What Kind of Funeral Do You Imagine

Which subject will it be today? There are many options floating around in my busy head. I suppose it best to begin where I left off, which would be at the beginning of last weekend. On Friday, I left work about 11:15 to ready ourselves to leave for the northern Chicago suburbs where Mary's wake and funeral would take place. There was a question early on whether or not it would be wisest to go to both or to attend the funeral only. Attending just the funeral on Saturday would eliminate a need for a place to stay the night on Friday, but at the same time take an opportunity from us to be a support to Craig and Kendra. We tossed the options forth and back several times and ended up deciding to be there for both occasions. I find myself being utterly lacking in confidence when it comes to wakes and funerals. I suppose it has to do with the unknown condition of the grieving. There are those nagging thoughts and concerns about how the family members will conduct themselves and what needs they will have. Then the big one, 'how can I be of benefit to those that mourn'? The worse scenario would be that we would be more baggage for the family. It is a balancing act; be there to comfort and support but not be an added burden for them. Kendra arranged a very comfortable place for us to stay the night with a teacher colleague. By the end of the day on Friday, both my husband and I realized we had done the right thing. We were able to share this sad side of life with Mary's husband and sons. We became more acquainted with Jerry's and Mary's families and friends, many of whom we had met at Kendra's and Craig's wedding two and a half years ago. It was good for all of us. Getting to know the Catham's better is to know our son-in-law better and that is a very good thing. The interesting thing about life is that the more one knows another, the more one finds in common with another. The day of the funeral dawned with a fog covering the earth. The bright spring sun soon burned it away and a beautiful day sprung forth. In spite of a cool beginning, the day warmed to 80 degrees. A day with bright sun and warm temperatures makes a cemetery experience much more tolerable. We laid Mary to rest in a country cemetery under the shade of oak trees and right in front of the graves of her two sons. Her beautiful casket set ready to be lowered to the ground. The kids had chosen a beautiful warm wood casket in which to place her remains. Its beauty was an honor to her. I took the opportunity to tell two of our older children who were with us not to spend the money on a fancy box for me. They made a few jokes about putting me in a pine box or maybe even a cardboard box. They don't realize it but the truth is that it doesn't matter to me now and certainly won't matter to me then.
Have you thought about your funeral? Earlier that day, as I sat in the new strikingly beautiful 10 million dollar Catholic church listening to the priest drone on in the formality costumary to the Catholic tradition, I mulled over what type of funeral I would choose if I could choose. My very close friend has had her funeral planned for years tweaking it as time goes by. It is very important to her that her funeral be a celebration of her life and of the everlasting life that God has prepared for her. I, too, wish for my funeral to be a celebration. I want to celebrate the faithfulness of God thoughout the years of my life. I want my funeral to be a living testimony of grace through the words of my husband, my children and grandchildren. I want my friends to have an opportunity to talk to those present about our good times, our bad times and the way we shared faith and encouraged one another. I want the living to sing celebrative songs; songs of praise to God who was there when I was conceived, born, lived and died. I want the God who never gave up on me to be thanked and recognized as the power that was at work in me. Praise to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

A Bonus to Count On

For the last four years, our church has sponsored a day long women's retreat. For the last four years, the men of our church have cooked for us, served us on china and silver, and washed more dishes than one could count. The retreat team decided it was time to honorwith a dinner those that serve us so faithfully. Last night was the night. The team cooked an old fashioned meal; pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, applesauce, cole slaw, beets, rolls and caramel apple pie with ice cream. We thought the menu reflected a man's appetite. There were seven ladies who cooked, served and cleaned up after approximately twenty guys. After night's end, we ladies had a whole new appreciation for the sacrifice our men make for us on that one day in February each year. We were pooped and we had only served one meal. They serve two meals and work a whole day in preparation and clean up, some of them beginning at 4:00 a.m. This past February, about 40 guys served 312 ladies. Kudos to them! We shall not take them for granted. We couldn't do what we do without them.
Our retreat team is made up of seven ladies. All but one of our team members has been with us from the first year. We have become a tightly knit group. We plan and execute the women's retreat each year but more than that, we share our lives; our joys and our sorrows. Life is made of both, you know. We have found that sharing it makes the joys more joyful and the sorrow less painful. Last evening we shared some painful things that are current happenings in our lives and the lives of our family members. After the concerns were voiced, we brought it all to Jesus in prayer. What relief. The reality was revealed and now we bring it all to the only one who can do something about it. We believe in divine intervention. We know God in three persons has the power to do what we can't. There is such comfort in knowing His plan is bigger than we can see. There is also comfort in giving and receiving His love between each other. I know I can count on these ladies to give me advice, comfort, care and even correction if needs be. I cherish my friends on this team. Do you have people outside of your family you can count on? Faithful family is core, faithful friends are a bonus.

