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Linda Roorda

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Everything posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Easter is always a special time of year. It reminds us that warmer weather is arriving after the long winter’s cold, and spring is beginning to show its colors! It’s a time of renewal as new plant life exemplifies rebirth by poking through the covering of a late snow, leaf buds begin to swell and emerge from their long winter’s sleep, and early flowers showcase their gorgeous array of colorful blooms. It’s a special time for children as they have fun decorating eggs, enjoy the search for hidden eggs to fill their baskets, and savor scrumptious chocolate treats and marshmallow peeps. I also remember a time, way too many years ago, when it was fashionable to buy a new spring dress and white bonnet for Easter service at church. When the Covid pandemic kept many of us from attending church, I drew Easter chalk art on our sidewalk to celebrate the joy of Resurrection Day. And I also admire the Polish/Ukrainian Pysanky a friend makes – gorgeous delicate painted artwork on eggs. But there’s so much more to the meaning of Easter. Each year we are reminded again of all that took place about 2000 years ago. That precious little baby whose birth we celebrated just a few short months ago grew up with a purpose. As my husband’s niece, Rebecca, once said, “That God would become a man and understand our struggles on earth just blows my mind. [That’s] true humble love.” Yet, in contemplating God’s love, I sometimes find it hard to think of such unconditional love for me... After all, what about that little thing I did? Was it really wrong? Maybe I can just excuse it away. Will my family, my friends, or even God, forgive me for certain errors I’ve made? I know He has, as have friends to whom I’ve apologized over the years. How could God still love me when my temper flares… again…? What does He see in me? I can never measure up… Well, actually, none of us can. We “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) … “for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) So, why would God care so much for me… for each of us? Because of one man, Jesus… That one man, perfect in all he did or said, willingly took my unworthiness, my shame, my heavy load of sin, and endured the penalty of death on the cross, just for my soul, is overwhelming. I cannot repay such a debt! Wait… I don’t have to? My debt is paid in full? Because Jesus gave His life that I might live, all I have to do is believe and accept His free gift? Jesus really loves me and you that much? Yes! That’s the grace and mercy of God’s love… it does not define and cancel us for our failures, but rather shows that we are each created unique by God, worthy of His love and forgiveness, redeemed through Christ from a life of sin. (Colossians 2:13-14) Now that’s unconditional love… as He blesses us with His wisdom, courage, compassion, and peace. I am reminded of Johnny Hart’s “B.C.” cartoon column. He was a good friend of my husband’s Uncle Mart and Aunt Tilly and their family in Ninevah, NY, members of the same Presbyterian Church where Hart also taught Sunday School. How succinctly Hart put the thoughts of this holy week into perspective in his comic strip: [Johnny Hart in B.C., 04/09/03] Which brings to mind a similar thought-provoking cartoon from “The Wizard of ID”, a joint venture written by Johnny Hart and Brant Parker, illustrated by Parker: Friar: “Happy Good Friday Sire!” To which the king grumbles: “What’s so good about it?” The friar replies: “It took an act of God, but they finally found somebody willing to die for you.” ...with the king left standing there speechless. [Copyright Creators Syndicate Inc.] But, after the brutality and agony of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, His friends are devastated. All their hopes and expectations for Jesus as the earthly king of the Jewish nation appear to be dashed. Yet, envision with me the beauty of an early morning sunrise. Birds are beginning to sing as the sun’s first rays appear. The dew has settled gently on the flowers in the garden as they open their buds to the sun’s warmth. According to Mark 16:1-5, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome quietly arrive at the tomb just after sunrise on the first day of the week. They carry spices with them to anoint their beloved friend and teacher, Jesus, who had died a horribly painful death on a cross… only to see in astonishment that the great stone has been rolled away from the entrance. Upon entering, they see the tomb is empty. Already sad, now they are also afraid. Suddenly, two men stand before them in brilliant light. Knowing their fear, an angel speaks gently to reassure them. “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples…” (Matthew 28:5-6) Trembling and bewildered, the women run from the tomb. Despite their confusion and fear they run to tell the disciples. Peter and John arrive after hearing Mary Magdalene’s report, look into the empty tomb, and also see only the burial cloths which lay neatly in place. (John 20:3-8) And they wondered and believed. As the others return to their homes, Mary Magdalene stays at the empty tomb, crying, missing her Lord. As a man she presumed to be the gardener speaks to her, she asks where he put him. On hearing the man speak her name, “Mary,” she recognizes him as her dear friend, Jesus, and calls out, “Rabboni!” (Teacher). After their conversation, Mary hurries to share the good news with the disciples that she “has seen the Lord!” (John 20:10-18) Jesus truly is alive! And to think that with a simple child-like faith in Jesus who willingly gave His life for me… for each of us… He will live in our hearts now and for eternity. As John 3:16 reminds us, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish but have everlasting life.” What pain there is to realize that I fall short of His tender love every day. But what joy in humbling myself to recognize and confess my sins, and to ask for forgiveness for the errors of my ways from those around me and from my Lord, and then to feel the forgiveness… as the Lord’s love and peace with mercy and grace surround my soul. That’s what Easter is all about… God’s great love! Hallelujah!! Christ is risen!! What a Savior!! Besides… I love you! Linda A. Roorda Who am I? My soul doth ask. What am I worth? And to whom? I see only failure as I take the reins And do not give my Lord the lead. ~ How can you love the me who I am When all I see are my struggles? Yet, Lord, You do love even me In ways that I cannot comprehend. ~ To sight unseen You guide my path Ever at my side, gently calling. And as you wrap loving arms around You cover my soul with tender mercies. ~ For You opened wide Your arms on a cross Giving Your life that I might live, And in return You ask for my love With all my heart, my soul and my mind. ~ But you didn’t stay within that tomb For on day three You rose from the dead. Seen by many, in the hearts of more, Eternity waits Your Gift of Love. ~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
  2. Reading several pages of a book by Laura Hillenbrand to my students, I knew I needed to read the full story. “Unbroken - A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption” is a bio of Louis Zamperini. Holding records for running the fastest mile, he remains the youngest Olympics qualifier at age 19, placing 8th at the 1936 Berlin Olympics in the 5,000 meter race. Though he didn’t medal, he put on a burst of speed to run the fastest final lap among the competitors in an amazing 56 seconds! On asking, the teacher lent me an unabridged version and I’ve been reading every minute I can this weekend, unable to set the book down for long. In a Pacific battle with the Japanese during WW II, Zamperini and his pilot friend survived their B-24 plane crash of May 27, 1943. Stranded at sea for 47 days, they were picked up by the Japanese. Surviving more than 2 years of hellish prison camps and disease, they were tortured, starved, and severely beaten, enduring the brutality with humor, hope and determination. Freed after the atomic bombs were dropped in August 1945, Zamperini faced torments at home with PTSD nightmares of his experience under one especially sadistic guard. Drinking excessive alcohol to control the nightmares, his life began to unravel. Finally acquiescing to his wife’s entreaties, he attended a Billy Graham crusade. She had accepted Christ a few days earlier, and hoped Louie could find solace in Christ for the torments he lived with… and he did! His drinking and tormenting nightmares stopped that very night. Zamperini heard Graham preach on the adulteress that night, Graham’s words reminding him of forgotten prayerful pleas for God to save him while in the lifeboat at sea – “If you save me, I will serve you forever.” After accepting Christ as his Savior, Zamperini returned to Japan, meeting his former prison guards, themselves in prison. They were puzzled to see him reach out to embrace them with his infectious joy of forgiveness. He also began the Victory Boys Camp for troubled youth, sharing his life’s path, including his salvation journey. As I read, I knew I had to change my plans and post this blog instead of my first choice. Forgiven! Can you imagine how she must have felt? So close to being condemned to death, now free to go… forgiven a heavy burden of sin… free to overcome her past… and free to share the love of her Savior with everyone she met! “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery… ‘In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?’ They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ Again, he stooped down and wrote on the ground. At this, those who heard began to go away, one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there…” (John 8:3-9) We’ve all done something in our past we’d just as soon forget. We may still feel the sting of shame. I can think of many public figures who disgraced themselves including President Nixon, Pete Rose, Lance Armstrong, Bill Cosby, Ravi Zacharias… while many others seem to be enabled in walking away from accountability for their words or actions. But, how much better that we all face our wrongs… our sins… head on. Admit them and repent, ask for forgiveness, stop blaming others, walk away from wrongful behaviors, and feel the loving grace of our Lord as we make a full corrective change. So, what about the men who brought the adulteress woman to court? Well… they simply walked away and left her standing alone with Jesus. I’ve always wondered if Jesus was writing a list of their sins in the sand. If so, that would have made them more than a little uneasy. They would have stood in amazement, and perhaps felt shame as their secret thoughts and sins were written in the sand, available for all to read. How did this man know so much about them? They had brought this woman to condemn her for adultery, a sin punishable by stoning to death. And yet, where was the man from the tryst? Didn’t his sin matter to them, too? Or, was he among her accusers, blaming her? Rather than face the depth of hypocrisy in their own heart, each man turned and simply walked away. They didn’t want others to learn the weight of their own brokenness. But, as they silently walked away, no contrite heart or apology was expressed. Did they not realize that God sees and knows the truth? What a mockery they made of justice… fingers pointing at another while being guilty themselves. So typical of abusers who hide behind their mask of piety. They were so focused on trying to get Jesus to incriminate himself with a response, they didn’t understand the depth of their own sin. They walked away from seeing who Jesus truly was, and their own need of grace. Both civic and religious leaders fail us then as now. Leaders who call themselves gifted exude an arrogant pride. (Proverbs 16:18) Leaders who fail to hold themselves and others around them accountable lack integrity and humility. Often, they can be classified narcissistic, being more than simply self-centered. They feel entitled to praise or special treatment. They lack empathy, are abusive, liars who do not take responsibility for their own behavior, take advantage of others, lash out at criticism or perceive they’re not getting the attention they deserve with a behind-the-scenes retaliation and perpetual blame shifting. Underneath the egotistic façade, they are often deeply insecure and use a faux cover to present themselves as more worthy than they really are. Yet, what a powerful picture of mercy and grace Jesus gave us all as He forgave the woman. All she had to do was repent from her old ways, and become a changed woman. In leaving her old life behind to follow the Teacher, our Lord, she gladly started sharing with others what He had done for her. Because she now had a future! A life to look forward to! She’d lived her past under whispered labels. She’d heard the mocking voices deep in her soul… stupid, worthless, trash, adulteress, prostitute. Yes, she’d lived a life of ill repute. But, the Teacher… He respected her! So, what did He see in her? He saw someone who’d been taken advantage of to benefit others… someone weighed down by a heart of sorrow and shame… someone willing to openly shoulder responsibility for all of her own wrongs… someone longing for change. This Teacher, the man named Jesus… He saw what she could be when cleansed of her past. He saw her broken heart longing to be made whole. He stood her up tall so she could start anew. Just like our Lord does for us. He forgives the heart that repents, no matter the charge… that longs to make amends… that longs for a closeness with God. He holds out His hands to draw us near… setting us back up on our feet as He guides our path with flawless wisdom… Forgiven! The Adulteress By Linda A. Roorda I met him today, the greatest Teacher! My life was a mess, but He picked me up. He gave me hope... He gave me vision. He freed my soul from sin’s dark snare. Dragging to court they brought me up front, My accusers smug turning to the crowd. With taunting words they scoffed and accused Revealing my life, my sin and my shame. How could I have reached such fallen depths? He told me he cared. I believed his lies. His words were glib with flattery smooth But now I was caught, ensnared in a trap. Stating that stoning was punishment fit They asked the Teacher his thoughts on the law. Instead He stooped and commenced to write Words hid from others, known only to them. Yet, as they questioned, He continued to write. On standing tall, He peered in their soul. “If any one of you lives without sin, Let him be the one who casts the first stone.” Slowly the elders and then the younger Quietly fled until only two, The Teacher and I, we alone stood still. From silence He spoke, my soul deeply touched… “Woman, where are they? Have any condemned?” Glancing around, “No one,” said I. “Then neither do I. I condemn you not. Go, and leave your sin. Forgiven are you.”
  3. Idols - we all have them... we just may not realize it. Idols are anything or anyone which takes precedence over our relationship with God. And yes, I have them, too. We tend to see the obvious idols in the "things" we clutch closely... especially that which we enjoy doing or collecting - like our hobbies, collectable antiques, our "toys,” and even people. They fill a void within us and give us an emotional high… for a while. None of these are evil in and of themselves, but it’s where and how we put the emphasis on them that makes the difference. An idol can also be to whom or where we run when we’re dealing with a problem, rather than turning first to our Lord in prayer. How often don't we fret and worry, feel sorry for ourselves, and take our pain or loss to nurture it and feed it with a selfish pity party. Once again, I've been there and stand guilty. Coddling our idols is also an easy trap to fall into. We want what we deserve, and we deserve the best! Or so we think… But that philosophy is misguided, for there is only One who deserves our best. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:30-31 NIV) And I admit I am not able to unequivocally meet these godly expectations. Within these verses above, we are reminded of God’s words in Exodus 20:2-4. The Ten Commandments, given to Moses during the Israelites’ exodus from slavery in Egypt, remind us that “I am the Lord your God… You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything… You shall not bow down to them or worship them…” It is God our Creator who we worship, and He alone, realizing we cannot meet up to His great expectations. And in that, we realize our sinful nature like filthy rags, and our great need for His saving grace. After writing this poem in 2015, and editing it, I re-read it in its entirety, nearly bursting into tears… for many reasons. First, because the words touched my heart deeply for their depth of truth. I firmly believe God gives me the words, and each poem is a moving emotional experience while writing, though some more so than others. And second, I wondered why the words for a happy, joyful, praise-filled poem wasn’t coming to mind. Why did the words that flowed from my brain and out through my fingers once again contemplate our sin? As I verbalized these thoughts to my husband, Ed, he said, “But your poem is the story of our lives. We are sinners, and God does take us from rags to glory. And that really is something to be writing praises about!” It’s often felt or said that Christians talk too much about sin. Yet, knowing that our perfect creator God has said through the Apostle Paul in Romans 3:23 that we “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”, it is then we begin to understand that acknowledging we really do sin in so many ways is key. For in that understanding, it’s also reassuring to know that when we go to God and “…confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9). What a blessing to trust in a faithful Lord who isn’t offended by our wayward feet. He simply loves us deeply while drawing us back to Himself… no matter our sins, our tattered rags… as He washes us clean! Tattered Rags Linda A. Roorda When someday I stand before You, my Lord What will You see of my earthly life? Will You see rags, the tatters of sin Or will I be cleansed, washed pure by the Lamb? Yet for a while we proudly proclaim My will! My way! The cry of our hearts. We live a life in defense of self To gain the best this world can offer. A sense of pleasure in idols we make To soothe our hurts and meet our desires. But what we crave in comforts and perks Cannot appease the soul’s deepest need. Then what will fill this void in my soul? What could ever control all my steps? Could it be true that Your word speaks clear To guide and direct feet that stray from You? Help me to leave the past behind, Help me to walk with You at my side. Guide all my thoughts, my words and my deeds Create in me a heart of pure love. For there is nothing I could ever do That Your greatest gift won’t cover with peace As long as humbly I seek you in faith And with contrition gain mercy and grace. As You draw me near with welcoming arms To embrace Your child with a love divine I see the filth of sin’s tattered rags Fall gently away for a gleaming white robe.
