August 18 – “Ice cream and Ovaltine”

Furniture was in a shambles, at the least upended, and at worst twisted and distorted beyond recognition.  Items carefully placed in one room mysteriously appeared across the castle.  In one room two dolls, playthings for the children, yet keepsakes of times past, floated from their roost on the floor to a stop, gently reclining side by side on the now soaked and stinking bed.  In another the final written message received before the flight of the Queen was found two rooms away sodden yet easily legible, warning of the rapid approach of the wall of water and the explosion of air.  Room after room, hall upon hall revealed more and more of the same.  Dampness.  Stench.  Destruction.   And the questions began.  At first they seemed as tiny itches in the deepest recesses of their minds, somehow yearning to be scratched but unwilling to allow their exact presence to be acknowledged.  How did that happen?  Has anyone seen ...?  Would you look at this?  Later the questions moved, clawing and scratching their way into the stomachs of the weary band.  Hunger?  Perhaps.  Nausea?  To be sure.  Are you all right?  Can I help you?  Can you believe it? And then came that final possibility, that evasive churning, that indiscernible ache that emanated from every pore of their being.  The one question none would dare verbalize lest the answer frighten him more than the uncertainty.  Was it, then … "Why?"  Ah.    And no answer came.   You know, among the tension and turmoil surrounding Chris' Mom right now, there was one sort of light moment.  At breakfast the day I left Chris' sister fixed eggs and sausage.  I don't know if she was going to do that anyway or if she did it because she found out it was Chris' birthday.  But once the birthday revelation came out, any good thing that happened was on purpose because of the birthday.  Not that much good happened.    But there was the one thing.  At that breakfast Chris' Dad came to the table with a big glass of milk and a carton of Ovaltine.  Now I have told him before that I haven't seen anyone but him drink that stuff since I was a little kid.  Oh.  If you don't know, it's a powder substance that you put in milk to "chocolatize" it.  I cautiously mentioned again that he was still drinking Ovaltine.  This time he looked up (though not directly at me), and a very slight grin tickled the corners of his mouth.  And he said, "Ovaltine.  Keeps you young.  It did wonders for Little Orphan Annie.  Oh.  And ice cream.  Ice cream and Ovaltine will keep you young."  And his voice trailed off into silence as the grin disappeared and the sadness and darkness returned to his face.  "Little Orphan Annie.  Ovaltine.  Ice Cream."   Things are maintaining over in Bay City.  Dark and hot and sad.  I understand there was some excitement today, though.  The new electric bill came.  $290.  Chris' Dad is ready to switch providers for sure now.  Especially when he found out we were paying two tenths of a cent less per kilowatt hour than he was.   I had a meeting at SCA this morning, then spent a few hours sweeping and mopping while the pews were stacked.  I hope to get the teenagers to set up for services after our baptism tonight.  Looking forward to that.  Joy.    Philippians 3:13-14 says, "Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."   Father, I sure do get the straining.  Amen