unspoken

dear rory,

I was in the middle of writing an entirely different letter to you, when I made the mistake of looking out my window… so now you get this long, rather pointless story instead. aren't you glad I have a short attention span?

***

so there’s this neighbor of ours.

she hasn’t aged in twelve years.

she has silvery hair that falls an inch beneath her chin, her shoulders are slightly hunched, she walks in quick, short steps (yet somehow manages to move slowly), and her eyes... well… they’re distant.

I’ve only seen her a handful of times during our long encampment here in this neighborhood, but at the moment she is standing on my driveway.

I don’t even know her name.

the first time I saw her, she was watching as her son joined me on my mad-dash-bicycle race up and down and around and around the cul-de-sac. I was the fastest of the fast (not to mention the humblest of the humble)- especially when my arch-rival neighbor/best friend, Danny, wasn’t there.

but one day, with his mother watching from the corner, this new kid joined me. Chris. that was his name. and he was faster than any biker I'd ever seen.

Danny and I were typical kids. we both worshipped AND hated anyone faster or bigger or stronger than us. we thought they were cool, but they were also a threat if you know what I mean. we used to just sit out in Danny’s front yard with our bare feet stretched into the grass, licking our dripping popsicles, staring Chris down as he rode his bike in huge circles. if he looked our way, my conflicting jealousy and admiration would melt into a smile- there was something I didn’t understand about him and it made me curious. but Danny would make a face and confidently boast his own speed to me. after all, this was OUR cul-de-sac. not to mention that looking back, I’m pretty sure he considered me HIS girlfriend (even though I considered him just a dorky neighbor boy)… and he was just as jealous as any seven-year-old boy could be for his eight-year-old girlfriend.

In consequence, I don’t remember Danny ever riding bikes with Chris. but sometimes, I would overcome my shyness and join him.

I honestly don’t know how I learned his name. I can’t remember him speaking one word to me. ever. usually, I would spot him through my front window, rush out to the garage, and then casually sit on my bike at the end of the driveway studying my nails till he slowed up before me.

acting like I hadn’t even noticed him before, I would suddenly glance up and give him my cheesiest gap-toothed smile. he would smile back in his quiet way. he was tall and skinny. his eyes were almost as pale as his skin. his hair was the definition of sandy blonde… sometimes it looked so sandy, I wondered if he were a merman with real ocean sand mixed in with his hair. he was quite a few inches taller and several years older than me, but he needed a friend. a quiet friend.

I am not quiet. but around him, I somehow managed to be. in fact, I never spoke a word to him either. there was no need to. we were both kids riding bikes in circles… what could we possibly have to say about that? and besides, we were friends, and we both knew it, so we were both happy.

when we got too tired to continue, I never invited him over for ice-cream, and he never asked. his house was not actually in the cul-de-sac, but around the corner. I can still see him looking over his shoulder and giving a final faint smile, and on rare occasions a wave, as I stared my goodbye.

this mutually quiet friendship continued a few summers. sometimes the gaps between his cul-de-sac rounds were so long that Danny and I would forget he existed. and as for his mom- well, I'm pretty sure I only saw her that first day he joined me. but whenever Chris finally did show up, Danny and I would exchange glances, continue our game of basketball or superheroes, and steal looks his way whenever we could. he would smile, but say nothing. his pale eyes would look at me curiously and I felt sorry for him, but never once did that sorry-ness I felt prompt me to go speak to him. it wasn't something that even crossed my relatively friendly mind, because it wasn't something that was supposed to be done. not to Chris. I couldn't and wouldn't force him to speak.

he was a forgettable person. and one summer, I realized I hadn’t seen him in years. I doubt Danny even remembered his existence, and I probably wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t seen his mom out walking.

it was strange to see her out in the fresh air. but what was weirder was that she was parading an empty baby stroller around.