  4. Little lambs are so soft, cuddly and cute! In my mid-teens, my siblings and I were given a lamb which I promptly named “Lambie.” Very original, huh?! It was only intended until something better came to mind, but nothing ever did. She was a twin, abandoned by her mother and given to us by our cousin, Robert, from his flock. I don’t know the breed, but she had light gray wool with a black face and black legs. As Lambie’s main caretaker, I took responsibility to make sure she was fed. Following my Dad’s directions, I made a gruel with oatmeal, water and evaporated milk, feeding it to her in a glass bottle which had one of my brother’s bottle nipples attached – we were good at making do. And I loved to watch her little tail go “ninety miles an hour” while she drank! Lambie was small, not very old, so we kept her in a box near the old-fashioned wood-burning kitchen stove to keep her warm. It was too cold to put her out in the barn all by herself without her mama. Even our mutt, Pepsi, of terrier and other unknown parentage, liked nothing better than to jump into Lambie’s box to check out this new arrival to our menagerie. And I’m sure Pepsi wondered why this little one said “baaaa” and didn’t whimper like a puppy, but she contentedly mothered her adopted baby anyway! Eventually, Lambie went to her pen in the barn, and followed me wherever I went. It was fun to watch her spring up and down as she played and ran about the yard and nibbled on the grass. Occasionally, she tried to wander beyond her guardian’s protection until called back to my side. Though I never considered myself her “shepherd,” in reality I was. I provided food and water for her, protected her, and kept her from harm… until the vet diagnosed her with Listeriosis, or circling disease. Nothing could be done for her and we had to put her down. Crying so hard I could barely see, I insisted to my Dad that I would dig the grave at the edge of the raspberry patch and bury little Lambie all by myself. Such were the thoughts that came to mind after writing the poem below which is based on Jesus’ parable found in John 10:1-21. Here, we read that the Good Shepherd knows each one of his sheep, and He calls them by name. But the sheep also know their shepherd, recognize his voice, and follow wherever he leads them. Should a stranger enter the fold, the sheep will not follow him… instead, they will run around wildly or just run away en masse, simply because they aren’t familiar with the stranger’s voice. Perhaps, under cover, a thief may come near the flock, pretending to be their shepherd. He may disguise himself and draw a few young, inexperienced sheep away who think they’re following their shepherd. Or perhaps a predator might sneak up on an unsuspecting lamb and lead it astray. Disoriented and lost, the lamb follows the predator to supposed safety. Soon it becomes obvious that the predator is not its shepherd… but by then it’s too late. Except, the true shepherd with his trained eye realizes what’s happened. Like another of Jesus’ parables in Luke 15:3-6, He seeks out His precious lamb and brings it back, or willingly fights off the predator to rescue his little lost lamb. Listening to its Master’s voice, the lamb turns around and joyfully runs back to the safety of the flock… and there it stays, feeling content and peaceful under the watchful eye of its protective shepherd. And I thought, how like those sheep we are… As Isaiah 53:6 says, “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” We have a tendency at times to follow what sounds and looks so good, what seems so right… only to realize later that we’ve been duped… we were on the wrong track… and we need someone to save us. That special someone, the Master, the Good Shepherd, would do anything for us, His sheep… especially those who have wandered off or been drawn away by a predator. Not so the hireling who doesn’t care much about someone else’s sheep. With only a little provocation, he’d as soon run away than fight for the lives of the sheep under his watch. Just as my heart ached and cried for the loss of my little precious lamb, so the Good Shepherd of our story aches for the lost, and would lay down His own life to protect and save His precious sheep from harm. And isn’t that what our Lord, our Good Shepherd, our Master, has done for us? May we always hear the love in our Master’s voice within our heart and follow His leading… The Master’s Voice Linda A. Roorda Like gentle sheep we’re prone to wander Easily enticed by things of this world But at the sound of our Master’s voice Will we then heed or continue headstrong? ~ The Master’s words will not lead astray Seeking the ones who meander off Softly calling each one by name With tender words of comfort and peace. ~ When storms arrive and release their fury The shepherd guides his flock to safety. How like our Master who longs to embrace And bring us home to rest in His arms. ~ When wolves appear like gentle sheep clothed With flattery smooth they strike unannounced Their intention dark, the naïve to deceive Serving their needs, the meek to destroy. ~ Then words of wisdom are soon directed At wandering lambs who have left the fold Calling them back to a sheltered life Protected under the Master’s great love. ~ Unlike the hireling, He lays down His life Whatever it takes to gather His own Take heed to His call and flee from the foe Lean into His arms of mercy and grace. ~ Like a good Shepherd is our Savior Lord With care He protects each sheep in His fold It matters to Him whose words we follow The call of folly or the Master’s voice. ~~
  5. Linda Roorda

    G.R.A.C.E.

    G.R.A.C.E. - This acrostic idea did not originate with me; unfortunately, I don’t even remember who I heard preaching about it… nor do I remember all of his words intended for the title of G.R.A.C.E. In any event, this is my original poem and thoughts, having heard only the tail end of that sermon. Grace can be defined as an elegance, a refined charm. Speaking of a practiced ballerina, or champion ice skater, brings to mind a picture of elegance and graceful beauty in motion. But grace can also be defined as unmerited favor, like the rescue or redemption from evil. And thus, the word grace brings into focus the unmerited gift of salvation. As another acrostic online puts it - “God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.” How fitting. Grace is a gift… something we don’t deserve and we can’t do for ourselves. It’s a reaching out by God toward us, especially as He displays His love for us through His Son. Who would ever think that God would send His beloved Son to earth from His heavenly home of glory? Who would think that He would allow His Son to be born into this world of woe, a world of evil? Who would think that this man, who claimed to be the Son of God, would grow up to live among us… that He would not live an easy life of posh luxury because of who He was… that in living with us He would be tempted as we are, face ridicule and mocking for His love of sinners, the downtrodden, the untouchables – and that He would heal them, and tell them their sins were forgiven? And who would have expected that our great God would allow His Son, His one and only beloved Son, to die a horrendous and painful death on a Roman cross for sins that he didn’t even commit? Just for us? For the sins of each one of us? Why? Because of His great love for us! And we don’t even have to satisfy a list of requirements to please our God for Him to love us! So, how do we fathom such a priceless gift… if not for eyes of grace. In Romans 3:23 we are told that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…” Yet, “…it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast." (Ephesians 2:8-9) And out of a thankful heart for such grace and mercy comes our grateful attitude. For in our day-to-day relationship with our Lord, we long to please Him, grow closer to Him, and honor Him in all that we do. And therein lies our grateful relationship with an attitude of confession and endurance... G.R.A.C.E. A Grateful Relationship with an Attitude of Confession and Endurance Linda A. Roorda With grateful praise I sing of Your grace For who am I that You would claim me. Yet love me You do, knowing my frailties And stubborn penchant to go my own way. My relationship grows by walking with You Though there are times I take You for granted. I hear Your voice, but don’t always heed Draw me still closer as love grows stronger. My attitude then will change over time As wisdom grows to honor Your word, That like a mirror Your Grace I’ll reflect For all to see Your love shining through Me. May I confess the wrongs I have done Let me not keep secrets hid away. Though You know all, You ask that I come Seeking Your face and forgiving grace. Grant me endurance and strength for the trials Knowing You light the path that I walk, And should I stumble draw me near to You As You wait with grace and mercy’s sweet peace. Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
  6. Analogies give us a glimpse of similarities and truths of a story tucked within a story. Thinking about this concept after my poem below was written brought to mind Mark Twain’s book, “The Prince and The Pauper,” published 1881 initially in Canada, and subsequently in 1882 in the U.S. In Twain’s beloved story, a young prince and a pauper (who happen to look a lot alike and were born on the same day) trade places in life. The prince experiences the roughness of a lowly life just as his counterpart once did, while the pauper tries to bravely find his way at the top of an unfamiliar kingdom of elites. Common sense, so crucial to his survival in the real world, comes in quite handy as he makes his way through the upper echelon. Ultimately, the real prince returns to claim his rightful place as heir and is crowned king. Ever grateful for his real-life experiences as a pauper, the prince now understands life for the poor and hard-working folks beneath him, and is better able to comprehend their needs. And makes his friend, the pauper, his aide. Not having read Twain’s book, my poem was written without knowledge of the story line, though I had heard of the title. After research, it’s clear my poem takes a similar, albeit slightly different tack to Twain in relating a king who was used to observing the realm from his castle high above the fray of every-day life. Wanting to experience firsthand what life for his subjects was like, he walks among them dressed as a beggar. In this guise, he observes that most people continue on their way with their heads held high, seldom stooping to assist someone poorer and perhaps scruffier than they. Sadly, there are still those who live and breathe a self-serving arrogance. A few years ago, I encountered two gentlemen one day – one, a young man looking a bit shabby, crouching against the building to finish a cigarette before entering our local grocery. Unsure of whether to smile at this lone man for fear my friendliness would be misinterpreted, I nervously glanced his way as he quickly got up and stepped ahead of me to hold the door open. Giving a smile and thanking him very much, he, ever the gentleman, waited off to the side for me to get settled with a shopping cart as I told him to go ahead of me. Later that same day, I met an elderly casually-dressed gentleman walking into the pharmacy at the same time. As I hung back to allow him entrance first, he instead slowed down and motioned for me to go ahead. Noticing his cap signifying he was a Navy Vietnam Veteran, I thanked him for his service, mentioning one of my brothers was a 20-year Navy man who’d served in the Gulf War. At that point, the gentleman quietly told me he’d served in Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War, and many places in between, a 40-year vet, and we had a nice chat as he thanked me. And I realized, first impressions do tend to make a difference, don’t they? On the other hand, a young woman notices our poor man in his tattered clothing. Kindly offering to feed him, not only did she provide nourishing meals, but she repairs his coat to provide warmth against the cold. He returns often to talk with her, to learn the depths of her heart, and to simply show appreciation and gratefulness for what she has done for him, a beggar. He was afraid to share that he had fallen in love with her and was now in a dilemma for he needs to return from whence he came. Indeed, he knows that truth must always be told in any situation… and so he set out one day to let her know how much he loved her. He was willing to give up all he owned just to serve her for the rest of his life. And it was then that he could see his love was returned in her eyes as he knelt down to propose. With her “yes,” his heart leapt for joy knowing their hearts would soon be united forever, sharing with her who he really was. Tucked within the depth of my poem’s reflection is the analogy of our Lord’s love for us. Leaving His throne in His beautiful and perfect heavenly home, He came down to dwell among us… in our world of sin and pain. Once here, Jesus experienced life just as we do with all of its temptations and sadness, but also the joys. He wants to have a relationship with each of us. He wants to share conversations in prayer as we listen for his nudging and messages in our heart from His Words of Life in Holy Scripture. And in this way, He is able to be our advocate and comforter, knowing from personal experience what our life on earth is all about. For as Jesus once said, “’Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” (Matthew 25:40 NIV) During this season of Lent, as we think more closely about Jesus, our Savior, we remember what our Lord accomplished as a servant while He lived among us, even to washing His disciples’ dirty feet: “…just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matthew 20:28) In His sacrifice, He gave His all for us through His death on the cross… that we might accept His priceless gift of mercy and forgiveness of our sins, becoming our Lord and Savior. What joy there will be when we are united with Him and remain in the presence of His love forever! What a King! Ode to a King Linda A. Roorda I gazed from afar while observing my realm And found with interest motives in action, But often their lives showed merest concern Though I could see depths of their anguished souls. ~ Oh how I loved these people of mine! And longed to walk the path to their soul A chance to converse, a sharing of hearts, To bring them peace with comforting words. ~ So stepping down, I entered their world Yearning to serve the rich and the poor But they did not know this beggar in rags Most never saw needs, just held their head high. ~ And then I noticed a young woman fair Who spoke gentle words to a stranger coarse. She offered food and to mend my coat While love in my heart had only begun. ~ A love which grew on the winds of time A chance to bond and learn of her heart To know the depths of comfort and peace Humility’s grace wrapped up in mercy. ~ Now deeply in love I’d sacrifice all Yet she did not know the truth of my garb How would I explain that she’d found favor That her heart was true, like gold refined. ~ So I intended my dilemma to share To let her know from afar I’d come, That all I’d longed for I treasured in her, Companionship sweet, a melding of souls. ~ Expressing my love for her tender heart Overwhelmed was she as on knees I bent Asking for her hand, with tears she said yes, My heart leapt for joy that we’ll become one. ~ And then I shared my journey in rags From a kingdom rich in glory and fame To this lowly world of sorrow and pain To which I had come, others to serve. ~ For it was then my eyes did behold Analogy of One with far greater love Who left His throne to walk on this earth To share our burdens and speak to our hearts. ~ His love ran red as He gave His all To purchase with blood and redeem our souls That He might draw near, from sin set us free And offer His gift of life eternal. ~~
  7. “Young love, first love, filled with true devotion…”* Glimpses of memories linger from sixth grade at Passaic Christian School of a former farm girl whose family had moved back to city life in Clifton, NJ. It was where life began for her, and where her father’s Dutch immigrant family had lived since the Great Depression era of the 1930s. She was tall at 5’7” in sixth grade, tallest student in the school actually. With a natural springing high jump, long arms and legs, she had the strength to punch the ball hard to beat everyone at tetherball – including one classmate in particular. Poor guy! He simply gave up and walked away the last time they played. But she must have made an impression. After making their silhouettes in art class, he brushed the nose of his next to hers saying, “Eskimo kiss!”, and I was smitten. Getting out of his seat for an inquisitive peek out the window one day, our teacher said, “Curiosity killed the cat!” to which he immediately replied, “But satisfaction brought it back!” I loved his quick wit. Once a week that spring until school was out for the summer, he walked me home after classes. One time, he stopped, moved a cinderblock away from a garage door, and positioned me next to it as he stepped up. Looking down, he exclaimed, “There! Now I’m taller than you!” We carry many special memories in our hearts as we travel through life. And, as we glimpse back through the window of time and recall days of long ago, fragments return of treasured days. We’ve held onto dreams and hopes, we’ve made mistakes that we regret, apologized, moved on and matured. Yet, first love remains with its sweet simplicity and priceless memories… a tender young love. In 2018, my mother’s first beau sought her out. After visiting her nephews on their farm, he was able to contact me and arrange a visit to see my Mom at the nursing home. Telling me she had left an impact on his life, he made amends. They had a wonderful visit, a special time of reminiscing. All those years ago, they’d met at the county fair in Cobleskill, NY. As farmers, they had a similar background, living not too many miles apart. They kept steady company through the end of high school and a bit beyond for about 3-4 years. He loved racing on the local track, known for a fast reputation which broke their relationship. Another young man, Ralph, pursued a beautiful girl with a penchant for fast driving... and he asked a friend who that young woman was as she sped by, actually late for work! Soon she knew this farmer was “the right one” for her as they spent many a Saturday night square dancing, getting to know each other better. The following spring, they married. And 11 months later, I arrived as the oldest of six. In seasons of time, young love made itself known once again. When a tall, dark and handsome young man saw her for the first time, it was love at first sight for him. Still, it took over a year for Ed to gather the courage to ask that pretty girl out on a date. And I fell in love with this gentle, caring, humorous, tall farmer with a strong faith in God who was determined to do as much as possible despite his vision limitations. He told me that if I ever felt sorry for him, then I didn’t belong at his side. And we shared our hearts and filled our life with young love and true devotion… meant to last a lifetime, shortened by the limitations of life that no one can predict. Yet, there is a love far deeper than any of our tender loves… a love that lasts far longer than our earthly loves… because our “God loves us deeply [and] is full of mercy” (Ephesians 2:4) Our God has tenderly loved us from before we even were born…words which Israel’s King David penned that our heartfelt praise can echo: “You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made… My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139: 13-16) No matter our past, no matter the cost, our “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16) Happy Valentine’s Day!! A Tender Young Love… Linda A. Roorda A tender young love from days long ago Held in the heart as memories smile From the depth of care to the pain of loss Felt in the hands together held tight. ~ A tender young love never forgotten Still tucked away in pages of yore, Reflecting upon the days of old That gently carry the heart’s awaking. ~ A tender young love of silent reverie The sheltered moments in passage of time That pause to reflect on life together Sharing sweet dreams and heart-felt caring. ~ A tender young love that sparkled within And lit the world with eyes shining bright A focused adoration so well understood But lost too soon to the whims of life. ~ A tender young love to always treasure As I hold your heart in memories dear Your wit and wisdom with hearty laughter A voice from the past where our dreams come true. ~~ “Young Love” sung by Sonny James, written by Ric Cartey, Carole Joyner.
