It is odd to feel washed ashore this far from any ocean. But Peter’s death, Teckla’s dementia, and the burning of our house in Myrtle Point have left me dazed and disoriented—like Robinson Crusoe after the wreck of his ship. We have been here awhile but are still living out of boxes.
We were about to sell the house in Myrtle Point, so the fire may wreck us financially. Even though Robinson Crusoe made trip after trip to the wreck on the rocks of the bay, he was still dismayed when a second storm removed every trace of the ship. I feel that way about the house that was my home as a boy and where Teckla and I raised our boys.
Although not a tropical island, the climate of Kansas takes some getting used to after 30 years in Oregon. The dusty winds, hard rain, bitterly cold winters, and sizzling summer days are different. We have gone from high surf warnings to tornado warnings.
Like Crusoe on his island, Teckla and I have been exploring the place we have landed. We have walked most of the town, discovering the stores, parks, and restaurants. We have made larger and larger circles around Gardner and hiked the trails at nearby parks. We are learning the flowers and trees each season brings. We are discovering places that nourish our souls with their beauty.
Like Crusoe, we have a lot of stuff that survived the wreck. If all goes well, we will be getting rid of even more stuff when we buy a small townhouse nearby. I once gave a talk about Robinson Crusoe being one of the first post-apocalyptic novels. My focus was on how loss can crystallize our values and help us understand what matters. As we sort and discard things, we are forced to figure out what will be of use in this new place. The things I need here surprise me.
Hymnal: Every morning Teckla and I sing three or four hymns together. Turns out that the melodies are forever etched into our memories—so we can sing a cappella. Sometimes the hymns bring back the old-wood smell of pews or the fragrance of the lilacs that bloomed at the doorway of the church in Milton-Freewater. They are the sounds of sabbath and rest. Teckla and I are made steadfast by the structure of the hymns: thanks for salvation, praise for God’s power to keep us, hope for our resurrection and glory.
Poetry: Increasingly, it seems that the most important things need to be said with sound, image, and metaphor; words striking words for a spark of truth. It is perhaps odd to find poetry in my survival kit. But like Crusoe’s spy-glass, poetry helps me see the world. I see a world alive with beauty and ripe with meaning.
My pearwood recorder: I bought this little flute at a music store on 12th Street in Nampa, Idaho when I was in college. I never, and still haven’t, mastered it well enough to play for others, but I can play tunes on it. I like the haunting beauty of its voice—coming from wood seasoned with the years. Against the depression that lurks in the shadows of old age, “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” is a dagger.
The hugs of grandchildren: I have never been much of a hugger, but the hugs from grandkids have been like finding an orchard on a deserted island. Their hugs nourish my soul. Hugging them is like hugging hope itself.
Holding hands: Teckla and walk almost every day. In the neighborhood, we hold hands to keep one another from tripping over uneven or broken sidewalks. Teckla and I first held hands while praying together in college. We are still holding on, still praying. Few pleasures are simpler or sweeter.
The Sacraments: The Eucharist, or Lord’s Supper has been a sustaining help and fountain of grace. In all this wreckage, especially my Myrtle Point home burning, the sacraments remind me of my true home—a home beyond tragedy and cruel ironies. The sacraments, in the midst of so much loss, anchor me in the unchanging love of God. Jesus is all.
Ragtag brothers and sisters in Christ: Although I miss the beauty of Oregon’s mountains, streams, and beaches, I miss even more the church family who surrounded us with so much love and help. Our treasure in Myrtle Point was not the house that burned; it was the faithful love that Teckla and I experienced in the community of believers.