Yes, I Still Like Asparagus

A late April morning, quiet and still, always evokes a memory from my childhood. At the age of five, my father taught me to drive a small Farmal tractor that pulled an asparagus picker. Ours was a two row picker. Mom and Dad sat on the back in seats that rode close to the ground. As I pulled them through the field, they harvested the beautiful thick stalks of asparagus. This all had to be accomplished before school started and adults had to go to work. During the heaviest harvest in the warmest days, school started a couple hours late to accomodate the asparagus growers and their help. Our family got up before light and ate our breakfast while the morning dawned. We always had eggs and bacon for breakfast. The only exception was Sundays when we had warmed coffee cake from the bakery where my dad visited on Saturday evenings to get the left overs. It wasn't that he couldn't afford to have bought it in the morning right out of the oven, but it was that he would be in the area in the late afternoon just before they closed and he knew he would be able to buy the goods at a fraction of the cost. My dad has always been on the look out for a bargain and that may contribute to his success in business. My father was always in charge of breakfast. He fried the bacon and eggs and he was also the one that warmed the baked goods on Sunday morning. I have to wonder at this point in my life, why I don't have very high colesterol. Every breakfast of my growing up years was filled with fat. But it tasted so good and it gave our family the energy it needed for those early morning workouts. By the time my siblings were old enough to help in the asparagus patches, we had graduated to a larger picker. This one held four people so everyone could get into the act. Their growing up pushed me out of the driver's seat and back onto one of the seats where I then snapped off the stalks. My dad planted another patch of asparagus and when it got mature enough to pick, we imported my girlfriend to fill one of the seats on the picker so that we could harvest quicker each morning. You see, I've heard it said that when it is warm enough, one can almost see the asparagus grow. The asparagus season begins in late April and continues until the fourth of July. Then the plant is given the opportunity to grow into bushes which gives it a rest and allows it to feed the root through photosynthesis. I have picked asparagus in my winter coat, hat and scarf and I've picked asparagus in my swim suit. That would suggest the temperature changes that occur in this area in the spring. One of the most memorable reminiscense is the words of my father. When I drove the tractor beginning at age five, he would yell at me from his seat on the back, "Keep the pot over the middle of the row!." What he meant was that when I would space off and forget to watch where I was going, the tractor wheels would run over the asparagus. This was NOT what he wanted, of course. The "pot" was a round pot where the bottom of the steering colomn was encased. When it was positioned over the middle of the row, I would not run over any of the precious asparagus. Another of his famous quotes was applied to me when I was a "picker". He would yell to both me and my friend, "Get your fingers down to the ground, don't let a little dirt scare ya!" It was better to snap the stalk close to the ground as the weight is in the bottom of the stalk and we got paid by the pound. Another reason was that if you left tall stumps, they would interfere with picking new stalks close to the ground the next day or so. Once I was married and had little ones of my own, I rented a couple of asparagus patches. I was a stay at home mom at the time and needed some extra money to pay for my eldest child's Christian education. I recall being out in the field with my eldest, Sherri, who was a kindergartener at the time. My young family didn't have the luxury of a tractor or picker so we walked the field bending down for each piece. While Sherri and I picked across the field, my three year old slept in the car at the end of the rows. I didn't think a thing of it then. I didn't feel I was being persecuted either. Private education was a choice we were making and God was providing a way to pay for it. I was thankful. The reward when the patch had been covered was carrying the boxes to the trunk and bringing them to the receiving center where it was weighed and I could begin my calculations. I think we got about 19 or 20 cents a pound then. Today in the grocery store it is approximately three dollars a pound. Most of the asparagus farmers have given it up. Two of them remain and sell mainly to area stores and the general public. An era has gone. It was a lot of work but an experience I wouldn't have wanted to miss. Bring on the creamed asparaus on toast. Love it.

