A Holy Saturday Letter

Typically we have written and sent out (or distributed electronically, as the case often is) our Easter letter by now (our version of a family Christmas letter). It clearly hasn't happened this year. And it's not going to happen at this point.

I confess that I feel a little guilty not writing one. Especially not spending one back to all the people who sent us a card at Christmas.

But I also just don't have the drive to do it this year. I often feel that the letter--while intending to keep in touch and share our lives with our friends--sometimes just turns into bragging. And while there's a lot to brag about (Beth's immense success in her academic endeavors, Nils' taking to hockey quite well, Anders' fantastic job at beginning on the violin despite his hate of practicing), it kind of feels like there's nothing worthwhile to share. And the fact is that if you're reading this, you've probably kept up with our lives via this blog or facebook. I should probably put time into writing each of you personally (though at this point in the school year, I just don't have much drive or energy--maybe in six weeks!).

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I sometimes feel this unsettling tension about Holy Saturday. We've often attended a Good Friday service (as I did last night) remembering the suffering Jesus went through on the cross. Tomorrow, of course, we'll attend the Resurrection Sunday service at church remembering that He didn't stay dead, but arose. Holy Saturday sits in the tension between those events. The Apostles Creed states that Jesus spent this day in Hell (theologically, I believe death/Hell is separation from God which Jesus seemed to experience on the cross and in the grave).

To Jesus' followers it was the Sabbath Day--a day of rest. Nothing to do but sit and contemplate the events that had just transpired, hoping for a different outcome, somehow finding a way to be present enough to worship God.

We don't know what they did or experienced following the crucifixion: fear? anger? disappointment? worry? hope?

It seems that they were gathered together as was their habit. Maybe worshiping God. Maybe sitting in silent fear. Probably eating. But they were together.

It's a good habit, gathering together. It's one of the reasons we try not to travel around this weekend. While I love and miss my family, I like to have this holiday to be in our church with our family there. We often open up our home to those who aren't having an Easter meal elsewhere. But we gather together.

I hope that through this past Holy Week and into tomorrow's Resurrection Sunday, you will have found places to gather together whether it be with family, friends, or the people you regularly worship with. May togetherness be a place of comfort during times of grief, sadness, tension, or hope.

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I'll end this "letter" of sorts by wishing you and your family a joyous Eastertide. Stop by and visit if you're in the Twin Cities (stay the night if you need). We'll have some food, play some games, and have some good time. Gathered together.

Love,

The Wenells

Family Reunion

The old grey house has beenIn the family for over a hundred years.
Little has changed since
It was last occupied:
Crackled yellow paint in the kitchen,
Family portraits on the walls,
The claw-foot bathtub upstairs.
The front porch is where
Generations gather and sit
And eat on humid summer nights.
The back yard boasts
A burlap-sack rope swing
Hanging from the largest,
Oldest tree, as well as enough
Space to seat a hundred people
Around tables when they gather
For the annual family reunion.
From the children who grew up
In the house to their great-
(and sometimes great-great) grandchildren,
They gather around to eat and talk
With cups of pink lemonade
Or cans of Miller Lite
To quench their thirst.
The children (as well as many-a
Child-like adult) grab squirt guns
And water balloons in a yearly
Tradition of staying cool.
Then Great-Uncle Richie
Passes out straws and bags
Of little white beans and
The pea-shooting begins.
As the day fades away
And left-overs are brought
Out for supper, chairs are moved
To the front yard where
Ultimate Frisbee and
Tug-of-war are played;
Sparklers are lit and waved,
While ice cream is consumed
From the Dairy Queen across the street.
Darkness gathers, as gathered family
Slowly disperses until next year.

Family Reunion

The Leo Trumper home

The boys and I are returning from our trek to Pana, Illinois. Every year for the past 66 years the descendants of the Leo Trumper family (and cousins of various names--Werners, Sprects, Yencks, and others I may not know) have gathered at the original homesite for a family reunion. Relatives from New Jersey, Michigan, Arizona, and even Beijing, China, this year, travel to spend time with each other for a weekend.

It is my maternal grandfather's side of the family. I never knew him--he died before my parents were even married. I didn't know a lot of that family, either. We didn't get to make the trip a lot when I was young. I've gone many more times since I've been married, but it still hasn't been that frequently--at least as frequently as we'd like.

