Linda Roorda

Somewhere deep down inside, each one of us has regrets… for something we said… something we did… something we did not do or say… and we long to go back to do it all over again… only better this time. But we can’t go back. What’s done is done. It’s marked in indelible ink on the pages of time. Yet, there is One who offers forgiveness and peace when we bare our soul to Him of hurts and pains… as we take responsibility and ownership of our mistakes and sins. For years, my errors festered with regrets. A while ago, knowing it was time I did something about it, there were a few friends to whom I wrote those long-overdue apologies. I’m so thankful for their forgiveness, a loving grace on their part. And, like our Lord’s loving forgiveness, those regrets are replaced with joy as our slates are wiped clean, enabling us to start fresh, to move forward without looking back to rue the past… as the Lord renews our hearts. Writing this poem, I was reminded that Jesus had said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:62 NIV) An old-fashioned plow pulled by a team of oxen or horses is kept straight by the farmer holding the reins and plow handles. If he looks back to where he’s been, he can’t guide the team and the rows will become ever more crooked. But, if the farmer keeps his eyes focused ahead, aiming for a point in the distance, he guides the team through the reins as he handles the plow, and his rows stay straight. Just like driving today’s tractor or car – we tend to stray from our lane if we look backwards or all around. Our eyes need to remain focused on what lies ahead. And so it is in our daily life. If we keep looking back to where we’ve been and to the mistakes we’ve made, we aren’t going to be much good to anyone else, let alone ourselves. It’s not helpful to live with constant regrets… it’s far better to take what we’ve learned and grow from our mistakes – once we’ve fully confessed them and asked for forgiveness, of course. For, with backward gazing, we may find we begin to sink like Peter when he took his eyes off the Lord as he looked in fear at the deep water he was walking on. (Matthew 24:22-34) I like the image my late husband had shared as we prayed together during a time of stress. Ed described it as putting our plow into the furrow while focusing on the end of the row where Jesus stands waiting, holding out his hands. As long as we keep our eyes focused ahead, and follow the Lord and His guiding Word, our life’s path will be straight. Easier said than done at times though, isn’t it? May God bless each of us with His peace as we strive for that straight row towards Him… Regrets Linda A. Roorda Sometimes alone I’ve felt abandoned Though my heart knows You still care for me. Didn’t You say to reassure I’ll never leave; I’ll never forsake? ~ Lord, hold my hand when fears abound Help me to feel Your presence near. Your love brings peace when to You I flee Contentment known as I focus on You. ~ You know who I am. You know where I’ve been. You know where I’m bound on this journey of life. You ask of me with a still small voice, I hear Your words, but don’t always heed. ~ Within the clamor and din of my world Pulled every which way from dawn until dark Voices are heard but whose shall I heed As sometimes confusion waits by the door. ~ To whom will I bow? To what give credence? So much clamors, my attention to gain. Sweet smooth flattery with enticing words, Or voice of reason, the wisdom of God? ~ When troubles come and thoughts overwhelm I can do nothing but give them to You. And in the act of giving them up You draw me near from the brink of fear. ~ Some days I wish that I could go back, Back to do over in another time To all that once was which fills with regret For knowledge gained now sees better ways. ~ Then in reaching out You touch my heart. Just as I am You accept me now. With arms open wide I’m drawn to Your side As You cleanse my soul from stains that have marred. ~ How can I thank You for all You have done? Where do I begin to tell of Your grace? With a grateful heart Your praises I sing As You bless me now with Your loving peace. ~ In looking ahead You lighten my step. I need only see the future through You. Your guiding wisdom now leads me each day On a bright new path as Your hand holds mine. ~~