Enjoy the Blossoms While They Bloom

The red bud outside our huge classroom windows is giving us quite a show today. Profuse pink blossoms are in full bloom after this warm weekend. Trapped inside a courtyard, the trees outside our windows are protected from the strong winds and even the cold spring temperatures. While other buds were nipped off with the many frosty mornings we recently had, these obviously were not affected. One wants to plant a permanent gaze at this beauty which like all the other blooming spring flowers and trees is too short lived. Seems like those plants work very hard all year to only be given a few weeks of glory. I hope that heaven will grant us blooming flowers and trees that will not fade or lose their blossoms.
I remain in a state of gloom and sorrow over my friend Mary's death. Sixty-two is not very old these days. Her life was cut short so abruptly. She didn't have time to make things ready. There wasn't time to go through the belongings and decide who would get this or that. There was no time to say good bye.. She faded so quickly. It kind of reminds me of those spring flowers. One day in beautiful bloom, the next faded and blown away. Mary was a quilter. When I visited last spring, she took great pride in showing me her beautiful sewing room where there lay several projects in the making. I wonder how many are left unfinished.
Kendra was our eighth child and last baby. At the time, we owned a children's clothing store so we dressed her like the golden child and took great pride in adorning her. I saved many of her clothes. After she married and got her own home, I suggested she take those boxes of baby clothes home. Her mother in law, Mary, suggested a memory quilt using her baby clothes. I must confess I wasn't terribly excited about cutting up those precious garments that held such wonderful memories for me. At Christmas this year, Mary presented Kendra with a memory quilt made from pieces of her baby clothes. It is absolutely breath taking. One can tell Mary used so much creative thought to make it so Kendra. She included pieces of cloth that represented Kendra's music ability and also her Dutch heritage. She cut the clothing in ways that presented that particular garment's best features. I was so touched by her gesture of love and honor to Kendra. When we heard that Mary was terminally ill, our eldest daugther, Kendra's sister said, "That quilt has just become all the more precious". My sentiments precisely. I know that as the years go by the memory quilt will become one of Kendra's warmest memories of her deceased mother-in-law. Kendra weeps that her future children will not know their grandmother. She knows that pain personally since my mother died before she was born. Even though my father remarried and Grandma Mary couldn't have been a better grandma to Kendra, Kendra still feels like she missed something in not knowing her first grandmother and of course, she did.

Day of Sorrow

One year ago today, we got an early morning call with very sad news. Our daughter in law's precious sixteen year old daughter had been killed in the early morning hours following a one car accident. It has been a very difficult year for our daugther in law and son and their extended family. I spoke with my daughter in law today. What does one say to a mother who is remembering the first anniversary of her daughter's death? Susan was upbeat on the phone but I know when she hangs up the phone, there will be a different picture. Our son talks of the grieving Susan has done over the course of this year. He would give anything to make her happy again. We assure him only time and the Lord's grace can heal her bleeding heart.

Today's expected phone call was received abour 12:40 p.m. Mary Chatham, our dear son in law's mother went to her eternal reward just four weeks after her dreadful diagnosis. It is almost unbelieveable to me that Mary is no longer on this side of the Great Divide. Mary follows two of her sons to glory. Mike and Mark have been in heaven many years now and I imagine they met Mary on her entry. What a reunion that must have been. But. But...on this side of things is a brokenhearted widower and two lonely and saddened sons. Our hearts ache for them. What will Jerry do all alone down in southern Mossouri? One wonders what the future holds for him. We commit all of them, including our young daughter who expresses she feels entirely too young to experience this loss. God bless with abounding comfort the Chatham family. I think of Mary's aged aunt whom she loved like a mother and my heart aches again. I think of the twin grandsons who have seen their grandmother for the last time. At only two and a half, it is unlikely they will personally remember her. I grieve for Craig's and Kendra's future family who will be minus a grandma. "Lord, I pray that you will give me many more years of life to make up the slack. We praise you for every healthy breath and the joy of every moment of the gift called life."

Memories Last, Work Waits

A more beautiful day we will not see. It is gorgeous today with a brilliance of sunshine, very little breeze and mild temperatures. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have this as a steady diet. I'm fearful that if that were the case, we humans would still find something in it to complain about. No complaints today, however.
Saturdays always bring with them a tug of war; play or work? Which will it be? There is always work to be done especially when one works five of the other days of the week. This morning while talking to my friend on the phone, I asked if she thought I'd have things as tidy as I'd like them to be once I retired. Her reply was, "good luck". After I talked through the beauty of the day with her, I felt vindicated if I should decide to play instead of work. My husband suggested looking for a driving range for he and our granson to practice their swings. The first two places we visited no longer had driving ranges in operation. We made a long detour and finally found one about twenty miles in the opposite direction of our initial stop. The boys had a good time while I sat on a bench watching and rallying the troops.
Once we returned home, we received a call from our youngest daughter. She and her husband made an emergency trip to Arkansas to be at the bedside of his dear mother. Our daughter said she has never seen anything sadder. Mary isn't expected to live more than a few days. A heartbroken husband sits by her side with tear stained cheeks. Retired on a beautiful lake in southern Mosourri, Jerry and Mary, in their early sixties, were experiencing the comfort of their recently built cozy log home. When I came away from visiting them last spring, I had the impression they had a dream retirement. But illness struck in force a few short weeks ago, and here we are, at the end. Their experience has reinforced what we all know to be true and often forget. Be kind and loving to those you cherish while they are healthy and well. Don't wait until it is time to say goodbye. Life is fragile and tenuous. I am so glad I made the decision to play with my man and my grandson today. We made memories today with our grandson that not even our death can take away.

