“Read the Bible daily. Make it part of your everyday business to read and meditate on some portion of God’s Word. Gather your manna fresh every morning. Choose your own seasons and hours. Do not scramble over and hurry your reading. Give your Bible the best, and not the worst, part of your time. But whatever plan you pursue, let it be a rule of your life to visit the throne of grace and the Bible every day.” 

—J.C. Ryle

“Christ is building His kingdom with earth’s broken things. Men want only the strong, the successful, the victorious, the unbroken, in building their kingdoms; but God is the God of the unsuccessful, of those who have failed. Heaven is filling with earth’s broken lives, and there is no bruised reed that Christ cannot take and restore to glorious blessedness and beauty. He can take the life crushed by pain or sorrow and make it into a harp whose music shall be all praise. He can lift earth’s saddest failure up to heaven’s glory.” —J.R. Miller

“Every moment brings us some benediction. Even the rough hand of trial holds in its clasp for us some treasure of love.” —J.R. Miller

“The woman who makes a sweet, beautiful home, filling it with love and prayer and purity, is doing something better than anything else her hands could find to do beneath the skies.” —J.R. Miller

        The Introverts Go Out

When a homebody is married to another homebody, it just might take experiencing a year like 2020 to extract them from their recliners. 

Now, talking about going places is much easier than actually going. For years my husband and I had toyed with the idea of attending the bean-hole dinner in Patten. We would take the family and explore the Lumbermen’s Museum. But most important: We would sample those beans! Someday. … 

In 2020 this annual dinner was canceled for the first time since its inception in the 1960s, which compelled us to make the hour-plus drive in 2021. I mean, the opportunity might vanish again; why not go while we could? 

Of course, being a typical introvert, I occasionally try to escape outings. “How much will the dinner cost?” I wondered. “I mean, there are five of us, and then there’s admission to the museum. Besides that, the forecast is calling for rain.”

Well, I would bow out only if I had to, especially since some of us were really looking forward to the trip. But if the event would turn out to be too expensive, that would give us a good excuse to stay home and pop open some cans of Bush’s beans instead. Or if the event would be rained out, I doubted my husband could arrange for another day off from work on short notice. I decided to e-mail the curator about the price and whether there would be a rain date. 

Soon a reply arrived. The dinner was included with admission, and regarding a rain date, the curator shared the following: “We have a pavilion with tables that is used, especially if it rains. As lumbermen didn’t reschedule a meal due to rain, neither do we.” J

That friendly emoji at the end of the sentence made me grin. Okay, I would unearth my new blue raincoat from the back of my closet and hope that I could avoid dribbling bean juice all over it. I doubt the Indians of long ago—the bean-hole originators—ever fretted about such matters. Well, maybe the introverted Indians did.

The Penobscot Indians would have used a recipe that called for maple syrup, bear grease—a product that could also smooth the hair and give it a good shine—plus the all-important beans. The Indians would dig a hole and build a fire inside. After a bed of coals had formed, the buried beans would slowly cook in a covered pot, usually overnight.

New England settlers learned this baking technique from the natives; later these beans became a logging-camp staple, often being served three times a day. And through cookbooks, word of this dish spread, which led to a plethora of variations. So to me, this dinner would provide not only a good dose of protein, but a tangy taste of history as well. 

Under a cloudy sky, the second Saturday in August finally arrived. We took our rain gear, but I wondered how I could keep my backpack dry if it actually did rain.

Finally, we arrived at the Lumbermen’s Museum. We entered the main building and bought our tickets; then we shuffled outdoors to the food line. This was it—the long-awaited event! Just as the servers had finished piling my plate with coleslaw, a red hot dog, one golden biscuit baked in a reflector oven, homemade gingerbread, and those much-dreamed-of beans, the heavens opened up and the rain poured down—all over my meal. Everybody scrambled around, frantically moving things under cover. Soon we found a table; the thunder growled and the wind spat rain at us as we ate our dinner under the pavilion.

Before I left that table, though, I had to fulfill another cuisine dream: I needed a cup of coffee. You know, the kind lumberjacks would drink. My husband offered to make a dash for the desired beverage. He soon returned with a cup, plus a fistful of soggy sugar packets and cream containers, which I gratefully accepted and poured into my coffee. It is said that by the end of the day, you can stand a spoon upright in the midst of that then-swampy substance. (Being introverts, though, we planned to leave way before that could be put to the test.) Hot and hearty, my lumber-camp coffee tasted comforting on that stormy day.

After our satisfying but damp dinner, we wandered around, perusing the exhibits in various buildings. The humid day refused to make up its mind, alternating between stormy and sunny; I kept my raincoat handy. I also had my backpack to consider, which is ample enough to accommodate a laptop, even though I do not own one. But still, I wanted to keep the contents dry, even if they were valuable only to me. When it rained, I first tried clutching my backpack in front of me with my raincoat pulled together around my bag. But this made me look as if I were expecting triplets. Then I tried wearing my backpack the usual way, draping my raincoat over my back. But that turned my slouch into a huge hunch. (Pity it never occurred to me to fish out the umbrella tucked away in my backpack—a valuable tool, but only if one remembers to use it.)

By the time we reached the final building, I wanted to rest; I waited in the shade for the others to finish up. Ah, this was more like it. Here I could hide out, relaxing in the shadows—an introvert’s favorite spot. Next to being at home in a recliner, of course.

“Do you know who taught the eagles to find their prey? Well, that same God teaches His hungry children to find their Father in His Word.” 

—William Tyndale

“Joy is love exalted; peace is love in response; longsuffering is love enduring; gentleness is love in society; goodness is love in action; faith is love on the battlefield; meekness is love in tough situations; and temperance is love in training.” —D.L. Moody