I was as shocked as anyone else at last night’s happenings where our former President Trump was shot in an assassination attempt. And I thank God that his life was spared by a fraction of measurement. My heart and prayers go out to Donald Trump and his family, to the family of the innocent gentleman in the crowd who was killed, and to the two who were critically injured. We need to get back to respecting everyone, regardless of who they are. ~~ “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Unequivocally, yes, I am… yes, we are. Words defiantly spoken by Cain in response to God’s simple question, “Where is your brother Abel?” Cain knew... after all, he had just taken his brother’s life in a fit of jealous rage. Abel’s offering to God from the best of his flock had been received favorably, while Cain was told by God that if he did what was right his offering would also be accepted. Instead, jealousy and anger took over Cain’s heart… and the unthinkable murder happened. To say we love someone very much is proven false when we fail to show a genuine compassion for their pain and difficulties. With true empathy for others, we take responsibility for our own actions. We reach out in humility… we want the best for them, we are happy to see them succeed, and we respect their boundaries. True love is not about what glory we might attain in the public eye for giving aid. Rather, it’s about what we can do to give love for others in genuine humility, with no expectation of repayment. Jesus told parables to help his followers grasp the deeper meaning. He told a story about assistance by a Samaritan to an enemy, a Jew, the victim of robbery, beaten, and left for dead. A priest and Levite passed by, deeming it beneath them to assist the man. Instead, the Samaritan took the victim to be cared for until he fully recovered, paying all expenses. Jesus expressed in story form what unconditional love and mercy look like: “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Luke 10:27) Like the Good Samarian, if we have a heart of love, we view others favorably. We essentially become our “brother’s and sister’s keeper” by understanding the difficulties they might be facing. With empathy, we feel for our friends in their struggles… we commiserate with them, feel their pain, their sorrow. We long to reach out and help in any way we can. In this, we show compassion. But we also share hope and joy by rejoicing with their blessings, even as they receive accolades and honor. Loving as we’ve been loved showers blessings upon another. It enables us to comfort someone just as we’ve been comforted in similar difficult and painful situations. As the Apostle Paul wrote in II Corinthians 1:3-4: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” We gain a new understanding from our own failings, with a readiness to help others in need. We share a compassion like that which we’ve felt from God in our own difficult life circumstances. For compassion embodies empathy, a type of sympathy, a sharing of the difficulties someone might be facing. And with this sense of compassion and understanding comes encouragement and hope with joy. Jan Dravecky (whose husband, Dave, left baseball following the amputation of his pitching arm due to cancer) said simply and eloquently: “God really does comfort His children – and most often He chooses to do so through the arms and legs and voices and ears and faces and tears of men and women who have been to the front lines and returned with battle scars. Someone who has ‘been there’ has the credibility and the understanding to know what it is that the person in pain is going through – the questions, the doubts, the fears. They can speak both compassionately and authoritatively because of their own experience… Have you considered how God might want to use you to comfort someone in pain?” Perhaps you’re going through too difficult a time and think you can’t possibly help anyone. As Jan continued, “…but who better to reach out with understanding, empathy and genuine concern [to those who are facing their own turmoils]?” (NIV Encouragement Bible, pg. 1546) Being our “brother’s and sister’s” keeper is said so well in what we commonly call the Golden Rule. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus summed up how we should love, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you…” (Matthew 7:12a) With such love and tender kindness, we’re able to show mercy and compassion to the hurting souls in the world around us, and rejoice to see them blessed. Compassion’s Love Linda A. Roorda They understand best who have felt despair Who shoulder the hurt they turn to blessing Where tender voice calls out to the broken And carries to rest on peaceful shore. ~ For only those who’ve travelled this road The very same road that you struggle on Find compassion’s love springs from the heart With understanding and emerging hope. ~ In sharing such hope of vistas bright Where two or more can better handle The way is cleared of scattered debris, The heavy load that once overwhelmed. ~ Embracing the weary and burdened heart Tender mercies tumble down like rain Washing the wounds and depths of despair To break their hold and release the pain. ~ As compassion’s love envelopes the soul A gentle peace infuses the spirit And fills the heart with understanding To sing its song with heavenly joy. ~~

I'm so sorry to learn your cancer has spread. Sending my prayers as you go through this journey, wishing you all the very best on your road to recovery! I had breast cancer 10 years ago. Very, very thankful to my husband who insisted I go for my mammogram and "take care of yourself for a change" because I was going to cancel said exam since we were going thru extensive medical care for him and his long list of health issues, and I felt like I had no time to take care of me. Yes, folks, do those self-exams and get your mammograms!!

