Bacon-Scented Church

 

December 22–29, 2025

We were supposed to go paintballing with Alan and his in-laws before heading to the airport. Instead, George and I performed a last-minute tactical retreat. Our reason was “logistics,” which sounds mature and responsible but really meant: trailer to storage, car parking, airport shuttle math, and the very real possibility of boarding a plane with neon paint crusted into my hair. Lucy, blissfully unencumbered by adult responsibility, went paintballing before meeting us at the airport. She may have reconsidered that life choice when a spectacular bruise later bloomed on her arm. Ironically, our flight was delayed more than two hours—so yes, we absolutely could have paintballed and flown.

We landed in St. Louis around midnight. The main reason for the trip—aside from seeing our adorable granddaughter, Delilah—was to help Maddy move into her new house. The upside: we got to stay in her old house, which still contained everything except the things she actually needed. The added bonus: Maddy runs a daycare there, so by 7:30 a.m. children began arriving like it was a perfectly normal workday and not a jet-lagged ambush. We survived, helped out, and finally toured the new house that evening.

Christmas Eve was officially Moving Day. We’d packed for bitter St. Louis cold, but Mother Nature had other plans and delivered a heat wave in the high 60s. Nothing says “holiday magic” like sweating while hauling furniture. Still, we preserved tradition with Christmas Eve beef stroganoff, joined by Maddy’s friend Lori. This was also the maiden voyage of the Instant Pot we’d gifted Maddy and Gerrit. In my instructions, I forgot to tell Gerrit not to overfill it. When the steam valve released, a geyser of frothy broth erupted onto the cupboards and microwave for nearly a full minute. We stood there helplessly, watching the carnage, because steam is not something you want to mess with. 

Lori kindly gave candles to Maddy, Lucy, and me—a very thoughtful gift, especially considering I’d only met her once before. Spoiler alert: that candle will come in very handy in the near future.

Christmas morning was refreshingly low-key compared to our usual five-hour, seven-kid extravaganza. After presents, we spent the afternoon assembling IKEA cabinets and shelves for the daycare. That evening, we headed to Lori’s house for an impressive feast with her family and friends, playing National Park trivia to top off the meal. Fun fact: having visited 29 national parks does not make you good at National Park trivia.

The next day was devoted to hanging the IKEA cabinets and shelves we’d assembled, followed by a marathon of organizing and cleaning the daycare. Gerrit then treated us to a visit to St. Louis’s Central Library, built in 1912—huge, beautiful, and inspiring. And wildly different from the tiny rural libraries we’ve been working in lately.

Sunday wrapped up the daycare setup with the installation of a curtain separating playtime from nap time, followed by a bacon-heavy breakfast. We then attended church at a tiny branch, dressed casually and smelling unmistakably like bacon. When I commented on our smell, George observed that this would only be problematic if we were attending a Jewish synagogue—which we weren’t. Ironically, Maddy lives in a predominantly Orthodox Jewish neighborhood, where Saturdays feel like a neighborhood block party since no one is driving and everyone is walking to church.

At church, the branch president was explaining to a new member how to bless the sacrament. George, ever the volunteer, offered to help. The branch president noticed a familiar name on George’s temple recommend—Steve Eskelson from our home ward! George was promptly recruited and found himself administering the sacrament with an unforgettable lineup: a recent convert sporting a white ponytail, jeans, and an untucked plaid shirt; a black teenager with dreads and an untucked, wrinkly white shirt; and George, a bacon-scented stranger, also in casual clothes. It was…beautiful. Oh, and the Branch President also doubled as the organist. That's a man with many hats! 

That night, we dropped Lucy at the airport for her redeye back to Kennewick. She'll be there for another few weeks before returning to college. 

George and I spent our final day cleaning parts of Maddy's old house, while Maddy held her first day of daycare at the new house. In a final act of weather-related spite, the temperature plummeted from 75 degrees to 18 overnight. With too much stuff to fit in our small bags, we purchased a one-time-use “junker” suitcase from St. Vincent De Paul. It will be immediately be returned to its discarded status once we’re back in our camper. 

That evening, we said goodbye to Maddy and her family. We’ll miss little Delilah terribly—it may be a while before we make it back to St. Louis. That’s the bittersweet reality of having seven kids scattered across the country: visits are precious and far too short. Fun fact: Delilah clearly prefers Grandpa over me, but that’s probably because I was cooking and cleaning while Grandpa played with her. I’ll try not to remember this injustice forever.