  8. No seed catalogs at this house!! I've always looked forward to their arrival to peruse again and again, dreaming of bright and beautiful flowers to come... and now, even tho I made some purchases last year, but no catalogs have arrived to date and likely will not be coming... Otherwise, will just work with what I've got or look at those companies online of last year's catalogs and see if there's anything I can add to the gardens. A far cry from years ago when I grew a very large garden to can and freeze the produce. Cannot do that anymore, sadly.
  9. What’s my purpose in life? Who am I meant to be? And what am I meant to do? If you’re like me, you’ve pondered those thoughts every now ‘n then over the years, especially in our younger days. With life ahead of us, we often wonder what part we’ll play in society. What career should we go into? Who will we love and marry? These thoughts carry evidence of the weighty questions from our heart regarding our basic needs, and for who we will become… as we seek to find our place in the world at large. Celebrating my childhood friend’s birthday and 50th wedding anniversary with her husband yesterday, and meeting other childhood friends I haven’t seen since my family moved away, brought to mind all the different paths we have each taken in life. Yet, the foundation set by the Christian school and church have been part of the solid foundation in God that was established for our lives. I once read of a little child’s misunderstanding of the Lord’s Prayer – “Our Father who art in heaven. I know you know my name…” Besides being cute and precious, there’s a lot of truth in those words! I find peace and reassurance knowing that our heavenly Father knows my name… knows who I am, who He’s created me to be, and what my purpose is on this journey of life. As the Lord said to an Old Testament prophets, “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:11-13) God knows what my needs are even before I ask. But He likes to hear me give voice to those needs… to express a trust in His caring hand, and in His loving wisdom. Yet, how often doesn’t it seem that, when faced with the brevity and fragility of life, in the pain and turmoil that besets our path, it’s then we’re more apt to pray from the depth of our heart and remember the greater purpose of our life – to praise, thank and glorify our Creator God and bring Jesus’ love to the world around us. As we thank and praise our God in the busyness of every-day life, we feel the blessing of a relationship with Him, and feel His presence in even the simplest things that we do. We feel a joy and peace as we follow His footsteps… His words… and as we adopt them for our path in life. There’s a comfort and a peace we find in knowing we’re listening to His voice in our heart for which direction to take… and how we can use our purpose to help others on this journey of life. Because there are as many ways to define our purpose as there are people… for we are each created unique with our own set of gifts or talents, desires or yearnings, and special ways to show love to each other. We actively seek to encourage and support others, show how much you care in words, actions, or simply with smiles and hugs. Share your humorous wit, and a hard-earned wisdom gained through experience. Value family relationships, and give back to your community from your wealth… whether financially or by simply lending a helping hand in a myriad of ways. It may not come instantly to us when we have a concern; but, given time and prayerful reflection as we delve into His Holy Word, He’ll lead us forward on the right path. He’ll show us His will, His purpose for our life and in the lives of others… though sometimes we may not see how He’s working all things together for our good until we look back and see how He’s led us every step of the way. Because, as we read in Romans 8:28, “we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” What’s my purpose? To bring glory and honor to our great God in all that I do! What’s My Purpose? Linda A. Roorda ~ What’s my purpose if not to bring praise… To honor a love that knows no bounds A grace and mercy I do not deserve From One who has blessed with joy out of woe. ~ What have I done that You would seek me For I’m not worthy of Your gracious gifts But with open arms You draw me near To offer me hope with shelter and rest. ~ The blessing of friends reflects Your heart’s depth Holding out hands as others we touch For there’s a bond that silently speaks In drawing near to humbly share love. ~ May I forgive as You forgave me All those I meet on this path of life As peace You share envelopes my soul From striving turmoil to soothing solace. ~ What’s my purpose if not to share love… A semblance of Yours bought with a price May we be blest from Your gracious hand And may our lives bring glory to You. ~~
  10. It’s hard to realize a full year has gone by since my husband passed away January 25th. It’s been a year of learning to live more independently while seeking God’s guidance, relying on wise counsel from others, a year of missing Ed’s wit and wisdom and his big hugs which left me feeling so loved and protected… yet times of missing him so much, shedding a few tears, while savoring precious memories of our 49 years together, thankful for the many blessings through the years and now… and it’s also been a year of knowing contentment and peace realizing Ed is fully restored, able to see, to walk and run without pain or dizziness, absolutely enjoying his heavenly home with our Lord. Yet, in the past, there were many times when my peace was shattered... difficult storms, painful wounds, major losses... and I was in turmoil. Like December 2019 when Ed was found to be in severe life-threatening diabetic hyperglycemic hyperosmolar syndrome, a rare complication of diabetes type II. We were both overwhelmed with the new diagnosis of type II diabetes, and a new treatment regimen on top of his multiple other health issues. We fully realize countless others have successfully dealt with this diagnosis, but the initial shock left us overwhelmed. In 2022, Ed was hospitalized twice in July, again at the end of September, in the ER several times in early December for difficulty breathing with severe congestive heart failure and pulmonary edema. Arriving home that night after spending 8-1/2 hours in the ER, I found two “thinking of you” cards in the mailbox from dear friends. What perfect timing! God knew we needed a special reminder of how he uses each of us to bring His love and care to those who need a cheerful lift. Then just two days after Christmas 2022, Ed was hospitalized for 8 days with fluid overload on chronic congestive heart failure. At cardiac catheterization, three stents were placed to open a fully blocked artery, with more near total blockages and damage throughout his heart with 9 days’ worth of atrial fibrillation. In January 2023, he was readmitted with Covid, multiple pulmonary embolisms (blood clots in his lungs), more difficulty breathing, and major weakness. But the cards mentioned above, the visit of dear friends leading to a special inspiring visit by their friend, pastor and chaplain at Robert Packer Hospital, and the many kind comments of loving care and prayers to my Facebook updates at that time, remind me of the following blog I’d penned based on words written so many centuries ago. Reading our devotions one evening several years ago, Ed quietly asked me to read Psalm 91. He wasn’t sure what it said, but he had a strong sense God was urging him to have me read this Psalm for a particular difficulty I was facing. In reading Psalm 91 aloud, I found these words by King David spoke to my heart: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust’… He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart… If you make the Most High your dwelling – even the Lord, who is my refuge – then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent… ‘Because he loves me, says the Lord, I will rescue him; I will protect him…’ He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.” (vs.1-2, 4, 9-10, 14-15. NIV) Despite tears rolling down while reading the entire Psalm that night, I felt a great sense of comfort and peace… that peace which passes all understanding despite the trial. (Philippians 4:7) None of us is immune to the trials and storms of life, or the feelings of sadness that overtake us at times. Sometimes God graciously allows a storm to pass us by without disturbing our equilibrium, other times He fully heals us in our difficult storm, while other times we have no choice but to wend our way through the storm to understand why we had to walk a difficult path… for neither are we promised a life of ease. As Jesus reminded His followers in John 16:33, “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” The one who is ill may not even look ill. They remember their busy fulfilling life of the past, replaced by a limited worth or useless feeling that permeates their days. We’ve learned it is normal to grieve life changes with sadness and frustration, even as Ed’s great sense of humor would pop through despite a difficult day to envelope us in therapeutic hearty laughter. But I will also admit to a touch of envy knowing most friends can do anything or go wherever they want, not an option for us to enjoy. It can be hard to identify with those who deal with chronic illness… facing health issues and concerns other folks don’t ever seem to encounter. And the grieving process can initially leave you devoid of the joy which James 1:2-3 speaks about as we learn to accept chronic illness. Guilt may even be felt by the chronically ill person and family when prayers for healing seem to go unanswered. To hear a casual or flippant response, to be told we’re not praying right, or to sense a lack of genuine care can be crushing. As we pray for healing, we especially ask for strength to handle each day… because healing as we want may not be God’s plan. The Apostle Paul was not healed as he desired, but learned that God’s grace was sufficient with Christ’s power and strength evident through his (Paul’s) weaknesses. (II Corinthians 12:7-10) Relying on God for wisdom and strength each day, God’s power shines through us. I will never forget another hospital chaplain who sat with me when Ed was in the ICU in 2010 for severe life-threatening grand mal (tonic-clonic) seizures. Gradually pulling out our life story, he listened and cared deeply, saying that in 30 years as a chaplain, he’d never met a family who’d dealt with so many difficult issues as we had, and I hadn’t even told him all, as he prayed with me in facing a new major stressor. Six months later, Ed was back in the ER, hearing his favorite ER physician say, “I’m so glad to see you! Not that you’re ill again, but that you survived those seizures and have no damage!” Wow! She truly cared! We appreciated the support and prayers of family and friends as we faced each new trial. Take time to hear concerns as a new norm is accepted, leaning on God as He walks beside you in the storm. Share your heartfelt hugs. Convey a depth of feeling and understanding in asking “how are you doing.” Friends and family who ask and truly listen to understand what anyone with chronic illness faces bring much comfort. Offers of help are gratefully appreciated, even if they cannot be readily accepted. While we're inside the storm, though the wind and waves batter our world, we do remember God is still there, still in control. We know we can trust Him to hold us tightly, to shelter and protect… even though we may lose everything, including life itself, as when we lost our daughter, Jennifer, and last year my husband. Yet, through the difficulty, He will make a way, perhaps close one door to open a better one, and shine His light to guide us as we move forward… one step at a time. It’s where we place our trust that peace will be revealed. And when it’s placed in our Lord’s perfect will, trusting that He has our best interests at heart even in the most difficult times, we see Him help us handle what comes our way as we grow in faith to become more like Christ, our life’s purpose. With such trust, our faith remains unshakeable, and we find a renewed peace… with a joy that passes understanding. There’s a painting I love entitled “Peace in the Midst of the Storm” by Jack E. Dawson. One story is told that a wealthy benefactor searched for the perfect painting depicting peace. The first two beautiful tranquil scenes were rejected. When the artist returned to his easel, frustrated at his work being rejected, his prayer prompted the design of a riveting scene. On a dark and stormy night, water gushes in torrents over rocky ledges…as a mother bird calmly sits upon her nest tucked under a ledge, protecting her young while the elements rage. Now that’s peace! https://jackdawsontour.com/peace-in-the-midst-of-the-storm/ Studying that painting, I also notice a profile of Christ in the rock formations and a cross created by rocky fissures. Considering how our heavenly Father gently guides and protects us during the storms of life, however fierce they may be, it’s His canopy of love and peace that shelters and comforts us. And I can be at peace when life is in turmoil knowing that “[He] will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in [Him]. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord…is the Rock eternal.” (Isaiah 26:3-4 NIV) Peace Linda A. Roorda ~ There is a peace in the depth of my soul A joy that comes from Your love alone, For in the midst of storms and trials My heart is steady when focused on You. ~ But peace is fleeting when I fail to heed When I take charge and grasp hold the wheel. I need to trust that Your ways are best When through the darkness I walk gripped by fear. ~ For as the waves relentlessly toss Your face I’ll seek for comforting solace. I know You’ll guide me safely to shore As Your light shines down to brighten my way. ~ For what is peace without Your mercy The hand held out to offer refuge, An ear to hear burdens of the heart Arms to envelope the soul in turmoil? ~ Grace beyond measure You pour over me Yet I don’t deserve riches of mercy. Prone to wander, to follow my will Still You pursue to seek and to save. ~ There is contentment just in the knowing Whenever I feel the world crashing down, You call my name and draw me with joy Out of the chaos and into Your arms. ~ And like a fresh rain washing over me now Peace like the sun envelopes my soul, It covers my life with joy unreserved Tranquility found as I rest in You. ~~
  11. Yeah, I'm with you there! Still have my 20-gal, and 10-gal (which was a birthday gift as a youngster). Used to have tropical fish in the 20-gal tank when my kids were young; love watching the fish swim around and have seriously considered setting it up again... but the I, too, remember all the work involved, and not sure I want to start up this venture again!
  12. Linda Roorda

    What If...

