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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Linda Roorda
    It's a fact that we American love our 4th of July celebrations! We especially enjoy family gatherings and picnics, and big parades with lots of floats and marching bands. We look forward to fireworks with their beautiful colors and designs exploding in the night sky. We decorate our homes with flags and bunting. We salute, or respectfully place our hand over our heart, as our nation's flag is carried past us by military veterans in parades. And we recall two important founding dlocuments of our nation: 
    1)      Preamble to the Declaration of Independence:  “…We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness…” 
    2)      Preamble to the U.S. Constitution:  “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America…”
    What precious meaning these words have held as we take time to gaze backward to their origins, something I never tire learning about.
    As I contemplated our nation’s celebrations, I thought about the effort and sacrifice it took from many to give us the freedoms we so often take for granted.  I am so thankful for all we have in America which many around the world do not enjoy.  But I also wondered if perhaps we have forgotten all that took place a long time ago, and if this day has simply become a traditional fun holiday, or just a holiday to besmirch.  Though no nation or government has been perfect as far back as the beginning of time, the early days of a young nation’s beginnings provide perspective for today’s America, this bastion of freedom.  So, it’s fitting that we ponder what part our ancestors played in the making of our great America some 247 years ago.  And, I might add, one of the best parts of researching my ancestors was the great lasting friendships I’ve made with other descendants.
    Several of my ancestors served in the Revolutionary War in various capacities, some of whom I researched more extensively than others.  Originally, I did not plan to bring them into this article.  But then it occurred to me that would be fitting.  Knowledge of personal service and sacrifice often provides us with a greater understanding of the historical era and what our collective ancestors experienced. 
    Numerous events, political acts, and taxes over many years led to the First Continental Congress meeting from September 5 through October 2, 1774 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  It was held to counteract the British Parliament’s Coercive Acts (commonly called the Intolerable Acts by the colonists) which were intended to punish the colonists for their Tea Party held in Boston’s harbor.
    But, among the early precipitators of the American Revolution was the import ban in 1774 against firearms and gunpowder enacted by the British government.  Next came the order to confiscate all guns and gunpowder.  The aptly named “Powder Alarm” took place on September 1, 1774 when Redcoats sailed up the Mystic River to capture hundreds of powder barrels stored in Charlestown.  Taking the event seriously, 20,000 militiamen turned out and marched to Boston.  Battle was avoided at that time, but ultimately took place the following spring at Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775.  Within these events lie the foundation of our Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution as written by Thomas Jefferson in 1791: “A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Amendment_to_the_United_States_Constitution
    The Second Continental Congress began meeting in Philadelphia on May 10, 1775.  That very same day, Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys seized New York’s Fort Ticonderoga from the British after raveling west from Vermont.
    On June 14, 1775, delegates from the Second Continental Congress created the Continental Army from colonial militia near Boston.  The next day, they appointed an esteemed and experienced military and civic leader as commanding general of their new army, a humble man by the name of George Washington, congressman of Virginia.  Nearly a month later, Washington arrived in Boston to take command on July 3rd.  The Continental Congress then approved a Declaration of Causes on July 6th.  This proclamation outlined why the thirteen colonies should stand united against Great Britain’s political clout and military force.
    Through these early years, and with pressing urgency, the great minds of the day began formulating a bold statement of the burdens the colonists bore from an overbearing government an ocean away.  Initially, the colonists were not looking to start a war; they simply wanted their concerns heard and addressed.  But, revolt would be a relevant term regarding that which was festering.  They felt the heavy hand of tyranny over them like a smothering umbrella with their king and his government’s over-reaching philosophy of “taxation without representation.”   
    It did not take much for congressional delegates to think back and recall the Boston Massacre of March 5, 1770.  Several colonials had taunted the ever-present British soldiers.  Reinforcement soldiers shot into the crowd killing five civilians, injuring six others.  Three years later, the Tea Act in May 1773 was followed by the Boston Tea Party on December 16th.  The year 1775 began with several new tax acts put in place; labeled collectively as the Intolerable Acts, they were Britain’s answer to their colonists’ unrest.  And then an auspicious delegation met in Virginia on March 23, 1775. Those present never forgot Patrick Henry’s speech and resounding words, “Give me liberty or give me death!”
