Gathering Places in Colonial Williamsburg

Centuries before Starbucks became our country’s “third space,” (home being the first, work or public endeavors being the second, casual community gatherings being the third space), colonists conversed with neighbors and friends in taverns and cafés.

In Colonial Williamsburg, more prominent persons ate and drank in taverns like Wetherburn’s (pictured above), Shields, Raleigh, King’s Arms, or Chowning’s, while commoners and slaves gathered in cafés like Charlton’s Coffeehouse.

Before 1776, Williamsburg’s residents were Englishmen and women. Although smugglers often took advantage of Virginia’s many seaside coves and inlets to bring sugar directly from Barbados, the laws of King George III dictated that sugar was to be transported from Barbados to England to be taxed and then to the colonies. This was true for other imports as well. Owners of Williamsburg’s taverns and cafes depended on imports for supplies they could not furnish from their own or local dairies, kitchens, farms, smokehouses, and wells.

In mid-1700s, Williamsburg was home to the House of Burgesses of the Colony of Virginia—the equivalent of a state capital. During seasons when the burgesses were in session, the town’s gathering places and inns were especially busy.

   

Where might George Washington have stopped with fellow land surveyors to speculate on western Virginia property and dine on roast pheasant? Wetherburn’s Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg. Where might colonists go to a ball? The great room Henry Wetherburn built on the back of his popular tavern/inn.

We found dining rooms on Wetherburn’s first floor interesting, as inventories kept in the 1700s have allowed restorers to furnish dining rooms with authentic types of tables, chairs, and tableware. One dining room was for people who could not pay as much as people in the other dining room, which was decorated with mirrors, a rarity back in the day.

Upstairs, sleeping rooms also reflected economics. Travelers who paid less slung their saddlebags over the bedpost and slept two to a bed. It was considered courteous to introduce yourself to the stranger sharing your bed! Travelers paying more had their own beds and even a trunk in which to stash belongings.

Confessions of a Traveling Homebody

When I say I want a change of scenery, I want to broaden my horizons, I want to get away from my daily life, I mean it—but not completely. The familiar is comfortable. Broadened horizons, not so much. Take my recent vacation, for example. I had been up to my eyeballs in an editing job, French class assignments, and tax prep, both mine and my mother’s. Arriving home from vacation, I had to hit the ground running with more of the same. But in between, sixteen days in Georgia and Florida were gloriously relaxing.

It’s just that—well, as I look back over my trip diary, what I recorded reflects a high degree of disorientation and a low degree of adventure, or even adaptability.

My notes about all four hotels focus on whether each hotel’s provisions allowed me to have the type of tea I wanted at the time of day I wanted it, compared with what I’m used to drinking at home. Okay, I did write about people’s friendliness and the hotel’s nearby attractions. But tea? Gee whiz, apparently, I HAVE to have my daily tea. Get a grip, Jane.

At the Marietta History Museum, my favorite exhibits were the ones displaying 1950s toys and games of the baby boomer generation. I spent way more time there reveling in reminiscences of Lincoln Logs and Captain Kangaroo than I did learning about Marietta’s role in the Civil War. And my favorite memories of my time in that museum are that I e-mailed photos of 1950s toys to my siblings and received a phone call from a neighbor from home. In contrast, while I sat on a velvet antique chair gabbing with my friend, my husband engaged the docent in the military history room. He broadened his horizons. I broadened my comfort zone. I realize our approaches to that museum also relate to our disparate interests and personalities, but still, I was struck by how little I reached out to grab unfamiliar gusto.

My trip diary also records a fair amount of comfort zone-seeking in Florida. We stayed in different lodging than in the past. Having stayed in the same part of this Florida town for twenty Februarys now, I am used to walking to favorite shops and cafés. This February, we were too far north for any of my well-worn paths, and I missed them. One day, I even planned a beach walk to replicate a backward version of one of our favorites; we had to drive to what is normally our promenade destination and start there, then loop back to it on foot. It just felt so good to see the same oceanfront homes we’re used to seeing and spot the same towering Norfolk Island Pine from way down the beach. Pathetic, I know. 