    This story is very close to my heart for someone I dearly loved would not have lived among us if the recommended abortion had taken place. January is Sanctity of Human Life month, and today is Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. First designated as such in 1984 by President Ronald Reagan, I think it extends to far more than the banner of the anti-abortion movement. It’s not a political issue, but one that affects our moral fiber. Sanctity of life issues reflect on each one of us because all life is sacred. With the 51st anniversary of January 1973’s Roe v. Wade abortion decision, I again share the story of a mother-to-be who already had two healthy children, a girl and a boy. This time, she was very ill with her pregnancy. Vomiting frequently, she steadily grew worse. Struggling to carry this new little life, and against her wishes, her physician sought to obtain a “medically necessary” abortion. At that time, three doctors needed to sign documentation indicating the mother’s life was in jeopardy if the pregnancy continued. However, no third physician would put his name on the line to allow such an abortion. A Cesarean section was performed at 7 months’ gestation or risk losing both mother and baby. To the surprise of all, twin boys were born! After surgery, the mom nearly died from the effects of toxemia (i.e. now called pre-eclampsia), the result of high blood pressure and the demands on her body by not one but two precious little ones. With prayer and great medical care, she pulled through; but her little boys struggled. The largest twin at 5 lbs succumbed to an enlarged heart and died at two days of life, while the smallest little boy at 3-1/2 lbs was placed in an incubator for a month. This tiny preemie survived, albeit with health problems and very limited vision in only one viable eye. How do I know? The littlest twin was my husband, Edward. His blindness was caused by the incubator's high oxygen content. But we all praise God that no third physician was willing to sign papers to permit an abortion which would have taken the lives of these precious boys. Prior to1952, major medical centers knew that high levels of oxygen in incubators led to infant retinal damage and blindness. But physicians at the tiny hospital in Goshen, NY, a small farming community, were not aware of these findings. As a toddler, Ed was taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City. There, his parents were told he was among about 2000 children seen in their clinic, one of seven children who had some remnants of remaining vision! The optic nerve to his right eye was damaged, causing total blindness, while his left eye had limited vision, 20/200 with correction. Ed got his first pair of glasses at age 2. Three years later, with a new pair of stronger lenses, he stared out the car watching the world go by. Suddenly, he shouted, “I see them!” Kids were sledding down a nearby hill; though blurry, it was something he’d never seen before. Whenever his mom told this story, it always brought tears to her eyes. That one sentence was worth every cent of his care, she’d say. As Ed grew up, he was determined to do nearly everything everyone else could do. It drove him forward. Totally blind since 1998, we considered it a blessing he had limited vision for as long as he did. The renowned musician, Stevie Wonder, has the same condition. Then called retrolental fibroplasia (RLF), it is caused by high levels of oxygen in the incubator which contributes to abnormal blood vessel growth, damaging the retina. Now termed retinopathy of prematurity (ROP), it still affects a small percentage of premature infants. Did you know that at about 22 days, the pre-born infant’s heart begins beating. By 12 weeks, she is about 2 inches long, fully formed and recognizably human, able to feel pain. By 14-16 weeks, fully formed, fingers and toes have fingerprints and nail; he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, sucks a thumb, and sleeps regularly. At full-term, 39 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. Even Ed's retired dermatologist, a devout Catholic, always wore the tiny "Precious Feet" pin on her lapel as a testament to her beliefs, pleased we knew what it meant. Look up the pin name online for a physician's story behind this pin. Since Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973 allowing for legal abortions in America, the numbers have been staggering with more than 63 million abortions. It must also be taken into account that some data is voluntarily reported while other American states have not provided details in a number of years, and I read there are many uncounted abortions. Yet with legal abortions available, the number of deaths from illegal abortions has declined. For anyone who has aborted their baby for whatever reason, I pray she finds peace in the loving arms of God’s forgiveness. But my prayer also is that each precious little life be allowed to reach his or her full potential and life purpose, regardless of disabilities. The current discussions of “quality of life” and euthanasia go beyond a personal decision, with government or insurance companies’ input supposedly for the “good of society.” There are many difficult questions on both sides of the aisle. But I’ve long pondered, if we care so much for those in the animal world, and carefully protect and preserve many other species from decimation, how much more precious is each and every human life – especially since we are made in the image of God? How can we destroy human life through abortion, i.e. murder in utero, simply because the pregnancy doesn’t fit our plans or the pre-born baby is “defective”? Do we expect abortion because some pre-born infants are imperfect, and will become a supposed burden to society? Do we justify abortion because some parents are unprepared to care for their children, abuse them, or kill them? Even in our imperfect society, there is a viable alternative – adoption. However, with more stringent laws passed to prevent human trafficking, adoption has become an increasingly difficult option. Anyone who has miscarried an unborn child understands the pain of loss. I miscarried our first little girl, Heather, at six months, with autopsy showing twins who did not separate properly, followed by a second miscarriage a year later. My cousin, Randy, intellectually challenged, grew up a kind and loving young man thanks to the love of his widowed mother. Despite his disabilities, he knew everything there was to know about his baseball team and the players! My step-sister’s son, Cory, was born with DeGeorge syndrome due to a missing part of chromosome 22. Also having apraxia (an inability to perform certain purposeful actions due to brain damage) and diabetes, he developed cirrhosis a year before passing away Easter Sunday 2015. Like many with disabilities, Cory had an infectious joy for life and an unconditional love for everyone he came in contact with, thanks to his mother, Janet. Life is sacred, and each pre-born child is a unique gift from God just waiting for us to open our arms and heart to this new little life. As David wrote in Psalm 139:13-16: “…you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” What If… by Linda A. Roorda What if… There was no God? Would we know how to love Or, would hate rule our lives? Would we each decide What rules to live by Changing like the wind As our wants wrest control? ~ Would we violate The sanctity of life Simply because Life would not matter Except for the worth We each determine How best we can serve Our selfish ambition? ~ And yet, what if… Each life among us Was somehow meant To open the eyes Of our heart and soul To a higher purpose To show the value Inherent within No matter the wrapping? ~ And what if… We move toward each other And then extend Our outstretched hands? Would that not show Great caring and love From within the depths Of a heart overflowing? ~ For is that not like The hands of One Extended outward Nailed upon a beam To show us how We too should love And sacrifice self Our gift to each other? ~ Because… what if… There is a God Who really cares And Who truly loves Each for who we are For His life was a gift That we would know Just how we should love? ~~ Linda writes from her home in Spencer.
  13. I saw the sun shining bright for a while yesterday as it peeked from behind those clouds! That prompted me to take a brisk walk with the wind at my back helping my pace… the same wind and sun in my face on the way home, making me lean into the wind to keep my balance a few times. How well I remember taking walks with Ed on days like that where he’d hold tightly onto my arm to keep me from blowing away, as he put it! He kept me from getting blown to and fro by those changing brisk winds… something our Lord does for us when we hold onto His hand, allowing Him to lead and guide us thru stormy days. Which prompted this previously unpublished blog for today. May you know the Lord’s guiding hand every day on your journey thru life. Sometimes we feel like we have to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, and we fret and worry about everything! I know… because that description fits me at times. It’s one of my struggles – learning to release my cares to the One who knows and allows what it is I face each and every day. He can handle all that comes my way… if I would just let Him… and He can lift me up from all the mistakes I manage to make. But I’m going to admit it’s not easy to “let go and let God” as the popular saying goes. Sometimes it seems that if I do the worrying, then somehow that will help make the situation better. Nah! Don’t count on it! Actually, it seems like it often tends to make the situation worse as I become confused and lost in the tangled web of thoughts. So, you’d think I’d have learned to always release my burdened heart and let God take over while I move forward in peace. After all, God is right there, ready to listen, ready to carry me, and ready to deal with whatever is stressing me out. He can fix it all… without my help! And He has done just that… blessing me richly in so many ways, so many times… drawing me closer to His side, filling me with a calm and quiet peace. Yet, somehow it seems to be a lesson that I must learn and relearn. All of which reminds me of Matthew 6:25-33 (NIV), part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. These verses have often come to mind over the years. “Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear… Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? …But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” And as I heed these precious words from our Lord himself, reaching out to Him in prayer, He’ll guide me each step of the way… just as He’ll guide you through whatever you might face on this journey of life! His Guiding Hand Linda A. Roorda Lord, I give You my all As I relinquish That which my heart Has always held tight. You know that I struggle Thinking I can control All of life’s burdens Which tumble my way. You hear desperate pleas As I try to wait, While Your very best answers Conform my will to Yours. At times I struggle Alone with my thoughts In a mind doing battle Within my seeking soul. Where is my God, my protective Shield? How can life be so raw? Why does pain and confusion Keep knocking upon the door? And yet… He is always here! In a whisper soft … or a vision serene Enveloping my heart With His perfect love and grace. For He directs me on the stony path And plants my feet securely Upon a foundation solid and firm Guiding each step along the way. As rough this road at times can be, He gently carries me safely home, When oft in prayer I turn to seek His loving, guiding, and merciful hand. ~~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
  14. Saturday morning while doing some garden cleanup, admiring the beauty of the autumn leaf carpet, I listened to the quiet… broken only by low-lying geese honking their conversation, and several birds trilling their beautiful summer songs. It was so calm and peaceful, without busy road commotion… the call of nature, God’s creation. “Be still and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46:10a) Quiet your heart… slow down your pace… put aside your frets and worries… and listen as God speaks to your heart… thoughts to remind myself… as I listen to hear His voice. Perhaps you’ve heard about comparisons regarding which voice we pay closer attention to… that which we feed… that which brings comfort or worry, encouragement or discouragement, a calming stillness or urgent rushing, the voice of reassurance or fright. You get the idea. With maturity, we know the value of discerning which voice we should listen to in any given difficult situation. While the stronger voice often brings turmoil within our heart, there is another voice which calms and quiets our soul with peace. One of my favorite life verses has been, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) Yet, admittedly, I fall short and tend to fret. For isn’t it so like us to be drawn away into a false sense of security by thinking something isn’t as bad as it really is? And I can be so easily overwhelmed by fretting on the day’s trials, or projecting trouble into something that hasn’t even happened yet! Sometimes it takes moving away from the hustle and bustle of the world to hear God’s wisdom quietly speak to our heart. Once warm weather arrives, I enjoy the peace and tranquility of my two sitting gardens. I love to listen to the gentle sounds of nature all around. And though what surrounds me was once my husband’s family farm but is now a golf course, the tranquility is refreshing to the soul, especially on those days when I can hear the gentle gurgling of the creek. In the relative quiet and solitude, I sit and pray… remembering those in need, or rejoicing with those who’ve been blessed in some special way. I thank the Lord for my own many blessings, too often taken for granted, especially my late husband and family. And express to Him my needs and concerns. I thank Him as I listen to the birds sing and chatter, as I watch them building nests and later feeding their young. I observe and appreciate new blooms as the gardens change day by day. I watch the creek as it serenely flows west and south. And my stress is put into perspective. For God is a God of peace, not of contradiction and worry. In John 16:33, Jesus told His disciples the night before He was arrested that “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Our Lord brings comfort and contentment to our soul amidst the din and confusion of the world. And when we come to Him in confession, He washes us clean by His loving mercy and grace. As our advocate then, our Lord gently reminds us how much He loves and cares for us... as He covers us with “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, [which] will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:7-9) May I be still and know that You are God... as You quiet my soul… You Quiet My Soul Linda A. Roorda You quiet my soul while the world rushes on I lean on Your word when all around fails A strength You give in response to my pleas To calm and still my heart in chaos. When voices condemn in the silence of night My heart shrinks down in bitter defeat Though awash in fear Your solace I seek For comfort You bring when worries stir fears. Peace within turmoil You alone bestow With blessings poured out from Your generous heart For Your word directs when I seek Your throne As mercy and grace with love set me free. Your arms wrap tightly to embrace my life Encouragement’s light on a pathway dim To lead me on and gently reassure You’ll never leave... You’ll never forsake. So quiet my soul while the world rushes on Bless me with joy when Your face I seek That love may gently contentment’s praise sing As you calm and still my heart with Your peace. ~~