    Paul Revere’s midnight ride came the night of April 18/19, 1775 to warn of British ships arriving at Boston’s shores.  [From the interstate, I have seen Boston’s diminutive North Church tucked beneath the shadows of modern “skyscrapers,” and walked the upper and lower decks of the U.S.S. Constitution from the subsequent War of 1812 – with a sailor in period dress uniform talking on a telephone!]  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, “Paul Revere’s Ride” (“Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere…”) has been said to contain many inaccuracies; in reality, it was written 80 years after Revere rode out with several others on horseback, quietly alerting other Patriots, but it may also be that Longfellow simply wrote a flowing ode to Revere with embellishments as any poet is wont to do. 

    The British government was again intent on confiscating all weapons held by the colonists.  Bands of British troops were sent to confiscate ammunition stores in Salem, Massachusetts and part of New Hampshire.  Both times, Paul Revere, a silversmith, was among members of the Sons of Liberty who alerted townsfolk in advance of enemy troops, giving them sufficient time to hide weapons and frustrate the British military.
    Desiring to alert citizens, Revere garnered assistance from Robert Newman, sexton at Boston’s North Church.  To warn that the Redcoats were coming from the shorter water route across Boston’s inner harbor, Newman hung two lanterns from the steeple window.  These lanterns were clearly seen by those in Charlestown, including the British, unfortunately.  Newman must have felt tremendous fear as the Brits attempted to break into the church while he was still there.  Reportedly, he managed to escape capture by quietly sneaking out a window near the altar moments before enemy soldiers entered the church to begin their search.  And the very next day, April 19, 1775, the Minutemen and British redcoats clashed at Lexington and Concord with “the shot heard ‘round the world.’” 
    Two months later, June 17, 1775 saw the Battle of Bunker Hill (actually Breed’s Hill) on the Charlestown Peninsula overlooking Boston.  Per military records, my ancestor John Caldwell McNeill was present as part of the Hampshire Line.  As British columns advanced toward American redoubts, the colonists were reportedly told by their commander, “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes!”  The British were shot virtually pointblank and hastily retreated – twice.  It was not until the third advance by the British that the inexperienced colonists lost to a superior military force.  As the colonists’ limited ammunition ran out, hand-to-hand combat took place on that third advance.  The redcoats took control with greater troop numbers despite their loss of over 1000 men, while the colonists counted over 200 killed and more than 800 wounded.  Yet, the inexperienced Americans realized their dedication and determination could overcome the superior British military which, in turn, realized this little uprising was going to bring a long and costly war to the Crown. 
    With pressure mounting, the congressional delegation met the next year in the City of Brotherly Love.  Here, they commenced hammering out wording for what would henceforth be termed a declaration of independence. 
    “Monday, July 1, 1776, [was] a hot and steamy [day] in Philadelphia.”  In a letter to the new president of Georgia, Archibald Bulloch, John Adams wrote, “This morning is assigned the greatest debate of all.  A declaration, that these colonies are free and independent states… and this day or tomorrow is to determine its fate.  May heaven prosper the newborn republic.” (John Adams, David McCullough, Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, New York, NY, 2001, p.125.)  The delegates felt the tension amongst themselves in the debates and wording of their declaration, and the voting at the end of the day was not unanimous.  Their tension was heightened that evening as news reached the city that one hundred British ships had been sighted off New York, with eventually more than 300 joining the initial fleet.  The seriousness of what they were undertaking was felt by every man in the delegation for they knew their very lives were on the line.
