Reunion

Way back in the distant past, when I worked as a full-time designer, our magazine staff would hold a weekly meeting to discuss projects and coordinate our schedules. At one of these meetings, I mentioned that I would be taking some time off for a family reunion, to which my coworker responded by offering me her condolences. "I'm so sorry!" she said, "Family reunions can be such an annoying waste of vacation time."

I remember being taken aback by that comment. It had honestly never occurred to me that family reunions are, for many people, a real drag—an endless week of sidestepping touchy subjects, of reviving ancient grudges, of navigating through a web of gossipy whispers and hurt feelings and bitter misunderstandings. Blood may be thicker than water, but after a week like that, I can understand why water would sound a lot more refreshing—and why condolences would be the proper response.

"No, no! It's not like that," I answered, "I actually like these people!"

We recently returned from our annual Kvale family reunion in western Washington, and I would like to take this opportunity to amend my response; I don't just like these people. I love them. This reunion is not an obligation. It's a privilege.

For twenty-five years now, my mom and her eight brothers and sisters and their families have spent three days vacationing together, a tradition begun by my grandparents when I was young and continued for these many years since they've been gone. And now that I have kids of my own, it makes me happy just to see how my boys can hardly contain their excitement as they anticipate the days spent with aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins by the lake—and how they can hardly contain their disappointment as we drive back home, leaving all of that fun and camaraderie behind.

Like most families, we're a quirky, varied bunch of people, and the memories I have are quirky and varied, too. I remember the time my uncle fell asleep on the lawn, and the brothers-in-law surrounded him with empty beer bottles pulled from the recycling bin. I remember the time my cousin organized all of us kids into a grand performance of a Belinda Carlisle pop ballad, using ping-pong paddles as "guitars." I remember the time my grandmother woke up early (as usual) and decided that 5:30 a.m. would be a great time to empty the dishwasher—with all the clinking and clanging and banging echoing throughout the lodge. I remember singing cheesy Sunday School songs by the campfire—in full, four-part harmony heavily weighted toward the alto section. I remember knock-down, drag-out games of Scrabble in the wee hours of the morning.


We've done hiking, and swimming, and line dancing, and foosball, and softball, and golf. And I'm sure that for every memory I have, there are hundreds more that stand out in the minds of my relatives.  But one activity has remained constant despite the changing venues and the growing numbers; each of the three days of our reunion is brought to a close by a time of singing and prayer. There are 70 of us (give or take) in one room, thanking God together for His faithfulness to our family, and asking Him to meet one another's needs. The older I get, the more I see how remarkable it is to have these opportunities every evening. And if my coworker's comment is any indication, we enjoy a peace between us that, it seems, is extremely rare.

I'm not saying that our family relationships are never painful—even heartbreaking—at times. Like every extended family, we're part of Adam's fallen race. But unlike many extended families, we are also part of the Second Adam's race. A spirit of patience and forgiveness pervades our interactions, and in spite of our differences we share a unity that cannot be explained by family ties alone. Blood may be thicker than water. But what flows between us is thicker still.

Who could ask for a better inheritance? My grandparents didn't leave us all with yachts and Caribbean condos and stacks of cash. Sure, none of us would mind boating around the Bahamas with an unlimited budget. But we'd never take it in exchange for the kind of family we have been given. Each summer, we have a living, breathing reminder of what kind of long-term equity we are working to build. Raising nine children on the kind of money my grandfather made by milking cows, felling trees, and pumping gas might, by many, have been deemed fiscally irresponsible, but who, looking around at one of our reunions, could argue with his rate of return or the generational worth of his assets? We are rich beyond all calculation, regardless of what our mutual funds say.

From my grandparents, I inherited a red cast iron gum ball machine. In terms of material possessions, that's all I got. But the true inheritance that they passed on to me—and to my children—is a crowd of cousins, countless happy memories, a delightful summer tradition, and a confident hope in the reunion that will include not only my grandmother and grandfather, but all the faithful who have gone before them. No condolences necessary.

The Christmas travel debacle

I know I promised more of a story about our failed first attempt at a trip to Phoenix for Christmas, and I never followed through with the promise. So in case anyone's still curious, here's what happened:

We were supposed to catch our flight out of Spokane, the day after we had just experienced a whopping winter storm. This was the AP report from the day before we left:

SPOKANE — The winter storm that has paralyzed Spokane set a record for the amount of snow dumped in a 24- hour period, the National Weather Service said Thursday.

The weather service recorded 17 inches of snow at Spokane International Airport in the 24 hours that ended at 4 a.m., 4 inches more than the record of 13 inches set in 1984. Records have been kept since 1881.

More than 3 inches of additional snow had fallen on the city since 4 a.m., the weather service said, driving the total to more than 20 inches.

I didn't have my camera with me, but this photo, taken by Bill Church, who we know from, er, church, captures the road conditions pretty well.

So I dutifully checked the highway and airport reports before leaving, and (Spokane being used to this sort of onslaught) the airport was already sending flights out on time, and the WSDOT page reported "Patches of snow and ice: Moderate impact on travel." Sounded like we were in reasonably good shape for departure, so we allowed for an extra hour to get the airport, just in case.

Right. I don't know how the WSDOT defines "moderate" or "patches" of snow. The snow was packed quite solidly on the road, and three cars were off in the ditch (right at a bend in the road where we lost cell phone coverage, incidentally...) Also, WSU apparently had just had its last morning of finals before Christmas break (although they probably don't call it that anymore), and we found ourselves amidst thousands of twenty-somethings heading home for the break in cars ill-equipped for winter roads.

It took us two solid hours to get to the little town of Colfax, which normally would take less than 30 minutes.

The kids had to go the bathroom, so we pit-stopped at the Colfax Arby's. And as we sat in the parking lot, watching the cars crawling pitifully by at 4 mph, we determined that, even if we drove 60 mph the rest of the way, we would still miss our flight, which was leaving Spokane right on schedule. (Too bad the Spokane airport is so shockingly well prepared for snow burial.) And, because all flights had been cancelled the day before, every flight leaving for the rest of the day and the next several days following was completely booked.

We made the obvious decision to call the airline to tell them we wouldn't be coming. Silver lining: we very probably made somebody's day by opening up 5 seats on a very full flight for which several people had been waiting on standby all night. And thus, with heavy hearts, we drove back home.

Well, long story short: We rebooked flights for Christmas Eve, after paying MORE to reschedule our tickets than we had paid for the original tickets. (Thank you, US Airways...) And we also had five additional days at home to relax, attend a couple of Christmas parties, and be far better prepared for Christmas Vacation, take 2. We even went to Spokane and spent the night at my sister-in-law's parents' house before our flight, to ensure a stress-free departure. Our whole Phoenix adventure involved an amazing amount of packing and unpacking and repacking suitcases for six people at each stop (First attempt. Home. Second attempt. Night in Spokane. Phoenix, Brandon's house. Phoenix, Marilynn's house. Spokane motel. Home.) So I am very, very glad to not be traveling again for a while!

And we had a fabulous Christmas in Phoenix with Jayson's family, enjoying, among other things, the complete absence of snow!