Even though I didn't grow up close to these cousins of varying degrees, when we arrive in Pana it is like we have always been close. Even now, as soon as my boys get out of the car, they know they are surrounded by family who love and accept them.

We gather at the home where my grandfather and his six siblings grew up as children. I'm not sure when the last time anyone lived in the old house was, but it remains--largely unchanged--solely for the purpose of the reunion. My Aunt Madeline used to come out from Maryland and stay for longer chunks of the summer in the house--in the room she grew up in--but she isn't able to make the journey any longer--at least not very easily.

The boys and I stay in the house when we visit (Beth has been doing research and field work the last couple times we've gone, so we make the journey without her). The bed sags in the middle. The floorboards creak. The paint is peeling. The bathroom contains a large four-clawed bathtub and a toilet which you can't flush the toilet paper in because the septic system can't handle it. It is not a house you would typically want to sleep in alone. But we never have to. My mom's cousin Denise and her kids are always there as well. Up until a year ago, her father was always there also. As well as anyone else who was up for the quaint amenities.

The Great-Aunts & Uncles

Most everyone there is called an "aunt" or "uncle" regardless of their relation to you. The oldest generation (my mom's true aunts and uncles) still get called that by my generation. The older cousins become my kids' aunts and uncles. We're all family (including the non-family members who often come--boyfriends, girlfriends, even just regular friends).

My Great-Aunt Denise would often show up in the mornings with an offering of pastries, orange juice, and the local parish paper to let us know what time mass would be on Sunday. She doesn't do it much any more (it was often for her late brother Vic who stayed there), but she always did it silently, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but to serve those who were staying in the house.

My Great-Aunt Mary and Uncle Richie always get the house in order and prepare boundless feasts for those who arrive early and stay late.

The big gathering is on Sunday afternoon. Everyone contributes to a wonderous potluck. Most of us complain about having eaten far too much. Yet we still find room for dessert and leftovers later in the evening. As well as a run across the street to the Dairy Queen which my Great Uncle Paul first started.

Nils on the swing

We have our traditions: after the meal there is a water fight and then Uncle Richie brings out bags of northern white beans and straws to have "pea shooter" fights. The yard always has a swing made from a sack tied to rope hanging from a tree. Whenever a train comes down the tracks behind the house the kids love to gather apples that have fallen off the trees to throw at the cars. We'll put nails, pennies and other small objects on the tracks to see how the train cars misshape them. We generally do a lot of sitting around in chairs on the lawn talking and watching the kids play.

As an ordained minister, even though I am not Catholic like most of the family, I still am asked to pray for the meal whenever I am there. It sometimes feels like a weighty burden that I am not worthy of doing. But no matter what, I am accepted.

That is what being family is. I know they're not perfect. And often they're a little too obvious or confessional in their imperfections, but the Trumper family is a place where all are welcome and accepted. They are giving, loving servants who love to share and take care of each other. I think--at least I hope--that family is a little glimpse of Heaven. At least all those good parts.

Family in Town

My parents never get to enjoy the Twin Cities whenever they visit. They're either here for a family event or work, so we've been trying to get them up for a while just to enjoy some of the fun things around town. They were finally able to come up Sunday night--with my niece and nephew. They were only able to be here two days, so we packed a lot of fun into the past two days. We never left Minneapolis and did completely free things.

We started the time together by taking a bike ride along the  Mississippi River  down to  the Stone Arch Bridge and to the Guthrie Theater.

In the Yellow Room on the 9th floor of the Guthrie,  enjoying some air conditioning.

We headed down to Minnehaha Falls to cool off in the water.

After enjoying time in the river, we still finished the day going for a swim in the lake at Theodore Wirth Park. The river was restful--the kids played with the rocks, swam down the current, and tried to catch small fish in their hands. The lake was one last cooling off on a 101 degree day with energetic swimming.

This morning we went to the Minneapolis Institute of Art and enjoyed getting cultured.

On our way home we stopped at the Sculpture Garden.

Ethan ate the giant cherry.

We finished off the day driving down around the Chain of Lakes so that Mom could enjoy the homes along the way. We stopped at Wild Rumpus bookstore; the animals and fun decor in the store were a hit. Then we made our way to Lake Harriet for a picnic supper, but got sidelined by the grand opening/ribbon cutting of the new playground there (free coupons for ice cream!). After supper we finished off the night enjoying the concert at the bandshell.