Even more pathetic are my notes from Starbucks. “We drove to Starbucks—our Starbucks. I have felt disoriented not being able to walk to it. Now that we’re here though listening to the fizzing machines and animated chatter and laughter, sitting under the familiar aqua-edged surfboard and next to baskets of Komodo Dragon Blend bags, feeling silky hot chocolatey liquid warming my throat … aah. I hope to walk to our familiar places when we’ve finished our coffee.”

In defense of my homebody-ness, I will say that my pre-vacation stress levels were so high, I probably needed to vacation in a relatively comfortable zone in order to get needed relaxation. And we did explore new areas, take historical tours, and meet new people. One exhilarating new experience for me was bicycling on the beach. The next vacation on our list will be almost entirely new adventures, so I’m preparing to broaden my horizons in a big way. I’m with Dorothy though: There’s no place like home.

Benefits of Repentance

It’s a topic about as popular as head lice. But repentance, unlike head lice, has many benefits. With tomorrow being the 2013 National Day of Prayer, one benefit of repentance leaps to mind: God healing our land when we turn from our wicked ways. Many faithful prayer warriors will cry out with the whole 2 Chronicles 7:14 verse on the National Day of Prayer. Many will also pray for peace, for the Lord’s presence, for salvation, for lighter burdens, for times of refreshing—all benefits of repentance.

For example, Christians frequently pray “Lord, bring him/her times of refreshing” for others straining under heavy burdens or taking much needed vacations. I love that expression, don’t you? Times of refreshing—a splash of cool water on a blistering hot day. I want that! But wait. The whole verse is Repent, therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord. [Acts 3:19, 20] Ah, so the cool splash of God’s presence happens when I confess my envy, my sharp words, my selfishness—not when I settle into my aisle seat on a flight to Orlando? Hmmm. We seem to conveniently forget the repentance part of that promise.

Here’s another benefit. How often do we pray for God to relieve stressful circumstances? I admit I often find comfort in Jesus’ invitation: Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. [Matthew 11:28] Mostly I want God to soften my demanding boss, cure my sinus infection, and lead me to a reliable used car within my budget. The burdens I could and should unload, however, are my critical spirit toward and gossip about my demanding boss; anger, impatience, and anxiety about the infection; and worry about the car. Jesus’ promised rest comes with repentance.

Noodling about repentance benefits one day, I wrote a little story about a young couple, Brittany and Karl, who grapple with the topic’s meaning and practical applications.

   

Starbucks. Anytown. Saturday morning.

Brittany inhales the steam curling up from her mocha. Sipping, sighing, leaning back into the overstuffed chair by the window, she smiles at Karl, approaching with Cinnamon Dolce Crème Frappuccino in hand. Simultaneously shrugging out of his windbreaker and flopping into the next chair, he offers, “Want a taste?”

As she reaches over to take him up on his offer, he says, “Okay, now let’s get serious about this bible study. The meeting is tonight.”

“Don’t I know it? We still have to clean the house. You promised to vacuum, remember?”

“I know. And I will. Who’s bringing treats?”

Giving Karl a some-things-never-change eyeball roll, Brittany answers, “Barb’s baking a cake for the birthdays this month, and Monroe’s bringing fruit for the little kids. He says he can make a clown face with bananas and oranges and raisins, or something like that. I’m having a little trouble picturing it, but the kids will like it.”

“What kind of cake?”

Brittany playfully punches his arm and nods toward their bible on the windowsill. Setting down his drink, he picks up the bible and as he flips pages, he gets nose to nose with his wife and rasps, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near. Prepare the way for the Lord!”

She laughs, “Maybe you should’ve worn a camel’s hair coat instead of that windbreaker and ordered a locust frappé.”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m trying to prepare you for the lesson. Tell me I didn’t remind you even a little of Charlton Heston.”

“Yeah, Charlton Heston whispering because he’s in Starbucks. But good segue, honey.”

