Marriage Moats-Lunch Bunch Room

Published: Fri, 02/15/13

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

Today was sewing class at the school. One Grandma came to pick up her granddaughter, who had made a pink pillow. She looked over the floor and tables, which were strewn with fabric scraps and ribbon. The girls scrambled to pack up their projects and head home. Grandma smiled at the colorful chaos.

"I taught at this school thirty years ago, and was principal for eight." I had heard this slice of history, which was before my time, but it was nice to have it confirmed. "Yet I never even knew this room existed in the building."

The Lunch Bunch room was rescued from oblivion a few years ago. It was the dark hole of unwanted props and abandoned costumes, with a scillion clothes hangers to keep them company. Although it is nestled next to the society kitchen, which is a hubbub of activity, many people have never stepped inside. A fleet of parents worked to gut it, rip up the decrepit rug and lay a new one. We painted, and recruited a plumber to refurbish the bathroom. Now it is a friendly spot with sunny windows and a loft to play in. We furnished it with a rocking chair, books and quilts.

Her comment made me think about the corners of our lives that lay waiting to be discovered. Probably many parents did not know they could subsist on such an ungenerous quantity of sleep before they had babies. I did not realize I had the wherewithal to comfort a sick child when I was barely able to hold up my own head.

When the majority of Odhners fell to the plague of 1999 we lay prone on the horizontal surfaces for five days. Yet it appears I did manage to scrape together rations enough to keep the kids alive, and to slog through the resulting laundry. I had not previously known about that capacity within my feeble frame.

Marriage breaks open abilities never before tapped by the human spirit. They are already there, I suppose. They just need someone to unlock the door.

Photo by Stephen Conroy

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