    July 2nd saw an overcast day with cloudbursts letting loose as the delegates met.  The New York delegates abstained from voting while others joined the majority to make a unanimous decision.  Thus, on July 2, 1776, twelve colonies voted to declare independence from Britain.  More than anyone else, John Adams made it happen.  His elation showed in writing home about the proceedings to his wife, Abigail.  “The second day of July 1776 will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America.  I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.  It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty.  It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more.”  (McCullough, pp. 129-130)
    News spread like wildfire throughout Philadelphia.  A young artist, Charles Willson Peale, journaled that “This day the Continental Congress declared the United Colonies Free and Independent States.”  (McCullough, p.130)   But, Congress still had to review what the delegation had written before an official statement could be made.
    July 3rd blessed the city with a drop of 10 degrees following cloudbursts the day before.  Tensions had even begun to ease among the men, but still there was much work to be done.  More discussion and deliberation ensued as they reviewed the language of their declaration.  (McCullough, pp. 130-135)  Much had to be cut and reworded to make it a more concise document which then boldly declared, “The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen United States of America.  When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.” 
    Benjamin Franklin offered encouraging and comforting words to the now-silent Thomas Jefferson whose many words were debated and cut.  When their work was finished, it was still Thomas Jefferson’s words, however, which have held a firm and tender spot in the hearts of Americans ever since.  To Jefferson goes the credit for writing “…We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.  That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…”  (McCullough, p.130-136)
    Thursday, July 4, 1776, dawned cool and comfortable.  The tension was gone from the weather just as it was now from among the men of the delegation.  Discussions were again held through late morning when a final vote was taken.  New York still abstained, but the other twelve colonies voted unanimously to support the hard work they had wrought in this Declaration of Independence.  Ultimately, the delegates from all thirteen colonies, including New York, signed the document in solidarity. (McCullough, p. 136)
    Celebrations began on the 8th when the published Declaration was read to the public.  Thirteen cannon blasts reverberated throughout Philadelphia, bells rang day and night, bonfires were lit everywhere, and candles shone bright in windows.  The news reached Washington and his troops in New York City the next day where the Declaration was read.  More celebrations sprang up as the crowds pulled down the equestrian statue of King George III.  (McCullough, p.136-137)  But, their elation was not long in lasting.
    In reality, it would be several more years before celebrations of this magnitude would again be held.  In reality, though the hard work of writing such a declaration was finally completed, even harder efforts and sacrifices of thousands of men and boys on battlefields were about to begin.  In reality, the conflict about to begin would affect every man, woman and child living within the thirteen colonies in ways they could never have imagined.  And, ultimately, their great sacrifices gave rise to the freedoms which we enjoy and tend to take for granted today.
    The lives of the men who signed this declaration were also forever affected.  If the new America lost its war for independence, every signer of said document faced charges of treason and death by hanging for actions against their king.  In signing, they gave “support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, [as] we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.” 
    There were 56 representatives from all thirteen colonies who signed, ranging in age from 26 to 70 (the oldest being the esteemed Benjamin Franklin).  Over half were lawyers, but the men included planters, merchants and shippers.  Most of them were wealthy men who had much to lose should Britain win.  Though none of them died at the hand of the enemy, four men were taken captive during the war by the British, with one-third of the signers being military officers during the war… while nearly all of them were poorer when the war ended than when it began. 
    There was much at stake in the days and years ahead after the Declaration of Independence was signed and the war began in earnest.  Some men abandoned the battle lines, their friends, and what once seemed like worthy ideals, and simply walked home.  Many suffered untold pain and suffering as prisoners of war.  Many suffered deprivations of food and clothing along with disease and death within their own military camps.  Many fought family and friends in the same community as Patriot was pitted against Tory, i.e. Loyalist.  Schoharie County, New York, considered by historians to be “The Breadbasket of the Revolution,” provided an abundance of food for Washington’s northern troops.  To frustrate the colonists’ efforts, the British and their Loyalist supporters, including many Native Americans, destroyed and burned crops and buildings as they captured, killed and scalped settlers throughout the Mohawk and Schoharie Valley and along the western frontier during the war. 
