The More, the Merrier (Part 2)

(circa 1974-1977)

We had only been in North Hollywood for one year when our church decided to start a new church in Huntington Beach and we were excited to be part of it. And so it was time to move … AGAIN. Wanting to continue having brothers live with us, we set out to choose just the right house to rent. We found the perfect one: a brand new, two-story, five-bedroom, 3 bath house with a large family room and a 3-car garage. It was about one mile from the beach in a beautiful neighborhood. Many of our church friends found houses in that same neighborhood too so it was just perfect. (This time we looked at our prospective house in the daylight – and the electricity was even on too.)

Joe and Bryson moved with us from North Hollywood and we added two more brothers, Greg & Steve, a short time after we moved. A little while after that, Tom and Greg (a different Greg) were added to our ever-expanding family.

A brand new church presents its challenges. We didn’t have a permanent meeting hall, so we had to rent various places to hold our meetings. Our meetings on Sunday mornings and evenings were held in a nearby junior high school. Our Wednesday prayer meetings were held in a women’s club in Costa Mesa. Friday nights we went to a very large meeting which included several area churches, in an old bank building in Anaheim. Saturday nights we had potluck dinners which were held in a community center.

I was helping to lead the nursery service group. Being that we needed a place to take care of the children on Sunday mornings, our house was chosen as the place for the babies. Each brothers’ room was furnished with bunk beds and under each bed was a collapsible crib. Every Sunday morning, before the brothers left for the meeting, they would set up the crib in their bedroom, then put it away that afternoon.

It was a crazy, but wonderful time. During those three years, we had over 17 brothers live with us, on and off. Sometimes there were only four, often there were six and occasionally, there were eight. Oh, the stories I could tell! Here are a few stories …

What . Is . That . Smell?

Tom was Bryson’s roommate and complained to me one day of a really bad odor emanating from their room – specifically from the closet. After sniffing deeply, I narrowed the source of the odor to Bryson’s side of the closet and discovered, after a little interrogation, that he hadn’t washed his clothes for a very long time. Really, Bryson? I sighed deeply, then ordered him to remove every article of clothing from his closet and drawers and (drum roll) … WASH THEM! Problem solved.

A Mouse In The House

Our house was in a brand new neighborhood and backed up to a huge piece of vacant land. The city had decided to build a park and a school on the property and as they began construction, they did some heavy-duty excavation. We endured the noise and the ensuing dust, looking forward to a beautiful park that would emerge behind us. However, in the excavation process, they also destroyed the happy homes of hundreds of mice. These displaced mice needed new homes and many of them decided that our house would provide just the right place for them to set up housekeeping.

There was one mouse, in particular, that was especially audacious, persistently seeking permanent residence, no matter how many times we chased him away. We would all be eating dinner together when he would sneak up onto our kitchen counter, daring us to react. When we tried to catch him, he would gleefully run down behind the stove.

“The more, the merrier” was our house motto, but that DID NOT include mice! And so we set about trying to catch the little critter. We invented all kinds of traps. One was a bucket of water set up in the middle of the kitchen. Across the bucket we placed a wooden dowel, slathered with peanut butter. We hoped it would entice the little fellow onto the dowel, which would then rotate and send him into the water. It didn’t work.

Joe and Greg were especially obsessed with this little guy’s demise. One weekend Joe went to see his parents in the Fresno area. Greg was eating some lunch when, sure enough, the mouse made his appearance. Greg quickly retrieved his razor sharp bowie knife, sneaked up on the mouse and fiendishly stabbed at the little guy. Greg shouted in triumph as he lifted his knife with the mouse dangling, lifeless, from its point.

When Joe got home the next afternoon and went to his room, he was greeted with a small “gift” on his pillow. Greg had gently placed the mouse in a Styrofoam cup, sweetly holding a daisy in his little paw. Joe jumped up and down, shouting with glee, congratulating Greg on his feat – “You got him! You got him!” Yes, there was much rejoicing in our house that day.

A Creepy Houseguest

Tom had a huge, loving, giving heart. I learned much from him. One Friday he and Bryson went down to the Huntington Beach Pier. There they met a guy. He lived underneath the pier and kept all his meager belongings buried in the sand. They started telling him about Jesus and how much Jesus loved him. As the conversation progressed, they invited him to our house for dinner. Well, at our house there was always room for one more at the table, no problem. But then they invited him to stay for the night – and the next night – and the next night.

I can’t remember his name, but I’ll never forget his face and the way he looked at me. His eyes had a hollow, haunted look and his face contorted as if in pain. He was clearly addicted to drugs. It was the first time that we felt we needed to lock our bedroom door at night. I slept fitfully, waking at each sound, my heart pounding.

On Monday morning, we realized that everyone would be going off to work, leaving me alone with this guy all day. We told him that he was not allowed to be in the house. He did quietly leave and I quickly locked the door. Later that morning, I left to do some errands and when I came back, one of my neighbors told me that he was still hanging around. He had changed his clothes and even urinated in our front yard!

That evening we had a little talk with Tom. As much as we wanted to bring this guy into a relationship with Jesus, he simply couldn’t stay at our house. Tom would have to take him back to the pier. We told him, “you can still be his friend and go and talk to him, bring him to meetings – even bring him food, but he can’t stay here any longer.” And so Tom reluctantly obeyed. He went back to the pier a few days later but never saw him again.

Too Much Sugar

It was our dear Bryson again. He loved his iced tea. However, he also liked sugar in his iced tea – a LOT of sugar. The country, for some reason, was experiencing a shortage of sugar during this time and it had become very expensive. One night we were eating dinner and he started pouring sugar into his iced tea – and he poured and poured until there was about an inch of sugar sitting in the bottom of his glass. He stirred it up a little and began to drink it. But there was still a lot of sugar still sitting in the bottom of his glass. So we made him stir it again until all the sugar was dissolved. He took his first swig of the overly sweet brew, made a face, put the glass down and announced that it was too sweet and he didn’t like it. Sorry, Bryson – we made him drink it all anyway. He never used that much sugar again.

Singing in the Shower

Charlie was simply in love with Jesus and loved to sing to him at the top of his lungs in the shower: “Jesus, I L.O.V.E you” (totally off-key but full of gusto). We did enjoy the joyful sound of his serenading throughout the house. However, his showers lasted forever until eventually there would be no hot water left in the water heater. No matter how many times we told him he had to shorten his showers, he would just get carried away again and forget what we had told him. So one day we decided to teach him a little lesson. After he had been in the shower for what we thought was an adequate time, and while he was singing at the top of his lungs, Bill went to the main water supply valve and turned it off. This is what we heard: “Jesus, I love you – I love you so much – you’re so wonderful – Jesus… – … ummm? … JESUS?” Poor Charlie. From that time on, he shortened his showers – but he still sang at the top of his lungs.

In Retrospect

Those were crazy, wonderful years. Looking back, I don’t know how we did it but I’m grateful for all the experiences. When you give your life to Jesus, buckle up and hang on. You could be going on a wild roller-coaster ride! You never know which way the track will turn or climb or dip – you might even go upside down! Sometimes the track might level out and the ride could be calm for a while. But you know, deep in your soul that God has the controls. He even built your roller coaster, custom made just for you and for your ride. You are the passenger and no matter where the ride takes you, you are safe in his loving care and will arrive, safe and sound when you pull into the station to disembark at the end of your ride.