  15. Are we contented yet? It’s just an accumulation of trinkets and stuff, an assemblage that needs to be fed every so often. I should know, because I have my own collections from the past. But, in the long run, none of it will go with us when life’s earthly journey comes to an end. We should be content with what we have and who we are… not seeking to satisfy our appetite with more of everything life has to offer. Be at peace, rest in who we are meant to be… don’t compare or judge ourselves to others. In contemplating that accumulation, I’m reminded of a song by the rock group U2 from their Joshua Tree album – “But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…” A fitting comment to an endless search for just the right thing. Theodore Roosevelt was even noted to say, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” How truthful and fitting both sentiments are for all of us at times! So, what is contentment? How do we find it? And when is enough… enough? The dictionary on my desk tells me contentment is where the heart is at… perhaps rested and satisfied, at peace, with a quiet and calm joy. Contentment is an attitude of the heart… being thankful and grateful for what we do have, serving others out of a joyful appreciation. Because, believe me, contentment is not found in eyeing what someone else has… of being jealous or envious of what’s on their plate… as if we didn’t have enough to take care of on our own. In Philippians 4:11, the Apostle Paul wrote “…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” Hmm… so how could he say that with all the many difficulties, beatings, persecutions, opposition to his preaching, false accusations, weariness, hunger, imprisonments and more that he faced? There’s an old hymn I’ve loved since childhood, coming to treasure the words even more after our daughter, Jennifer, died. Horatio G. Spafford wrote a poem put to music after he and his wife lost their 2-year-old son, their property in the 1871 Great Chicago fire, suffered further economic losses in 1873, and then lost their remaining four daughters at sea - “When peace like a river, attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul…” …well-known words of comfort. Having three more children, losing a second son at age 4 in 1880, he resettled in Jerusalem with his wife and two daughters. There, he founded the American Colony, a Christian group providing humanitarian relief to the disadvantaged of any faith. He’d learned the secret to contentment. The Apostle Paul, writing to a dear young friend, stated in I Timothy 6:6-7: “But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.” Don’t get me wrong… it’s not about denying ourselves the ability to succeed in our careers or home life and to have nice things. Instead, it’s all about the depth of our heart, our faith, our attitude… the intangibles… the spiritual treasures. Life really isn’t about gathering as much stuff as we can hoard for ourselves. Life was never meant to be like that old saying attributed to Malcolm Forbes, “He who dies with the most toys wins.” It’s not about God ensuring that we have a wealthy and happy life. It’s not His plan to make us “rich and famous” in a life of ease without pain. Instead, contentment is a learning process… learning to be who God intends us to be… learning to be gracious and loving when our life is full of pain, disappointments, illness and setbacks. And, in learning to give thanks and appreciate what we do have, we find ourselves gladly serving others around us with a heart of joy and peace… as contentment flows from our soul. Contentment Flows Linda A. Roorda Contentment flows from the soul at peace Not easily grasped though deeply pondered How quick am I to follow my will While yielding to trust finds Your truth with grace… ~ Grace to understand blessings of mercy In wending my way through waves of turmoil Seeking shelter from storms that threaten As Your calming spirit brings showers of peace… ~ Peace that envelopes my very being From the depth of stress that oft overwhelms Which tugs and strains the restful repose To humility meek with a heart of joy… ~ Joy that shines bright in the face of woe Amidst the sadness of sorrow’s dark tears As rays of hope through shutters burst forth To flood my soul with serenity’s rest… ~ Serenity’s rest within the world’s din Marks peace of mind when focused on You Grant me, I pray, a heart full of love One filled with thanks as contentment flows… ~~
  16. With school either having started for some, or about to start for others, I pondered the realization that there’s so much I thought I knew when younger, but really didn’t… for education isn’t only that which is gained in a classroom. Over the years, I’ve learned I can’t turn the clock back to undo or redo what’s been done. Life doesn’t have a rewind button for our editing... so we inevitably move forward in a relentless flow of time. And in that flow, learning becomes an emotional and spiritual educational process as disappointments and suffering soften our hearts amidst the joys. This is how we mature and become wiser. In the process, we learn that we may not get that second chance. Make amends now… apologize, forgive and move forward. Love one another… and let the other know it. I have searched for and regained friends from years ago… friends I’d lost when moving away, friends lost when my childish words took their toll, and to whom I’ve given heart-felt apologies. I cannot undo, but I can atone for and correct my wrongs. Walk away from sin… don’t let it overtake you with its tempting appeal. The great Ten Commandments really do have something to say to us today. Stop blaming someone else. Don’t condone or excuse the habit of lying, concealing your wrongs to protect yourself. Even if no one else is the wiser, God knows. Own it, confess it, and make amends. Others do take notice of what we do… do it well, for a good name is much to be treasured. Love, listen, take advice gladly, and learn… you won’t go wrong. “Be very careful, then, how you live… making the most of every opportunity…” (Ephesians 4:15-16) As we look back, we often wish we knew then what we know now. Wouldn’t such knowledge have saved us a whole basket of trouble?! But, did we hear, did we listen, did we truly heed the advice given as we grew up? I’m afraid I didn’t always do so. I thought I “knew it all” in my teens. It took time as life traversed a variety of circumstances unique to my needs to gain understanding and knowledge with wisdom from God. And from the realization of my own errant ways and words, I apologized and made amends… because the Lord has done so much more for me. For the loving Father that He is, God took the time to teach me all through the years. Because I was often not listening to wiser words in my youth, I now treasure the wisdom of others as I sit at their feet to learn, and recall fragmented words of wisdom expressed years ago. Blessed with Godly wisdom, Solomon wrote in Proverbs 2:1-6: “My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God. For the Lord gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.” And vs. 9 adds, “Then you will understand what is right and just and fair – every good path.” Oh, how true! If only… that age-old phrase we all quote... if only I knew then what I know now. So, let me take what the Lord has taught me through the difficult struggles to reach a satisfied contentment… through tears of deep sorrow to tears of great joy with laughter’s healing touch. And may we use the blessings He’s bestowed upon our hearts to reach out in love with something we’ve learned… Something I’ve Learned Linda A. Roorda ~ Something I’ve learned since I was young… If I knew then what I do know now I’d have been spared life’s toughest lessons. But, then again, how else would I learn? ~ Something I’ve learned came slowly with time… For I wanted life to move fast forward And in wanting more, I just needed less As contentment dwells in life’s simplest gifts. ~ Something I’ve learned by looking backward… That in facing life I thought I knew all, But looking forward from slow motion days Impatience revealed an unsettled heart. ~ Something I’ve learned wishing I’d discerned… By heeding then the sage’s wisdom Who’d lived and seen what I could not fathom For experience marks the role of teacher. ~ Something I’ve learned is not easy to say… That which I rue when youth went its way As lessons learned brought maturity’s wealth With understanding through wisdom’s trained eye. ~ Something I’ve learned by climbing the hill… Conquering hurdles that hindered my path, For stones that seemed like unmoving boulders, Were mere stumbling blocks to peace found in You. ~ Something I’ve learned I treasure now more… My faith in You, Lord, once taken for granted Its value gained from bumps in the road Which led me to where I stand on Your Word. ~ Something I’ve learned we all have to face… Sorrow and loss have taught to accept That which was healed as my heart grew wise For only from pain can compassion speak. ~ Something I’ve learned about all my stuff… I can’t take it there on the day that I leave Much better by far to share with you now Showing my love in tangible ways. ~ Something I’ve learned that when the door shuts… Reasons there are for not looking back. Express regret for what’s done is done Then welcome the door He flings open wide. ~ Something I’ve learned with You at my side… To share the bounty of blessings divine To gently speak with a tender voice And to hear with love from a generous heart.
  17. My sugar maple has a small section near the top that I just noticed today has begun to turn ever so slightly... summer went by all too fast!
  18. I love a good painting, especially a realistic portrayal. Actually, once upon a time, I painted landscapes, getting so lost in the effort of creating art that I’d easily forget the passage of time and that I needed to eat. Sadly, I haven’t picked up my brush and oils in several decades… though I used pen and ink to illustrate a few stories I’d written for my grandchildren several years back. In all honesty, I’m not a big fan of abstract art, though I can appreciate various works of modern art among the different genres. Yet, each one of us views a painting, sculpture, or even a photo differently… because we “see” through our own heart, our own emotions, our own life experiences. That which may stir my thoughts and emotions with a depth of appreciation may do nothing for you at all. But that’s what art is meant to do – to stir our thoughts and emotions, perhaps leading us to recall another time and another place. A great work of art can transport us in thoughtful reverie as we ponder the meaning of the vision before us… taking us back in time to what once was… or stirring our imagination to envision something only a dream may hold. The artist’s work might convey a concept, an idea, a novelty… that which sparks our interest to understand better what the artist is trying to say or trying to elicit through our individuality. Art should challenge us to think in a way we might not do otherwise. Art can tear at our heartstrings and bring us to tears. It can incite anger at an injustice. It can elicit great joy within our soul. It can combine a dichotomy of powerful conflicting emotions. It can portray evil overcome by good. It can soothe the weary and distressed. And, it can even reflect a tremendous calming peace, a peace within the storms of life. A good painting can be likened to the beauty we see in the people and world around us. Each of us portrays an individual beauty, a uniqueness created by the Master Artist. We’re one of a kind, not a duplicate. Even the world of nature exudes a seemingly immovable, yet ever-changing panorama which the Master Artist blessed us with. For after He created each aspect of the world, our great God “saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1) And in our appreciation of nature, even the simplest perspectives excite emotions within us… as we observe brilliant sunshine lending both a glow and a shadow to life… the menacing darkness of gathering storm clouds… a brilliant colorful rainbow during or after the rain as the first rays of sun return… the fanning out of the sun’s brilliant rays from behind a cloud like fingers of God… the awesome display of stars and moon in sparkling lights upon a black velvet tapestry… the calm and peace of gentle waves versus the roiling waters which batter a shore… the awe of majestic mountain grandeur to the simplest flat or rolling land with grass gently waving in the slightest of breezes… and the colorful changing of the seasons of time… as these vistas and more elicit thoughts and emotions within our hearts and minds. Though the world and people around us are seen individually, through our unique emotions, we each see all as through the artist’s eye… The Artist’s Eye Linda A. Roorda In the artist’s eye is beauty beheld Within each scene perfection arrayed A haunting image that speaks to the heart A story told in visual display. ~ Facing blank canvas, brush poised in mid air A picture forms in the artist’s eye As ever gently stroke upon stroke The scene unfolds, its beauty to share. ~ From lighting bright to shadows dark Lingering mirage or perspective clear Sentiments stir as we gaze upon The artist’s work from within the heart. ~ They say a picture is worth more than words And there are times words uttered alone Cannot convey the depth of feeling Where spoken voice the ambience missed. ~ For within our soul perception awaits The depths of which we don’t often plumb That we might enjoy designs unique By an Artist greater than humanity’s touch. ~ So we gaze upon the scene presented As emotions stir like brush on canvas For out of feelings tempered by life Colors are worked with passion displayed. ~ Thus what the artist has framed for our gaze Reaching into the depth of our soul As image pondered gives rise to emotions Its secrets exposed through the eye of our heart. ~~
  19. August 29, 1779, 244 years ago, a battle near present-day Elmira in Chemung County, New York was significant to the Revolutionary War. It played a crucial, though seldom discussed, key role. It was not a bloody battle, but it was instrumental in breaking up the power of the Six Nation Iroquois Federation, thus allowing westward frontier expansion for colonials. For centuries the Iroquois Nation included the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca tribes. In the early 18th century, the Tuscarora joined their ranks by heading north from what is now North Carolina. As the Revolutionary War commenced, the Iroquois Federation tried to stay neutral. In time, however, most of the Iroquois gave their loyalty to Great Britain while the Oneida and Tuscarora tribes chose to align themselves with the colonists who were seeking independence from the British Crown. Under Thayendanegea (commonly known as Joseph Brant), the Native Americans (referred to by the Colonists as Indians) joined forces with Loyalists and attacked western frontier settlements just as they did those further east in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys. They carried away prisoners, ruthlessly murdered and scalped adults as well as children, and burned and destroyed the crops and homes of Patriots in both outlying and established settlements. And a cycle of retaliation ensued. I am not here to open a discussion or pass judgment on the negatives and positives of the why, wherefore, and how regarding what was or was not done 200 to 400 years ago in our nation’s history by either the Native Americans or the white European settlers. May I say, however, that conflict and conquering of other lands and peoples has been taking place since world history began. Their times are not ours. The Chemung River valley basin and its surrounding hills near present-day Elmira were home to Indians for centuries, but by the 18th century the Iroquois were in consistent residence. Here they had ample room to grow crops along the fertile river bottoms. Easy access to virgin forests filled with wildlife supplied them with meat and valuable pelts as they hunted and trapped. The rivers and streams provided them not only with an ideal means of transportation, but an abundance of fish. A healthy way of life for sure! Atop a steep hill which overlooks the Chemung River and the Southern Tier Expressway (formerly State Route 17, now Interstate 86) is the Newtown Battlefield Reservation State Park, once part of the Iroquois’ territory. The 100th anniversary of the Battle of Newtown was celebrated August 29, 1879 with the dedication of a monument on top of Sullivan Hill. The area was designated a national historic landmark in 1965, with battle re-enactments held annually in the park. I’ve wanted to observe the re-enactments to learn more about the battle, but have never managed to make my way there. So, come along with me and we’ll learn together what took place all those years ago. To understand what took place, though, is to know the precipitating chain of events which led to the small but important battle at Newtown. In the early days of the Revolutionary War, both the British and the Colonists attempted to gain the loyalty of the Native Americans as noted above. The ultimate decisions caused division among the great Iroquois Federation when the tribes split their loyalties. The famed Iroquois’ leader, Joseph Brant, worked closely with the British stationed at Fort Niagara. He frequently took to the warpath against the white settlers on the western frontier, as well as back east in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys. But the question begs to be asked, why? Along with the vital convergence of the Hudson and Mohawk rivers, the greater Albany region was of key importance in the Revolutionary War to both sides. Schoharie County, part of western Albany County prior to 1795, has historically been considered “The Breadbasket of the Revolution.” With its fertile lands, the area produced an abundance of crops which kept Washington’s armies fed. Thus, the area’s assets, the rivers for transportation and the productive land, became a root of contention among the Loyalists and Tories, or supporters of the Crown. Their loyalties festered and erupted into violence and destruction against their neighbors and kin, the supporters of independence. In the early stages of war, the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army, General George Washington, preferred that these vulnerable settlements use their own local militia to guard and protect against attack. And repeated attacking was the game plan of marauding bands of Indian-Loyalist troops. Often, “forts” of refuge for Patriots were established to escape these bands of Indians and Tories. Among such forts is the old Dutch Reformed Church, now called the Old Stone Fort, home to the Schoharie County Historical Society in the town of Schoharie, New York which I have visited several times to research my maternal family. Its stone walls still exhibit a hole from the direct hit of a cannonball. In May 1778, Joseph Brant set out on raids in Cobleskill (near my mother’s home town of Carlisle) and the neighboring frontier settlements. Soon after, on July 3, 1778, Col. John Butler and his Loyalist Rangers joined Chief Sayenqueraghta’s Seneca and Cayuga Indians in an attack of Pennsylvania’s Wyoming Valley. Settlers from Connecticut had established homes and farms along the Susquehanna River in this fertile valley, an area which also produced an abundance of grain for the Continental armies. Here, at Forty Fort (a few miles north of the fort at Wilkes-Barre, but on the opposite side of the Susquehanna River), about 360 local Patriot militiamen were killed with over 200 scalped in the Wyoming Massacre. That September, Patriot soldiers under Col. Thomas Hartley took their wrath out on the Seneca, Delaware and Mingo Indians by burning and destroying nearly a dozen towns on the Susquehanna, including Tioga (now Athens, PA) and