Sunday, May 23, 1999 - Picnics and Spring Programs

Everything is snug and pleasant here at my house, with the children all in bed, and Larry snoozing on the recliner until I tell him to come to bed, which I will shortly, because my eyes are too tired to type much longer.

During the early part of this week, while Victoria was still pleased as punch to have her long-lost Daddy home again from his trip to Indiana, he made us some of his famous flap-jacksons. Victoria was playing in the living room. And she kept calling, “Hi, Daddy in there!” So Larry would call back, “Hi, Victoria out there!” and she’d say, “Hi, Daddy in there!”....... “Hi, Victoria out there!” --on and on, ad infinitum.

Then, later, she was sprawled on the rug with her favorite blankie, and Larry was sitting nearby in a chair, and she said, “Hi, Daddy up there!” He answered, “Hi, Victoria down there!” Said she, “Hi, Daddy up there!” and on and on again.

After that, she was in her room playing with Hester, Lydia, and Caleb, and she yelled loudly, “Hi, Daddy over there!” And he, from the living room, replied, “Hi, Victoria way over there!” She repeated, “Hi, Daddy over there!” But he’d fallen asleep, and didn’t answer. She waited a moment, then shouted, “Hi, Victoria way over here!”

Monday afternoon, Caleb still didn’t feel just the best, so he stayed home from school. Hannah, just coming upstairs, was surprised to find him still home. “Why didn’t you go to school?” she asked him.

He tipped his head, “Well, my stomach hurt,” he replied, “and, besides!--I couldn’t find my socks!”

One evening we took Keith and Esther our sliding, mesh baby gate, which we no longer use, so that they can keep their only-partly-trained puppy in the kitchen without having to shut the door on him, which makes him sad and forlorn. Esther already has him trained to ‘sit’ and ‘come’.

I now have only thirteen pages of sermon notes from Hebrews left to type before I start on the last notebook, which has the books from James to Revelation. It is only half as big as the one I’m just finishing.

Tuesday afternoon, Hester’s class went on a picnic to one area of Pawnee Park, while Lydia and Caleb’s class went on a picnic to another location in the park. And Caleb was well enough to go. Well, maybe not quite..... but I thought it possible he’d come to more harm if he stayed home mourning and pining.

At 3:30, he came bursting through the door, exclaiming, “Mama! We didn’t even have to do any work at school at all, because we had recess so long at Pawnee Park!!”

Lydia must’ve played herself completely out, for she headed straight off to her room, where she took a nap for an hour and a half.

Tuesday, a friend and customer of ours gave us a big package of pork chops, which we promptly baked and ate, and a dozen two-pound tubes of pork sausage. So, on Wednesday, I made the equivalent of six pizzas in three big rectangular pans. I can fit all three in my oven at once, and, when it’s on ‘convection’ setting, they all bake perfectly evenly. Some of the littles didn’t remember me ever making pizza before, and Caleb, in particular, was quite astounded that a person could actually make pizza himself, rather than buying it from the Schwan man or getting it at the Pizza Hut.

I piled it high with pork sausage, Canadian bacon, pepperoni, chunky tomato sauce, onions, green peppers, olives, mushrooms, lots of spices, and a thick layer of Monteray Jack and mozzarella cheese. And, if anybody so desired, they could put a few raging hot, sliced, jalepeno peppers on top. Mmmm!! Now, that was scrumptious. And yes, I like jalepeno peppers. The hotter, the better.

Friday was our Spring Program. Hannah was surprised to get a prize for Academic Excellence; she thought she would miss out on a prize, because she received one B during her years from ninth grade through twelfth. She probably would’ve gotten her usual A, had she not missed so much school on account of asthma; but she missed several in-class lectures, and so was not well prepared for some of the tests. She got the highest grades of the four students who graduated this year. Her prize was a big book on Revelations by Dr. W. A. Criswell, the pastor of that huge First Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas. This book has been nearly impossible to find anywhere; it isn’t printed very often, and, when it is, the copies are snatched up so fast, we hardly have a chance to buy one. It’s a wonderful explanation of the prophesies and the story of heaven, and was one of my father’s favorite books.

The program was very inspiring. Tomorrow we are going to take a video of it over to my mother’s house and watch it with her; she always enjoys that.

Since Saturday was “Free State Parks and Fishing Day” in Nebraska, we headed for a little lake beside the Platte River south of Alda, which is west of Grand Island. We took along everything we’d need to make supper. At this location, the Parks Commission has built a large wooden deck, accessible by ramp or stairs, up over the banks of the Platte River, so that people can stand and watch the Sandhill cranes.

We had been there only long enough for Larry and Hester (she’s always the first one ready) to cast their lines a few times, when nasty-looking stormclouds came billowing up, and we heard on our radio that a severe thunderstorm with dangerous lightning and hail an inch in diameter was coming through Grand Island and heading southwest, straight toward us. We could see for ourselves that we didn’t have much time before it hit. So we hurriedly packed everything up, jumped into the Suburban, and fled.

In listening to the weather report, we decided that the storm wasn’t so bad but what we could drive through it safely, and we sure didn’t want to wind up being chased all the way to Mexico, so we turned around and headed right back into it. We encountered a hard, pounding rain, crackling lightning, crashing thunder, and strong wind for a few minutes, along with some hail, but the hail wasn’t big enough to do any damage. Soon we were on the other side of the storm, heading north through Grand Island. It was still raining just a bit, and the temperature had dropped considerably, so we abandoned our plan of fixing supper on the cookstove, and treated everybody to a runza, with milk to wash it down, and a granola bar and juice for dessert.

Friday night after the program, Hannah was unwrapping several presents. She opened one that was a delicate oval doily, crocheted in fine thread by my sister-in-law’s elderly mother. Hannah oohed and ahhed over it, then handed it to Caleb. “Would you like to show this to Mama?” she asked.

He looked at it admiringly and took it carefully. “Mama,” he said, coming across the room with it, “just look at this pretty old thing!”

And then he stopped and gazed about the room with an amazed face, because we all burst out laughing at that “pretty old thing” remark.

Tuesday when Victoria noticed Caleb rushing around, tying his shoes, washing his face, brushing his teeth, having his hair combed, and so forth, she asked him, “Caleb! Are you going back to school?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m all better now, so I can!”

She tilted her head and looked at him sadly. “That’s too bad,” said she.