Last week I spent a few days at my brother Seth and  his wife Linda’s house in Bedford.  Friday I took care of the children so Linda could paint Heidi’s room.  Friday evening I took Eric and Heidi out to Burger King so Seth and Linda could have a date.  Since I don’t have any marriage to strengthen, I consider it my duty to strengthen other people’s marriages (just kidding) :-).  After Burger King, we went to the local library and hung out with the Legos and puzzles and plastic food.  The children loved it. 

All weekend I read stories.  Many, many, many stories. Heidi is only eighteen months old.  She would bring me a book, and say, “Read, read” in such a pleading voice I couldn’t resist.  After awhile, I got really tired of reading stories.  Did you know some children’s stories are plain boring?  Eric kept saying, “This is my favorite book,” until I realized he has a lot of favorite books.  Bless all those parents who read the same book for the eighteenth time!

Saturday we all went to Johnstown to see the site of the Johnstown Flood.  We watched a very interesting movie of the flood (not the actual movie of course, since the flood happened in 1889).  About halfway through the movie, Eric started crying from fright, so Seth took him out.  The movie was rather scary.  Imagine a wall of water rushing toward your house, crashing through the windows, and the next thing you know you are in the sea.  Hair raising.

Sunday I went to Seth and Linda’s church.  One family has three little boys (all preschool), but those boys sat very quietly all during church.  I found out that their parents do not allow their children to play with any toys in church.  Their philosphy is that if children have toys, they soon get tired of them anyway, and soon get restless and want something else.  I wish I could discuss that with my childcare class.  I wonder what Juanita and Esther and Eileen and Carolyn and Crystal would have to say about that?  :-).   

On Saturday, I was working behind the counter at the information center, selling tickets for the 3:00 tour.  I glanced up and noticed a young man on a wheelchair right in front of the counter.  The man looked rather strange; his head was totally shaven, and he had on a robe and was wearing dark sunglasses. 

Something vaugely familiar about the man must have made me take a second look.  I scrutinized his features, his nose and his mouth.  Suddenly my hand flew to my mouth as the realization started sinking in.  The young man’s mouth twisted into a very familiar-looking grin, a grin I have seen quite frequently in my short life.  This strange looking creature was no one but my own brother Matt.  

For months he has been trying to tell me that he could come into the center disguised, and I would not be able to recognize him.  I would argue very adamantly that there was no way I wouldn’t recognize him.  Let me chart this event down as the one time I was right :-).   

When Matt knew I recognized him, he got out of his wheelchair at once.  The other visitors in the center must have been quite amazed at the miracle of the crippled man being healed (just kidding).  Before he came in the center, he had stopped an unsuspecting tourist outside, explained what he was doing, and she had graciously pushed his wheelchair into the building.  When he saw that I was behind the counter, he told her, “The lady in the white cap is my sister,” and he asked her if she would purchase his ticket for him.  This tourist will have quite the captivating tale to tell of the weird Amish in Lancaster County. 

Later in the day, my mind played some really weird tricks.  I kept telling myself, “Matt did not really shave off all his hair.”  The idea seemed so absurd that my mind had a hard time absorbing it.  I felt like I had been dreaming.  But when I went home for supper, there he was:  proof.  

I decided that’s how people must feel when they go through trauma, or hear really bad news.  They are in denial for awhile, until time allows the facts to really sink in.  What a weird sensation!

I dare anyone else who knows me to try to come in disguised!  I would love to catch you in the act :-).