about aging. Yes, we are moving that direction, to no one's surprise but our own.
Saturday
When we walk out the door in the early morning, the children have left gifts on the rug. The fir trees have spread needles everywhere, too. I sweep them back into the forest.
At Third Place again, the workers rarely open on time. It gives me few minutes to consider the shifting culture of Seattle. Posted on the side window, 3 signs catch my eye.
One sign says that all are welcome. Another says they accept all gender orientations (and to report anyone who acts otherwise.) Another encourages everyone to be anti-racist. (The small script says neutral or non-racist is not enough. Anti-racist means actively reporting and shunning people you perceive as racist.) Yikes. With each person's experiences, how will you know the intention or wellspring of another's comments?
As a minority group living in Indonesia, W and I have only begun to understand the blessings of "difference." How we relish the unique Indonesian and expat cultures - the ways of thinking and speaking, the music and arts that tell stories, the interaction with the world in ways foreign to our own heritages.
Kim gives me her morning. Though we often meet online, it gives us great joy to sit at the same table, talking about transitions and renewal. Afterward, I gasp over the heaped book tables at the book store.
The books bind words and worlds between their hard and soft covers, begging us to open them and explore with curiosity and imagination.
I find a hand-pieced quilt top that I designed 25 years ago, when our kids were little. When did I have time for that? The missing borders are also in the bag, pieced and ready to join. Do I have enough space in the luggage to bring it back home? If not, it will have to wait another year.
In the morning, I attend ELEVATE, an online seminar for female faith leaders. It is rich spiritual and practical food for the soul, full to the brim, and informative. My heart fills up, as does my little notebook. Afterward, we continue the chat, reluctant to leave each other.
In the afternoon, W and I drive to the next city 25 minutes away, for free PCR tests. More flights are just around the corner. (The tests come back negative, thank God.)
This Virginia creeper will keep its leaves for a few more months along the main road; then all that will remain until spring is a network of vines. We'll be long gone by then.
The train trestle soars above the street. I'm a wreck as W drives; we both drive once a year when we come back. And whoever drives feels more comfortable than the passenger. Let's leave it at that. Smiles.
We are startled by the range of colors this year: the warm days and cool nights (above freezing) produce the brightest fall foliage.
In the evening, the kids come to cuddle and watch BIC Online with us. What a treat - we're all in PJs. It's not quite like sitting in a Gathering, but still ... it's in person, sort of. (It's already Sunday morning in Bandung.) By next week, we're back in our own time zone.
Sunday
We speak at Monroe's Christ the King church, a friendly community that worships and learns together. Pastor Andy Geer and his team make us feel at home. The drive down ... well, you'll have to find your own words.
I'd call it spectacular. The wind has been tearing the leaves off their branches all week. This neighbor's yard is buried under golden maple leaves every October. The leaves lie on the ground until the two trees are bare ... and then everything is raked clean at once.
Up our street, some amazing colors are on display. In another few weeks, these trees may be only outlines of grey branches. I used to dread the barren landscape that emerges every year. This year, autumn makes me happy because we get to enjoy the show and return home to summer. (Indonesia: green green green with flowers between.)
The neighbor's 10' (3 meter) plumes of pampas grass wave at the side of the street.
The leaves quickly compost in the cold and wet. If a street sweeper doesn't come by soon, they'll revert to dirt that the rain washes away.
We're speaking this morning about the Holy Trinity, the eternal ONE and only God revealed in Scripture. He reveals himself as One in essence and being, yet in 3 persons. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Who can comprehend this?
We start with Genesis 1:1-3 and John 1, meeting God the Father who oversees the universe and creation, God the Spirit who moves on the waters and still moves our hearts, and the Living Word of God (Jesus) who speaks the world into being.
Finite as we are, we cannot grasp or explain the Trinity or many other mysterious aspects of God. But of what value is a God who is limited to our understanding, abilities, or even (in our arrogance,) our permission to exist? Such a Creator would be as small and helpless as we are.
Later, coming down our driveway feels like entering a retreat center.
Behind the house, the 100' fir trees stand tall.
Outside our door, the colors take our breath away. Maple, poplar, and evergreen trees stand in a wetland. They grow fast, full, and ready to snap.
Our youngest son Jonathan joins us in Monroe and comes back with us for lunch. He picks up the relics that we brought him from my parents' place last week: family history in gaucho balls from Brazil (from Mom and Dad's travels in the 70s), great-grandma's egg beater, and other mementos. We toss in some Bandrek (traditional Bandung ginger drink) and other goodies to bring him up to date.
We've missed Szechwan Chinese cuisine so we order and eat it in. Yummy! As always, Melissa provides a welcoming table at which to eat.
We like being together. Just like every family, we sure don't agree on every issue. We're strong and opinionated. But one of our core family values is respect for each other. My Dad drilled into the DNA of the generations that Dahers love each other, live in God's peace, and cultivate harmony. We may never savage, undermine, or harm another member ... because the family is a unit. What helps one helps us all. What hurts one injures us all.
We work hard to stay connected and bless each other. Our kids say their friends are astonished that we look forward to celebrating holidays with family. That's apparently a rare thing.
How W and I have enjoyed the time with our grown children and the "littles" (grandchildren.) We hope we're passing on these core values. We love a lively discussion and the respect each person shows for the others. Today "family" exhibits itself in what my Dad called "male bonding." (Yup, I'm thinking, #I'mhappytobeagirl. haha)
Here's a before and after of the tree branch that is the catalyst. The beautiful golden limb leaning toward the driveway? It crashes down like thunder on all 3 cars parked at the side of the house.
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Let the bonding begin. The guys saw the trunk into pieces and toss them back into the neighbor's yard from where they came.
Before Jono goes home, we gather on the porch to thank God for his protection. We also ask God's blessings and His lovingkindness on the whole family.
Their guys' work has inspired me. I stack the dining chairs to clean the floors. An architectural firm was redoing their decor years ago, just in time for us to pick them up. They're comfy and beautiful. (DWR, $300 each; for us, 6 for $50.)
We begin to tuck away the art projects the grandkids made. Isaac's log cabin (held together with tape) was a hit.
One more day. How can it be? The suitcases are almost full.
"How can you leave your family?" people ask us. We don't know. But God's call and His grace are enough. Even today, as we wrap up another bundle of memories.
W spends a few hours online with friend Ron Weinbaum. They upload next week's talk. Technology is great ... when it works. We're looking forward to that Gathering next Sunday. And you can
listen to past talks here.
Read more:
*The Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ and he said, "Here I am." 1 Samuel 3:4
*The Lord said to Paul, “Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you.” Acts 18:9-10
*But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.
I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.
Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:7-14
Moravian Prayer: Lord, you’re still calling, aren’t you? Take away our fear. Take away our “safe” silence. Give us voice to say, “Here I am.” Give us bold courage to speak to injustice, racism, and hatred, for you are with us. Give us tender hearts to treat each other with respect and the love you have for every person. Amen.
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