The Move

Those three years were tough and great on our family.  But they were coming to an end.  The troubled church didn't become less troubled and in fact ended up splitting.  I was very involved in this discord and it is one more instance of God's faithfulness to forgive.  There was much behind the back talking, and much ganging up and I was in the thick.  Coming from the church in Drain where everything, as far as a youngster and teen would know, was handled in a loving and mature manner, I was ill equipped to deal with this kind of disunity.  Toward the end of this dividing, Darrin lost his job.  So we left.  

We packed up our little homestead and our kids and headed for home.  Drain.  

I know that most of this is serious stuff, but I have to tell a bit of the craziness of this move.  It came at the height of my animal collecting.  I had five doe goats, two buck goats, five ewes, two rams, one llama and a number of chickens that I can't recall.  And a cat.  And a dog.  And a duck.  The only creatures that didn't make the cut were the two buck goats.  They went to a new home.  

This strange menagerie  needed transported 200 miles south. As well as all of our many household possessions. As well as ourselves and our four young children.  The end of the road was going to be my parents place; a third of an acre and a 1200 square foot house.  

The actual driving was the strangest part.  We borrowed a horse trailer to tow behind our minivan and rented a car dolly to go behind the rented moving truck.  Into the trailer went the five goats and the llama and the chickens (in the little cubby over the tongue) along with the feed for them all. Into the back end of the minivan, on a tarp, because sheep are terribly calm and mellow when in the back of a moving vehicle, went the ewes and their beaus and myself and the children.  Darrin was in charge of the huge truck and the extra-large sized dog crate containing the duck and the cat.  Together.  Quacking and meowing mournfully until the driver stopped for lunch and fed them a cheeseburger. This driver did not stop until we got to Drain because of the reaction that sheep ACTUALLY have to motion,  a smelly, messy, loud reaction.  The carpet would never be the same.  

It was a strange procession we made and a strange transition in our lives.  But it was just what our sad, tired hearts needed.  We needed to be in that church home where we could heal and help and enjoy the people that knew us best.  

As for my closet plainness, it showed me that my convictions were not strong.  I wanted to fit back into the spot that I had claimed as a child.  And because of the closeness of that community, it was easy to do.  My dearest, oldest friend had come home after years away and it just seemed right that we came full circle, even if it was only for a season.

Yet Another Side Note

  I just spent the last half an hour or so re-reading this blog in an effort to figure out where to go with it.  I still don't feel like I can really write the next chapter because of the other people involved in the less than pretty parts.   I suppose I can leave it at this;  There was another couple that was very involved with our family in this plain/homesteading venture.  We spent much time together, debated the issues together and "fell off the wagon" together.  
   Their story is a large part of ours, but it isn't mine to tell.  I will try to continue without bringing anything more about them up, other than this, my heart is still not healed from the sad ending and all that can be done for them is pray that those left behind will respond to God's hand.

A Very Late Third

I left off when we returned from Iowa, right?  I'll pick up there even if it's a little bit of backtrack.

I have started this next bit twice now and have erased because it feels too detailed and not relevant to the story at hand.  Suffice it to say, we had many changes and much growth in this time after Iowa.  We became absolutely committed to raising the children (going from two to four over the next few years) in a home centered around God and family. We began looking more seriously at "homesteading" and raising our own food. 

In the midst of that I couldn't seem to let go of the head-covering.  And with the head-covering came questions of dress.  I had not been an immodest woman, but I was one who sought attention. Really though, it was discontent and selfishness. I wanted an outward sign of what I wanted my innards to be, when in reality I was a "white washed tomb."  I was still fighting my own self in so many areas, but thought that if I dressed holy, everyone would see me as holy and maybe it would be easier to BE holy.

So my daughters and I started wearing dresses, most all of the time.  We wore our hair long (which is, I might add, the only part of this whole experiment that Darrin probably enjoyed.)  If I remember right this went on for about 3 years.  And even though I did get lots of good sewing practice, it was a struggle the whole time.  I didn't ever know if I was doing right. I believed all of Scripture as God's inspired word, but I felt like I was picking and choosing what I was going to follow closely and what I was going to ignore.  I was not more submitted to my husband.  I was not purer in speech or heart.  Something was going to have to change, and it did, and it wasn't pretty.

Chapter the Second.

As I contemplate starting into the second part of my silly little story, I wonder how deep to go.  How much of the side stories and such do I tell?  Probably only those that have a bearing on the subject at hand....closet plain-ness, right?  Even though all experiences shape who we are, many have no direct bearing on this story.


After Darrin was baptized, we still lived the college town life.  The only real difference is that he played piano for Campus Crusade and we often went home for the weekends and went to church there.  Time went on.  Darrin graduated and we moved to the Portland area and though we had no real friends and an infant, we only attended church there one time.  It was my only experience with a "mega church" and one I do not plan to repeat.  


