Re-stacking The Wood

There’s nothing much more satisfying than stacking firewood.

Piece by piece the wood that was once a tree that blew down in the wind, was blocking the view of the mountain for a neighbor, or that needed to be taken down due to disease or to create a better fire barrier, goes from the stack in the shed into a wheelbarrow and onto the stack on the back porch.

That firewood serves a purpose.

It fuels the fire around which we gather. It brings people together, as has been true for most of human history. Time together around a fire warms the collective, reminding us that we are not alone, that we belong to one another, are meant to live in relationship with one another and not left out in the cold on our own.

Stacking the wood is a collection of elements that make for a worthwhile project.

It is manual labor. Work done with the hands of humans. It is meaningful labor. Work that accomplishes something that matters. It is methodical labor. Steady and purposeful effort toward a desired outcome.

Today I re-stacked the firewood onto the stack in the shed.

It’s fire season and we will be away from home for a while. Wood on the porch under the eaves of the house could ignite in the event of a wildfire, putting our home at risk. Moving the wood, piece by piece, from one stack to another, I was reminded—by a friend who shares my love for stacking wood—of the pattern by which Richard Rohr teaches that all transformation takes place. Order. Disorder. Reorder. That’s how transformation works. And as much as we cling to our desire for order and want to keep things all neat and buttoned up, there is no skipping the messy middle disorder. It is only in the midst of the mess and jumble of the pieces that we are able to put life back together in ways that will better serves what life is asking of us.

Like it or not, we are in the midst of disorder on a national and global scale. Rather than gathering together around the hearth of the common good, we are increasingly a people divided by difference rallying around blazes fueled by fear.

Re-stacking the wood of the world is our collective task.

It is the manual labor that can only be done by human, the meaningful labor that has the potential to accomplish something that matters, and the methodical labor comprised of steady and purposeful effort towards a desired outcome.

Re-stacking the wood for the common good, might, just might, keep us from going up in flames.

Pop’s Eggnog

In the early 1930’s, James Clinton Davis was a student at Oregon State and a member of the Phi Delta Theta fraternity. One year he and a few of his fraternity brothers decided to ring in the holiday with a batch of homemade eggnog. Affectionately known to his friends as Clink, and his grandchildren as Pop, he was also my dad. Originally whipped up on a whim by a bunch of fraternity brothers, our family has been making Pop’s Eggnog ever since.

For as long as I can remember, making, drinking and sharing this family nog has marked every Christmas with a tradition as sweet and rich as that first sip. My earliest memories include loading up the family car on Christmas Eve with precious jars of the stuff, and heading out to go, as Pop called it,  “Christmas Calling”, to deliver liquid goodwill to good friends and neighbors. Later that same night, after attending their candlelight Christmas service, dear family friends would ring the doorbell, and over glasses of Pop’s eggnog, always topped with freshly grated nutmeg, we would ring in the earliest hours of a new Christmas Day. 

As life goes, looking back, some years were better than others, and some were downright painful and hard. But Pop’s Eggnog? It was always the same. Rich, sweet, tasty, and delicious. It tasted as good when we were down on our luck as it did when we were in the chips.

Pop is gone, but his eggnog and the memories gathered over the years of making, drinking, and sharing it live on. Every year, it is made, sipped, and shared by our family, now spread out in towns and cities near and far.

And today, Pop’s Eggnog is officially being served, topped of course with freshly ground nutmeg, to welcome in another holiday season at a restaurant in Hood River, Oregon, which is managed by Pop’s youngest granddaughter.

Traditions matter, and in times of turmoil, uncertainty, and stress, they can remind us that there are some things that can always be counted on no matter what. Like Pop’s Eggnog. 

Cheers Pop!