    In reality, however, we likely would not have won our independence if it were not for Washington’s spies.  Barely two months after the Declaration was signed, a 21-year-old Yale graduate by the name of Nathan Hale from Massachusetts eagerly volunteered to spy for Washington.  He intended to go behind enemy lines on Long Island and in New York City to infiltrate the British strongholds.  Instead, not being sufficiently familiar with the area and its people, and likely having a New England accent, he was caught and found to have sketches of fortifications and memos about troop placements on him.  Without benefit of legal trial, he was sentenced to death.  His requests for a clergyman and a Bible were refused.  Just before being hung on September 22, 1776 in the area of 66th Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan, Hale was heard to say with dignity, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”  (George Washington’s Secret Six, Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger, Penguin Group, New York, NY, 2013, p.1.)
    George Washington knew that he desperately needed spies, but he needed them to work in such a way that they would not be discovered.  His tender heart for his fellow countrymen deplored that even one should die for the cause of freedom.  Yet, he also knew that such loss was inevitable.  And thus was born Washington’s spies so aptly named, “The Secret Six.”
    INDEPENDENCE DAY, PART II:
    Out of the realization that Gen. George Washington desperately needed spies, and hating to lose even one more life after the hanging of Nathan Hale, a ring of trustworthy spies was gradually pulled together.  Washington’s “Secret Six” included five men and one woman embedded within and around New York City and Long Island, each familiar with the land and its people.  They reported to Washington on British movements and military plans in a timely fashion. 
    Because they knew the area, and were known by the people, they were readily accepted as they maneuvered amongst the enemy.  That is not to say, however, that they didn’t come close to being found out.  They lived in constant fear of such, not to mention the fear of losing their own lives and destroying their families in the process.  At times they were emotionally frail, depressed and despondent.  But, because of their passion for the freedom movement afoot, they came together for the greater benefit of all.
    At one point, Washington’s army was entirely surrounded by the British in New York City.  With tips from his spies, and being a man given to much time and prayer with God, his troops managed to quietly evacuate the city under the cover of night at an area not under guard.  With dawn, however, came the realization that a large contingent still remained behind and would be very visible to the enemy.  An answer to prayer was soon forthcoming to allow the balance of his men and equipment to leave the city – an unexpected and extremely dense morning fog enveloped the area, allowing them to continue crossing safely over into Jersey with the British unable to do anything about the Continental Army’s escape from their clutches. 
    Because of the work of Washington’s spies and the “important memos” he managed to have planted with false information behind enemy lines, the Americans were able to surprise the enemy at Trenton, New Jersey on Christmas Day night 1776 after the British had relaxed their guard and celebrated the day in style.  Needless to say, the Americans enjoyed a vital and rousing victory.
    Because of the spies and their efforts, accomplished with great fear for their own lives and that of their families, warning was given to Washington of 400 ships arriving from England.  The spies’ insider knowledge that the British were planning to attack and scuttle the French ships and troops coming to Washington’s aid allowed him to turn the tide in a timely manner.  He was able to fool the British into thinking he was readying an imminent attack on New York City, causing them to leave Long Island Sound, thus allowing the French time to land and move inland to safety in Connecticut without battling the British at sea before they even disembarked.
    Because of the spy who owned a print shop which seemingly supported King George, important plans were heard and passed on to Washington.  Other spies were privy to the upper level of command amongst the British military at parties in a particular merchandise shop and a certain coffeehouse.  A circuitous route was set up for their messenger across Long Island to Setauket where packets with concealed or innocuous-looking papers written in invisible ink and code were rowed to the Connecticut shore in a whale boat (while being pursued by the British) where another member took the seemingly innocent packet of merchandise and rode his horse overland to Washington’s camp in New Jersey.  At times, someone simply traveled out of New York City to visit relatives in northern New Jersey and met up with another dependable link to pass the information along to Washington’s headquarters.