Somewhere Beyond the Sea...

Our good friends are heading to China tomorrow. They're going to meet their daughter and bring her home with them. The word excitement would be and understatement. They've been waiting for this to happen for a while (though not as long as some in the adpotion process, I know). Their process really has gone quite quickly--but I know it can feel like eons at the same time.

They have boys the same age as ours (which is very convenient). Actually we got to know each other because our oldest and their oldest became best friends in Kindergarten. And then we moved--just as we were getting to know each other well. Granted, we're in adjoining cities, but it's not as convenient as when we lived in the same school. Or the same neighborhood for that matter. 

I don't say this to be judgmental of anyone else, but I laud them for adopting. They could have poured a lot of money into IVF or other means of having a baby themselves. They chose to seek out a child who didn't have parents to take care of her and make her their own. This is valuing life.

We've been praying for them (they requested it, but we would have prayed anyway). It'll be a big transition for their family. When the boys come home (they're spending time with their grandparents while their parents fly to China) they will have a new sister. Not a baby, but an 18-month old. An 18-month old who won't understand the words they say (except for the few Chinese words they know). She will have trips to the hospital to take care of deformities in her feet. There will now be three kids in the house--not two (and one of them is a girl!). And of course it will be a huge transition for her to leave the orphanage and meet her new mom and dad, to fly in an airplane for the first time across the ocean to a country with strange customs and language. 

But for as long as our friends have known about the sweet little girl, halfway around the world, who would one day join their household, they have called her their daughter and sister. And she is. She may have been born in a different country to a different woman and man, but she is still a part of their family (even though they haven't met her yet).  It's a beautiful image of love and family.

It's also a beautiful image of God. Throughout the Bible God uses the language of adoption for how He loves us. He invites us into His family. He longs to call us His child. He desires to make us His heirs and give us our inheritence. He loves us deeply and perfectly.

And while I hope that little Gracie Yuan Yuan may one day know that love, I am grateful that for now she will know the love of an earthly family--especially in a wonderful househould like our dear friends have. Blessings to you, dear friends. Many, many blessings.

Camping Up North

We finally got a weekend away to go camping as a whole family. It was much needed. Being Labor Day weekend, we didn't even bother trying to find a spot at a campground. We headed to Covenant Park Bible Camp on Park Lake where a good friend of ours is the director. He lets us pitch our tent on the camp grounds. Since it was a bit cold the first night he even let us stay in an empty cabin. But the next day, the tent went up.

We spent one day up on the North Shore, hiking around Gooseberry Falls. We got off to a rough start--frustrations over a confusing GPS unit we got at the park for geocaching, disagreements over where to go, basic poor communication. We've often had "rough spots" while camping. Ask me sometime about camping on our honeymoon.

I heard recently in a sermon a quote by some Christian psychologist, if I remember correctly (I didn't write it down, so you're going to have to hope my brain is recalling the details correctly), saying that camping is one of the best bonding activities for families. The pastor reflected on that probably being true because of all the things that tend to go wrong while camping. It's usually rain for us (which held off until we were driving home).

But every camping trip--even our honeymoon with its disasters--is a good memory for me. The issues that arise are never bigger than the fun times and the beauty of God's creation. Often those rough spots bring us together--hopefully learning to relate better, forgive and admit faults. Anyway, the time at Gooseberry Falls was good. We enjoyed the falls and time along the shore.

The boys love time in a tent--even if it was a cool weekend. Campfires, s'mores and seeing the stars come out add to the appeal of camping for the boys. So, as summer unofficially ends, I'm dreaming of camping trips next year (and maybe another one or two this fall if we can fit them in). I believe camping is a far better way to build family memories than most vacation alternatives. Even if it's not, I'll be going again.

Farm, Family and Fellowship

Beth has been out of town the past week and a half (and will be until the end of the week) as part of a class she's taking (hoping it'll lead to a job or a position in the doctoral program). My parents have been asking for their week with the boys on the farm, so it seemed like a good time to do it (I stayed hoping to get some time to write, which didn't really happen, of course). We headed down last Sunday night. They love the country--as do I. We had a lot of rain, so there were plenty of puddles to splash and jump around in. Starry skies and lightning bugs make it difficult to get to bed at night.

