It’s chaos. A kind of mad, undiluted chaos. But a chaos that I treasure. I breathe it in and let my mind enjoy these moments of screeching and clamor and tripping over one another. Because the truth is I wouldn’t wish it any other way.

I have always spoken of my large family with a sense of pride. I couldn’t possibly imagine any other kind of life. We morph from babies into adults, with nearly no distinction between the third and second generations. And, yes, we’re chaotic. My parents live in a large farmhouse, but even then with—20 people—it feels smaller than it is.

These are things I can always count on at my parents’ house:

1. The same temperature control issues arise every year: Dad thinks it’s cold and wants to fire up the wood stove; the rest of us wear short sleeves, turn on the overhead fans, and open windows when he’s not looking.
2. The plethora of food is always hearty. Mennonite. Homemade. Abundant. And crazy delicious.
3. There are two “islands” on the main floor; three if you include the dining room table. Always, always there are pursuits that circle these areas. One is from the living room, through the computer room, through the dining room, and back into the living room. The other is near the entryway, a continuous hallway circling past Dad’s office, a bathroom, Mom’s sewing room, the kitchen, and back to the entryway. You stay out of the way and referee only if someone starts running in the opposite direction and a collision occurs. A new rule was established this year that stated “no running in the house”. You can guess it wasn’t exactly obeyed.
4. The food is passed around the table at least 3 times. My mom hardly sits to eat because she’s be too busy getting more food from the kitchen or holding grandbabies.
5. My dad’s prayer this year includes thankfulness that we’re all together; it doesn’t happen that often anymore, us all being home at the same time.