being the polite thirteen-year-old that I was, I stopped on the sidewalk and open-mouth stared. she hadn’t seen me yet, so I jumped into our pine tree and watched. she strolled along in her old-looking clothes. if she had been closer, I would feel justified in saying that she smelled like moth-balls. but that was probably my imagination. she stopped at every driveway and bent down. apparently the front page of each of our newspapers was highly fascinating to her. she continued her loop and walked back around the corner.

a few days later she showed up with her empty baby stroller at my neighbor’s garage sale. she brought a few things over and wondered if she could sell them. my neighbor said that would be fine. I don’t remember her coming back for the money she made.

at that time I wondered about Chris. what had happened to him? I didn’t know. if I could’ve, I would’ve asked that odd woman I assumed (but with my strong imagination, I sometimes romantically made up past histories for Chris and doubted) to be his mother, but she disappeared from our lives again, and so they both disappeared from my mind.

then, about two years ago, I had the weirdest dream: I was at camp playing on a playground. I was with a bunch of my friends and they were talking in dream language (you know what I mean... that babbling background noise that doesn't make an ounce of sense). I was in the middle of laughing when I saw him. he looked much older, and at first I didn’t recognize him. but he had the same sandy hair and pale colorless eyes, and he gave me the same faint smile and slowly walked over to me. just as always, I didn’t say anything. he stopped in front of me and held out his hands sort of helplessly.

then he spoke.

“will you do me a favor?” it was the first thing he had ever said to me. his voice was pale and forgettable like the rest of him.

“yes,” my dream self answered.

“will you please pray for me? every night?”

“yes,” I answered again. and in my dream he looked relieved, almost happy even.

“promise me,” he said suddenly desperate again.

“I promise.”

then the dream faded and he looked over his shoulder. I stared goodbye. as always.

when I woke up, I was shaken. I took a walk around the block that day and went slow-motion past Chris’s house. the windows were dark. I stopped on the driveway and looked at the garage wondering if there was a small bike inside and what had happened to it’s owner.

I still slow down when I walk past that house. where is my silent friend now? I haven’t forgotten the promise I made him in my dream. and though I don't pray for him every night, I pray for him whenever I can.

maybe I’m crazy for praying for someone I spoke to for the first time in a dream, but I figure praying for him can’t hurt him. even if I am being silly.

***
mom is inside now.

“what did she want?” I ask. our neighbor had been standing on the drive-way holding a huge window-screen for quite some time. I wonder if it was necessary to carry the whole screen over? or was it like the empty baby stroller... just something to make her feel less lonely?

before mom answers, I alter my question entirely; “wait, does she have a name?”

“yes she has a name,” mom laughs. but I can tell she’s already struggling to remember it. “her name is… Judy…” there's a question in mom's voice as if she's not quite sure, but she continues; “she wanted to ask dad a question about her window…”

“did she say anything about Chris?”

“yes, she did.” I think mom is surprised I remember him. “she said he’s at some technical institute or something studying engineering… or… I’m not sure what. I get the feeling he’s a genius though.”

“I would believe it,” I mumble to myself. “mom? do you think… do you think she’s all right?”

“all right?”

“yeah, like, mentally?”

“yes,” mom says, “but no!” she adds quickly. “I think something is missing...”

***
someday, if I ever see Chris again, I want to walk right up to him and break our silent spell. I wonder what he would say if he knew I’ve been praying for him all this time? if he knew that I try to keep an eye out for his mom? would he stay silent and thank me with his eyes?

then again, maybe I won’t say anything at all... maybe he just needed a quiet praying friend.

maybe some things are better left unspoken.

your friend,
muffin

northbound

to whom it may concern:

rory & muffin will soon be in a car somewhere between here and there. "there" being, specifically, michigan. this may or may not involve a road trip, some pop-tarts, OneDirection, aviators, a whole lot of bags, a big adventure, & two very excited girls. depending on the cooperation of various electronic devices & the magical substance called "connection," there may also be occasional video updates posted here. so stay tuned and hope for the best (as far as the devices are concerned). 

