A Morley Thanksgiving--The Story of a Singing Family

The Morley Thanksgiving celebration, 2014, was not just another stanza

in the saga of a singing family.

It wasn't just about getting to see the oldest and the youngest of the clan

(Laura Bradford and Lydia Jackman).

It wasn't just about the turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes

and cranberry-orange relish and green bean casserole made with Kezia's own home-canned green beans.

It wasn't about all the ways we had to improvise to fit everyone into the house,

or put cranberry jello into something that resembled a refrigerator.

It wasn't just about the way Aunt Joella and 

daughter Susanna decided to string up umpteen named paper cups with clothespins to keep them orderly.

Or the creative decorations, such as this Mayflower ship and mast.

It wasn't just about a lot of strong-minded brothers getting together with their really strong-minded dad or dad-in-law--and still having a good time. 

 A sister and I were talking recently, and wondering how on earth our family has ever managed to get along as well as we have. She said she thought that even though we have often been guilty of hurting one another with words--yet words is how we have managed to get along--by talking.
Because you can't decide to not talk anymore, and still get along.
You have to keep talking.
You have to stay on speaking terms with the other person, even if you have to work through some difficult things. Even if you have to work through anger and hurt. Even if you have to forgive that big mouth brother or that blurt-blurt sister. You can't succumb to silent treatments and get along well.
Silent treatments and pout-pout victim mindsets erupt in violent anger if given enough time.
You have to talk. You have to forgive. You have to love.

And so this slightly damaged and imperfect family that can't stop talking when we all get together

 welcomed the newest addition, the 49th of 50 grandchildren, and were delighted with him as with the first. 

No vying over who has the most or least children.

They are all equally precious in God's sight. 

And the teenage girls sat down to read to the littler ones to keep them happy and out of the way. What would we do without our teenagers who have been raised to be unselfish, and who are such a huge help and blessing?

This celebration wasn't just about all the creative ways that mothers get several pies at once from one house to another,

and about big boys that clown around.

It's about music--the music of voices and instruments and hearts.

Because you can sing without heart, and you can play an instrument without love.

But you can't love without a song in the heart, and you can't have a heart 

without it spilling over into the beautiful music of love, joy and peace.

It doesn't matter that the patriarch and matriarch of this singing family were never perfect.

It doesn't matter that every one of those standing around in this great big circle around the spacious kitchen

have all been big sinners. 

We stood there in that big circle while the ladies finished getting the food ready, and we sang.

We sang one verse of Thanksgiving songs or choruses after another. 

"Great is Thy Faithfulness!" "We Gather Together to Ask the Lord's Blessing."

We sang, not because we were a perfect family, but because God's grace has been perfect over and over again.

We sang not because we have something to brag about, but because God has worked one miracle after another in all of our lives. 

We sang, not because our lives have been easy, but because God has been there for us. 

We sang, and our hearts spilled over with gratitude and love and joy. 

We sang because even if we didn't have many pennies in our pockets, (as an old friend put it)

we were millionaires!

We ate together at tables crowded into livingroom, music room, and school room,

and our Danny and Gabriel's Danny found a little corner on the stairs.

We could cram and crowd and still enjoy it--because love was there.

The Morley family has never been that much into a lot of sweets and desserts, but there were still plenty of pies and pumpkin rolls.

And when Dorcas's family arrived later than hoped, because of taking a wrong road, 

the big boys gather around the snowman and try to decide what to do.

They decided on a game, and Natasha takes her usual place of telling everybody what to do--

whether they do it or not.

They had asked me to come out with them--so--I did.

I dutifully (and hopelessly) guarded the flag, savoring the fresh air and hoping I was 

in some sort of way,

investing in the next generation. (Hmmmm.)

It took Uncle Craig coming out to lay down some firm rules for the game so that it would operate better.

But before that, before Grandpa had to leave to go rest, we all got together for a clan photo. I wish I had just left the row I was in and taken a quick snap myself, because I have tried to get Ezra's photo off the email, and it doesn't come out right.

Here Fain, Craig, and Elon are surveying the 55 people to see how to situate everyone for the photo.

Later in the afternoon, everyone came in and chose either games, puzzles, or just visiting. One of my daughters came in, after finding out that Uncle Chris liked to play Pit, a game the girls were going to play, and asked me shiveringly,

"Which of us girls is going to sit next to him?"

I got a kick out of that.

Grandma played Dutch Blitz with little boys. 

I appreciated so much how adults interacted with all ages--making all feel important.

My mom is a tremendous example of valuing people--both big and little.

It is not beneath her dignity to play a game with little boys.

The bigger boys played another board game.

For a short time, I joined Anita and Regina who both enjoy making puzzles. This one was a beautiful Thanksgiving scene by Norman Rockwell.

 

But then that family that can't stop talking together also can't keep from singing together.

And perhaps that's what keeps us together more than the talking.

It's the music.