Oh, the countless blessings of God! He is so good to all of us in so many ways! And my heart sings in praise and thanksgiving for all that He has done in my life! Recently, I flew out to visit my daughter and her family. And I gotta tell you, they were so good to me! I don’t like flying, but the flight from ELM to DET left way more than a bit to be desired. Taking generic Dramamine, I learned the hard way it is not as effective as the real deal. So, gripping that little white bag kindly provided by the airline, and white-knuckling the armrest through dramatic turbulence, I was more than glad to deplane, yet not delighted to get on yet another plane from DET to MSP. Thankfully, the motion sickness was not as severe on that leg of the journey, but I was so very happy to land!! With the flight worsening my minor head cold to include bronchitis, I was not the energetic Grammy they expected. Despite the downside, and not being able to visit the zoo and a Native American history center Emily planned, we did stroll through St. Cloud University’s arts and craft vendor displays, watched their oldest son swim in his first competition, saw their middle son go fly a kite and made an origami crane as he told me how to fold it, drew and colored a blooming plant with their youngest son, viewed the exhibits at a local county museum, and played numerous games of checkers, magnetic chess, RackO, and Sequence when I needed the rest. I also greatly appreciated the thought my daughter gave to movie selections – Bambi, Those Calloways, and The Sound of Music! In the summer of ’65, my dad had taken me and my sister to the Clifton Theater two blocks from home in Jersey to see the double feature - Bambi and Those Calloways. Remembering only the vicious wolverine and square dance scenes from Those Calloways, I’d always wanted to see the movie again. Looking forward to April 23, 1978 when it was featured on NBC’s Sunday night Disney theater… it was with mixed emotions that I could not watch it… because we went to the hospital for Jennifer to be born early the next morning! So, thank you again, Emily, for choosing that movie for your Mom! And then she chose her and my favorite, The Sound of Music, which my dad also took me and my sister to see in Clifton in the latter 1960s. After returning home, my son and his wife and children came to visit. Going to Ithaca’s Science Center, it was a pleasure to watch the kids enjoy all the hands-on experiences! Even Grammy put her fear aside and petted the pink gecko held by a staff member. Playing games at home, or walking the gardens with me, brought shared blessings of family time. It seems that, among things we might consider minor in the overall scheme of life, are so many special blessings! Yet, we often go on our way without looking closer and being so very thankful for the “little” silver linings… reminding me of how much God loves us in all those “little” things we take for granted. From the moment we awaken until our day draws to a close, we are loved and cared for by an awesome God! Each breath we take is His gift. Each beautiful sunrise and setting sunset shines forth glorious rays upon His creation in different hues. The gift of love, the touch of a hand in comfort and peace, in joy and sorrow, the moments of special fun that we savor… these are all precious gifts from our God. For we were created that we would have a relationship with the Lord of our life. God created us with a purpose… to bring glory and honor back to Him in all that we do. For all we are, and all we will be, have come from His hand. And He showers His love upon us as He provides for our every need, blessing us richly if we but open our eyes to see and understand. Oh God, You are so good to me! You are so good to me! Linda A. Roorda Oh God, You are so good to me! You loved me ere I came to be I thank you for the life that You gave That I may live covered by mercy. ~ I praise You for the gifts You’ve given The talents hidden and openly used From blessings I see to~ those hid from view You care for me beyond ways to count. ~ I thank You for each bright sunrise As golden rays stream down upon earth And birds awaken with their songs of praise While we yawn and stretch to start a new day. ~ Be with me Lord, my prayer for this day May all the words and thoughts of my heart Bring honor to You, my strength and my shield As I align my steps on Your path. ~ Help me to keep my tongue in check When frustrations mount throughout my day May I with patience attend to my tasks And seek Your will in all that I do. ~ Prayers for my friends and family dear To keep and protect each one on their way And may they know Your love that surrounds Like a warm hug will protect and guide. ~ And when temptations sneak in unannounced Open my eyes Lord, your wisdom to see May I discern the right from the wrong To keep my feet on Your righteous path. ~ With grateful thanks I now close my day You covered my needs in blessings poured out With a joyful heart for Your care of me Rejoicing in peace, contented am I. ~~

And I can agree with that idea - women can serve well behind the scenes, not in battle.

Thanks for understanding my position, Chris. I do understand all the above, and am very thankful for women who have served in the military in various roles, including women who have fought in major wars of our nation's history. I just don't think they should be drafted to the battlefield for many reasons. But one of my grandfather's sisters served in a behind-the-scenes role during WWII, daughter of another of his sisters is a retired Colonel at West Point; my father served his two years in the Army, ending service at Ft. Greely, Alaska; my brother #1 served 20 years in the Navy, in Gulf War on a ship's tender out to sea, his daughter was in a leadership role in the Marines until she got a stress fracture with a medical discharge, brother #3 was Valedictorian of a large high school in Marshall, TX, traded places with the salutatorian as he was appointed to West Point but his teenage Osgood-Schlatter's came back full force from the long marches and he had to take a medical discharge. Brother #2 has told me in the past that if he were in the military, his protective instincts toward women would come out on the battlefield rather than focusing more closely on battle strategies... Thanks again for accepting my perspective.