Karl fingers a bible page. “Okay, here we are; tonight’s verse is 2 Corinthians 7:10. I will not even try to sound like I belong in a movie. It says, ‘Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.’ Let’s try to understand each part of this, okay, Brit?”

She nods. “Godly sorrow. Sorrow. Like sadness when your mom gets cancer or your dog dies? And it’s godly because God understands?” Karl wrinkles his brow.

 “So let’s add deeper losses—your father dies and you lose your job and your house burns to the ground.” Karl again looks doubtful.

“Sorrow is more still? And your wife leaves you for another man?” Karl’s eyes widen in alarm but he shakes his head.

“Okay, your two teenagers are on drugs and the third gets run over by a train? Surely I have to be approaching sorrow with all these tragedies!”

“Brit, this kind of sorrow has to bring repentance. What do you need to repent of if your dog dies or your house burns?”

“I don’t know, maybe something you did caused it, plus the loss really hurts, so you’re sorrowful.”

“Or maybe godly sorrow is less about pain over circumstances and more about feeling pain when we disobey God and hurt other people?”

“Yeah, like David’s sorrow after being confronted about his Bathsheba/Uriah sins,” Brittany says with a flourish that spills a few drops of her mocha.  “And when David wrote Psalm 51, knowing he’d sinned against God made him totally miserable. That would be the godly sorrow we’re looking for here, right?”

Karl beams. “Bingo! Now we need to define repentance.” Brittany’s fingertips are already tapping her iPhone screen. Karl peeks at the results and reads, “turning from sin and dedicating oneself to amendment of one’s life.”

“Oh great, now I have to look up amendment … Okay, amending is changing or modifying for the better.”

Karl gulps his Frappuccino and smacks his lips. “Here, I’ve got study notes for the rest of this verse. ‘The former manifests itself by repentance and the experience of divine grace; the latter brings death, because instead of being God-centered sorrow over the wickedness of sin, it is self-centered sorrow over the painful consequences of sin.’”

“Wow, I have to think about this a minute.” Brittany leans back in her chair as Karl industriously slurps the last drops of his drink. With her head still cushioned, she rolls her head toward Karl and says softly, “Hey, hon … I’m thinking about that argument we had last week.”

“Uh-oh.” Karl places his empty cup on the windowsill and waits.

“No, this is a good thing. Remember when I told you I wasn’t ready to decide—hadn’t finished thinking it through—whether I was okay with visiting relatives on our vacation or whether I’d prefer going away, just us?”

Karl nods.

Brittany continues, “And you got all upset because you’d already decided your opinion, and you called me slow and asked what could I possibly need to think through? And when I told you that really hurt me, you completely backed off and admitted impatience and self-righteousness and disrespect and begged my forgiveness and told me to take as much time as I needed and if I disagreed with you, we’d work out a win-win no matter what it took?”

Karl nods.

“You had godly sorrow, honey. And you repented—amended for the better. And I got to give you God’s grace. And you got to experience God’s grace, right? And I don’t have any regrets about that conversation, do you?”

“No. Good one, Brit. I’d be fine with our sharing that with the group tonight if Monroe asks.” Karl twists his napkin in his lap. “I’m thinking about a work situation I didn’t do so great at though.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, yesterday I was late handing in a report. My boss’ eyes darkened, like he was going to say how frustrated he was, but before he could say anything, I blamed a coworker who hadn’t gotten me his numbers on time, which was the truth. But I don’t think I did the right thing.”

“What would have been the right thing?” Brittany leans forward and gently pats Karl’s knee.

“Probably covering my coworker’s offense and praying about whether to lovingly confront him or not. Probably sincerely apologizing to my boss and telling him I understand I put him in a bad light with his boss. And confessing to God first.”

“So what would you confess?”

“Fear of man. Pride.”

“And how would you amend for the better?”

“In the future I’d communicate deadlines better and come alongside my coworker if he needs help with the numbers. And I’ll ask God to help me stop the blame game.”

“No regrets?”

