Veteran's Weekend

Yes, yes, I know Bryan is the veteran in this family.  Thank you, Bryan.  And thank you to all serve. 

Now, let's talk about me. 

I am a veteran of something, too.  Pre-school motherhood. The days of caring for little ones are behind me.  I don't think I had realized it until this weekend.

We left on Wednesday afternoon for Weston, MO, where we have some land and a big tobacco barn that was full of. . .shtuff that Bryan needed to get rid of.  We also have dear friends in the area, Helen and David, and, from our time in Korea, Parin and her family who are now stationed at Leavenworth. 

Bryan spent both days selling stuff out of the barn.  The kids and I spent Thursday with Helen and David and then Friday with Parin and Jason, and their two girls, who are the same ages as our two kids.  A delightful time all around.

A note on our drive out:  The kids travel so well now, it is painless to drive long distances with them.  We were not commited to making it all the way out and with two hours to go, Bryan considered stopping in Topeka for the night.  But then we caught a talk radio program that covered something outrageous.  It really got his dander up and with this mighty shot of adrenaline, he felt great for the tail end of the journey.  We checked in at 1:45 AM. 

This is also where I noticed the first difference.  Gemma and Josh can both do everything for themselves in the back seat now.  And they're both thrilled to watch DVD's on their little players.  There was a time when I could not sit for 20 minutes without having to turn around for some reason or another.  This time, Bryan and I had the chance to talk for a couple hours without interruption.

Aunt Helen and Uncle David are the kids' Godparents.  Helen has a giant service dog.  I would tell you the breed--it's something French--but I don't remember it and you've never heard of it anyway. His name is BroJean and he's wonderful.  The kids love him, too.

We discovered on the weekend of our ParTAY, whence BroJean sat outside with Helen, several of our neighbors and a yard full of neighborhood kids, that this breed shepherds.  At least, BroJean does.  He just couldn't lie still.  He could not stand watching a bunch of children scatter and run around.  So he got up, loped over on his long legs, and proceeded to herd them into a group, either by circling them, or nudging them, or--yes indeed--nipping them.

Well.  Just one.  And it happened to be Mr. Colorado's daughter.  Mr. Colorado loves dogs more than Colorado, I think, and was very understanding.  Instinct.  What can you do?  Besides, Kate was fine. . .

Helen, David, BroJean, their doberman who is called Tootsie, the kids and I drove over to our land.  The dogs love to run there and I was glad the kids would have a chance to poke around, too.

The went for it.  Almost immediately.  It was cold out, but something about the fields and thickets beckoned.  Later, Helen remarked to me, "Um. . .We have 2 kids and 2 dogs wandering around out there that we can't see."

I shrugged and said, "BroJean is with them.  I am completely confident he's watching over them." 

This is why shepherding dogs are so great.  Why we had planned to get one if we had moved to that piece of land.  Why we would still get one if we end up moving to the country at some future point.

Would I have let them go off if they had been much younger?  No.  But this is what it means that Joshua is now older. I know how he thinks and he has the maturity and good sense to stick with his sister and not do anything stupid.  (Like what, even?  It's not like we have cliffs to jump off of. . .)

They eventually returned.  After nearly an hour.  BroJean was right by their sides.  Joshua's wool coat was stuck full of thistles, which gave us some clues as to their adventure.  I asked Gemma what BroJean had been doing.  "He was just by us the whole time," she said.

What a dog! 

Bryan made a wad of cash from the sale.  I had Gemma count it.  In our conversations throughout the day, certain turns of phrase would come up, like, "barn-burner," or. . .a few others that now escape me.  One of the kids would ask us to explain, and we would.  Helen said, towards the end of the afternoon, "I'm seeing that homeschool is really just an all-the-time thing."  Yes.  On days like that, I am reminded of it.

By the way, the name Weston, Missouri might seem familiar to you now due to recent news.  Those maniacs from that cult in Topeka scheduled a protest at a fallen soldier's funeral the weekend before last.  They have to obtain a permit to protest, and they have the constitutional right to one. 

The townspeople of Weston knew their rights, too.  They organized in about 24 hours.  Over half the town turned out to do the following: 
Take up all the parking spaces along the funeral route and surrounded the protest area;

Wire up a sound system from one of the bars and blast "Amazing Grace" and other songs whenever the protesters started singing;

assemble the Patriot Guard (a biker group that will show up whenever requested for this purpose) to gun their engines whenever the protesters tried to speak;

stand right in front of the protesting group with a giant flag held up so that none of their hateful signs could be read;

and, of course, stand on the flag line approaching the funeral home to specifically honor the fallen. 

This didn't just hit CNN and other national news, it actually got international coverage as well.  Letters poured into the Weston Chronicle from all over the country.

The hope, I would think, is that other towns will use this as a model for handling future attempts by these hideous cult members and after a year of getting shut down systematically, they'll find some other way to garner attention and money. 

It was a glorious day for Weston. 

Helen says they'd like to see "Pull a Weston" enter the vernacular. 

I entertained visions of what this would look like 50 years from now.  My best hypothesis: it will come to mean, "to take up space or opportunity another party thought it had privy to."  So, when you pull into a parking space someone else is waiting for, you would be "pulling a Weston." 

No part of that carries the sheen of honor.  But that's how language is. At least, that's my prediction for how this language will go.

Finally, David, Helen and the Ponces had dinner out at the best BBQ place I've ever enjoyed, and it was a joy to revisit it Thursday night.  The kids were a delight to have with us and once again I found myself really liking that we can all like having them around. 

Quick Josh story here:  I brought their scooters with us and they zoomed around David and Helen's cul-de-sac for a while to burn off their pent up car energy earlier in the day.  Josh's scooter needed a quick inspection, and when I gave it back to him, he jumped on and yelled, "Ride on!!!" and zoomed away.

What a boy.

On Friday, the kids and I got to Parin's on-post house at 9:15.  We did not leave until 9:00 PM, and this following a leisurely day of the kids playing somewhere else and Parin and I chatting and chatting and. . .you know, there are just some friends you can re-connect with without labor.  It was awesome.

In all that kid-playing, there was not one single squabble.  The four of them just got along really well, and had a hard time saying good-bye when it was time. 

Parin remembered, "Amy, we used to sit on the floor with them in Korea and say, 'OK, Sarah, now we share the toy with Gemma, and Gemma says, 'Thank you'" and on and on. . .   I had forgotten!  But she was right!  We used to pour a lot of energy into teaching those girls basic kindness and manners.  All the Mommies in our little group did, actually, and I know now what an unusual blessing that was.

Well.  There we were.  Reaping what we'd sown.  Polite, sociable children who loved to just play, play, play with each other! 

Saturday morning, we took the time to swim in the pool before loading up for the long ride home.  Instead of movies all the way, we listened to some audio books.  That's a simple pleasure, too.  We had finished up Paddington before the trip, a book that made all three of us laugh out loud as we tootled around town.  This time, we listened to Clementine and it was short and sweet.  Then we started The Railway Children, published in 1906 or so.  Normally, books that old are not written in language that I or the kids want to listen to.  But this one. . .we are all enchanted. 

So.  I sign off as a happy Veteran.  Those early years were not easy for me.  I am thankful for them, of course.  For some mothers, those baby days are the highlight of parenthood.  For me, they were the woods that I knew I'd get through one day.  That day is here!  God was so good to have helped me persevere to a season of sweet harvest.