Guess I'm too conservative and may hear backlash, but I do not now and never did, even in the 1970s during or after high school, believe women should be drafted. But, then, I also never fell in line with the failed mid-1970s Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution movement... but that's my personal opinion. My husband was exempt from the draft due to his legal blindness in his only viable eye, and my son would not have qualified due to a congenital heart abnormality tho he wanted to join his friends who signed up for military service after high school graduation.

Sometimes we all need those days of doing a lot of nothing, Chris!! Glad you enjoyed it! School's almost done on this side of the hills too, ending for students with Monday and Tuesday being fun half days, and Wed being the 8 am staff breakfast meeting. I have totally enjoyed the last several months in a long-term sub position. These kids grow on your heart 🙂 And what brings me here to TTL? Just checking out the other articles and chatter! Enjoy a great evening folks!

The old red barn stood tall on an open flat, alone against the gray sky, testament to a long life. It had weathered countless storms, looking a tad bit worn… another great photo by my childhood friend's husband. And once again, the picture painted a thousand words that raced through my thoughts. For some time now, I’ve felt like writer’s block has taken away my ability to write reflections, never mind the poems where words used to flow through my fingers almost faster than I could write or type. When the words stopped flowing, I knew the poem was complete. I would literally feel drained… because those words came from the depths of my soul, often a cathartic poem which healed emotional wounds long embedded deep. And perhaps that’s the point… as God reaches out to each of us, maybe there comes a time when healing is complete from a time and place long ago. After my husband passed away last year, I thought about the brevity of life… now facing my own “autumn/winter” phase of life’s four seasons. Spring is, after all, a beginning, the gift of new life and growth, the carefree days of youth… then summer comes along and we’re in our prime with busy days where all is well with us and the world around, learning and yearning through the passage of time…. as autumn slowly engulfs us in its changes, with colorful harvesting of awards and rewards, reaping the benefits of what we had begun… while winter overtakes us unannounced, bringing a cold and quiet idleness of hands and feet, leaving us breathless to keep up with an ever-changing world which seemingly has no use for our skills or input… though often we ably repurpose our days and ways to assist another soul on their journey to success… as forever onward we go. And if you were one of those to whom Ed opened his heart, you were blessed. He shared his life stories with me over the years, but it was never enough. So, in honor of his heavenly birthday on Tuesday the 25th, I’m sharing a few memories of his life. A premature twin by two months, his twin Peter died at two days, being larger at 5 lbs. But at 3-1/2 lbs, Ed was placed in an incubator for a month with pure oxygen which damaged his eyes – the right eye was totally blind while the left eye had very limited vision at 20/200 with corrective lenses. He got his first glasses at about age 2, one of 8 children who had some vision among about 2000 seen at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City with this type of oxygen-related retinal damage, the same cause of Stevie Wonder's blindness. He loved farming from the time he could walk. He was also apparently a little instigator of a few sticky situations he and his brother got themselves into… like tying a dog to a fence the way they’d seen calves tied up, except the dog was not happy about it and barked profusely as they ran crying to their Dad. He also had a cat who would wait for him to get off the bus at the end of their long farm driveway. The cat would jump onto his shoulders and enjoy a ride back to the house. Ed used to throw his art papers into a ditch, but his sister saw them, and brought them home to their Mom to appreciate as all Moms do. Ed learned to drive tractor at a very young age, a John Deere 520. Knowing his vision was not good, he was always extra cautious around machinery to prevent a terrible accident. That, however, did not keep him from having accidents – like after the first day of kindergarten, he fell with a glass jar in his hand, cutting his hand badly, requiring many sutures to close the large gash leaving quite the scar, or playing on top of the idle hay baler, falling off and breaking his wrist. Oh, the fun of little boys! He needed weekly allergy shots for “just