in the meantime, hold down the fort for us. prayers for safe travel would be appreciated. (even though rory & muffin are obviously seasoned veterans at solo car trips. pshhh. don't tell her I said it, but rory has a tenuous relationship with gas stations.) in addition, we hope to be a blessing to the camp families we meet & work with. 

we promise to come back tan & full of stories. at least, muffin will be tan. rory prefers to sport the colors of the Polish, Danish, & Austrian flags, in keeping with her ancestry.

don't have too much fun in our absence.

we'll miss you all.

rory out.

sunshine in february

oh hey rory,

this eighteenth of February was a sparkling sort of day. it was sunny. it was warm-ish. my belly was quieted with the yummy contributions of pizza and rice-krispy squares and lattes and popcorn and grilled potatoes. the baby sister completed two laps in Mario Kart all by herself, I got to see my friends, dad helped me come up with the plot for a new story, and strawberry icecream is now waiting for me in the freezer.

at the moment, the dog is sleeping near my feet, hymns are vibrating off my eardrums via Pandora, mismatched fuzzy socks are warming my toes, and I am sitting on the couch with my hair piled into a knot on top of my head feeling the necessity to organize my thoughts into words.

today had the feeling of summer about it.

there was a giddiness in the air that made me want to skip around the block singing a song at the top of my lungs…

just kidding. that would be weird.

but you know what I mean. today was happy. it was like having July in February.

when I woke up this morning and suggested that after going to Starbucks we play Mario Kart and go see a movie at the dollar theater, lauren looked at me strangely and asked what was up.

(as if I’m not usually more fun than a barrel of monkeys… pft.)

well… I guess I *have* been sort of out of it lately. you see, two weeks ago, I had something strange happen to me. I lost most of my vision in my left eye, lost feeling in my right arm, and was so weak I could barely stand. I couldn’t remember most of what had happened that day or what I had said or done. and I was tired. oh so tired. mom was really worried about me and offered to take me to the hospital, but I said I would rather just go to bed.

I laid in bed for awhile thinking that maybe I was going to die. maybe this was the end. maybe eighteen trips around the sun was all the time I had been allotted in this life. and the weirdest part of it all was that I didn’t care. eighteen years seemed long enough. in fact, living for eighteen years had been exhausting. draining really. I was ready to close my eyes and sleep forever.

instead, I slept basically from Sunday night until Tuesday morning.

and since then, I have still been tired and weak and my mind has felt foggy, but my heart is beating and my brain is functioning and I’m ready for more adventures in life. I’m ready to travel many more miles with this planet I live on.

today was the first day I woke up and really felt like my mind was a bit clearer. I think the sun helped. the brightness made wanted to curl up in front of the window and lay still enough to feel my skin absorb the light. and I think I would have done that, but for the fact that my mind, which had been mostly idle for two weeks, was ready to do something besides math.

it’s funny how being sick can give you a new appreciation of life. how the seemingly small things suddenly feel so significant. how every memory begins to glow.

I had a lot of time to think these past two weeks. I went through a lot of my past and realized how much I have to be grateful for… from the big things: family, friends, church, home, food, clothes, etc… to the small things: every drop of rain, every pink-clouded sunset, every smiling face, every loving glance, every warm touch, every kind word, etc.

I realized how my existence has mostly been written with happy sounding chapter titles. sure, my life hasn’t been perfect. like any story, there have been sad parts. there have been parts that I wish I could’ve skipped over or seen coming. and I know that there will be chapters in the future that may not be easy reading. they may be tedious or boring or depressing or scary.

I know there will come a time when this chapter I’m living in will end. when the days of waking up to having my whole family under one roof will be over. I might not see the corner of my dad’s mouth tilt up in an ornery smile as he walks through the door with some surprise for all of us. I might not smell my mom’s perfume as I bury my head in her shoulder and spill out my heart. I might not get to stay up chatting for hours with my middle sister. I might not get to feel the three-year-old's head on my chest as she settles into a deep sleep.

someday, church fellowship meal might not mean the same thing it does now. it might not mean having the people I love most all sitting within a close proximity, laughing at pointless jokes and sarcasm, having one of the boys pick up a Frisbee and call everyone out to play. it might not mean all of us running through the green grass of the huge soccer field barefoot, feeling like nothing in the world could stop us from having a grand time. it might not mean cameras and shining eyes and ready smiles and funny stories and bright hopes.

but despite all of this, despite past memories both good and bad, despite future events both good and bad, one thing I do know is this: God is reigning. He is Sovereign. He is in control. He has a plan for my life and for the lives of those around me.

