turbid (tur′•bid)

Perhaps my favorite photo from this summer.  I may have to remove this when its presence becomes known.

Summer is long gone.  Even Indian summer is gone.  As I look out my bedroom window, there are no leaves on the trees in the forest to greet my gaze.  Now there is just a collection of upright sticks.  This change of view has happened fast, so fast that it seems like summer was just yesterday, and the things that were occupying my mind during the “golden season” are still pretty fresh.

We clearly had a great summer—as long as we all acknowledge that “great” is a turbid word.  Turbid means cloudy, or confused.   This is a word that Charles encounters frequently in his work with chemicals.  For certain chemical mixtures there’s a number that indicates the “turbidity” of the solution.  I would guess that for H20 everyone likes as little turbidity as possible.  For other mixtures, like crème rinse or conditioner, turbidity might be desirable because it may give the impression of milkiness.  As I have been thinking back on our summer, it’s apparent to me that our summer experiences were turbid.  In fact, all our experiences as a family are turbid.  Why?  Because a family is nothing more than a collection of individuals, and each individual perceives things differently, enjoys different things and clouds each experience with his or her own values. 

Below is a pictorial example of our summer’s turbidity.  Michigan is the blueberry capital of the world.  Each summer, we go blueberry picking at least twice, scurrying like squirrels to build up a supply for the winter.  Do we enjoy this?  Yes!  It’s great!  As long as we all acknowledge that “great” is a turbid concept.

You can make some of the people happy some of the time.

Some of us enjoyed this day, some were even ecstatic, and some of us complained the whole time.  One of the complainers sat in the car most of the time, as the rest of us did our best to load our buckets with 30 pounds of fresh, sweet berries.  We called out to each other, telling jokes and hucking berries--shooting to kill, or at least permanently stain.  There were a couple of teenagers carrying on a conversation near our family, and as the talking went on, it became more and more profane until just about every other word was filthy.  I found some courage and with a genuine smile on my face asked the teens if they would mind keeping their language clean since I had several young children with me.  They were really cool about it, and actually apologized to me and began to speak in whispers.  Did I feel that the encounter with the teens was a parenting success?  Yes!  As long as we all acknowledge that success is a turbid thing.  Within seconds of my succesful encounter, I beckoned to the son in the car to come on out and join us in picking blueberries.  His response?  He leaned his head out the window and yelled, “Blueberry SUCK SUCK!!”  Now, I don’t know what that phrase means any more than anyone else, but it is not the language of a child who needs to be protected from crudeness. 

Blue shirt, blue eyes, blueberries.

Another fun thing we did this summer was create a slip 'n' slide on the gentle hill in our back yard.  If you were to look at the pictures of the event (see one below) you would surmise that we had a really fun time on our slip 'n' slide.  And did we?  Yes!  As long as you understand that in a family, “fun” is a turbid concept.   We spent an hour or more outside one warm day and the kids laughed and giggled and played.  They also fought and argued and cried.  Two separate time-outs were issued and we ended the activity because, besides being angry, several of the kids had bruised or scraped limbs.

WEEEEEEEEE!!!

Someone asked us to close our eyes and envision heaven today.  This is what came to my mind.  This plus family.

We also spent a lot of time this summer swimming in the pond.  It is beautiful to look at when the sun is shining on it and the wind blowing across its surface.  Friends and family fished and swam with us.  We really love having a pond to swim in and really enjoyed our pond time. Was the enjoyment turbid?  Of course!  There’s algae that grows in the pond, and it sometimes seems to grab at your feet and tickle your legs in a disarming way.  There are also fish that nibble on you when they’re hungry and black flies that bite when you’re out of the water.

Ahhh!  The swimming hole.

We also had a few tornado scares this summer.  One tornado actually touched down just a few miles west of us over Sanford Lake.  Is it scary?  Yes, but scary is a turbid notion as well. We were all enchanted by the frightening funnel cloud that was visible from our front porch, and we headed out to take pictures of that unique thunderstorm color and to listen to the thunder.  Sitting on the front porch, in awe of nature, the kids began to sing “How Great Thou Art.”  Unprompted. Some of my kids are really fine vocalists and have a tremendous gift for harmony.  It wasn’t a concert.  There was no one else around.  It was more of a testimony meeting, with everyone bearing the same testimony of awe, all at the same time.

Can you see the remnants of the funnel cloud?  Wow.

One synonym of turbid is “cloudy.”  Our attempts to take family pictures this summer, then, were uniformly turbid, by definition.  It sounds like exaggeration to say that every time we were all home at the same time to take family pictures and I suggested that we might do so, the clouds rolled in.  It’s not exaggeration.  It’s TRUTH.  Other families took pictures at our house this summer, and all of THEIR pictures are sun-kissed and golden.  Our family pictures look as if they were taken in purgatory, or Forks.  We could NOT get the sun to cooperate.  Was this experience a disappointment?  Yes, but disappointment is. . . well, you know what I’m going to say.  Already I treasure our overcast family pictures, simply because we were all together, all healthy, all happy. 

No pesky shadows on our faces.  Thank goodness the sun wasn't shining that day!

I think most of the experiences of family life are like a fresh glass of water.  Straight out of the faucet, water is often turbid.  It’s full of air bubbles and other errant molecules swimming around and obscuring its clarity.  Given some time, however, the water settles, microscopic sediment sinks to the bottom, and you’re left with the stuff that you recognize as the essence and source of life.   So, our summer was turbid.  And though very little time has passed, I can see already that it was, clearly, wonderful.