Jayber Crow

...

“…where we must lose everything to know what we have had.” - Jayber Crow

I wrote this quote in the front of the book, dated it, and left it sitting on the rod iron table under the umbrella at Café Louisa. It had to be left behind, now dependent on God to protect it, to plant it in someone else’s soil, or to see that it becomes compost instead of trash. In the same way, Boston (our living room, the Vet Center,the Vineyard) must be left behind for us to know and feel (certainly the biggest loss in our life, to date). Lawrence County, Kentucky, and all it’s drug and technology addicted population (now being invaded by Wal-Mart – correlation here?), must also be left behind. There is no documentation of this time period to post, except for my words (and maybe Wendell Berry’s words) – and even Kelsie has not seen this place. Somehow, the experience has been incredibly enlightening, creating a new and intense struggle that Doug and Molly personify. They too, now, have had to leave MDL (the children, the kitchen, the staff, the garden, etc.) behind, and the knowledge of what they have lost is only deeply felt in a place where others cannot reach – maybe like Jayber felt when the nest egg was literally destroyed while Mattie laid in the hospital.

A similar feeling comes and goes with the thought of preceding Kelsie and our children in Columbus for two months. We will see each other every weekend, but it is still terribly difficult to be away for days at a time, and we are not looking forward to it. But, come September, we will settle in, and that will be good.

Before I sat and finished the last chapter today, I drove by a house that I drove by everyday on the way to the Café, except I stopped this time. I went and knocked on the door, as I had one other day back in May. The first time, I asked my question, expressed my need, only to be told that they were packing up and moving out (which was a little irrelevant to my need). This time I knocked again. No answer came. So I looked in a window that had no curtain. There was only paint and hardware on the floor. I also opened the front door to see that there was nobody to even ask my question too. So I went back to my car, popped the trunk, and went back to the side porch to take what had looked nobody else wanted. He was too heavy to carry, but I managed, although I got a good burning scrape on my wrist, almost drawing blood. He also left a powder, white as snow, on my pants and shirt. I figure he will watch over the urban garden in Franklinton in a way that only St. Francis could. Francis is about half my height, carved of stone, and of course, very “heavy”.

So, Jayber stays in Kentucky, but Francis of Assisi is coming to Franklintown.

...