Memory Lane

Work is pretty much work this week. Two 11-hour days in a row, but I have to say it's not all that bad except for I come home too tired to do much in my own life. Me and the girls have a good time, though. The one thing that saddens me is that they may not ever remember these days. But I will.
This weekend started me on the subject of memories. Friday night my family received a last-minute invitation to a Harvest Fun Night at the home of some old friends.
When I say "old friends", I mean I was 15 months when we met them. Until we moved when I was 7 years old, we were practically family in many ways. They had 6 children as well (though we only had 4 when we moved), 5 boys and 1 girl. The girl is about 6 years older than me; I played with the boys. They have a large piece of land in the country and as small children we could roam and play in a safe environment. We went to church together, played together, and grew up together for a time. I even had one all picked out to marry when I was 6! (Although supposedly, according to our mothers, he and his brother fought over me. Too bad they never asked me!)
We moved when I was seven, and didn't come back until I was nearly 16. We didn't see each other for a few years after that. Over the passing of time, our families had grown apart. But in the last year or two, things have changed a bit. Our parents have reconnected in a lot of ways, and one of the sons and I have talked at church a few times. (Note: he's not the one I planned to marry; he's older than us, so wasn't interested at that point in time.)
I was so excited when my mom told me we were going. They have been doing Harvest Fun Night since before I was born. Some of my earliest memories consist of bobbing for apples, the hayride (always my favorite), and the bonfire. I even remember sitting in my carseat on the way home, sneaking a pack of Smarties from my goodie bag without my mom hearing me.
In so many ways, it was just the same that night. It was almost magical. It was the perfect fall night, complete with clear sky and twinkling stars. The moon wasn't full, but at just over half, it kept the night from ever being dark. The games were the same ones I remembered playing, the parents treated me as one of their own, just like they always have.
But the differences were astounding in their own way. I had seen them all at church one time months back, but seeing them there, where I remembered them as children, it hit me all over again. We've all grown up. Since none of them read this blog, I feel safe saying I had excellent taste as a child: my designated husband grew into a good looking man. I do have to say I didn't feel half as interested as I did back then. (His natural bossiness isn't a good mix with my personality.) But to see him driving the tractor for the hayride when I remember sitting on that trailer next to him at 3, 4, 5 years old...it was surreal.
His sister and I played together as children, but since she was so much older, she was more like a babysitter. Not so anymore; we chatted and laughed as friends, on an equal level. The baby of the family, only 2 when we left, also drove a tractor for the hayride. Their oldest brother doesn't even live here anymore, he is a missionary in Honduras with his wife and 2 children of his own.
In so many ways, it was a comforting thing. In the midst of all the craziness in the world, here are two families with a combined total of 12 children, together after 14 years of separation, and we are all okay. Have we had rough waters in life? Yes. But the parents have stayed committed to raising their children for God, even when the going gets tough. The children, aged 29 to 11, are all serving God in their lives, and no one has succumbed to drugs or alcohol, or even the simple lure of the world. And most amazingly, after 14 years, we can still all come together and love and support each other and share memories. It was almost like a miniature miracle.