Yarn Along

I feel a little awkward writing about this book today, since I know the author reads this blog.  Still, it’s what I’m reading these days, and I can’t seem to put it down.  In the spirit of this book, I will write about my thoughts on it through memoir.

I met Sharon when I was still in high school.  I’m not sure if we went out for coffee then, or if it was when I was 19 and working at my old high school when we stayed chatting after church for so long.   Eventually one of us suggested going out to coffee sometime.

Back then, the only place in our little town for coffee was at Perkins.  I didn’t drink coffee back then, but I could take a piece of pie.  Sharon and I had an instant connection even though she was older than my mom, though younger than my grandma.  Part of it was I was dating Knut back then, whom she had watched grow up in their little church.  She wanted to know more about me, either out of sheer curiosity or out of protection of this little grown up boy whom she felt she should look after.

It was then that she started asking questions about my family, and about my faith.  It’s a story that cannot be told without mentioning my maternal grandfather.  When she found out who he was, her jaw dropped.  My grandparents were missionaries in Japan for many years, where my mother was born.  Sharon had known them before they were missionaries.  Back when he was a pastor in Williston, North Dakota, (now a boom-town) and she stood on the train platform singing “God Be With You ‘Till We Meet Again” or something like that until the train was gone from sight.  (Which in North Dakota…can be a very long time!  Sorry, I couldn’t resist throwing in a North Dakota joke.  Hardy har har…)

Sharon is one of those people who says exactly what is on her mind, and compels you to do the same.  She’s one of those rare gems who knows exactly what she’s about, and she’s not ashamed of a bit of it.  Seminarians wouldn’t dare getting into a theological battle with her because she knows her Bible, and could debate circles around them should she desire.

Sharon took me under her wing in many ways.  I still don’t know if she understands how much that meant to me.  She began praying for Knut and I, and let us know about it all the time.  We dated for a few years, and I remember the winter before we were engaged, we broke up.  We weren’t that on again, off again sort of couple.  The single problem we had was that I had never dated anyone else before, and neither had he.  I didn’t see that as a problem, and he did.  We were each other’s first everything, and as the conversation turned to marriage, Knut began to wonder if he thought this was love because he had nothing to compare it to.

Well, I thought that was stupid.  He couldn’t seem to drop it, though.  At the time I was working at our old high school and taking college by correspondence, and he was going to college about 3 hours away.  I finally told him that if he was so eager to find a love out there to make comparisons, then go right on ahead.  I cut him loose, and said have fun.  I was devastated for sure, and from the daily long distance calls I got from Knut during those 2 weeks we were broken up, just to make sure I was okay, I could tell he was upset too.

The worst part about the whole stupid break up was that I was the one who had to tell Sharon.  I still remember having to tell her at church.  She was standing next to the piano where she usually played, and I told her what happened and she began to cry.  So I started to cry.  She hugged me tight and through anger and hurt called out this was not how it was supposed to happen.  I rubbed her back and told her I’m sure it was all going to work out in the end, even though I wasn’t sure at all.

I called Knut directly after church and told him this whole break up was his fault, and it was wrong of him to make me have to be the one to tell Sharon.  I still remember him in all seriousness saying, “Oh no.  I’m so sorry I did that.  Is she okay?”  He knew, like I knew, how heartbroken she would be at us ending our relationship.

Well, Knut did end up coming back to me after our 2 week separation, where he never did end up dating anyone else.  We ended up getting married.  When we had our first child, Sharon and her amazing husband Grant became Silje’s sponsors at her baptism, alongside my sister and her husband.  When we moved out to the farm, they became our neighbors.  When we got Lena, Grant and Sharon were her first dog-sitters.  I remember the first time Lena spent a week or so over at Grant and Sharon’s while we went to visit my family, Lena came home complete with a puppy journal, telling us all the things she did every day.

It was with much heartbreak, that we allowed Grant and Sharon to move back to Oregon to be with their adult sons a few years ago.  Living out in the country takes a lot of work, and they wanted to be near family as they grew older.  Before they left, though, this hymn singing, church pianist with a strong alto voice offered Silje her piano…the piano her father gave her when she was a little girl.  The piano that she learned to play on, and the piano she had spent playing as a means of worship at every day since she was Silje’s age.

I was so moved when she gave us this great gift.  Silje started piano lessons immediately.  It’s sound was a comfort when we missed our friends who had moved away.

Then we heard that Grant was sick, and that there was no hope of being well again.  He had very little time left.  Even so, his passing was a shock and surprise to us all.  We didn’t think it would be that quick.  Sharon came back here not long ago, so that Grant could be buried back here with his parents.  It was very hard to say goodbye to Grant, but it was harder to see Sharon so sad.

In typical Sharon fashion, she was taking on grief straight on without blinking.  She does not hide her emotions from God, no matter what the emotions might be.  She seeks after truth, because as she told me: “Comfort is the shadow of the tree called ‘Truth.'”  She just made that up in our conversation.  (I hope I quoted that correctly!)  I’m telling you, this woman is brilliant with words.  She doesn’t seek comfort, she seeks the truth because that’s where comfort is found.  She seeks God, and wants to know what he says about all of this, no matter what the answer might be.

The funeral was in the morning, and the afternoon was quiet.  In the evening, Sharon came over to our house to hear Silje play some hymns for her on the old piano that she had practiced just for this occasion.  Then Sharon offered to play for us.  We got out the hymn books and we all picked some favorites as the kids climbed up on laps and attempted to sing along.  I was particularly moved by the song Sharon picked:

Thanks to God for my Redeemer, Thanks for all Thou dost provide!
Thanks for times now but a memory, Thanks for Jesus by my side!
Thanks for pleasant, balmy springtime, Thanks for dark and dreary fall!
Thanks for tears by now forgotten, Thanks for peace within my soul!

Thanks for prayers that Thou hast answered, Thanks for what Thou dost deny!
Thanks for storms that I have weathered, Thanks for all Thou dost supply!
Thanks for pain and thanks for pleasure, Thanks for comfort in despair!
Thanks for grace that none can measure, Thanks for love beyond compare!

Thanks for roses by the wayside, Thanks for thorns their stems contain!
Thanks for home, and thanks for fireside, Thanks for hope, that sweet refrain!
Thanks for joy and thanks for sorrow, Thanks for heav’nly peace with Thee!
Thanks for hope in the tomorrow, Thanks thru all eternity!

Before she left our home, she handed me this book, Mailboxes and Old Barns and told me that she had written it, and wanted me to have it.  I had no idea.

This last week I have picked up this book and started to read it.  Slowly.  Carefully.  I hear Sharon’s voice when I read it, and I feel like she’s right next to me.  I savor that.  I miss her as she has gone back to Oregon.  Knut and I scheme ways to kidnap and bring get her back.  This is the history of her family, which may sound ordinary enough.  What is so extraordinary about it was the details that she remembers, and the storytelling that reminds me of my own grandpa telling me about the way it used to be.  This isn’t just a story about people.  It’s about love, honor, duty, respect, childhood, and of course, the land.

Sharon may have written down her story, but I feel as though it is so intertwined with my story as well. I feel as fascinated reading this as I do reading historical diaries, or memoirs which I also love.  Stories like this are a beautiful, beautiful gift.  You can’t just say what happened, though as so many “amateur” writers do, you have to paint a picture of what happened.  Sharon does this as a seasoned pro.

I want to say this not as her friend, but as the woman who got her college degree in English Literature: This is a fabulous book.  I will read it several times.  I feel like it’s this treasure that no one else knows about.  It should be read.  It should be savored.

Linking up with Ginny’s Yarn Along.