Chemung (NY). At the same time, Butler’s Rangers destroyed Patriot houses and crops on the German Flats up north in the Mohawk Valley. This brought the Patriot militia back out to attack and destroy the Indian settlements at Unadilla and Onaquaga (now Windsor) along the Susquehanna River in New York. To read William E. Roscoe’s “History of Schoharie County, New York” and other related books about the killing and destruction throughout the region is to gain a better understanding of the larger picture. Indians were known among settlers, including my ancestors; some were liked, others were feared. The war cast a pall of deadly fear among residents of the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys - one’s loyalties were usually known, whether for the Crown or Independence, and often one’s life depended upon that knowledge. Neighbor was pitted against neighbor, even against one’s own blood relatives. My various direct ancestral families were Patriots with one Loyalist, while some extended relatives were killed or taken captive by the Indian-Loyalist bands. I have also dined with friends (Cheryl being a distant maternal cousin) at the George Mann Tory Tavern north of the town of Schoharie, beautifully restored to its colonial elegance, Mann having been a well-known supporter of the Crown during the War. In November 1778, Butler’s Rangers, 320 Iroquois under Chief Cornplanter, and 30 Indians under Joseph Brant attacked Cherry Valley, northeast of Oneonta in Otsego County and northwest of Cobleskill in Schoharie County. Encompassing the fort to ensure soldiers could not escape, the Indians began their massacre. They killed and scalped 30 or 32 residents (numbers vary in reports, mostly women and children) and 16 soldiers. An additional 70 to 80 adults and children (again, numbers vary in reports) were taken captive into Indian territory after the homes and crops had been completely destroyed. More retributions followed from both sides with further loss of life, but the Cherry Valley Massacre was a devastating blow. Something had to be done to stop this slaughter of innocents. (Cherry Valley lies south of the Mohawk River and east of the northern end of Lake Otsego. Unadilla is southwest, near where the Unadilla River joins the Susquehanna. Onaquaga lies a short way further southwest on the Susquehanna.) Gen. Washington was now convinced of the need for an offensive campaign against the British, Loyalists and Indians who held Forts Niagara and Oswego. Settling on Maj. Gen. John Sullivan as commanding officer, Washington wrote Sullivan on May 31, 1779: “The Expedition you are appointed to command is to be directed against the hostile tribes of the Six Nations of the Indians, with their associates and adherents. The immediate objects are the total destruction and devastation of their settlements, and the capture of as many prisoners…as possible. It will be essential to ruin their crops now in the ground and prevent their planting more… You will not by any means listen to any overture of peace before the total ruinment of their settlements is effected. Our future security will be in their inability to injure us…” Essentially, a “scorched earth” policy was to be executed. Thus, in August 1779, Washington sent Major General John Sullivan and his troops up the Susquehanna River from Easton, PA while Brigadier General James Clinton and his army traveled southwest from Canajoharie in New York’s Mohawk Valley down to Otsego Lake and to the Susquehanna River flowing west. Known as the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign (or, Expedition), Washington’s goal was to destroy Indian ties to the British by decimating the Indian towns and supplies of corn, vegetables and fruit at their source. It was this produce which not only kept the Indians well fed, but also the British army. Sullivan and Clinton were ordered to then continue northward with their armies to capture the British forts at Oswego and Niagara in order to disrupt their military hold on the region. On August 22, 1779, Sullivan and Clinton met at Tioga Point along the Susquehanna River (present-day Athens, PA). With combined troops numbering at least 2300 to under 4000 (accounts I’ve read vary as to numbers), they traveled northwest along the Chemung River. On Sunday, August 29, advance scouts found hidden horseshoe-shaped breastworks/earthworks about half a mile long. Roughly 150 feet up the southeast slope of a mile-long hill (now called Sullivan Hill), these earthworks were within shooting range of the road and near the Iroquois village of New Town. From this vantage point, those approaching the hill could be observed or ambushed before reaching the Cayuga Indian towns of Nanticoke and Kanawaholla where Elmira was later established. Newtown Battlefield military placements discussed here. At that time, the slope was densely covered in virgin forest. At its base and to the east was a marsh, Hoffman Hollow, thickly covered with grass and trees. Baldwin Creek ran through this marsh and emptied into the Chemung River (called the Cayuga Branch by Sullivan in his reports). My online search of Google maps shows what is likely Baldwin Creek to be, surprisingly and confusingly, labeled the Chemung River as it flows under I-86 and empties into the main Chemung River. What was then called Baldwin Creek runs near to and west of Lowman Road within the area still labeled Hoffman Hollow. Manning the breastworks were 15 British troops, 250 Loyalist Rangers, and about 1000 Indian warriors. The initial intent of Loyalist Major John Butler and the Iroquois chief, Joseph Brant, was to harass the Continental troops. Sayenqueraghta and other Indian chiefs rejected that proposal, favoring instead attempts at luring the Continentals into a full ambush. One of the forward scouts for the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign, Lt. Col. Adam Hubley, recorded the discovery of these breastworks that morning. “On our arrival near the ridge on which the action of the 13th commenced with light corps, our van discovered several Indians in front, one of whom gave them fire, and then fled. We continued…[and] the rifle corps entered a low marshy ground which seemed well calculated for forming ambuscades; they advanced with great precaution, when several more Indians were discovered who fired and retreated. Major Parr… judged it rather dangerous to proceed any further without taking every caution to reconnoiter almost every foot of ground, and ordered one of his men to mount a tree and see if he could make any discoveries; … [and] he discovered the movements of several Indians… as they were laying behind an extensive breastwork. “ Learning of the breastworks’ locations through Lt. Col. Hubley’s findings, the Continental commanders knew there was an attempt in the offing to lure them into an ambush. Moving cautiously forward into position, an initial attack on the breastworks came late that morning when Brig. Gen. Edward Hand put his infantry on the far side of Baldwin Creek. From that position, they could easily fire into the enemy’s defense works. In early afternoon, Gen. Sullivan met with commanders under him to plan their next move. Essentially, Sullivan’s men were to attack the fortified works of the enemy from the south and east with artillery and troops, while the men under Gen. Clinton were to attack the fortifications from the northeast. The 1st New Jersey Regiment under Col. Matthias Ogden, detached from Brig. Gen. William Maxwell’s New Jersey Brigade, slipped south and west along the Chemung River to come around to the right and rear of the Loyalist-Indian forces. The New York Brigade under Brig. Gen. James Clinton and New Hampshire’s Brigade under Brig. Gen. Enoch Poor marched northwest through Hoffman Hollow toward the hill’s eastern slope where they turned to flank the British left. At the same time, Sullivan’s Pennsylvania and New Jersey brigades stayed behind with the remaining light infantry companies. Brig. Gen. William Maxwell’s 1st Brigade was to take aim at the center or face of the British breastworks. Ten guns from the light infantry were placed near the road, ready to open fire on the defense positions and the land in between. Once these guns began firing, Gen. Hand was to fake an attack on the center of the horseshoe breastworks while the brigades from the east were to turn inward, take the summit of the hill, and then turn to attack the left and rear section of the breastworks. All together, with Maxwell’s artillery support, the goal of their three-pronged attack was to surround the defenseworks on the hill in a complete crossfire. It was a detailed plan which was put together quickly, but one in which the troops readily proved their mettle. The brief battle resulted in a significant defeat for the British Loyalists and Iroquois; however, it could have been much worse for them had it not been for unavoidable delays by the Sullivan-Clinton armies. In maneuvering through the swampy ground of Hoffman Hollow, Poor’s and Clinton’s troops got bogged down. This put the timing of the plan off, and caused enough of a delay that the Loyalist-Iroquois men escaped full encirclement and thus slipped the noose of an utter and complete defeat. In the meantime, Lt. Col. George Reid’s 2nd New Hampshire Regiment was to position itself to the left of Poor’s troops. Unfortunately, with Reid’s men climbing the steepest part of the slope, they lagged behind the rest of the troops. Joseph Brant took advantage of this opportunity to lead a counterattack with fellow Indians, almost completely encircling Reid. Seeing this, the next regiment in line, the 3rd New Hampshire Regiment under Lt. Col. Henry Dearborn, turned around abruptly to fire into the enemy who were positioned downhill. Clinton and his brigade, climbing up the hill from below and off to the right of Poor, saw these events unfold and sent his 3rd and 5th New York Regiments to Reid’s aid, further thwarting Brant’s attack. [Above military placements discussed here.] See also: JOURNALS OF THE MILITARY EXPEDITION OF MAJOR GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN AGAINST THE SIX NATIONS OF INDIANS IN 1779 WITH RECORDS OF CENTENNIAL CELEBRATIONS. For a few hours, the peaceful valley and hills echoed with the blasting of cannons (ranging in size up to six-inch field howitzers), the resounding shots of a few thousand muskets, and the strong acrid smell of gun powder with its residual smoky haze. The sounds of gunfire combined with the hair-raising battle cries of Indian warriors must have reached a deafening pitch at its peak. Naturally, there were losses and injuries on both sides. But, with the realization that they were overpowered, Loyalist Major John Butler, Capt. Walter Butler, and the Iroquois chief Joseph Brant wisely cut their losses and withdrew. With their troops, they retreated towards Newtown and crossed the river with the Continentals in pursuit, but without additional losses on either side. After the battle, the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign continued on their way north through the finger lakes region, burning and destroying at least 40 Indian villages, reportedly destroying 160,000 bushels of corn and a significant quantity of vegetables and fruit which the Indians had set aside for winter. By the end of September, the armies were returning to Morristown, New Jersey for the winter. From Gen. Sullivan’s journal notes: “Teaogo [Tioga], Sept, 30, 1779. SIR:—In mine of the 30th ultimo to His Excellency George Washington, and by him transmitted to Congress, I gave an account of the victory obtained by this army over the enemy at Newtown, on the 29th August. I now do myself the honor to inform Congress of the progress of this army... The time taking up in destroying the corn, in the neighborhood of Newtown, employing the army near two days… I sent back all my heavy artillery on the night of the 30th, retaining only four brass three pounders, and a small howitzer; loaded the necessary ammunition on horseback, and marched early on the 31st for Catherine's Town. On our way we destroyed a small settlement of eight houses, and town called Konowhola, of about twenty houses, situated on a peninsula at the conflux of the Teaogo and Cayuga branches. We also destroyed several fields of corn. From this point Colonel Dayton was detached with his regiment and the rifle corps up the Teaogo about six miles, who destroyed several large fields of corn. The army resumed their march, and encamped within thirteen miles and a half of Catherine's Town, where we arrived the next day, although we had a road to open for the artillery, through a swamp nine miles in extent, and almost impervious. We arrived near Catherine's Town in the night, and moved on, in hopes to surprise it, but found it forsaken. On the next morning an old woman belonging to the Cayuga nation was found in the woods. She informed me that on the night after the battle of Newtown, the enemy, having fled the whole night, arrived there in great confusion early the next day; that she heard the warriors tell their women they were conquered and must fly; that they had a great many killed and vast numbers wounded…” The Iroquois, who had supported the British by attacking settlements, killing and taking captives, and feeding the British military, were now forced further west to Niagara and northwest into Canada. Under protection of the British forts, but without their winter food supply, many died from starvation, disease and the winter’s cold. Yet, even John Butler, in correspondence that previous May, had referred to the fact that the Indians were not doing well, lacking in production of their own food supplies. Although successful at Newtown, the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign has often been referred to as a “well-executed failure.” Congress congratulated them for what they had accomplished, but they were essentially not looked upon in a favorable light for their failure to take the British forts on Lake Ontario. True, their armies destroyed the Indians settlements and crops throughout the finger lakes region, but Major General Sullivan stopped short of completing General Washington’s orders. They had been ordered, and expected, to continue north to Lake Ontario and capture the British forts at Oswego and Niagara. However, knowing their field artillery was limited to lighter guns, Sullivan and Clinton returned instead to headquarters in Morristown, New Jersey by the end of September. In fairness to Sullivan, he realized he was not equipped with big enough artillery to take on the well-defended British forts; he and his troops would likely have been annihilated. Also, in worsening health, Sullivan resigned command in November 1779 and returned to his home in New Hampshire. With Sullivan not completing the balance of his campaign orders, Joseph Brant and his Indians returned to rejoin forces with the Loyalists in 1780. Once again, they viciously attacked western settlements and the established communities back in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valley regions. These raids and massacres touched my ancestral families in that part of New York. At Beaverdam (now Berne) near the Switzkill River on September 1, 1781, a British soldier led Loyalists and Indians in an attack on the Johannes Dietz family. Johannes’ son, Capt. William Dietz, commanded the local Patriot militia, and was, therefore, a target of the Loyalists who engaged the Indians to make Dietz an example and put fear into the hearts of all other Patriot settlers. After capture, William Dietz was forced to watch his elderly parents, wife, four young children and Scottish maid be killed and scalped. Two young brothers who happened to be visiting from another family were also taken captive. At Fort Niagara, Dietz died of a broken heart not long after arrival as witnessed by another captive from Schoharie County. Capt. Dietz’s father, Johannes, was an older brother of my ancestor, John Hendrich/John Henry Dietz (referenced in my Independence Day article at my blog, Homespun Ancestors. (see also “Old Hellebergh,” by Arthur B. Gregg, The Altamont Enterprise Publishers, Altamont, N.Y., 1936, p. 24; signed by Gregg, in my personal library from my father’s collection) (See Painting of Dietz Massacre by Jacob Dietz, son of Johannes, Courtesy of the Greater Oneonta Historical Society) The final and most devastating attack was in the lower Mohawk Valley in October 1781 where everything over a distance of 20 miles was utterly destroyed. When the war was over and the colonists had won, Joseph Brant and other Iroquois settled land given to them by the British Crown on the Grand River in Quebec (now Ontario). The area of Brant’s river crossing became known as Brant’s ford, later simplified to Brantford. Other Indians moved on to the Ohio River Valley region, or joined the Cherokee in the southern states. Ultimately, the Newtown Battle, or Battle of Chemung, opened the narrow southern gate to settlers who had been forbidden from traveling through this part of Indian territory on their way to settling the western frontier. For American soldiers who had fought in the Revolutionary War, the Chemung Valley drew many men back who had taken part in the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign. Certain to have admired the beautiful countryside in both Pennsylvania and New York while detailed there on campaigns, it was only natural former soldiers would seek its fertile land as their bounty award for service to their new government. New England and eastern New York were considered heavily populated, with many regions too rocky for good farming. Western New York was the perfect place to homestead with wide-open fertile land available to establish a new life. With the soldiers settling this area, we can assume their descendants walk among us today, perhaps even unaware of their family’s history.