about everything” as Ed put it. He knew when it was time for his next shot, perhaps the only kid who looked forward to shots because he’d feel better afterward. Being stoic was just who he was. I remember when he injured a finger with the nail retaining a blood blister underneath, and the pain he had… so, he simply put a fine bit into the drill and made a hole which relieved the pressure by releasing the blood. He insisted on doing whatever he could for as long as possible to be like everyone else. He tried to be there for me and our children as best he could. He loved to read to them when he’d come in from barn chores at night, giving us all his sound advice as needed, and how we miss his big snugging hugs. Like my friend Elaine said when Ed passed away, we lost his wealth of knowledge. We not only lost his wit and wisdom, but the kind and gentle peaceable man that he was, and a tremendous knowledge that he kept tucked away and shared now ‘n then... because he was not a big talker. Especially as he became sicker, it was almost too much effort for him to make steady conversation. But it was apparently difficult for some folks to understand this when he was so ill. Recently celebrating Father’s Day, that barn seemed to be the perfect illustration of my husband Ed’s character over the years. In fact, the day I saw the photo, and wrote this poem in a couple hours in 2017, I was waiting to bring him home from yet another hospitalization. Stalwart and steadfast, he had remained standing no matter what life sent his way, a true gentle giant. And like that barn, he’d faced many storms head on, never bending or collapsing as the winds attempted to shake his foundation. He remained firm and resolute with his faith in our Lord, resting secure in God’s provision and love, a pillar of strength for our family. Yet, it had not been easy. There had been some serious storms that sent waves crashing against him… and against us as a couple. Despite some plain old-fashioned trials, dashed hopes causing great disappointments, the loss of a daughter, and his losses of sight, physical strength and ability, he overcame those trials with an inner strength and peace that came from his strong faith in our Lord. For it was God’s wisdom gifted to Ed which saw him through as he grew up, married, helped raise our children, and changed careers from farming to office assistant. Later, facing a continued ebbing of strength and ability with the progression of permanent muscle damage caused by statin/cholesterol drugs, and worsening congestive heart failure, we began discussing what we should do when he could no longer function and get around on his own. In all honesty, we didn’t know what our options would be in the not-so-distant future. We were facing new frontiers. And then, in late 2022, Ed’s health deteriorated even more as he succumbed to several health issues magnified by Covid-19, leaving this world on God’s timeline in January 2023. Still, through each difficulty, his and our faith grew stronger, for we’d learned that “[we] can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens [us]” (Philippians 4:13) As I’ve said many times before, and I often need reminding of, James 1:2-4 puts it so well even though we don’t want to welcome one more difficult challenge. “Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” Being “strong in the Lord and in His mighty power” (Ephesians 6:10-13) is the foundation on which we survive great storms and come out standing. (Proverbs 10:25) Just like that barn in Hugh’s photo, if we have a firm foundation on the solid rock (faith in our Savior Jesus Christ), weathered by time (experience and wisdom), the structure (our character) will stand tall… and prove stalwart and unwavering. The Stalwart Linda A. Roorda Stalwart and stoic through the test of time Facing the world to weather life’s storms Meeting head on whatever befalls Humbly proclaiming, steadfast I stand. ~ Bringing together nature’s harmony Weathered and worn, reliably true Dependably there to meet others’ needs Asking for nothing but structural care. ~ Like the pioneers who settled this land And carved their place from wilderness wild, Weathered by nature midst elements raw They kept life sheltered from all threats and harm. ~ Without proper care, wood planks become warped Foundations fail without wisdom’s base. Oh, can’t you see! The meaning is clear! How like old barns are patriarchs wise. ~ Learning through hardship true wisdom is gained Taking a stand for what matters most, Sometimes enduring alone in the crowd Serene and secure midst turmoil and storm. ~ God bless the stalwart, unwavering friend Who braves the path no matter the storm. Of foe unafraid, on wisdom standing Steadfast and loyal with comforting peace. ~~

