Our Maple Leaf

As many of you know, every year for all of Kelly's life and the past thirteen-ish years of my life, on the third full weekend of October, our family has makes a pilgrimage to the tiny college town of Baldwin City, Kansas. For a quick recap, click here. Now that you're up to speed...

I'm not sure why, and I don't remember when, but at some point, I instituted a personal ritual of hunting a single maple leaf - the brightest and the most beautiful I could find - the one leaf that shone out among thousands as the quintessence of the Maple Leaf Festival - the "One Leaf to Rule Them All" - from Granny and Grandpa's driveway, and then take it home, and proudly nail it to my garage wall.

Hey, you have your traditions and I have mine.

Anyway, this year's Leaf is not like years' past. It didn't feel right picking a traditional leaf this year as there was a striking difference this Maple Leaf Festival: Grandpa.

So, this year's Leaf is very beautiful in a very different way.

Please don't be mislead, we had a wonderful time, as usual. We got to see lots of family, had front-row seats for the parade, had a turkey leg and funnel cake, perused kitsch and art alike, and attended the service at the Baldwin Gospel Chapel.

Besides those staples, this year was unique in that our family and Travis were the only delegation from Tulsa, as there was a mission conference and illness that kept the rest of the clan at home. As Granny has moved into her new diggs, the ol' homestead is steadily being renovated and rejuvenated under the tireless efforts of Aunt Ruthie, et al. Uncle Paul and his family were busy all weekend painting several rooms and shampooing carpets, which was quite an accomplishment, considering the constant oblivious juvenile traffic through the home, not to mention the 42 foot-tall Great Dane that Caleb and Sabrina brought with them (which incidentally, is now my favorite dog of all time).

But the elephant that was not in the room was Grandpa. Though he is still with us at the time of this posting, our visit to him in the nursing home was difficult to say the least. He could meet your eyes and smile and sort of wink at you, and then you would begin to wonder if he was still looking at your eyes and smiling at you, as if his thoughts had suddenly been put on pause. He couldn't speak, nor could he mouth words, though it looked sometimes as if he were trying. Frankly, I felt awkward speaking to the other family in the room without feeling like I was excluding or ignoring him. Leaving was the worst part in that we had to tell him we were going but having to simply hope that he would understand, or could understand, while not receiving any feedback.

Before, from the moment we walked in the door at Granny and Grandpa's house, to watching him wave goodbye in our rear view mirror, Grandpa's warm presence was consistent throughout any visit to Baldwin. His speech (which was plentiful) was always full of grace and seasoned with salt. I never remember a single conversation with him where he did not turn it back to the Lord and people's need of Him. But this year, his state caused a vacuum that was palpable to everyone. That void caused me to think of what a great heritage we have and what great big black, shiny shoes we have to fill.

The maple leaf I chose this year at first glance is not very attractive - especially when surrounded by so many other bright and colorful leaves. But more careful examination reveals a leaf once green and full of life, strong, and vibrant. A leaf that thrived on the end of a branch that fed it life-giving nutrients while it stood up to strong winds and storms. A leaf that slowly but gloriously aged to reveal its true colors of bright yellow, red and orange. A leaf that remained firmly anchored to that branch long after others blew away in the wind.

And in fact, that is where this leaf remains.