    Because of their courage and resolve, the spies assisted in uncovering the Crown’s Major John Andre` (who, himself, ran a British spy ring) as he worked with Brigadier General Benedict Arnold, American commander at West Point.  Despite a prior stellar military record, but due to personal bitterness, Arnold was in the process of handing West Point over to Andre` and the British.  Through a series of blundering mistakes, because of the spies’ knowledge given to Washington at just the right moment, and because of the quick thinking of a couple of patriotic guards on a bridge leading back into New York City, Andre` was captured and later executed.  Arnold’s hand-over was thus thwarted, although Arnold managed to escape behind enemy lines and ultimately fled to England.
    Because of the supposed loyal British support by the owner of said print shop, a little book was obtained through his work as an undercover spy.  This inconspicuous little book contained key information on British troop movements at Yorktown, Virginia.  With important knowledge gained of the enemy’s military plans, Washington was able to redirect appropriate troops and ships to Yorktown.  General Cornwallis surrendered for the British on October 19, 1781 in an American victory where total defeat for the Americans would have otherwise taken place. 
    Because they swore themselves to secrecy, no one knew the full involvement of all six spies, nor all of their names.  Only gradually over the last few hundred years has their identities become known, the fifth not confirmed until recently.  All five men are now known, but the woman’s identity is not; she is simply known as Agent 355.  It is believed she was captured and became a prisoner; but, there is no hard evidence by research even to prove that conjecture. 
    The efforts of the six spies as they secretly obtained information and passed it along (devising their own specialty codes, using a unique invisible ink, and more) enabled them to maintain total secrecy.  Nor did they ever seek accolades for their work after the war was over.  The secrets to their successful accomplishments have been among the methods still taught and used successfully by our CIA today.
    In the interest of sharing the spies’ courage which undoubtedly helped us win the Revolutionary War, their story (as briefly described above) has been extensively researched and written by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger in George Washington’s Secret Six, The Spy Ring That Saved the American Revolution.  It was one of my Christmas gifts from my husband a few years ago, and I highly recommend it to other history buffs.  It’s a read you’ll find difficult to set down.
    So, why is history important to us?  To quote David McCullough in the Reader’s Digest, December 2002, author of the books, John Adams and 1776:  “Who are we, we Americans? How did we get where we are? What is our story and what can it teach us? Our story is our history, and if ever we should be taking steps to see that we have the best prepared, most aware citizens ever, that time is now. Yet the truth is that we are raising a generation that is to an alarming degree historically illiterate… While the popular cultures races loudly on, the American past is slipping away. We are losing our story, forgetting who we are and what it's taken to come this far.”
    “The best way to know where the country is going is to know where we've been…But why bother about history anyway? …That's done with, junk for the trash heap.  Why history?  Because it shows us how to behave.  [It] teaches and reinforces what we believe in, what we stand for.  History is about life – human nature, the human condition and all its trials and failings and noblest achievements… Everything we have, all our good institutions, our laws, our music, art and poetry, our freedoms, everything is because somebody went before us and did the hard work... faced the storms, made the sacrifices, kept the faith…  If we deny our children that enjoyment [of historical story telling]… then we’re cheating them out of a full life.”  
    As I contemplated our nation’s celebrations, I thought about the effort and sacrifice it took from many to give us the freedoms we so often take for granted.  I am so thankful for all we have in America which many around the world do not enjoy.  But I also wondered if perhaps we have forgotten all that took place a long time ago, and if this day has simply become a traditional fun holiday.  The United States of America came to be with God’s hand working a miracle behind the scenes, and within the hearts of men and women who were very involved in its forming by putting their lives, legacy and financial support behind the movement for independence.
    Though no nation or government has been perfect as far back as the beginning of time, the early days of our young nation’s beginnings provide perspective for today’s America, this bastion of freedom.  So, it’s fitting that we ponder what part our ancestors played in the making of our great America some 246 years ago.  And, I might add, one of the best parts of researching my ancestors was the great lasting friendships I’d made with other descendants.
