The story of any one of us is in some measure the story of us all. ~Frederick Buechner

Peep Wars

Photo by Colleen Davick

Some days we make mountains out of molehills—and some days this isn’t just a euphemism. You see, this week a mountain of donation Peeps appeared in our JPUSA dining room. As if overnight they multiplied, split like amebas, had little Peep babies. It was a small mountain, but nevertheless, a heap of Peeps.

Piled up at 5:00 a.m. in front of the steam table that in 20 minutes would have a line of people wanting to get breakfast before heading out the door to work. It was my job to get the food out, but first I would have to clear a space.

It’s not what you need before coffee—probably 2 pallet loads of Peeps in huge cartons.

After getting breakfast out I mulled the pile of Peeps. There must be something you can do with these, I thought. Are they made of petroleum, can we derive fuel from them? Could we make Peep treats? We’d just gotten a load of wood chips for our playground. Could Peeps get shredded and spread out to assist in soft landings?

I was relieved to see by mid-afternoon that the boxes of Peeps had disappeared. Only to find them later in plastic bags with a sign on them. FOR PEEP WARS.

I had no idea what this meant but continued into the dining room for dinner. Sometime between bites of Sweet & Sour Pork a Peep plopped beside my plate. What did this portend? Suddenly the dining room erupted into people lobbing Peeps at each other. Peep chicks flew and Peep bunnies skidded across the floor. It was a conflagration of Peeps.

After the skirmish there were little flattened Peeps everywhere, many confused visiting youth groupers, and a community of JPUSAs brought together in unity for all-out Peep War.

Life at Jesus People USA. Thanks for the memories.

Jane Hertenstein
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