Father’s Day… a time to remember the dads we treasure. They’ve taught us well in the ways of life. I remember a lot about my dad. In fact, it would be fair to say that I had put him on a pedestal while growing up… not a wise placement for anyone. But it seems he could do anything and everything, a jack-of-all-trades, almost perfect in my little girl eyes. Though none of us can measure up all the time, there is One who is perfect… who forgives all our failings… our heavenly Father. But, yes, there is so much my Dad taught me and my five siblings, including all about the love of Jesus. As a small child on the farm, I would say, “Jesus is my best friend!” But, for a time as a teen, I forgot my childhood friend until my Dad reminded me of those words I used to say as a little girl. Oops! I loved playing board games on Sunday afternoons with my Dad, especially Scrabble. I love the challenge of this game and tend to play aggressively, perhaps because I was in tough competition with my Dad. Though I won only one game against him over those several years, it was a sweet victory knowing that I’d accomplished the win without his having given me an edge… his way of readying us for the world. He taught me honesty was the right way such that in 8th grade English class I chose to write an essay entitled “Honesty Is The Best Policy”, receiving a coveted A. Actually, I think I may have gotten writing and art abilities from him. Although he was an exceptional storyteller, perfectly imitating voice and mannerisms of various comedians, I speak best through the written word. He also had a gift for drawing with his talent for art passed on to me and my son. He loved trains, especially the old steam engines, having grown up next to the tracks in Clifton, NJ. I loved watching him as he built a passenger car for his train set, using a tweezers to handle those tiny parts. I watched him build Packard and Duesenberg model cars, and a German Focke-Wulf plane from WWII, taking us with him as he flew it using a remote-control system… until an unexpected gust of wind dove and smashed the plane into the ground. As we grew up, we loved hearing Dad tell family stories of his and our childhoods. He had a gift for telling any story in a humorous unique way, and how I long to hear them all again. I’d ask him to write them down for posterity, but he never did. When he drove truck in the 1960s through the 1990s (and later huge tractors for an Iowan farmer), he’d come home with stories from the road. He shared radio routines by Bill Cosby and southern Cajun comedians, recalling their stories and imitating accents perfectly! That was way better entertainment than TV any day! I recall a few stories of his time in the Army at Fort Greely, Alaska (1956-1957), a foreign assignment before official statehood. From 18 months to 2 years of age, I was too young to remember my six months at Delta Junction with my baby sister. But I also remember having heard how he, his best buddy Roland Neefe, and two other friends found a sunken rowboat. As it lay not far below the surface of a lake, they pulled it up, cleaned it off, and took it out to fish. It made for an interesting adventure to say the least – while they took turns fishing, the other three worked hard at bailing to keep the boat afloat! Now that’s dedicated fishermen! Fort Greely is also where he learned to drive big rigs. With someone ill, he was asked to take over in the motor pool one night. Proving he could handle backing up a trailer perfectly, the commanding officer asked where he’d learned to do that since everyone else struggled. “Backing up a manure spreader, Sir!” was his dutiful reply. They kept him in the motor pool, where he gained invaluable training for later driving 18-wheelers. He was also given a rare promotion because he took the time to thoroughly clean an office coffeepot, a skill learned from his Dutch immigrant mother who had taught him all aspects of housekeeping while growing up, like any good Dutch mother. With a general visiting Fort Greely, the coffee-making task was passed off to my Dad as no one wanted to be making coffee for a general! He didn’t complain but took pains to provide a clean urn for making fresh-percolated coffee… which greatly impressed the general. When the general asked who made the coffee, the aide who was supposed to have made it “blamed” my Dad. Instead of the feared reprimand for the typically bad-tasting coffee the office was known for, the general complimented my father on making the best cup he’d ever tasted! Turning to the senior officer, he ordered him to give my father a promotion! When we were younger, he always had time for us. When we lived in Jersey, I loved it when he took us fishing at Garret Mountain in Clifton, Lake Hopatcong and Upper Greenwood Lake. It got me out of the city and into nature where I felt at ease. And, though I could never bring myself to touch those worms (still can’t!), let alone put them on a hook, and never did catch “the big one,” it was the quality time with our Dad that meant so much to us kids. As a tomboy, I especially enjoyed working outside with my Dad whether it was in the barn learning to care for the animals, in the huge vegetable gardens, or traipsing the fields and woods to hunt rabbits and deer. That love just naturally transferred to enjoying time spent working alongside my husband in the barn or in the yard, and growing and weeding gardens of my own. As we grew older, we teens were often in our own little world yet I still adored my Dad. He listened and gave sound advice. I recall the day he didn’t go to work, taking me instead for a drive to discuss a problem I was dealing with. At times though, I wasn’t ready to listen to him because, as life moved on, his anger took control and he wasn’t always there for us as a family, causing division with his divorce by expecting full support for his side. No parent in a divorce situation should ever do that their children. But I treasure our renewed relationship later in life. With apologies for my own errors as a teen, I heard his sadness as I expressed how family dysfunction affected