God is always right there. in every shining moment. in every dark time.

and I know that the sun is always shining. in every clear, blue sky. behind every dark, intimidating cloud.

am I happy to be alive? why yes. yes, I am.

love,
muffin

along came autumn

and so the year runs away in yesterdays many... [tolkien]

dear muffin,

today I was reheating wild rice for lunch. and it hit me.

curled up on a chair, wearing comfy jeans & wrapped in a cardigan, I realized--

it's fall.

just like that.

no warning; no rewind button. no denial. 

yipes.

I knew that school had started, sure. and a chill has crept back into the morning hours. but that's normal for september. right?

september. that month I associate with school & apple picking &... fall.

hold it right there. shouldn't I have to sign a consent-form or something? measure my progress and make sure I'm ready to move on? I guess not. because here we are.

summer, 2011 has been the best summer I can remember. the summers of my early childhood already seem like a distant memory full of dirty feet, mud castles, pool water, neighbor kids, bikes, and skinned knees (when was the last time I skinned my knee, anyway?). but I can still vividly feel the chalk bouncing in my hand as I drag it along the pavement, watching upsidedown through my legs as a dusty pink line follows me. I can transport myself to the moment when the sun begins to sink & mom's voice drifts across the yard, calling me to wash my hands for dinner. 

I spent one whole summer pretending I was named Joy. or Beth. or Amy. (it changed several times a day) I was always eighteen, because that was grown up. I generally had a husband toiling in distant fields and a baby sleeping peacefully in a weedy bower while I cheerfully stirred pieces of earth to make soup.

then there was the summer in between summers. you know, that one where I was sprouting into an awkward preteen, realizing that life was bigger than mud castles and imaginary friends. I was thinking about school, wondering who I was, imagining where the road led. I changed my handwriting every week in an effort to find the one that was "me."

and then there were the graduation-party-summers, which are a happy blur of friends and barefoot dancing and Coke cans dunked in coolers of ice water that freeze your hand when you reach in to grab them. I was growing up, and I knew it. but perhaps I thought I was more grownup than I was.

now along comes summer, 2011: that summer when the world ended (according to mr. harold camping). when I took a college class, and went to a friend's wedding. the one when I stayed up all night and started a blog. the one when my credit card was stolen, and I watched the sixth season of 24 with my brother&sister. the one when I went to ravinia and then talked into the wee hours with friends. the one with photoshoots, free water, expeditions unlimited. the one when I realized how much my church family has come to mean to me. when I realized that it won't all be like this forever.

you know. that summer.

I feel younger now than I used to. younger and less world-savvy than I expected to feel. and yet I feel so terribly old, like I'm standing on the edge of adulthood & looking back at "my childhood years." I didn't know what they were then: I just knew that school was boring and playing outside was fun. getting spanked was to be avoided and daniel was my arch-nemesis. important stuff like that.

I guess what I'm really feeling right now is confused. do I want to be a kid still? not exactly. but am I ready to say goodbye? no.

am I excited about being catapulted into the future? maybe. 

am I also sad? yes. yes I am. 

it's all so big and exciting. I feel like a kid walking around a carnival, wide-eyed at the blaze of lights and the smell of popcorn and the shouts of people on the roller coaster. yes, of course I want to grow up! look how much fun it's gonna be!

but growing up means letting go, and I don't like that part.

so. as fall blows in and sweeps us down the path a few more steps, I'm thanking the One who gave me all those summers. the One who's planning all the summers still to come.

and I'm trying to trust that they'll be just as good, so long as I remember why I've even been given summers at all.

always,

rory