    Several of my ancestors served in the Revolutionary War in various capacities, some of whom I researched more extensively than others.  Originally, I did not plan to bring them into my article.  But then it occurred to me that it would be appropriate.  Knowledge of personal service and sacrifice often provides us with a greater understanding of the historical era and what our collective ancestors experienced. 
    While researching my ancestry over 20 years ago, I purchased Revolutionary War pension application files of several ancestors who had served.  For those whose government files I did not purchase, their data was obtained from Schoharie County Historical Society, various Revolutionary War books, CDs, and documents proving their service.  Hoping that my family research might provide us a closer glimpse of the war for independence through their experiences, I share their legacy.
    1) Frantz/Francis Becraft/Beacraft, bp. 06/12/1761, Claverack, Columbia Co., NY - Private, 3rd Comp., 3rd Regiment, 1st Rensselaerswyck Battalion, Albany County New York Militia, on muster roll from Berne in 1782, 1790 census at Berne.  In an 1839 affidavit, Francis Becraft of Berne stated that he “served as a Private in a company commanded by Capt. Adam Dietz in the County of Albany...” Frantz/Francis married Catherine Dietz (sister of said Capt. Adam Dietz), my g-g-g-g-grandparents.
    In researching my ancestors, I discovered an apparent familial tie to the notorious Tory Becraft/Beacraft.  This man felt no remorse in aligning himself with Joseph Brant’s Indians to capture, kill and scalp Patriots throughout Schoharie County, known to have brutally killed and scalped a young boy in the Vrooman family who managed to escape the house after his family had been murdered.  After the war ended, Becraft/Beacraft had the audacity to return from Canada to Schoharie County where he was immediately captured by ten men.  In meting out a punishment of 50 lashes by whip, the men supposedly reminded him of his infamous acts against the community, his former neighbors.  Roscoe notes that death did not linger for him after the final lash, and his ashes were buried on the spot.  Of the ten men who swore themselves to secrecy, apparently only five are known.  (History of Schoharie County, William E. Roscoe, pub. D. Mason & Comp., 1882, pp.250-251.)  
    However, in "Families (to 1825) of Herkimer, Montgomery, & Schoharie, N.Y.," a genealogical source on many early families by William V. H. Barker, it is noted that the Tory Becraft/Beacraft was Benjamin, born about 1759, supposed brother of my ancestor noted above, Frantz/Francis Becraft.  If this is accurate and they are indeed brothers, they were both sons of Willem/William and Mareitje (Bond) Becraft.  Another source, “The Life of Joseph Brant – Thayendanegea…” notes Becraft survived his whipping and left the area (pg. 64), just as other undocumented sources indicate he survived and returned to Canada to live with his family.  So, there is conflicting data as to whether Tory [Benjamin] Becraft actually died from his whippings or survived and left the area.
    2) Johannes/John Berlet/Berlett/Barlet, b. 05/08/1748, Schoharie, Schoharie Co., NY – Private, Tryon County Militia, 3rd Reg’t, Mohawk District.  He married Maria Gardinier, b. about 1751; their daughter Eva/Eveline Barlett married Martin Tillapaugh, b. 1778, my g-g-g-grandparents.
    3) Johann Hendrich/John Henry Dietz, bp 05/10/1722, Nordhofen, Vielbach, Germany – served in Lt. John Veeder’s Company, Rensselaerswyck, later under Capt. Sternberger’s Company at Schoharie.  He married Maria Elisabetha Ecker, bp. 1725; their daughter Catherine Dietz, b. 1761, married Frantz/Francis Beacraft above, my g-g-g-g-grandparents.
    As per my research article on Chemung County’s Newtown Battle, the Indian/Loyalist raids and massacres also touched my ancestral families in New York.  In Beaverdam (now Berne), New York near the Switzkill River on September 1, 1781, the Johannes Dietz family was attacked.  Johannes’ son, Capt. William Dietz was captured and forced to watch his elderly parents, wife, four young children and a Scottish maid be killed and scalped.  (see “Old Hellebergh,” Arthur B. Gregg, The Altamont Enterprise Publishers, Altamont, N.Y., 1936, p. 24; signed by Gregg, in Roorda’s collection from her father.)  Capt. William Dietz’s father, Johannes, was an older brother of my ancestor noted above, Johann Hendrich/John Henry Dietz. 