  20. Sometimes we put others high upon a shelf… like fancy antiques… elevating them far above what is appropriate, thinking more highly of them than we ought. I mean, after all, we all have our flaws. Or, we might set them up high, putting a little distance between us… thinking we can just admire them while we go on about our way, doing things without their input or assistance. Like we do with God sometimes… I know I fail at times to look first to God for answers in facing life’s problems. I do revere the Lord, but when I set Him high up on that shelf by thinking I can handle things all on my own, I soon learn that I really can’t function all on my own. Sometimes, it seems it’s in the difficult times that I draw nearer to the Lord and ask for His help. But the gracious God that He is, He keeps working through me… as He continues to draw me ever gently to His side… and I begin to realize the depth of what He’s been doing for me. But, of course, I realize I can’t put God upon a shelf like a beautiful precious antique just to be admired, nor can I put Him in a box, limiting His infinite capacities to match our finite minds and expectations. Instead, God wants to walk with me and you every day… especially in the nitty gritty of life. He wants to hear my prayers, the pleas and praises of my heart. He wants to hear my voice just as much as I should want to listen for His still small voice within me… and then heed His voice. All of which reminds me of another favorite Scripture verse: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20 NIV) It’s true - He really wants to be part of my every-day life! He wants to shine His light through me and you out into the world, as a witness for Him and all that He’s doing… that others might know His love. Despite my failings, or maybe because of them, others know my life is full of mistakes, just as we all manage to make mistakes. But, it’s in my failings and recognition of them that I can look up to Jesus, the One who sacrificed His life for my soul, and realize that I can turn to Him. In confession, I can ask for forgiveness, and receive the blessing of overwhelming grace and mercy no matter what I might have done. And then show that same forgiveness to others around me. He wants me to take Him off that high shelf and out of that box, and allow Him to walk by my side, through all of life’s ups and downs, asking for His guidance and wisdom, thanking and praising Him all throughout my day… no matter what I face. High Upon A Shelf Linda A. Roorda I set you up high, high upon a shelf And bring you close when the needs arise I shy away from seeking your face Keeping my distance, safely I suppose. You created time and all of this world Why would You give an ear to my thoughts? Or hear my voice, my pleas in the dark When all creation is under Your eye? How could I think You’d ever have time For problems I face, trivial pursuits? Why would You care, and why seek me out What do I matter to someone like You? Oh, but don’t you see how special you are! How unique your heart, like no other soul. I long to meet every day with you To shorten the span, that gulf between us. I’ve given you gifts, fruits of the spirit Blessed you with wisdom, the heart’s hidden treasure While tests that prove faith through life’s ups and downs Are living out hope in My hand unseen. I love you my child, and forever will I’ve given My life that you might be free Free under grace with mercy’s deep love That My light may shine on the path you walk. Yes Lord, I’ll bring You down from off the shelf As You draw me near with welcoming arms And with a glad heart I’ll kneel in worship To thank and praise You, my Lord and my God. ~~
  21. Linda Roorda

    Faith

    Recently, I was mocked for my faith and belief in God by a reader of my online blog. Attributing to God the special ways my prayers were answered to overcome a fear of going alone through major airports, I met folks who became helpful friends on my flights to and from visiting family. This woman was aghast, proclaiming God had nothing to do with it. She added that her comments were “unlikely to sway anyone who has been indoctrinated into a belief system.” Rather, her purpose was to “lay bare the myth of religion” as Christianity has been “incredibly destructive.” Proudly, she stated how “green” she was, yet bragged about travelling to 90 countries, logging millions of miles, and that God had nothing to do with her flights because “God does not exist.” Without God, we trust in ourself - that’s called pride. How sad! For as King David wrote in Psalm 14:1, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” I chose not to respond, but to pray for her instead, while two supporters/administrators made it clear to her that her comments were very inappropriate. As a meme I once saw noted: “An umbrella cannot stop the rain, but it allows us to stand in the rain. Faith in God may not remove our trials, but it gives us strength to overcome them.” Faith… it’s intangible. You can’t see it. You can’t feel it. And it’s hard to define. But it’s there… deep in the heart. Faith is a trust, a belief, a confidence knowing that something positive will happen based on past experiences, while hope is optimistically looking to the future. Even though we may not see the evidence of our faith and hope for a long time, we can agree that biblically speaking, “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1 NIV) “For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7) We put faith in a lot of things – like people, money, real estate, our job, military power, that the water we drink and use will always be there, even our electric until it suddenly goes off. We put faith in our best friends, in our dear loved ones, and hope that they will come through for us. We have faith our car will start… especially on those bitter cold mornings! We often don’t know or understand how something works; it just does – so we say we have faith that it will work. We have faith knowing that at the end of a long, dark and dreary winter, we will see spring’s beauty unfold. The cells of life are within each seed whether human, animal, or plant as created by God and established within its own kind. And as we watch the flower or leaf bud begin to swell, and then open, we see the evidence, the proof, of our faith and hope in this new life that’s about to burst forth. Yet the opposite of faith is pride in self, while the opposite of hope is uncertainty, anxiety, despair… with uncertainty being sure of one thing – nothing. And how often don’t things and people let us down? Thus, we should “be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let [our] requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [our] hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7). We have faith, hope, and trust in our God to guide and assist us when we look to Him, seeking to follow in His steps, His path, His will. So, what exactly is at the heart of this kind of faith? True faith must be put into practice… for though faith is unseen in our heart, it becomes an action on our part when we actually place our trust in the Lord. And, I’m ashamed to say, I have failed at times. Yet, faith is essential in relating to God. Faith helps us realize that no matter what happens to us, good or bad, God is working in the situation for His will, His purpose. And Ed and I have seen our God working through many difficult situations and losses of health, jobs, and life, using what we’ve learned to come alongside and assist someone else on their difficult journey. We can’t see God and can’t feel Him next to us. But, in fact, it is even He who opens our heart and gives us the faith to come to Him seeking forgiveness and salvation. “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:8-10 NIV) And it’s within that faith as we build our trust and confidence with belief and hope that we learn how much our heart wants to please and praise our God. Still, at times I have failed to understand the effort to trust that I must put forth in the equation of faith. At times I have questioned what I sense the Lord is telling me to do versus what my heart wants. At times I have pushed the limits of self will, wresting control of the reins instead of resting in His hands, His will. But as I’ve learned to trust Him more, to obey His Word, to have faith in His greater purpose for my life, I find peace. Yet, how hard the lesson can be at times! Still, God is faithful, even when I am not, so I can have confidence that “…he who began a good work in you [and me] will carry it on to completion...” (Philippians 1:6 NIV) Thus, faith is trusting that God will work through me in whatever situation I face. He wants me to simply trust Him… like a child trusts their parents… to have faith and confidence in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, and in Him alone… that He will take me through a difficult situation, and bring me to the other side with new understanding from the journey. Out of this depth of trust comes the proof of our faith in God as we see the fruits of the spirit emerge in our actions and love toward others. This will then bring glory and honor back to our great God and His precious gift of love as we continue drawing closer to Him through prayer and study of His Words of wisdom. And therein lies our growth… the fruit of our faith. So what’s at the heart of faith? An obedience to trust and live out what God expects of me by showing I have confidence in Him and His word. “For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7) Faith is trusting the Lord will provide and care for me even when I don’t see immediate answers to prayer, knowing “…that in all things [He] works for the good of those who love Him… (Romans 8:28a NIV) Simply put, faith is resting in the arms of God, allowing Him to work His will through me… like putting my hand in the Lord’s hand and saying, “Where you lead, I will follow.” (based on Luke 9:57) Faith Linda A. Roorda My faith is more than just mere words More than the eye could ever see For underneath the surface stirring Believes the heart with hope evermore. A hope within the depths of my soul Focused upon what cannot be seen There in the quiet and solitude calm Lies sweet the dream someday to fulfill. Choosing always to patiently rest Under Your wings to calmly abide Eagerly awaiting the break of dawn A gentle semblance of faith held secure. Your promises firm ring evermore true For when I put my trust in Your hands And then release the reins to my life You guide my steps from within Your will. And yet faith hopes in what can’t be seen Always expecting the best to emerge For faith is more than just simple dreams It’s holding on to trust in the truth. For truths in Your Word which cling to my soul Will give me hope and confidence clear When all seems lost and fears wander dark Faith holds forever its promises bright. ~
  22. Attending my Owego Free Academy 50th class reunion last night, July 22, 2023, it was great to see and chat with so many former classmates. We were the 100th class to graduate from OFA, and the first class to graduate from the new high school building – such honors! Being asked to give the prayer at the reunion dinner last night, it was an honor to thank our Lord for all His many blessings – of friendships, places we’ve been, lives we’ve built, and to thank Him for the friends who have left this life much sooner than any of us would have liked. We were given a great informative tour yesterday afternoon at the high school by the young principal – how can he be principal looking like a kid barely out of school! A lot has changed in the intervening 50 years, with great programs in place to help the students achieve their best and prepare for their successful launch into society at large. Having moved 15 times by the time I was 15, attending five different schools, learning to make new friends at each school, I’ve held onto many treasured memories. With the reunion in mind, I just had to share this blog originally posted in 2013. Oh, the childhood memories of places we’ve been and the friends we’ve made! Don’t you just love to visit with friends from long ago, remember childhood fun, and recall the good ol’ days when life was simpler? I suspect we all have precious memories tucked away, ready to be pulled out every so often. It’s a chance to gaze back in time, to smile anew on fun shared by all. But, I’m just as sure I’m not alone in having some memories that bring emotions to the surface, and tears to the eyes. Twice a year as our children grew up, we’d visit back and forth with my childhood friend and her husband, Hugh. Kathy and I were friends in East Palmyra – in church, in class at the Christian school, and in playing at our homes. We continued our friendship via snail mail after my family moved away in 4th grade, just before I turned 10. It was a very painful and emotional move for me – away from farm life, away from the best friends I’d ever known to city life in Clifton, New Jersey where I was born, and where my dad’s parents and siblings’ families lived. It was an unwelcome change. I hated city life, was horribly homesick, and cried for weeks. But life got better as I let go of childhood pain and released the sadness. Though there were difficult times and events in Clifton, I now find many good memories to replay in my mind’s eye. It was an era when my sister and I could walk or bike everywhere without fear. And then there was the time we biked from our eastern side of Clifton to where our grandparents lived all the way on the other side. When my grandmother opened the door to our knock, trust me, she was not pleased… because no one knew where we were! Still, with the used bikes my grandfather gave us, we felt so rich! I also treasure memories of fishing with my dad in northern Jersey lakes, and of spending time with my grandparents. My grandmother was a former professional seamstress who taught me to sew clothes and quilts – and to rip it out if it wasn’t right and sew it over again, more than once as I recall! This little Dutch immigrant had an unspoken life motto - “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right!” How I miss her greeting us at the door with a hug and always sweetly saying, “Hello Dear!” in her soft Dutch accent. Admittedly, my favorite memories are those of my childhood on the farms, and the fun my sister and I had back when there was no technology to ruin what games our little minds could conjure up. My earliest memories, though, begin after we moved back from Delta Junction, Alaska. My dad had a foreign assignment in the Army, stationed at Fort Greely before Alaskan statehood. He wanted to homestead, but my Mom wasn’t keen on the idea, so back to New Jersey we went. I’ve often wished I’d been old enough to remember the trip and the beautiful sights down the Al-Can Highway back to the States; but, then again, as I heard about the road without guardrails next to steep cliffs, of an old car with a steering wheel that caught at the most inopportune times (like coming around a curve and heading straight for a cliff when, at the last moment, the steering engaged again for my Mom, preventing us from plummeting off the cliff), maybe I’m glad I wasn’t old enough to remember that trip. Dad got rid of that car as soon as they got into Washington state, and they took a train east to Newark, NJ where my grandparents brought us back to their home. Dad next went to work on the Everson Farm in Clifton Springs, NY. I have photos of that time, but my first memories begin when he worked on the Wychmere Farm in Sodus, NY. I clearly recall that, at age 3-4, we drove down a lane to a Lake Ontario beach where I floated in an inner tube. Seeing a ship on the horizon, my child’s mind feared it would “run me over!” Then, imagine my excitement when, while dating my husband-to-be, Ed, my friend, Kathy, and her husband, Hugh, took us to that very same lane and beach near Chimney Bluffs and it was totally familiar to me, remembered from all those years ago! Next, on the Breemes farm in Marion, NY, my sister and I could be seen playing in and around the barn; milking “my cows” with an old tea kettle on the bank-barn’s wall ledge while standing on a bale of hay as Dad milked his cows, and throwing rocks into mud/manure puddles with my sister, accidentally following those rocks into the muck. My brother, Charlie, was born that year, an interloper to our fun… or so I thought at that age. Later, we once again moved back to Clifton, NJ where I attended kindergarten, a big girl walking several blocks by all myself to P.S. #15. Returning to Marion, NY the summer after kindergarten, we had many more adventures with Fran and Betty DeVries while living upstairs in their beautiful Victorian house on their parents’ farm. I remember the layout of their barn, helping a few times to put milking machines together, watching their Dad put in silage with the belt-driven unloader off the tractor. My Dad knew Gerald and Joann from the Sussex, NJ Christian Reformed Church youth group when he was herdsman for old Mr. Titsworth after graduating Clifton High School. Actually, Mr. Titsworth was a direct descendant of Willem Tietsoort who settled in that area after the 1690 Schenectady massacre, purchasing extensive lands from the northern Jersey Indians. Unknown to our family back then, my genealogy research several years ago discovered Willem Tietsoort was related to one of my mother’s ancestors! Moving up the road to the spacious farmhouse on the Musshafen tenant farm brought more fun as we meandered the fields, and walked back down the road to spend time with Fran and Betty. My Dad bought a steer from Mr. DeVries to raise for beef. We girls named him Elmer… as in Elmer’s Glue we joked! My sister and I thought it was more fun running between rows in the garden instead of our weeding chore. Brother Mark was born here, with Charlie anxiously asking, “When can he play ball with me?” My Dad’s sister, Aunt Hilda, taught us the little song, “On top of spaghetti...” Needless to say, whenever I think of that song, it is always with images from that house as the poor little meatball rolls off our dining room table, out the back door, down the cement steps, down the slope, past the garden and under the lilac bushes this side of a small creek! We shelled endless piles of peas and snapped mountains of beans, and, I’m ashamed to say, threw some under those lilac bushes when we got tired of it all. We practiced our fishing techniques, aiming to put the dobber into a bucket though I don’t believe we were too accurate. We caught tadpoles and watched them grow legs while in jars before returning them to the creek to finish growing into frogs. And we even tried to fry an egg on the road on a very hot summer day… well, the adults always said it was so hot you could…! Next, as tenants on the Bouman farm on Whitbeck Road just outside of East Palmyra, fun found us running with Ruth, Annette and Grace in the haymow, catching my shoe on baling twine and tumbling down to the wooden floor below, barely a foot away from the upturned tines of a pitch fork and getting a concussion; traipsing over the fields and through the woods; walking among the cows in the pasture only to be chased by a very indignant new mom for getting too close to her baby and barely making it under the fence with her hugeness right behind me; roller skating, only once, on a pond because we didn’t have ice skates; building snow forts; sledding down the hill outside the barnyard; playing telephone as we kids all sat in a circle, laughing at how the secret message had changed from the first person to the last; playing Mother May I, Red light, Green light, and Hide and Seek; learning to ride bike under Grace’s tutelage with a few falls resulting in scraped-up knees; playing at friend Kathy’s home, sledding down their hill and across the field when a train came through, freezing up and not thinking to roll off - thankfully, the sled came to a stop a few feet away from the track as I looked up in horror at the train rushing by; voraciously reading every book I could get my hands on, a life-time habit; and so much more…! Oh such fun!! Then, abruptly, we moved back to city life in Clifton, NJ. Sadly, Dad left much behind, including the unique doll house made especially for us girls by our landlord when I was in kindergarten. Now, we enjoyed visiting often with our grandparents, and loved the family gatherings for every main holiday on the calendar. When brother Andy arrived, my sister and I, at ages 10 and 11, were responsible every week for months for hauling the family laundry in the little red wagon to the laundromat across the street from the bar at the top of our block, washing and folding it all (we became little pros, respected by all adults doing their own laundry), and getting to buy treats like 5-cent double-stick popsicles, way bigger than today’s version! We taught Charlie to ride bicycle in the former train station’s empty parking lot across from the end of our block, which is now all gone. Our Dad took us fishing to northern Jersey lakes and on Clifton’s Garret Mountain with its great vista overlooking the cities to the New York City skyline, all fishing holes from his childhood. We also enjoyed going to Green Pond for water fun where Dad’s sister, Hilda, and family spent the summers. We two girls enjoyed traipsing the city unsupervised without problems, walking or biking everywhere to parks, the city library, to Passaic Christian School and then to Christopher Columbus Junior High 12 blocks from home. I can still visualize so much of the city like the back of my hand, forever frozen in time. After four years, my heart rejoiced when we moved back to New York state! We were slowed by heavy bumper-to-bumper traffic because of hippies everywhere on Rt. 17 finding their way to the the fields of the Woodstock Festival on Saturday, August 16, 1969. Our long drive ended at a house on River Road in Lounsberry, half-way between Owego and Nichols, where the odor of neighboring farms was heavenly. Here, my latter teen years were spent caring for three-dozen-some chickens, 6 Muscovy ducks and their newly-hatched ducklings (which grew to provide us with fine dining), my lamb, and mare, War Bugg, a beautiful grand-daughter of Man O’ War… along with the arrival of our youngest brother, Ted. I was, admittedly, very disappointed he was not a little girl, but fell in love with him and those big blue eyes as my sister and I helped care for him. After all, we were “pros” in baby care by then! Meeting Edward, my husband-to-be, at our Owego Christian Reformed Church held at the Talcott Street Community Center, I began another new chapter. He was a dairy farmer with his Dad, so I moved to Spencer, making a new home, new friends, and a new life. Simply spending time recalling precious memories of family and friends in a long-ago world brings a few tears and many smiles to my heart… So, what cherished memories do you have that are waiting to be brought to mind and shared? Going back home… Linda A. Roorda Going back home within my mind To simple retreats of childhood days Holding sweet memories of yesterday Like quiet oases of rest and peace. ~ Stirring emotions that overwhelm On traveling back to gentler times With early images tucked far away On pages engraved in a long-ago world. ~ For what could ever make me forget The fears that then descended strong With dog at fence and thunderstorm To shake the world of toddlerhood. ~ While a life-long love was built in scenes Of farming and learning beside my Dad With laughter heard through carefree days In adventures had by my sister and me. ~ The many homes of my younger days Are shelters now for cherished views As dear and precious memories enhance Wistfully perfect they ever remain. ~ But tucked within the pages recalled Are days of change and tender tears Moving away and losing friends Through a lifetime lived, they’re never forgot. ~ Yet often they say it’s just not the same We can’t return to scenes of our youth That life and times are forever changed The rift between then and now is too great. ~ But as I gaze on all that once was I find it’s okay to let the tears flow As they wash away the lingering pangs To leave my heart refreshed and clean. ~ So I shall always savor the joy Of going back home within my mind And holding dear those treasured days Of childhood mem’ries and lessons learned.