all of us, and he understood my saying I/we all had needed him more than he realized when he was on the road for 2-4 weeks at a time. I appreciated his compliments on my writing for a local newspaper, my own blogs, publishing genealogy research in a nationally recognized journal (The New York Genealogical & Biographical Record), and for how well I raised my family and took care of my Mom, even saying he’d never realized all the difficulties I’d faced in my life. Honesty and forgiveness cleared the way for a better relationship with love expressed to both my parents. God truly takes our most difficult situations, working them for our good when we love Him, admit our errors, and make amends. My Dad’s careers changed from his love of farming, to driving a grain truck delivering feed to dairy farmers (winning top NY State Purina Feed salesman awards for 1961 and 1962), to carpentry with his Dad, a revered general contractor in northeast New Jersey, to driving an 18-wheeler hauling tanks locally and later OTR (over the road/cross country). When we lived in Clifton, NJ, he drove chemical tankers “locally” in northeast Jersey, southern New England, and New York City. What stories he brought home from his experiences! I got to ride with him only twice and wish it could have been more. But I was never so happy as when we moved back to New York on August 16, 1969! Though I hated city life, I can now look back at special memories of Clifton where I was born. As we settled into “backyard farming,” he taught me how to care for our mare, War Bugg, a granddaughter of Man O’ War, a retired Western working ranch registered Quarter Horse. One of his trucking buddies also rode the rodeo circuit and put War Bugg through her paces – she did a figure-eight so tight you’d’ve thought she’d fall over! I helped Dad build her corral and box stall in the barn, along with re-roofing and remodeling the old chicken coop for our flock. And then came the heavy-duty barn chores of bringing hay down out of the mow, hauling 50-lb bags of grain, mucking out the pens, learning to groom War Bugg and pick up her feet to clean the soft undersides, devouring books on horses and their care, dreaming of being an equine vet. I saw his deep concern when I stepped on a wasp’s nest in the haymow with 11 stings on my leg, and his gratefulness for my dousing him with a 5-gallon pail of water when a torch threatened to catch him on fire while trying to burn tent caterpillars, chuckling later that I almost drowned him! He did have a great sense of humor, which I valued in my husband Ed, too. But I also learned the hard way that running War Bugg flat out up the road and back could have killed her, hot, sweaty and lathered. Not realizing the depth of War Bugg’s Western training, I’d simply clicked my tongue and she took off like a rocket, so I let her run… on the paved road. I was scolded hard, yet taught to walk her slowly, allowing her to have only small sips of warm water till she cooled down. After riding her another time, I dismounted, tied her to the backyard light pole, and ran into the house briefly. On returning, I realized she’d pulled on and broken her bridle, standing as if still tied with reins straight down. And it was then I realized she was Western trained to be “ground tied” and to take off at the click of the tongue, very responsive to touch, the absolute best horse! I still miss her… and her gentle neighs when I put grain and hay in her feed trough. Soon enough, I got married and began a new life with my new family, while my siblings and parents scattered themselves around the U.S. Life changes, and we change with it. We learn from those childhood mistakes and grow up wiser for them. As a child, I teased Dad when he turned 30 that he was old, and that when he’d turn 50 he’d be “over the hill!” Well, Dad, guess what? Your oldest daughter reached that milestone a good ways back, and she’s still thankful to be alive and working! Giving him this writing in 2014 before he passed away April 17, 2015, his wedding anniversary with my Mom, he knew I felt blessed to have him as my Dad. Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive the childhood fun of days long ago, but I treasure those memories that linger still... and I love you, Dad! May you each be blessed with very special memories of your Dad, too! Happy Father’s Day! I Remember A Dad Linda A. Roorda I remember a dad who took me fishin’ And remember a dad who hooked my worms, Who took those hooks from fishy mouths, And showed me the country way of life. ~ A family of six, two girls and four boys Fun and trouble we shared as we grew. From farms and fields to paved avenues, Walking and biking, exploring we went. ~ I remember a time spent playing games, A dad who’d not cheat for us to win. Family and friends and holiday dinners, Lakes and farms and countryside drives. ~ Weeds were the bane of childhood fun, So ‘tween the rows we ran and we played. But as I grew and matured in age, Weeding was therapy in gardens of mine. ~ I remember a dad who thrived on farming Livestock and gardens, and teaching me how. I remember a dad who took me huntin’ Scoutin’ the fields, always alert. ~ I remember a dad who taught us more For growing up we learn by example. I remember working alongside my dad Roofing a barn and building corrals. ~ I remember a dad whose gifts were given In fairness to meet each child’s desire. I remember a dad whose wisdom we honor In memories of caring and love in small ways. ~ I remember a dad who brought us laughter With Cajun and Cosby stories retold. For blessed with a gift of retelling tales Family and childhood events he recalled. ~ I remember a dad whose time was given To help his children face life’s turmoils. Time spent together are memories treasured For things done best put family first. ~ I remember a dad who taught me more To treasure my faith in Jesus my friend. In looking to Him as Savior and Lord, Salvation by Grace, not earned by my deed. ~ As I look back to days long ago, I remember the dad I knew so well. For I miss the dad who took me fishin’ And remember the dad who taught me more. ~