Praise God for Fridays

Yesterday, I worked a half day and spent the rest of the day traveling to Algonquin, Il to spend the evening attending my teacher daughter's fifth grade musical. The last time I attended one of her programs, I left work at 3:15. By the time I reached the city, the rush hour was in full blown chaos. It took me four hours to get to my destination arriving fifteen minutes before the program began. I normally spend the night there and leave very early in the morning to arrive to work by 7:30 a.m. Last night, I decided to come back after the program so I could sleep in my own bed and not have to worry about oversleeping and getting late to work. Beside oversleeping, anything can happen in the Chicago traffic to make one late. Last night, I managed to stay awake without much difficulty and arrived home about 11:15 p.m.. It was good to go and good to return.
Fifth graders are mysteries. One moment they are compliant and wishing to please and the next they are grown up and rebellious. Kendra had been having some difficulty keeping them inspired for this musical. She was concerned about how well they would perform. She needn't have concerned herself because they pulled out all the stops and gave a delightful performance of Granny Awards. I was engaged from start to finish and enjoyed it very much. Tonight we will attend our grandaughter's musical here in our hometown. The junior high is doing "Aladdin". It's my job to go early and save seats in the front for the rest of the family. I have had something to attend each evening this week and quite frankly, I'm looking forward to a bit of rest this weekend. Praise God it is Friday!

From Generation to Generation

April 18th, I won't ever forget the date. It was my mother's father's birthday and also her husband's birthday. That would mean it was both my dad's and my grandfather's birthdays. I remember thinking that was a pretty cool phenomena. My grandfather died when I was in college so he has been in heaven for many years now. I remember him well though. I loved him so much. I liked to shadow him when I was a child. We lived down the road a bit in the next house. I would walk over early on summer mornings and just follow him around all day like a puppy, watching his ways and yearning for his coffee times. I knew that coffee time would bring a favorite refreshment. They were cookie sandwiches. Yep, my grandfather put cookies between two pieces of buttered white bread. Believe it or not, they were delicious. When Grandpa's watch showed nine o'clock, I picture us walking to the house and entering the back door where he plunked himself on one of the steps up into the house. I plunked next to him. He would then opened his thermos of coffee and pour the steaming sweetened mixture into the cup. He would yell for Grandma to bring a cup. Cup received, he poured a half cup for me. As he opened His sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, he would offer me the first.. Yum. I can still smell the coffee and the smell of a hard working loving man taking time to make memories with a tagalong. When I grew a bit older and he did too, he developed diabetes and that was the end of our cookie sandwich coffee treats. Twas fun while it lasted!
So now today. Like I wrote a few days ago, my dad celebrates his 87th birthday today. Once I got to work this morning, I called to wish him the best. These birthdays get more precious each year. I wonder what percentage of people live to see their 87th birthday. My hunch is that it isn't very high. It isn't like my dad has not seen illness. When he was 15 and again when he was 26, he suffered brain hemorages. He tells that he didn't go to school for a very long time when he was sick the first time. I was around the second time. I was five years old and my mother was pregnant with my brother. My dad was driving home from visiting his parents. When he got about a block from home he began to convulse. He mananged to get home and in the house. I remember my dad lying in bed very sick. Because of his convulsions he had biten his tongue nearly in half. We had no telephone to call for help. My mother gave my dad a clothes pen to chew hoping to quell the damage to his tongue. Then she went to the other side of the house to the back door. I can still see her there, looking totally helpless. She screamed, "Susie! Susie!" Susie was the next door neighbor but next door was approximately a city block's distance away. Susie didn't hear my mother's plea for help, but there was an older gentleman from our church who did. Ed De Vries's habit was to drive slowly down the road and if he saw someone he knew coming the opposite way he would slow to a stop. The other driver would stop as well and with windows rolled down, they would visit until another car came down the road. This particular evening he was visiting on the road between our house and Susie's house. He heard the cry for help and came to our door. He then went to town to get Bruce Todd, the local undertaker, who also drove the local ambulance. Ed went to my father's parents and alerted them so it wasn't long before the house was filled with concerned relatives. The mood was somber and quiet. As a little five year old, I sensed the seriousness of the situation. I've been told the nurses talked my dad through the night, reminding him that he had much for which to live. He spent eight days in the hospital. I recall walking up those big steps into the hospital to visit hima time or two. When he was allowed to come home, he was brought by ambulance because he was terribly weak. Our house was rather new, my parents had built it when they married so it was probably six or seven years old. Since country homes are generally entered through a back door, often times, front steps were something that remained vacant on country homes. To that point our house was one of those. The ambulance was backed up to the house and the door was opened to bring in my dad. My paternal grandfather was there and I remember him saying to my dad, "Jimmy, put your arms around my neck and hang on". I think that was the only time I heard my grandfather call his son, Jimmy. It struck me then that there was love in that nickname. He was grateful to still have his son. I am grateful to still have my dad. I've seen him through that dark time and a few since then. One of those was when we together watched my mother fade away with cancer. We were together a lot during that time. I think I was his strength and he was mine. Of course, our heavenly Father brought us through that terribly painful time. As I remember some of the painful times, I'm reminded of the gratitude I have for the faithfulness of a God that sees us through those times. He tells us that he carries like we would be carried on the wings of eagles. Yes, even soaring about those things that seem unbearable. My dad testifies to a wonderful life. He is so grateful for his strength and health. He is grateful for his family and for the joy he experiences in watching the generations following him. He also has a great appreciation for the generations before him. He is a blessed man and today we give thanks to God for giving him another birthday.