    4) Johan Dietrich Dallenbach/John Richard Dillenbach, b. 1733 per cemetery records, Stone Arabia, NY; father Jorg Martin Dallenbach born Lauperswil, Bern, Switzerland (emigrated with 1710 German Palatines with mother and first wife). John Richard Dillenbach married Maria Mynard; their son Martinus took name of Martin Tillapaugh (my lineage), married Eva/Eveline Barlett as above.  Dillenbach reported for duty March 20, 1757 when Sir William Johnson called local militia out to protect Fort William Henry on Lake George for the British.  The Seven Years’ War, or the French and Indian War, began in 1754 and ended with the European peace treaties of 1763 during which year Dillenbach again reported to defend Herkimer with the Palatine District Regiment.
    James Fennimore Cooper wrote The Last of the Mohicans about the siege of Fort William Henry.  Roughly 2300 colonial troops were protecting the British fort when the French arrived with about 8000 troops in August 1763 and heavily bombarded the fort.  With additional supporting troops not found to be on their way, the garrison was forced to surrender.  The men were to be protected as they retreated by generous treaty terms.  However, as the Indians entered the fort, they plundered, looted, scalped and killed about 200 colonials, many of them too sick to leave.  In desecrating graves of those who had died before the siege, the Indians exposed themselves to smallpox, taking the germs back to their homes.  The French destroyed the fort before returning to Canada.  Fort William Henry was reconstructed in the 1950s.  Visiting this fort in 1972 with the Lounsberry Methodist Church youth group, I was unaware at the time that my Dallenbach/Tillapaugh ancestor had walked that ground.
    5) Timothy Hutton, b.11/24/1746, New York City, married 2nd) Elizabeth Deline b.1760.  Their son George b.1787 married Sarah Wyckoff b.1793 (descendant of Pieter Claessen Wyckoff who cared for Pieter Stuyvesant’s bouwery/farm, today’s bowery district of New York City, with his Wyckoff  House Museum on Clarendon Road, Brooklyn, NY still standing), my g-g-g-grandparents.  Timothy served as Ensign in Philip Schuyler’s Regiment of Albany County Militia, at defeat of Gen. Burgoyne in Saratoga October 17, 1777; appointed Lieutenant in New York Levies under Col. Marinus Willett; defended Schoharie County from burnings and killings by British, Loyalists and Indians.  This Timothy is not to be confused with a nephew of same name and rank, b. 1764, which many have done, including an erroneous data on an obelisk grave marker in Carlisle, NY.  Sorting their military service out was part of my extensive thesis and documentation in researching and publishing two lengthy articles on the origins and descendants of this Hutton family in the New York Genealogical & Biographical Record in 2004-2005. 
    My Timothy’s nephew William Hutton served extensively in the Revolutionary War throughout New York City, Long Island, and the Hudson Valley.  My Timothy’s nephew Christopher Hutton of Troy, NY served as Ensign, promoted to Lieutenant, member of the elite Society of the Cincinnati.  My Timothy’s nephew, Timothy Hutton b.1764, served as Lieutenant in New York Levies under Col. Willett, enlisting 1780 at age 16 in the Albany militia.  My Timothy’s nephews, Isaac and George (brothers of Christopher and the younger Timothy, all sons of George Hutton, the older brother of my ancestor Timothy Hutton), were well-known influential silversmiths during the Federal period in the late 18th/early 19th centuries in Albany.  Hutton silver has been on display at museums in Albany, New York.