We went camping one night. We were going to go for two, but came home early for fear of storms--which was a good move as it rained and thundered a lot that night. But we got in some swimming in the lake, some hiking and some time around the campfire.

We were also able to get to a family reunion in Illinois as my sister and her boyfriend were willing to ride with us so I didn't have to do the drive alone. It's my mom's dad's side of the family. We haven't gotten there since Anders was a year old. But it's a place we would go to every year if we could. Others don't understand when we talk about going to our family reunion. It's really an event. Family comes from all over: New Jersey, Michigan, Arizona, etc.

The reunion is held at the house my grandfather grew up in. No one lives there anymore, but they keep it for the sole purpose of the reunion. It's been going on for 64 years now, I believe. We got in on Friday night. Many people had arrived already. It was like we had hung out with them the weekend before. Sure, there's dysfunction, but it's a place I want to be at. I'm accepted, I'm included, I'm known.

My boys loved it, too. Their cousins (they're distant as far as cousins go, but they're as close as cousins) played with them constantly. On Sunday they have a big potluck lunch with very delicious food in vast quantities. Afterward the kids (and a few of the adults) have a big water fight (squirt guns and water balloons), followed by a bean fight (shooting beans through straws). The back yard is a labyrinth of bushes, trees and flowers. There's a sack swing in one of the trees. And rail road tracks which are great for putting pennies on--but you didn't hear that from me. Plus there's a Dairy Queen across the street that my great-uncle initially opened.

I'm lucky, I now. We all need family like that and a place to belong. Really, my family reunion is what church should be like. Once in a while we find a church that is like that--a place where you're accepted, included and known. A place of fun, fellowship and feasting. A place you want to be at and want to keep returning to again and again.

Here's the thing: Sometimes a family and a church like that just happen--they contain the right mix of people. But the majority of the time we have to make it happen. We need to be intentional about making others feel welcome, wanted and accepted. We need to think of others' desires and needs. We need to fight well--not holding grudges, harboring bitterness or putting our own agendas before the betterment of relationships. We need to have fun and celebrate together. We need to love each other: take care of each other, encourage one another and shoulder each others' burdens. When we work at it, then we can have a family and a church like I find at the Trumper homestead in Pana, Illinois.

Moving Reflections

Lately, I feel like I'm too focused on this move, that I'm missing out on my relationship with God. At the same time, as I think about it, buying our first house makes me very focused on God--even if I'm neglecting the opportunities during the day to connect with Him.
For one thing, we can't deny how God has provided this house for us. It clearly has been His doing. And even though I can grow anxious about finances with it, I know that we'll be okay as God has done good so far. Jehovah Jireh.

It is also is a very humbling experience. There are plenty of months that we stretch things to make ends meet. We've giving up trips to theme parks, vacations and plenty of "enhancements" in our life. At the same time, as I put each of my possessions into boxes, I can't deny how well we have it. Especially compared with other parts of the world we've seen. We have everything we need--plus so much more (too much more?).

It's also been a great reminder that we're not alone. We can't do it alone. Sure, we could hire a moving company (if it was in the budget), but we're doing it ourselves. Except we're not. My family is helping. And many friends have volunteered as well (including one coming from Alaska!). Just another reminder that we need community--and community is an enriching experience.

Scenes from Iowa

During Anders' spring break we spent several days on my parents' farm. The boys loved squishing in the mud, climbing on trees and spending time with FarFar (especially in the tractor).

We were up early enough to enjoy a beautiful sunrise. The sunsets are just as beautiful. Not to mention the night-time skies on clear nights.

We took the boys over to my uncle's farm to see their new lambs (they also enjoyed some time swinging in the hay mow).

We also spent a couple days in the Des Moines area, staying with my brother so the boys could have time with their cousins. We got to visit my grandmother at her new apartment, and we picnicked with my sister and her new boyfriend after visiting the Historical Building.

Scenes from Easter

We all went down to Iowa for Palm Sunday weekend (also my Grandma's 89th birthday). We all dyed eggs together, and Anders and Beth tried blowing out an egg.

Beth went back to work, while the boys and I stayed in Iowa during Anders' spring break.

Between the Sunrise Service & the regular church service on Easter morning, the boys hunted for their Easter baskets.

We had Easter dinner at my uncle & aunt's house. The boys (and cousin Riley) had fun hunting eggs outside again.

Who I Work for

I don't have anything to say. I just wanted to share these pictures of the family.