School Shootings, Another One?

School shootings...........This time it is Virginia Tech University. At first the CNN report was one dead and several injured. I turned the volume down so that we could work in the classroom....An hour or so later, I looked up at the TV screen and the subline reads "22 dead and 28 injured"! What? That is absolutely atrocious. What can possibly be in the heart of a person who would do such an abominable thing? There is only one answer to that question. Evil in its ugliest form has to be the guiding force in people who would randomly shoot innocent people; young people training to be the best they can be at this university; young people with hopes and dreams. All of that is cut down to the ground, their lives gone, their hopes and dreams left unfulfilled. What horror for their parents! I can't imagine how I would feel if my child were a student there. They hear the news but aren't able to reach their loved one. What agony in the wait! Oh God, be merciful in the lives of all whom have been affected. What good can come out of such pain and tragedy? Only, only evidence of the love of God through people He puts in stategic places. Lord, show yourself plainly to the many who will suffer pain from this terrible event.
(I just heard the update, 31 dead. How depressing.)

With Which Kingdom Are You Aligned?

On my way into work this morning, I listened to an excerpt from a speech given by Guy Doud, the l987 National Teacher of the Year. Many years ago when I worked at the middle school, one of his videos was played for a teacher's meeting. At the time I was so impressed that the public school would allow a Christian man such as Mr Doud to address a teacher's meeting. Listening to him today reminded me of all the good things the man has to say about today's youth and public education. While he told his stories about his interaction with students in his class, my mind was drawn to students that I have in my class everyday. He told about a boy who didn't fit in well in any "group" of kids and the pain he felt for the boy. His solution was to come to work a few minutes early each morning, sit in the boy's chair and pray for him. I immediately thought of a boy who has been coming to my resource room for three years. When I first knew him, his emotional stability was very shaky. He got in scrapes with other kids because he would retaliate at the abuse other kids flung his way. It was pretty sad. I recall one day when he came into the room at a time he was supposed to be in a class, walked back to a computer, sat down and began to type the message he wanted me to get. He was so angy he couldn't talk to me, he had to communicate through the computer. I stood behind him and spoke to his writings. He had had a dispute with a student, shoved her and now had come to my room for protection and refuge. He knew he was in big trouble and now he was adding to it by being out of area. While we were chatting, our vice principal entered the room. With a military background, he weilded a very strong arm. There was little empathy in his voice or mannerism. He, too, was a Christian, but he saw things so differently than I did when it came to David. (Not his real name). You see, David had confided his inner most feelings with me. I knew his insecurities, his testimony that he was not liked by anyone and had no friends. This fifteen year old boy would weep as he talked about the lack of respect he got from his peers. My working partner and I began showing David our love and interest. We began to pray for him as well. David has made so much progress in the years we have known him. He remains a kid with few friends, but he has gained much in confidence. Two months ago, he was student of the month in the technology department. You would have thought he was student of the year. That award probably validated his entire high school career for him. David has learned that when he gets teased or frustrated, he can come to our room and spout off and cool off. About a year ago, he began attending my partner's church's youth group. Now he attends church on Sundays as well. I truly believe David's heart has been changed and that he now knows he can take all his hurts and pain and lay them at the foot of the cross of Jesus. In the lives of many of my students I have learned as has Mr. Doud that a little kindness goes a long way in salving the hearts of those that for one reason or another are out of the accepted loop. Society is so tough on those that are just a bit different. It doesn't seem to matter what that difference may be, we, like those in the animal kingdom, pick on the less than perfect. In the kingdom of God, we are called to do just the opposite. Love. Accept. Love. Accept. Love.