  23. Ever feel as though you’re broken and scattered… like pieces of shattered glass? You’re so overwhelmed by life, torn apart by one situation after another, perhaps in rapid succession. And you begin to feel like you want to run away from all the stress and responsibility. I have… and know I’m not alone. We all get hit hard by life at times, like the disruptive past few years midst the coronavirus pandemic. We all stumble and fall. We’re all broken… broken by our mistakes, sins, fears, unending pain, ongoing chronic illness, loss of a loved one, financial stress, or simply by the weight of life’s never-ending demands. But are we willing to admit we’re broken people? Do we think we’ve got it so together that we would never admit a failing? Do we lash out at others around us out of anger, hurt and resentment? Do we perhaps look down on those who might stumble in a moment of weakness? Or do we humbly apologize and ask forgiveness from those we might have offended? The damage from any trauma or abuse can be devastating, leaving us feeling raw and exposed, torn apart. Just the simplest things can take a toll when we’re overwhelmed by stress without relief. Long-term illness or disability can have the same effect. We keep hoping that one day… somehow… things will get better… but they don’t seem to. Reminds me of what it might be like sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake without oars, rudder or motor when the storm hits. We won’t get very far. In fact, the storm will toss us about unceasingly or capsize us without that rudder to steer and stabilize the boat, or the oars to row our boat to shore. And it’s so true that life’s challenges can blindside us when we least expect them and catch us totally unprepared, leaving us feeling like we’re unable to handle what comes our way. Certainly, we don’t feel like our brokenness is beautiful! God never promised us a life without problems and pain. But He did promise He’d give us what we ask for when we ask in His will, and that He will always be with us. We just need to ask and trust Him as He “works all things for the good of those who love Him…” (Romans 8:28) He intends our journey of difficulty to strengthen our faith. For James 1:2-3 reminds us to “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance…” Yet that trial, or broken road, can sure seem long and tedious, and not something we readily rejoice in! Still, as we draw closer to our Lord in the difficulties, we realize He’s been drawing us close to Himself. He’s at work putting our broken pieces back together to make us complete… to restore us. How often haven’t we felt His love surround us when the path is hard and long, and we seemed so alone? Haven’t we looked back to see He’s carried us at times when we’ve done all we could and felt as though we couldn’t take one more step? And isn’t He the one who sent someone to wrap their arms around us, with an ear to listen to our heart, words to heal, and arms to hold us up and help us stand… until we felt stronger and able to function again? Just like Paul wrote, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13) Recently I read about the Japanese artform of Kintsugi (golden joinery), or Kintsukuroi (golden repair) https://www.britannica.com/art/kintsugi-ceramics . These are terms for a special type of repair to broken pottery which began in about the 15th century. Artisans take gold, silver or platinum dust, mix it with a special lacquer or resin, and apply it to the broken pieces. As they fit the broken pieces together, the shattered pottery is made whole again. Typically, the broken vessel becomes even more beautiful in its new state of repair – broken beauty, in other words! No matter what we go through, God will bring comfort and peace to our heart when we look to Him for strength to face each trial. He has it all under control, and even has a reason for taking us through the storms, allowing us to grow and heal through the difficult journey. He welcomes us as broken people, and makes something beautiful from our shattered pieces of life! Then comes the day when we realize we’re healed… maybe not exactly as we’d wanted… but the pain no longer has a grip on us… for our brokenness has been used to heal a weakness! The difficult journey was worth every step from brokenness to a new wholeness … because it has given us a better understanding of life with a greater empathy for others, with peace like a comforting blanket… enabling us to come alongside someone else who is struggling and overwhelmed as we “encourage the disheartened [and] help the weak...” (I Thessalonians 5:14) For we know that God has used our trial in such a way that we now shine a light from within that we never knew we had… as we’ve gone from broken to beautiful in God’s restorative eyes! Broken Beauty Linda A. Roorda ~ Sometimes… Like a beautiful vase Our life is shattered Like so many shards Of broken glass Where once there was A vessel whole, unbroken. ~ Because… Trials of life Came crashing down To take their toll Inflicting damage Leaving emotions raw Trying to destroy The joy from within. ~ But… There comes a day When it’s time To pick up the pieces And one by one To then reclaim The former beauty Of the vessel treasured. ~ So… An effort ensues To fit the pieces Back together In such a way That there will shine Illuminating brilliance Never before seen. ~ For… An inner strength Has taken hold So that the pieces Broken and scattered In coming together Now give the vessel A broken beauty! ~~ 02/05/14
  24. I heard this after my flights to visit family - “How can you not see God in every little thing, in every little moment?” It was a meaningful phrase in a great song by Leanna Crawford that I heard last Monday while picking up some groceries. I’d just gotten home after a 12-hour delayed flight, and thought, how fitting… especially after my trip to see some of my family the end of June. I was nervous about going through the airports... 1) Elmira to Detroit to Nashville, 2) Nashville to Minneapolis, and 3) Minneapolis to Detroit to Elmira... and sure enough, we had a hitch, or should I echo a friend calling it a hiccup. I'd prayed before leaving home that God would guide me through the maze of huge terminals, cities unto themselves, and He answered my prayer way better than I could have dreamed! Friday, June 23 – As a sub, was invited to attend a breakfast staff meeting at the middle school. I heard the principal speak kind words about someone… which turned out to be me… greatly surprised, I promptly forgot everything she’d said, next congratulating a friend and fellow sub sitting next to me for her own award. Then it was home to recheck my backpack, with my sister-in-law Diane and her husband Mark driving me to the airport. Elmira/Corning Regional Airport is small, updated a few years back, easy to get around in, but there was still an underlying nervousness about flying. Yes, I’ve flown before… alone in 2004 to CA to help Emily move to SD, with Ed in 2006 to Sioux Falls, SD for Em’s graduation with her master’s, and in 1980 we took toddler Jenn to visit my family in Texas, but, still… I was very nervous about getting lost in the big city airports. Enter a nice couple who sat near me as we exchanged smiles and greetings. They chose to sit near me again after we ran the gauntlet of x-rays filming our bodies and belongings. Striking up a conversation, I learned they were flying from their home on Keuka Lake to Texas to visit a daughter. Long story short, our words tipped each other off that we were all Christians. They knew Spencer well as their grandson works at Renovation House rehabilitation center! They eagerly gave advice on what to do, where to go, and how to get help in the huge terminals… very welcome advice that I put to good use! My seatmate to Detroit was a young man heading off to study bio-engineering in England. Safely arriving at Nashville late on the 23rd, got help from those in uniform for where to exit the building to find my niece Nina who easily found me! It was awesome to see her and Chris and their three children, Teagan, Kinley and Nadiya, and to visit with my brother Charlie and wife Monica, both with recent health issues, keeping them in my prayers. Chris and Nina’s coffee shop in Lebanon, TN, Split Bean Roasting Company (website sells their different flavors), has a welcoming, down-home atmosphere. Their menu includes delicious coffee made with Chris’s coffee-grinding expertise, soft drinks, sweet treats, soups, and breakfast fare, wishing I could eat and drink from their specialties to give a 5-star rating. And then we learned they were just ranked 4th in the top 10 best coffee shops in the entire state of Tennessee! Congratulations and way to go, Chris and Nina!! On the 25th, I was returned to the Nashville airport for my flight to Minneapolis, another major hub. As the seats at the gate filled up, a young man sat near me. He struck up a conversation, learning he’d been in Lebanon to visit his sister, where I’d visited Nina and her family, returning home to his wife and kids in Minneapolis. He was involved in his church’s prison ministry, bringing the Gospel to prisoners, assisting those being released in learning to support themselves on re-entering society. At the airport, Nick and Emily picked me up in the 3rd of 4 lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic, driving 1-1/2 hours home to Sauk Rapids. We took day trips, like walking through Munsinger & Clemens Gardens, home to beautiful floral gardens spread out over 20 acres along the Mississippi River in St. Cloud, across the river from the university where Nick is a math professor. You know I want to go back and admire the amazing beauty again, thinking maybe I could transplant a few ideas to my own gardens! I also visited a distant McNeill cousin, Marjorie and her husband John. They gave me a tour of Northfield’s St. Olaf and Carleton Colleges, beautiful campuses from which Marjorie retired as librarian. They showed me the bank, now museum, in Northfield where the James/Younger Gang and compatriots attempted to rob the safe in 1876. Jesse and Frank James fled while others were either killed or later captured, bullet holes still visible in the outside bank walls. Inside the museum, sharing with staff that I was from Upstate New York, south of Ithaca, a gentleman overheard me, saying he has family at Cornell University, and has driven through my town of Spencer! Marjorie and John’s home is beautifully arrayed with family antiques (a living museum), and a unique dumbwaiter John (an engineer) had made between the kitchen and lower patio, all while showing me their welcoming friendship. Home with Em again, we walked around the pond behind their property, seeing ducks, a pair of Sandhill cranes, played games with my Grands, and watched special National Park shows. We walked along the Mississippi, and toured Sauk Rapids’ Benton County Museum. It was the only house in the large community to survive the F4 tornado on April 14-15, 1886 which destroyed every building, bridge and railroad track, leaving the city stranded with no way in and no way out for a time. Killing 72 people in its path, it’s the deadliest tornado on record in Minnesota. That house survived due to its uniquely-built granite walls with an air space between two adjacent walls of solid granite stones. We visited the small but well-kept Pine Grove Zoo in Little Falls, thoroughly enjoying the variety of animals. After a relaxing picnic lunch in the primeval pine grove next to the zoo, we drove to Charles Lindbergh’s home/museum also in Little Falls, his favorite place growing up, set on the banks overlooking the Mississippi, watching newsreels about him and his solo flight across the Atlantic to Paris, learning more than I had previously known about him and his family. Saying goodbye… I spent over 18 hours in the Detroit airport for my flight home to Elmira with delay after delay, finally getting home late Monday morning instead of Sunday evening. But in the waiting, I met a sweet lady. Sitting next to me, I learned Joy was from California, flying east to visit her daughter who lives 5 minutes from the Elmira airport! We shared stories of our lives, finding we had much in common, also sharing our Christian faith. Her family and home had survived the 2018 Carr Fire in northern California, as they helped others in the neighborhood who lost everything, including some who lost loved ones. Another lady walked past me who looked very familiar, but I just couldn’t place her, so I decided to just go ask. Connie recognized me, told me who she was, and it was an aha moment! I knew her years ago as Ed’s mom’s hairdresser who lived locally, was widowed, remarried, now living in North Carolina, on the same flight to visit her daughter here who I also know! And then we met a young man and his wife with 2 kids from Newfield whose dad drove bus with my Aunt Lois for many years! Trust me, we all had a great time chatting and laughing together! Small world indeed! Remember I said God blessed me more than I could have imagined on this trip? Not only with special family time, and getting to sit in “my” old saddle from years ago when riding War Bugg, but spending the night together, we 3 ladies shared stories of how God blessed our lives despite major difficulties we had each dealt with. We chose to ignore the negativity of a lady who emphasized we’d have a lot of trouble trying to get flights out, while I and others instead thanked the one crew member and desk clerk for their helpful kindnesses. We three supported each other and spent the night at Gate 35, keeping each other awake overnight, charging our phones, chatting about our families and life in general. Though our Monday 8 a.m. flight to Elmira was delayed for an hour, boarding and lift-off went smoothly, and we were all very thankful to be heading home. Now it’s hard to believe my trip was ending just a week ago, the reward I’d looked forward to as the school year drew to a close. I was so impressed and thankful for the many ways God blessed me with just the right person at just the right time… and for the blessings of visiting with family! After getting home, picking up some groceries, I took a much-needed nap… not something I’m fond of doing. Sleeping for 4-1/2 hours, I woke up with a start at 5:30 p.m., wondering whose room this was and where I was! Interesting tricks your mind can play when sleep has eluded you for too many hours… and home life resumed its normal routine, finishing two purse orders, baking for our local farmer’s market, enjoying each simple day back home. God bless you this week in all you do, too!
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