Well, it's already come and gone - Christmas, that is - and here I am not having written a Christmas letter, yet. With apologies for my tardiness, I want to dash this off to get y'all caught up in our story.
You may remember last Christmas, I told you about our adventures in owning a bar. I ran the bar-back, Laura was the tobacco-chewing bouncer, and Christopher was running a parts salvage place, re-selling parts that mysteriously and suddenly were needed for the bikes in the parking lot. Megan was creating fine art and plant arrangements, wanting to get into horticulture in Denver, but it turns out in Texas, you cannot yet put weeds in your floral arrangements. Who knew? Alyssa had been teaching a night class on "Gambling for fun, profit, and financial aid" at the Alabama University for the Bright but Underachieving and Remarkably Naive ("AUBURN"), and was getting a lot of attention by the school and even some guys from Washington.
In fact, it turned out that our whole family got put on some kind of "watch list" for what we were doing. I thought, given the economy, that this would be a good thing. America needa more entrepreneurs, and if the government was going to give us our own YouTube channel for people to learn how to make money, that was OK with me.
Well, it wasn't a YouTube channel that we got. One day about a dozen men and women showed up at the bar. They were obviously important - they had matching jackets with letters spray painted across the back. Wanting to be friendly, I asked if they were from a new biker group. They said, no, they were from Washington. I told them it was OK - we have to serve anyone, no matter if they are from the west coast. They said, no, they were from Washington, DC and needed to ask us some questions.
Turns out, our bar had become a hang-out for a notorious biker group calling themselves the WD-40s. I got scared, thinking this was some kind of gang like the MS-13's we keep hearing about. One guy - he said he was from the federal dresser investigators (what he was hoping to find in my wife's bureau, I don't know) - said this gang was a bunch of middle-aged businessmen who fixed sticky situations. Apparently they fixed books, shaved points, and were running something called a Fonzie scheme on unsuspecting clients. All of our small businesses were impacted by this group.
Well, I'm no dummy, I said - I don't let people repair books in my bar - tape and glue is a fire hazard. No one except my daughter uses the pencil sharpener to shave the point of her pencil, and I don't let anyone mess with my jukebox or set up an office in the men's room, no matter how cool they are.
This FBI guy sighed, shook his head, frowned, rubbed his temples, started mumbling, and then he really got upset. I know that because he walked away and sent another fellow over who was from East Texas - Marshall, his jacket said. He said they were going to have to put my family into witness protection because they needed us for what we saw.
They said they would "spare no expense" and move us where we wanted to go. We would need new identities and new careers. They said we could write family, but had to use our new names. So, let's see if you can figure this out.
The move started out OK. They brought us a U-haul that didnt have more than a quarter million miles on it. Not bad for a '83 model. The guys in the matching letter jackets looked a little old for high school, and complained about babysitting the Morons - I figured that was our new name. I said that it didn't seem fair we had to pack our own truck and asked to see that paperwork. I guess I didnt pay attention when I signed, because the paperwork actually said "spare every expense" and we were moving to Cuero.
So they have us set up in Cuero, now. The house is Barney purple, and kind of sears the eyes in afternoon sunlight. The freight trains rumble by and the chain link fence apparently isn't a sound blocking kind, because our velvet Elvis keeps getting knocked off the wall. Cuero seemed a safe enough place, quiet and unassuming, but now our high school football team won state and everyone knows where we are. I was in Piggly Wiggly when the news came over the internets about the victory and I got interviewed by the local TV station and bait shop. I kept my cool and, remembering what my wife said about not sounding like a fool, said the tornado sounded just like a train, like they say in all them movies on TV. The camera man must have been kin to those guys from FBI - he shook his head the same way, rubbes his temples, and walked away.
So, here we are - all set up with our new identities. They call me Don, my wife is Lauren, our kids are Alicia, Morgan, and Fonzie. Since there seemed so much opportunity in the field, we plan to open a small business called Moron's Book Fixing and Point Shaving. The man from Marshall just sighed and rubbed his temples when I told him our plans...
Ok...so this continues the far-flung adventures that dont really exist. Thankfully, we're not in witness protection and havent had to move.
In fact, all is well in Mission Valley, Texas. I am blessed beyond measure to be the pastor of Zion. I am encouraged, challenged (in the good sense), and supported in ministry. We aren't breaking growth records, but attendance is steady and strong with new guests worshipping with us in a regular basis. Laura is still at the Region education office and serves schools in over a dozen districts the area. She is very good at her job and is frequently requested, by name, to present to these schools for workshops and presentations - even from schools she is not assigned to.
Our kids are all half-through their year - Alyssa at Alabama, Megan at Victoria West HS, and Chris at Cade Middle school (8th grade is sort of like being a senior, right?). Alyssa is finishing her BS in engineering, is working for a professor in a start-up company, and is planning to stick around for an MBA and maybe a Masters of Mechanical Engineering, too. The prof likes her work and is trying to work out funding for both degrees. Megan is focused on vet tech work and has been accepted to Texas A&M Kingsville, about 2 hours from home. We visited a few weeks back and she liked what she saw. Her love for animals will help her fit in nicely there.
Chris had a scare this summer. After months of pain all spring, we took Chris to a specialist in Austin where an MRI and an X-ray told us the frightening news that Chris had a tumor in his hip. Fearing the worst - starting with a capital C - a biopsy revealed the truth: cartilidge didn't develop into bone like it was supposed to and had, instead, calcified into a golf-ball size lump in his hip bone. Thank God, Dr. Williams - a highly skilled surgeon - sees dozens of these a month and removed the mass. When we went back for the follow 3 months later, he said if he hadnt been the surgeon knowing exactly where to look, he would have missed the spot in the X-rays. Diagnosis was 100% recovery with an almost 0% chance of any complications or re-growth. Relief, thanks, and gratitude to God and to a crack staff at Dell - especially a nurse named Diane (pronounced Deon, as in Sanders), as well as the family and friends who remembered our son in prayer...this was the best gift we received all year.
As the year comes to a rapid conclusion, now just a few days away, we rejoice in the gifts God showers on us daily in our homes, at work, in play, with health and happiness.
Here's to the new year. May she be even better than the old one. - Col. Sherman T. Potter, MASH 4077.
And may the peace, joy, and hope of the Newborn Christ Child be yours today, tomorrow, and always.
-Jonathan, Laura, Alyssa, Megan & Christopher Meyer
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