A Pair in the Pear Tree

THE SUN IS SHINING! Finally. One can feel heat from old sol, too. Oh, the relief of a cheery and bright day. It isn't 70 degrees yet but the promise of warmer temps is in that bright sunshine. If not this week, surely it will be next. This week marks a very important milestone in our family. My father will turn 87 on Wednesday. At this point he is as healthy as a fish and can work circles around most of us. This past week he drove home from Florida where he and his wife spend the winters. We are so thankful for his vitality. He and his wife are some of the most positive people I know. They live life to the fullest always pushing it to the max. No sitting around on their laurels. They help out at their church and always seem to find those folk who need a visit or an encouragement. Grandma Mary cooks three squares so they are fed well and get good nutrition which I feel is so crucial to good health. It is their philosophy to eat their "big" meal at noon so they have all day to work it off and they do. When the weather is acceptable, you will find them outdoors doing one of the many things their big yard needs done. One of the neatest stories unfolded last summer when some friends a generation younger than they were visiting in the area. Grandma Mary had taught with the gentleman before he moved his family to California many years ago. Their visit was a surprise but when the guests rang the doorbell, noone answered. Thinking Dad and Mary were gone, they began walking to their car when they spotted the farmer and his wife down the lane. They walked the lane and found the two doing surgery on a pear tree. Dad was on a ladder and Mary, his faithful helper, was steadying the thing. Of course the visit was of delight to the host and hostess but as Mary told them, we don't look very good and we are pretty sweaty but you are welcome to come in for coffee. (Grandma Mary always has goodies stored away for just such an occasion. She wins the hostess with the mostest award hands down.) A sweet time of fellowship was enjoyed by all. I got such delight thinking about the conversation the teacher and his wife must have had as they drove away. I can hear the chuckle as it probably went something like this,
"Wow, can you believe those two old people?
"No, how old do they think they are by now?"
"Well, he is somewhere in his eighties, she a bit younger."
"I hope when you and I are their age, we have the optimism for life they have."
"I don't think I'll ever forget the picture of those two in that tree."
"Quite the pair!" (Pear, get it?)

It's How it Ends That Counts

Another week of cold, unseasonable weather is behind us. The sad thing is that the weather forcast for next week is not anything for a rooster to crow about either. Ugh, when is it going to feel like spring? The eastern coast states were hit very hard with heavy snow fall the past few days. Poor folk. We had a bit of snow too but I guess I shouldn't complain, but there is no fun going outdoors right now. Today is about forty degrees and very overcast. It has spit a few rain drops but nothing more. Just plain depressing. To add to the weekend bums is that my husband, Ken, agreed to man the tech booth at church for a wedding today. That meant that last night he had to be at rehearsal and today at the wedding. Poof. There went the weekend. I don't think I'll be encouraging his kindness in that regard again. Today, I had to be at the dentist at eight o'clock for preparation to have a crown put on in a month or so. That was fun, too. Just a great spring Saturday. It will end better though. I'm going to run to Merrillville, my destination of choice for awhile. It is the shopping area of this era. I love it and so enjoy puttzing around checking out the bargains. Then we will have good friends come to sup with us and play a few hands of cards. No stakes, just fun. It's not how the day begins, but how it ends that counts.

Be Still and Eat Chicken

It's amazing how quickly time can get away from one. At least five days and I haven't gotten to this blog thing at all. My week has been crazy busy at work. Perhaps it is more than busy-ness. Maybe it is just that I've felt uninspired. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and think of all the things I would like to shout from the roof tops but lately, there is a silence, a calm, a peace. That may be uninspiring for others but it is very good for me. The Bible verse that says, "Be still, and know that I am God" is very real to me right now. Sometimes the rush of adreneline must slow to a crawl in order for us to be still. Sometimes, the inside thrust we feel needs to be put on hold. This week I've tried to get to bed on time, tried to eat right, (not always successfully, too much amaretto chocolate cake left from Easter) read a good book, and tried to keep my thoughts pure as Phillipians 4 talks about. Last night my husband and I went to the semi annual chicken dinner at the Christian school where I went as a child, where our children attended and now five of our grandchildren attend. Those chicken dinners have been happening for as many years as I can remember. I know they were already a yearly event when our older children were in the lower grades so we are talking about a thirty to thirty five year old history. The dinners make a good profit for the designated need and also serve to give us all a social night out where we see people we haven't seen for a time. The chicken is good also, though my son-in-law doesn't like it. We chuckle at his lack of enthusiasm. These school dinners are part of our family history and we wouldn't dare criticize the chicken. Elton doesn't have the historic sentiment attached to these events so he has freedom to express himself. The broasted potatoes and cole slaw that accompanies the chicken makes for a great dinner. I'm not a meat eater but I ate a small piece of breast meat and thoroughly enjoyed it. Events that become family traditions hold good and precious memories.