While living in an apartment (another experience I hope not to repeat) we learned just how much we didn't belong in the city.  Darrin drove about 20 minutes a day to work and one day while tending Madi and nursing my little bit of morning sickness, I heard sirens.  When he got home he told me about the police chasing a robber past our apartment and over the hill into the neighborhood where he worked.  There the man refused to give up and they had to shoot him.  He was standing in a school yard.  That was when we decided we had to get back to who we were and that very weekend we started driving the countryside looking for a place to land.


The place we found and were instantly drawn to was Vernonia.  We bought our first home there and joined the First Christian Church two months before Wilson was born.  I don't think we have missed a Sunday without reason since.  Some of the reasons may have been a little iffy, but we believed that we were asked by Jesus to be part of His body and commitment to the local congregation is part of that.  Oops....soapbox moment.


The Vernonia church has had numerous issues for all of its history.  I will not trot out my guesses as to why here, but suffice it to say, they were between pastors when we came and between pastors when we left for good eight years later.  


In the middle of those years, however we had a go at the mid west. Darrin was offered the opportunity to set up and manage a satellite company in Dubuque, Iowa and being young and ambitious and not knowing any better, we jumped on it. It only lasted a few months but while we were there our faith was challenged and our commitment to God and each other grew immensely.  While there are many things that were adversely affected, our credit rating mostly, I do not regret our time "back east" because it was there we first attended a church where the women covered their heads for worship.  


I had discovered the passage in Corinthians about women covering many years before and had never resolved in myself why that was cultural and communion was not.  The usual explanation about  how the women needed a reminder of God's and their husband's authority on their head because they were taking leadership in the church seemed MORE relevant today not LESS.  I still waffle on this.  I still have trouble buying that just because Paul mentioned it only once and only to a troubled church means that it isn't important for our troubled church here in America.


No more for today.  Its time for school. :)

I Really Haven't Forgotten...

...that I'm in the middle of a story, but I just have not the energy nor the will to write right now.  Maybe next week?

We interrupt.....

     Here in the middle of my telling, I am going to squeeze in a little real world example of why I am a closet Mennonite.  I definitely, partially, semi, lean toward noncombatant. What brought this to light recently was the death of a man who brought evil to most of the world, but who was still a child of God, Osama bin Laden. 


     Growing up in an NRA-belonging, gun-toting, protect-it-if-it's-your's family that has served in all four branches of the US military, you can see my dilemma.  The worst part is the constant battle in myself over my beliefs.  I still believe that if someone were hurting someone I love I would absolutely go all kinds of crazy on their head.  That is decidedly NOT anabaptist.  But I am so disturbed by rejoicing over the gruesome death of even a terrorist.  


     I have always been a believer in capital punishment....it's scriptural, right?  But doesn't that come from before Jesus came and changed the standard by which we are to live?  How can I reconcile the war within myself?


    

In the Beginning...

     I am actually, literally, physically rolling up my sleeves to start this post.  What's been running around in my brain is where to start the voyage of memory from when I first began considering Plain living,  to here, where I waffle about it daily.  There seem to be many fits and starts and revelations to the path looking at it now, but I hope that as I write, maybe it will be a straighter road looking backwards.


     A few years ago I ran into an old acquaintance and when she asked me about the number of children we had told me that she was surprised that I had so many because I didn't "seem the type."  When I told my oldest friend about the incident, she replied that the other woman didn't ever know me very well.  If she had known me she would have known that I had a long standing obsession with pregnancy and birthing and had always had in the back of my scattered brain the idea to become a mid-wife.  As a young teen I started reading about midwifery and this led me to a book whose title I don't even remember.  In it, the  midwife went  to attend the birth of a New Order Amish woman.  That single story out of a book that I can't even name began my contemplation.  


     At that time, my interest was much more about wanting a change from where I was (as many young teens do) than making a complete submission to God.  However, even then the possibility of living a simpler, more Laura life was very appealing to me.  My splotchy  commitment started around this time with a confession of faith at church camp.  The previously mentioned oldest friend and I went forward at the same time and were baptized there.  I still do not know if that confession was true or if it was some self inflicted peer pressure decision.  I did have many great experiences at camp and even some life altering times of seeing God clearly.


     That summer began a 5 year long cycle of going to camp and deciding to seek the Lord, then going back to school and getting involved with a new non-Christian boyfriend for those nine months.  It is strange to think back on but having a family with no interest in spiritual things, it probably makes more human sense than becoming a Mennonite!  Through out those lost years of turmoil inside and out, God was working on me.  He was protecting me from real harm and even from the big major regrets that so many have to carry.


   Then Darrin came.  We had known each other previously but were involved with other people until the summer before my senior year.  Following the cycle, he was not a Christian, and mentioned to me the first night we spent talking as only new love interests can do, that he was agnostic.  But I was already thinking he IT.  So I decided to ignore what I had been taught in youth group and proceeded into a relationship.  


     This is the part of the story I always hesitate to tell young people.  Our story is NOT typical.  It is another example of God's unbelievable mercy and touch.  Darrin and I dated, were intimate, got married young and one year after, on our anniversary, Darrin accepted Jesus and was baptized.  See why I don't care too much to share that!?  Such a bad example,  but a good place to close the first chapter.