The wood stove

Yesterday I sold our wood stove. It was a homemade stove, made by the guy who sold us our house. We used it for 17 winters with no problems but the insurance company said it did not meet new regulations. That left us with the choice of remodeling the room the stove was in to give it enough clearance space or removing the stove. As much as I enjoy home repair, remodeling the room was out of the question.

Thursday the “for sale” ad ran in the Kalona News and the Wellman Advance. I really didn’t think anyone would want to buy it and figured I might just have to haul the stove to a scrap dealer and take whatever I could get.

Thursday I left to drive the IMS baseball team to Des Moines for their second round game. Unfortunately they lost and we returned on Friday afternoon. I stepped into the house and heard the phone ringing.

Now think Pennsylvania Dutch accent. “Are you the one who has a wood stove for sale?” “Yes.”

“Could you tell me a little bit about it because I might be interested?” Why else did you call I thought to myself as I noticed my wife had already taken two messages about the stove.

The stove is 30” wide, 36”deep and about 25” high. It is made of 3/8 inch steel, it is homemade, and it is heavy.

In a Dutchy accent, “well, I might be interested, I was thinking about making my own, but then I saw your ad, and well, I thought, maybe I could look at it sometime, and then I wouldn’t have to make my own. Now does it have any cracks?”

No, no cracks (I think a small bomb could have been detonated in the stove without any problems)

“So it’s not warped?” No, it’s in good shape.

“So why are you selling it?” I explained about our insurance company.

“Well, I think I would like to look at it sometime but I don’t know when I can get there” (Neither did I, as I realized I hadn’t used the bathroom since stopping the bus at the Colfax-Mingo exit about 3 hours ago.)

“So where do you live.” I gave directions. “Do your parents live around here?” Yes, (but they aren’t the one’s selling the stove) “Well, I might want to stop over, but I’m not sure when I can make it, but I may chust drive over there tomorrow if you are going to be around and it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.” Finally Nelson hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, another phone call, another Dutchy accent, and more questions about the stove. I figured I better clean the stove because much to my surprise people seem to be interested in the thing. Six buckets of ashes later the stove was more or less clean. I thought I better figure out how to dismantle the stove from the stove pipe and discovered the pipe was welded to the stove. I crawled onto the roof and pulled apart what I could. What remained looked like one solid piece all the way to the stove, some 12 to 15 feet. I realized it might require a cutting torch or some other tool I don’t own, so I called a friend who has such things and left a message. In the meantime more phone calls from men, all with the Dutchy accent and with names like Samuel, Nelson, Menno, or Norman.

6:30 Saturday morning the phone rang. I was still asleep. “Do you have the stove for sale?” I figured this guy was Amish, especially after he told me he had a ride to Wellman to visit the chiropractor. Samuel said he planned to stop in after his treatment, around 9:15 or so.

An hour later my friend with the cutting torch arrived. The question was how to cut the pipe and hold it in place so it wouldn’t drop to the floor and hurt someone or break something. While a crane would be nice I couldn't afford one. We resorted to 2 x 4’s and rope backed up by a log chain.

Another phone call about the stove and if we still had it. My wife told him someone was coming around 9:15. This guy asked if it would be okay to come right away. Wayne Ray showed up about 20 minutes later, a bit before 9:00. I had guessed he was a Beachy, or some sort of conservative Mennonite so I wasn't surprised to see his wife in a cape dress with a big covering on her head. After a thorough examination Wayne Ray said, “I think I would like the stove, but would you be willing to consider taking a little less?” I was about ready to answer when the doorbell rang and there was Samuel the Amish man, “Have you sold the stove yet?” Wayne Ray said, “I’ll give what you asked for.” I suppose I could have asked Samuel if he would raise the price but I was just happy to be rid of it, plus Wayne had a truck to move the stove.

What followed was some hard work as I recruited my neighbor, Wayne called his brother-in-law, and along with my cutting torch friend, we got the stove out of the house and onto his truck. He had a forklift at home he could use to unload the stove.

It took me the rest of the day to clean up the mess and to patch the roof so it won’t leak. The next task is to find a wood stove which meets the regulations so that we can heat that part of the house and keep the insurance company happy.

camp

Camp

I spent my first week at camp last week. I never went to camp as a kid though one summer I did go to three different Bible Schools to help keep me out of my parent’s hair. Crooked Creek Christian Camp called my wife to see if she was interested in being a camp pastor for a week. It only took her about thirty seconds to say no. They asked if she knew of someone who might be willing to do it, and about that time I walked into the room. After getting some information I couldn’t come up with a good reason to say no. I eventually agreed to be the “camp pastor” for the 7^th-9^th grade camp.