A New Day in a New Way

Easter Sunday morning. Five A.M. The sky is lightening to usher in a new day. My heart is lightened also to usher in new life from the old. Most of us recognize that we carry within us a rebellion. That feeling of rebellion is sin. It causes us to act in the most insane ways some times. I'm not talking about known murderers or thieves, I"m talking about each one of us. Which of us hasn't lied? Which of us hasn't murdered another with our angry and hateful words? Which of us has taken something that didn't belong to us? Yes, I say with conviction that there is none alive that is innocent of sin. That is what the Bible tells us is true. Paul tells us that "all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory". But Easter morning, oh, Easter morning. Easter morning says our debt is paid in full through the blood that Christ shed on the cross for the sin of the WHOLE world. That would include you and me. I rejoice today that the nature I have innate has been made right by the sacrifice that Jesus made for me. Through Him, I stand white as snow before the Father God. Because I accept that fact through faith, I will walk with God through eternity in heaven. I truly hope and pray that anyone that may read this can attest to the same. If you can't, please write me and I will be happy to work through that with you.

Calendar Says Easter Weather Says Christmas

The taste of spring we enjoyed last week will have to keep us inspired through another week. It is so cold and even though the sun shines furiously, the blast of the cold wind is felt when the door opens. A few snow flurries skittered around the last couple of days. I hear people complaining about the weather but they should know how thankful I was with warm temps for our spring break. Warm weather will come as surely as tomorrow will follow today. It is an order that has existed since the beginning of time. Have you ever thought about the design of creation and the way all things are held together in a structure that we can count on with out any effort on our part? Yes, the universe is put together in such a way that upon any serious reflection, we must admit that we are helpless without something that keeps the cycles occuring. God tells us in His Word that He created this world and He sustains it. Thank Him for His creative and sustaining power this day.

Spring's Fickle Weather

We were happy to experience warm soft breezes last week while in D.C.It was warm here in Indiana as well. To have warm weather at the end of March during spring break week is fairly uncommon. Just when we got used to the pleasantness of warm weather, winter came back with a fury. The temperature today is in the thirties. Yesterday, added to the cold temperature was a nasty, cold, biting wind. At least the wind has dissipated. A few snow flurries remind us that winter does not give up easily. The forsithias are blooming, as well as some of the other blooming trees and shrubs. I noticed our weeping cherry tree is just beginning to bud out. Will the blooms be able to withstand the chilly cold? The daffodils, two days ago in their splender now have bowed their heads and giving in to the strong wind. I feel sad when those things God has given us to brighten our springtimes have their all too short lives cut even shorter. We see that in humans, also, don't we? Life is short the way it is. One doesn't realize that until a mature age but it truly is over like the blinking of an eye. I think of my friend, Mary. I don't know how long she has to live, but stage four lung cancer is a terminal illness. Her life may be cut short by this cancer that has ravaged her body. I'm still grieving that news. Today is Maundy Thursday, the remembrance of Jesus's last supper with his disciples. On that night, he comforted his disciples by telling them many things which you can read about in John 13 through 17. Among the things He said are these words, "Let not your hearts be troubled, you are trusting God, now trust in me. There are many homes up there where my Father lives, and I am going to prepare them for your coming. When everything is ready, I will come and get you so that you can always be with me where I am." I pray that will be Mary's hope and comfort. I also pray the Lord will give each of us the comfort of His presence both here and now and then in heaven with Him

The Feared Diagnosis

Our youngest daughter and her husband spent spring break in Missouri with his parents. They knew for some time that his mother had not been feeling well. She had been experiencing a lot of congestion and had a very bad cough. While they were there she ended up in the hospital where they took some tests. The news is not good. Kendra called me this morning and told me that they got the diagnosis last evening. Cancer in both lungs and liver. It is devastating news. Last spring break, Isaiah and I had accompanied Craig and Kendra and spent a week with his parents. It was an opportunity for me to bond with them. I came away with an appreciation for Mary and feel she is more than my son-in-law's mother; she is a friend. My heart aches for all of them. Their family has lost two of their four sons in past years and one would think that is enough trauma for one family. Her treatment is still to be determined. Kendra asked for people to pray........please do.

