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Chicken coop, Coupeville, Island County, WA. Photo by Anne E. Kidd. Library of Congress<\/i><\/p>\n
Today I was reminded of a man<\/strong> I wrote about here some years back. He\u2019s gone now, and one of his relatives came to the library today to donate several cartons of books from his personal collection.<\/p>\n I think it\u2019s all right to give his full name now. It was Marvin Rodvik, and he lived in Franklin, Minnesota. I met him a couple times in my life. The last time he gave us another gift of books. He also told me a story, which I passed along in this blog. I\u2019ll tell it again now, because it is, in my opinion, one of the best stories I ever heard for the Christmas season.<\/p>\n Marvin was a pastor\u2019s kid. The story happened when he was a teenager, probably (by my calculations) around the time of World War II.<\/p>\n An entertainment event of some kind (he didn\u2019t say what) was planned in their small town. Marvin announced at supper that he was going.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not going,\u201d said his father. They belonged to a strict church, a congregation of the forerunner to my own church body.<\/p>\n \u201cYes I am,\u201d said Marvin. \u201cYou can\u2019t stop me.\u201d<\/p>\n His father paused a moment. Then he said, \u201cYou\u2019re right. I can\u2019t stop you. But know this. If you go to that event, you\u2019ll be locked out of this house when you come home tonight. You\u2019ll have to find somewhere else to sleep.\u201d<\/i> (\u201cI don\u2019t even remember whether I had a good time,\u201d he told me. \u201cBut I\u2019ll always remember what I found when I got home.\u201d)<\/p>\n When he returned home, the front door was locked. He tried the back door. Locked.<\/p>\n He went to that cellar window that they\u2019d always been able to crawl into in a pinch. Apparently his dad knew about that window, because it was sealed tight.<\/p>\n It was autumn. The night was getting cold. What could he do?<\/p>\n He thought of the chicken house (many pastors kept chickens in those days, to stretch their grocery money). There was a loft in the chicken house, where they used to play as kids. They\u2019d had an old quilt up there.<\/p>\n He went into the chicken house and climbed the ladder to the loft. The quilt was gone. Unable to think of any other options, Marvin curled up on the boards and tried to sleep.<\/p>\n Time seemed to crawl. The ammonia smell of chicken droppings assaulted his nose. He got colder and colder, and began to shiver. He could not sleep.<\/p>\n After a time, he heard the chicken house door open. Steps crossed the floor, and he heard someone climbing the ladder.<\/p>\n A quilt was wrapped around him. He felt his father\u2019s strong arms embrace him as he lay down close to him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I told you you had to sleep outside tonight,\u201d his father told him, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean that I would sleep inside.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n Happy Advent. Chicken coop, Coupeville, Island County, WA. Photo by Anne E. Kidd. Library of Congress Today I was reminded of a man I wrote about here some years back. He\u2019s gone now, and one of his relatives came to the library today to donate several cartons of books from his personal collection. I think it\u2019s all … Continue reading “You’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep”<\/span>
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Marvin was stubborn. He went to the event. <\/p>\n
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