There's something about music that holds even a hurting family together. 

It held us together way back when we felt like splintering. 

And music brings us back together after all these years of marriages and births and moving and travel and mission fields and pastorates and successes and failures.

Elon gathered us all together to sing.

We started off with a fun song I remembered from way back, "The Happy Wanderer."

The Morley seven sang all four verses by memory, in four parts, with hardly a hitch, with Dorcas and me joining the boys on the chorus with the "Tra-la-la-la." We loved it!

Then worship songs.

We asked for Elon's and Fain's families to sing "Thanks to God," again, with Crystal (in dark blue jumper and dark rose top in the middle) joining them, since she had learned it with them while back there.

We finished the music time with my oldest sister Dorcas at the piano singing a new solo.

Dorcas has always had the loveliest solo voice in our family, and has developed such a sweet touch on the piano.

I am the sister next to her, and I know Dorcas better than anyone, probably. 

And I have reasons for feeling touched that Dorcas brought her family down all the way from Vermont 

to reconnect with brothers and sisters and dad and mom and nieces and nephews.

I have reasons for feeling touched, and sentimental, and deeply grateful--

when my sister plays beautifully on Joella's piano, 

and sings about forgiveness at the foot of the cross.

Because if it weren't for the cross, we wouldn't have been all together once again.

Like every family in this world, there have been enough faults and failures and sins and differences and reasons for bitterness to keep any one of us away from the other. 

But there we were, all together again--part of the story of ongoing redemption, ongoing forgiveness

and grace. Ongoing love.

And my sister's beautiful hands played, 

and her beautiful voice sang.

And we listened.

And gave thanks.

When the Last Bell Has Tolled For Us

When the last bell, like this one at House of Prayer in Millmont, PA,  has tolled for us as Dave Weaver's has, 

will we have only tasted of the sacraments,

like the ones prepared for each father to serve his own family at House of Prayer on Thanksgiving Sunday,

 or will we have truly tasted of the Lord, that He is good?

Will we have read our Bible and prayed and attended church and done what we were asked

only because we had to, or for approval, or to look good?

Here Crystal (3rd from the left behind her Aunt Regina and cousin Candace) is singing with Elon's and Fain's family, "Thanks to God."

Or will the songs have come from our hearts, a song with grace to the Lord?

Here Susanna, Charity, and Ethan Bradford are singing. Almost every family contributed something to the service.

Will we have preached our own words--or the Word of God?

Here a dear friend and minister, Brandon Byler, is sharing in the Sunday morning Thanksgiving service.

Will our thankfulness be self-righteous, as Phil Geise reminded us about the Pharisee, thanking God that "I am not like other men, or as this publican,"

while wearing fine robes and nice suits,

and practicing after service for the Christmas program?

Or will we come to God always humbly, remembering it is only His mercy by which we are saved from our sins?

When the last bell tolls for us, will we have been known for always being right,

or for always being humble?.

When that last bell tolls, will our music and our gifts have been used for God,

or for our own glory and benefit?

Will we have conformed to the world, afraid to stand out and be different,

or will we have gladly confessed Christ and taken our place with those who have counted the cost

and taken up their cross to follow Him?

Will church have been only a place where we had to go on Sunday in order to look good to others,

a place we went to for what we could get out of it,

or will it have been a place where we contributed something--

worship, love, willingness, and edifying of one another?

When that last bell tolls for us, will we be sorry for the way we drifted along, trying to fit in to the society around us,

or will we rejoice for the times we spent in Christian fellowship with other believers, rejoicing in God's goodness and encouraging one another in the things of the Lord?

(Most of the folk at Sunday service stayed this Sunday for a fellowship meal afterward at Gabriel's home. We were so thankful for a warm day when most of the children and young people could be outside!)

When that last bell tolls, will we regret the times we chose the easiest or funnest thing for ourselves,

or will we be glad we chose the difficult job of putting our children first?

Will we have loved the little ones of the next generation following us,

or considered them just a nuisance?

Will we have helped someone weary with mothering,

or kept our distance with the excuse that we really didn't know how to help and they really shouldn't have had so many babies anyway?

What will God ask us about our attitude toward that mother and that baby?

Will we have kept our heart open to anything God wanted,

to any change He might request,

even if it is out of our comfort zone?

(Here we are talking to Academic Dean Tim Cooley at the Penn View dining hall, after interviewing with Frank Heidler about the position of Maintenance Director for the college.)

Or will we have said, "No, I am not comfortable with that. I am going to stay where I want to stay 

and do what I want to do."

Will we have ignored and neglected little children,

or will we have taken time to play with them, to pay attention to them, to include them in what we do?

Will we have looked for the good in the drab and the limp and the weak and the leftover and what others don't have time for?

Will we have tried to salvage something good out of what the world thinks is useless,

and foolish,

and no good?

When the last bell tolls for us, 

will the world weep for us, as they did for Dave,

 or will they be relieved that we are gone?