Great to Go and Greater to Come Home

Last Monday on the 26th of March, we left for Washington DC. It had been a long time since we went on a touring vacation. We looked forward to leaving for several weeks and as the time came closer, the anticipation mounted. We left home about five oclock in the morning and drove until we were within fifty miles of DC. The exit sign proclaimed we were eight miles from the Antietem Civil War battleground. As we road through the grounds it seemed incredulous that we were driving over ground that Civil War soldiers had fought upon and where others lost their lives. It was a beautiful late afternoon and the sun was setting in the west casting a purple glow over the acres of hallowed ground. After we had driven around and stopped at many of the signs of history, we traveled back to the turnpike exchange and took a hotel there. As it turned out it was the only hotel we had during the week that provided an indoor pool and hot tub. We slept well and began early to cover uncharted territory for us; the entrance into DC. We had heard horror stories about traffic there. We weren't disappointed. It took a long time to travel around the city and get to our hotel in Alexandria, Virginia. While we traveled around the city we came across Arlington Nat. Cemetary. We started to walk to the JFK resting place and decide quickly we were walking up hill and knew it wouldn't work so we turned around and caught a tour. We enjoyed hearing the history of the Arlington House on the hill. Much of the grounds had been owned at one time by Robert E. Lee. The house was once inhabited by President Washington's grandaughter. After we arrived at the hotel and had rested a bit we prepared to take the Metro back into the city for a night tour of the monuments. It was the best decision we made. We took the Tourmobile and while it isn't a luxurious bus, it is very affordable and plenty adequate. Our tour guide was an older gentlemen who was very knowledgable of history and supplied us with many details we had not heard before. We visited the Jefferson Memorial, Lincoln Memorial, Washington Memorial, FDR Memorial, World War ll Memorial, Korean War Memorial and the Vietnam War Memorial. We returned to our hotel at midnight feeling we had accomplished much that day.

On Wednesday we took a tour of the capitol building. We met our tour guide at Representative Peter Visclovsky's office in the Raybourn building. A perky young lady by the name of Blythe took us to the capitol. It was a very impressive tour but also physically taxing. Both my husband's legs and my legs took a couple of days to recover from all the steps we walked up and down. As we watched the senate and house in session, we were impressed with the tactics involved and the slowness of the turning of the wheel of progress. Politics is truly a game people play. We ate lunch in the Raybourn Building cafeteria. We found there wonderful food, a beautiful environment and resonable prices. We then returned to our hotel and took a car trip to Old Alexandria. This town has become a tourist trap with many a boutik to tempt one to spend money.

Thursday, my husband chose to stay at the hotel for the day because of the soreness of his feet. My grandson and I went into town early and got tickets to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. The tour was so similar to the one I had attended about forty five years ago. There were more modern observation walkways but I felt very at home there. The Holocast Museum was next on our list of to dos. That was a very heavy view. An appreciation for those that built that museum welled up in me and it came to me that perhaps because of this very museum the risk of this type of atrosity will be diminished. There were several school girls that clung to each other as they walked through and some that sat on sofas hugging each other and shedding tears. To think people actually suffered to that degree is almost inconcievable.

Friday morning we went to a nine o'clock tour of the White House. It is a stately building but for the most part rather plain from the outside. The inside is chuck full of historic artifacts and beautiful rugs, furniture and other treasures. I will not forget the red room, green room, blue room, and the state dining room. What a beautiful treasure we Americans own. We then found the Ford Theatre. After standing in line to enter which took about 45 minutes, we went into the theatre and were told the story of Lincoln's assassination by a national park ranger. It was enlightening and interesting. It was back to the hotel to travel to Wilmington, Deleware to visit Ken's biological cousin. My husband was adopted at 19 days old and hadn't met any of his family until seven years ago when we met two female cousins. It was with one of these cousins we spent Friday night and Saturday. She and her husband took us to Philadelphia where we visited the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Betsy Ross house, Christ Church, and the Quaker House.

Saturday night we left Wilmington at 6 o'clock. We had not intended to drive far but the roads were so clear and travel so enjoyable, we drove all night until we got to some friends in North East Indiana. We called them at 5:45 a m and said we were on our way there. They were excited to welcome us. Good friends are such treasures. We returned home at about three on Sunday afternoon.