Ah, a whole different generation 🙂 but I do remember the White Castle on the corner across from the Clifton Library which I frequented many many times!

OH my goodness! That's amazing! It's where I was born and lived 3 different times in between the farms. I looked at the Clifton street map online, and Fairmount is not far from Christopher Columbus Jr Hi where I went to 7th and 8th grades in the latter 1960s. My Dad graduated from there when it was Clifton Hi Sch. My grandparents' Dutch families immigrated to Kalamazoo Mich initially; my grandparents with my toddler father and my grandfather's paternal family moved after the depression started to Luddington Ave in Clifton, also not far from Christopher Columbus, and my dad lived on both ends of Getty Ave growing up. I lived on Hepburn with my grandparents when my dad was in the Army, on Burgess Place for kindergarten, and east end of Madison Ave by train station from 10-14. There were alot of Dutch in the city/northeast Jersey but I don't know why my paternal families moved specifically to Clifton. Did you ever go to Garret Mountain? We used to fish in the large "pond" on top, have picnics up there, and always wanted to go in the castle but never had a chance. Yes, indeed, a very small world!!

And to think.... My family moved from Clifton NJ to Lounsberry (halfway btwn Owego and Nichols), NY on Aug 16, 1969. Going north on Rt.17, our '63 Chrysler pulled a small trailer with youngest brother's tricycle tied to the top of the mound of a few suitcases to get us thru till my Dad could bring the rest of our household goods back the following week via rental truck. But... in that bumper-to-bumper stop-and-go traffic with light off-and-on rain, I'd never seen so many hippies, guys with long hair, people walking btwn the cars without a care in the world, helicopters dropping packages down... I had NO idea what was going on! My Dad called it a "hippie convention" and rightly so. But I had NO idea we were driving thru Woodstock!! At 14-1/2, I'd lived a very sheltered life to that point. It wasn't until months later that I discovered what it was all about, heard those bands' music that I began to enjoy on The Whale, WAAL, 99.1 out o' Binghamton that I understood. AND then, after meeting my husband-to-be, discovered his brother had worked on Max Yasgur's farm in early '70s, having to do field work and spread manure around hippies still encamped along the field edges! And driving past on RT.17 was the closest I got to that famous music festival!!

Beauty – we all admire the aesthetic and beautiful in both people and nature, though beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say. Often, as our young girls strive to look beautiful, they imitate the actresses and models they admire on the “silver screen” or magazine covers. But youthfulness fails to realize the images are a façade, made more beautiful and glamorous by makeup and the air brush. It’s not a true beauty. And a pretty face may not always have a heart of love and compassion. For “…man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (I Samuel 16:7b) So then, what is beauty? And how do we define it? There’s an old-fashioned philosophy which I believe still holds true today. “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as [elaborate hairstyles] and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” (I Peter 3:3-4 NIV) With those wise words from Scripture in mind, when we give of ourselves to benefit others, a depth of beauty is seen through the glow of an unselfish act – the embodiment of genuine love for others. “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30) Living our life to please God reflects the unique inner beauty He has blessed each of us with. “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mothers’ womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:13-14) We show the beauty of true character by reaching out to help those in need, especially those who cannot pay us back for such a generous gift. Beauty is in a heart of humility, serving others with grace and gentle kindness. Beauty shines brightly when we don’t call attention to ourselves… as we quietly go about living a life of peace by showing honor and respect to all we meet on our path of life. For you will know when someone has been deeply touched by the beauty of your heart… Yet, the question must be asked… what is the opposite of love’s beauty? The generous airs or charms put on to cover that which is defiled… a self-proclaimed boasting in how humble one is… the disguising of a selfish attitude of pride filled with self-centeredness and greed… an indifference, or absence of emotion, caring, compassion, and love. Which brings us back to our initial question, what is beauty? Smiles to brighten someone’s day… a helping hand serving those in need... sharing truth with true humility… earning trust with acceptance and respect of others… generous acts of kindness strewn among friends and strangers… and an unfading gentle spirit of love and peace found within the selfless heart. Among these and more we find true beauty… For “[beauty] should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” (I Peter 3:4) What is Beauty? Linda A. Roorda What is beauty if the heart is shallow What is glamor when rudeness takes charge And what is charm with selfish desire… For what is love but the giving of self? ~ What then are words when the mind deceives What is character with rebellious soul Or enticing lures to captivate hearts… For what is virtue but integrity’s truth? ~ What is kindness if the tongue reviles And what is honor without reputation Or the humble soul if boastful and proud… For what is grace but gentle elegance? ~ What is adornment when respect has fled What are principles if deceit is the core What is esteem when self is worth more… For what is honor but morality’s judge? ~ What then is beauty but innocence pure The charm and grace of respectful repute Humility’s stance with integrity’s honor… For what is beauty but the gift of self? ~~

oh Ann, you aren't the only one! I stand guilty too 🙂 I'm so glad you enjoyed this blog!