On the drive to Crooked Creek last Sunday I realized I was more apprehensive about going to the camp then I was going on the CPT trip to the West Bank last summer. It probably didn’t help that numerous people would ask if I was the Marcus Miller who was going to be the camp pastor. When I would reply in the affirmative the most common response was laughter. Not sure what that says about me, or people’s perception of me.

I did ask one person if they thought it would be the jazz guitarist showing up and I was reminded that most people around here have no idea who that Marcus Miller is. If I knew what I was doing with the internet I could embed a link to his website - and actually I do enjoy much of his music.

The week seemed to go well though I imagine my contributions to the week will likely be fairly low on the list of camp memories. I was responsible for a morning chapel, an evening campfire and was to prepare a list of discussion questions and verses for the evening devotions the cabin counselors were to lead with their kids. It was one of those situations where I likely learned as much as the kids did. One thing I learned is that I couldn’t rely on notes for the campfire session, as the flashlight seemed to detract from the setting. Either that or the light reflected off my face in a way which scared some kids or made others laugh.

It was gratifying to see a lot of former students running much of the week’s program. All but three of the cabin counselors were IMS grads as were the program staff. I was impressed with their creativity, patience, and energy level. By the end of the week I was tired though I had my own little cabin where I could escape to and get some rest or sleep when I needed. I even made it for a week without any newspapers, NPR or the internet.

Mennonites and family reunions

Back from a family reunion on my wife's side and a trip to Philadelphia where we lived for ten years from 1980 to 1990. Spending time with the Peachey's in Belleville and then friends from Philadelphia, we experienced two extremes of the Mennonite Church. It seems folks from both groups are leaving the Mennonite Church or are talking about doing so, but for different reasons.

The Peachey reunion included Mennonites, and Peachey's who have joined the Nazarene's, Brethren in Christ, Assemblies of God, Presbyterians, or some large non-denominational church. Thirty to forty years ago this extended family would have all been Mennonite, sending their kids to Rosedale, or maybe to Eastern Mennonite, though Goshen would have been considered too "liberal." Now, the number of Menno's in the family are outnumbered by the non-Menno's. It was disheartening when one family described their pride in their grandson who had just joined the military because “God spoke to him and helped remove some of the hurdles to joining he was experiencing.”

It was the first time I had seen some of these people since my CPT trip to the West Bank last summer. Generally people ask questions and we have a nice discussion. This time it felt more like an attack. Some of the Peachey's consider themselves to be experts in Biblical prophecy (though they humbly add, certainly not on the same level as Grandpa or his brother when they were alive) so the line I kept hearing over and over during the weekend was "The creation of Israel is the fulfillment of prophecy." This was followed by "The Palestinians should just leave." I told them about some of the Palestinian Christians I met which seemed to cause some cognitive dissonance especially when I told them one Palestinian we met with could trace his families faith back to Pentecost.

I enjoy a good argument as much as anyone so at least I found a way to entertain myself at what was otherwise a rather sleepy reunion.

From Belleville we drove east stopping in Lancaster County and then making our way into Philadelphia. We spent one night with some friends from our days in Germantown and with some folks from the "early days" of the Germantown Mennonite congregation. "Early days" refers to the early 1980's - not the 1680's when the first Menno's came to the area. There was good food, good wine, and excellent Scotch. It was enjoyable catching up with everyone and reminiscing a bit about our time together.

Like some of the Peachey’s, some of these folks no longer go to a Mennonite Church. Instead of the large non-denominational groups, the Germantown folks are more likely to join an Episcopalian church, become Catholic, a high church Presbyterian congregation or go the silent route and join the Quakers.

Then there are folks we heard about from both groups who are dropping out of church all together. They spend Sunday mornings reading the paper, drinking coffee, going for a bike ride, or I suppose sleeping.

Those from Belleville said the Mennonite church is too liberal. From our discussions it seemed they took most of their cues from the local Christian radio station, Rush Limbaugh, James Dobson and other politically conservative preacher/politicians/entertainers. I don’t know much about Mennonite churches in “Big Valley” but they were described as too traditional in worship styles, too stuck in their ways, and not interested in reaching out.

The folks from Germantown listen to NPR, some might not know who Limbaugh is, and don’t like Dobson. They might also describe the church as too traditional (think women leadership – not worship styles), stuck in their ways, and not interested in reaching out – especially to gays.

I realize these may be two extremes and that there is a lot of room in between but the difference between the folks in Belleville and those in Philadelphia seemed much more than the 4-5 hour drive. And I realize there are similarities between the two, but frankly they are minimal. In the tradition of Anabaptism perhaps some “third way” will emerge to keep the two extremes together. It did help me appreciate my church, which though it has its faults, has many good people trying to live together in faithful ways.