“Well, after Monday, I’ll have no more regrets about this. … You know what I’m reminded of here? That Matthew 11 verse where Jesus asks burdened people to trade their heavy yoke for His light one. I always want that rest He promises but am never sure how to get Jesus’ easy yoke—maybe I’ll mention to Monroe we could talk about that sometime in our group—but anyway, what if our burdens aren’t just life’s sad stuff, what if our burdens are also these sins we carry around because we’re too proud to repent? It makes sense that confessing would be freeing, doesn’t it?”

“I’m so proud of you, Karl! Your willingness to repent prepares the way for the Lord and His grace in our marriage and at your office.”

“Thank you, Lord, for your kindness that leads to repentance!” Karl throws his hands in the air, scoops up his windbreaker and their trash in one hand and extends his other hand to his wife.

Pelicans

Beyond the surfboard painted with brown sea turtles, beyond the Starbucks mermaid, beyond round sea grape leaves and pointy palm leaves bobbing in the ocean breeze, pelicans sun.

Cuppa Comfort

To find comfort and quiet and a scene change, I  follow the siren song of the green mythological mermaid logo sign hanging in a Starbucks window. Standing in line for my mocha, I'm grateful that the song of the moment is the soothing Handel's Water Music. 

A change of scenery this is; quiet and soothing it is not. The classical music is LOUD. Handel's violin bow is less a fairy's flitting wings and more an ogre screeching a warty elbow across the strings. The music is not a velvety curtain draping into gentle folds behind the stage of today's Starbucks play. It is a scratchy, vinyl tarp covering the cast, who must fight their way to the top of the tarp to deliver their lines. Also, the cast is large, filling all seats, waiting in lines, jostling shopping bags, cajoling small children ~ and seemingly, all yakking and yukking at once.

An armchair frees up just as I grab my cuppa comfort. Shrugging out of my baby blue fleece sweatshirt, I snuggle into the chair with my bible opened to Psalms in my lap. Chocolaty liquid warms my throat. Aaah. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 17:8)

I am pretty good at tuning out cacophony, so for a while, my only distractions are visual ~ black fringe shimmying on suede moc-style boots striding past, pale pink patent leather MaryJanes climbing on the next chair, tall tan wicker-sided wedge sandals waiting in line beneath a gray handkerchief-hemmed flannel cape. Black-and-white rectangles on tabletops flash LED spreadsheets and e-mail pages. I find myself admiring the cute barrista's pink-tipped punky hair. I want to dye my hair, too, only I'd probably choose aubergine all over. And soft curls, not sharp points.

I have come today bothered by too many recent all work-no play days. I can't even remember what I enjoy any more. I vacantly stare out the window at the empty side street with a river of colors flowing down the main street behind. A champagne bottle and rainbow-shaped CELEBRATE are painted in metallic gold on a shop window on the main drag. Across my empty, still, side street is an old building with a lovely arched window ~ bricked over ~ and a quaint verdigris lamppost with two signs affixed to it. One is black on white: ONE WAY, with an arrow pointing to the back of the second sign, white on red: WRONG WAY. It somehow seems fitting that just above my head out the window, a fire escape ladder hangs in midair, its black wrought-iron rectangles framing gray puffy cloud-pillows with blue-button tufts. 

Is that our choice in life? Be rescued from a burning building only to break a leg leaping from an escape ladder that ends 10 feet above the ground? How often do Starbucks barristas see tears on the cheeks of the characters in their theater? I wonder.

Donning my fleece hoodie again, I smile remembering Jimmy Fallon's "Thank you, tuna casserole, for being the sweatpants of food." As I pitch my mocha cup in the waste can, I am thankful someone somewhere sometime thought to blend chocolate with coffee. I intentionally walk under the fire escape to my parking spot. Climbing into the car, I see the bag of Jonagolds from this morning's farmers market, and I remember I'm the apple of God's eye. During my Starbucks visit, the mermaid, Handel, the fairy, the ogre, the barrista, all the laughing characters in today's play ~ and even God ~ did not lay out an LED spreadsheet of answers for me. But I feel comforted knowing God is faithful. He heard me, even above all the noise, and He comforts me.