I didn't hear it myself, but our kids who were sitting at the picnic table in the spruce grove caught the full brunt of it. The swimming hole at the south end of our property is quite the gathering place when the days are hot and muggy. It's not uncommon to see four or five vehicles parked along the road, and a dozen or more people camped out on our lawn, replete with lawn chairs, blankets, coolers, and even the occasional portable grill. It goes with the territory, I guess. Most of the time it doesn't bother me. The ones who come to swim and picnic invariably are a bit more hardscrabble than we're used to. If they could afford a swimming pool, they would probably have one in their backyard. They can't, and don't, so they come to our yard.
Sunday afternoon, the language wafting on the breeze wasn't exactly of the same sort as we had heard in the morning, if you get my drift. F-bombs were exploding all over the place, so I made my way down to explain the house rules. Most of the people who frequent the swimming hole aren't even aware that it is on private property, so when I state the facts, it tends to calm things down. On this occasion, Shaun was the vocalist in question, and became quite apologetic when I informed him that we had little children around and would appreciate his toning things down a bit. He explained that his ex son-in-law was threatening his daughter, which made his choice of words understandable, even if not acceptable. Hey, he doesn't know Jesus; I can't expect altar boy language from him. Of course, the four or five beers sloshing around in his stomach probably didn't help any.
This afternoon, he and his family (minus the ex son-in-law) were back, blankets on the ground, kids in the water, and he apologized all over again. I told him it was over and done with. Period.
In between Sunday's encounter and today, someone was kind enough to throw a pig carcass off the bridge into the water at the base of the falls. Yesterday when I was down meeting some new picnickers, one of them pointed it out to me. They had fished it out of the water and now it laid on the abutment under the bridge. To say it was gross is a bit of an understatement. It was partially decomposed, covered with flies, and stunk to high heaven. So this afternoon, after greeting Shaun and his family and meeting two new friends of his, I grabbed a garbage bag, a shovel, and a potato fork to deal with the carcass. Shaun followed me down the abutment, and held the bag while I speared the head and then the body. A few ribs and assorted other parts fell off as I was putting them in the bag. Instead of waiting for me to spear them again, Shaun grabbed them in his bare hands, tossed them into the bag, and that was that! Did I mention I'm beginning to really like this guy?
He grabbed the bag of pig parts while I had the shovel and fork, and we walked to my truck where he tossed it into the bed. "I have some hand sanitizer in the truck," he explained, but I insisted he come inside and wash up. When he was done, he asked if it was OK to use the towel that hung on the wall. Now I'm really impressed! He may be hard core in his habits, but his heart is tender.
When I think back over the years, we moved to Cassadaga because fifteen years ago when the church decided to stop having a parsonage, there was nothing for sale in Sinclairville. In the meantime, Pappy and Dora both died, leaving this house empty until their daughter finally decided to sell it. The timing was perfect, and we are living in a home we never would have dreamed would be ours someday. Our kids used to swim down here, and now other people's kids are doing so. As I've said elsewhere, I'm enough of an introvert that engaging total strangers is not something you'd see me doing very often. But God keeps dropping these people in our laps; the very ones that fifteen years ago I prayed Park church would be able to reach. I don't even have to go door to door; they just keep coming to us. I think I'm seeing a pattern here. It looks like God wants me to begin answering my own prayers. So each afternoon, I wander down to the swimming hole, introduce myself, talk with our guests, and invite them to church and to Jesus. And tonight, I'm going to bed thankful that those prayers I've been praying for fifteen years are being answered not just by extroverted pastor Joe with the people he meets and introduces to Christ, but even by me, the introvert.
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