    6) Johannes Leenderse/Leendertse (John Leonardson), b.06/18/63, Fonda, Montgomery Co., NY - enlisted as private in 1779 at age 16, Tryon County Militia, 3rd Reg’t; Corporal in 1781; served on many expeditions in the Mohawk Valley and at forts; joined Col. Willett’s company on march to Johnstown October 1781 in successful battle against enemy who had burned and killed throughout Mohawk Valley; re-enlisted 1782.  Married Sarah Putman b.1773.  Their son Aaron Leonardson b.1796 married 3rd) Lana Gross, parents of Mary Eliza Leonardson b. about 1732 who married William Henry Ottman, my g-g-grandparents.
    7) John Caldwell McNeill, b. 1755, Londonderry, Rockingham Co., NH - at Bunker Hill (actually Breed’s Hill) on Charlestown June 17, 1775 per purchased military pension file.  As Sergeant under Col. Timothy Bedel of the New Hampshire Line, John bought beef to pasture and butcher as needed for the troops.  Bedel’s regiment joined “Corp.1, Co. 1, New York Reg’t” on mission to Canada against British; McNeill taken captive with cousins and friends at The Cedars near Montreal, an island in the St. Lawrence; soldiers were stripped of clothing, belongings and food, and released in cartel negotiated by Gen. Benedict Arnold before he became a traitor.  John served at and discharged at Saratoga, NY.  He married cousin Hannah Caldwell b.1762; removed to Carlisle, Schoharie County, New York ca. 1794; their son Jesse McNeill m. Elizabeth Ostrom, my g-g-g-grandparents. (Neighbor was Thomas Machin who built the Great Chain across the Hudson River to keep the British ships from sailing north. A granddaughter of McNeill married a Machin grandson, removing to the Midwest.)
    😎 George Richtmyer, bp 04/23/1738, Albany Co., NY – Captain from 1775 through end of war in 15th Reg’t of Albany Militia, defending Cobleskill and Middleburg, Schoharie Co., NY.  Married Anna Hommel; their son Henrich/Henry married Maria Beacraft (see above), my g-g-g-grandparents.
    9) Hendrick/Henry Vonck/Vunck, b. 03/06/1757, Freehold, Monmouth Co., NJ - served as private and Corporal in New Jersey and New York City; carried papers for American Gen. Charles Lee; joined units marching to same area of Canada as John C. McNeill; on return became ill with smallpox with others at Lake George when news of the Declaration of Independence was made; honorably discharged; called to serve again at Sandy Hook, NJ; captured by the British at Sandy Hook, taken to a prison ship, then to the [Livingston] stone sugar house in Manhattan, then another prison ship, the Good___  (writing illegible on the early 1800s pension document, possibly Good Hope).  After “one year and one month” as prisoner, he was exchanged and released.  “Having suffered while a prisoner great privations and disease and in poor clothing and severely unwholesome provisions many prisoners died in consequence of their treatment.” (Per 1832 affidavit of military service for pension.)  Conditions suffered as a prisoner left Henry in poor health the rest of his life; removing later to Montgomery County, NY.  He married Chestinah Hagaman; their daughter Jane Vunck married James Dingman, my g-g-g-grandparents.
    From 1776 to 1783 the British made use of decommissioned ships (incapable of going to sea) as floating prisons.  At least 16 rotting hulks were moored in Wallabout Bay, the inner harbor along the northwest shore of Brooklyn, now part of the Brooklyn Navy Yard.  Among the ships were the Good Hope, Whitby, The Prince of Wales, Falmouth, Scorpion, Stromboli, Hunter, and the most infamous HMS Jersey, nicknamed Hell by the men.  Over 10,000 men, perhaps at least 11,500, died on these ships due to the deliberate deplorable conditions.  Men were crammed below decks with no windows for lighting or fresh air.  There was a lack of food and clothing, with vermin and insects running rampant, and a lack of other humane efforts to aid the ill, all leading to the death of thousands.
    Prisoners died virtually every day, reportedly as many as fifteen a day.  Some were not found right away, their bodies not disposed of until days later.  Often, those who died were sewn into their blankets (if they had one) to await pick up by cart the next morning.  Many were buried in shallow graves along the shore (unearthed during major storms) or were simply tossed overboard, later washing ashore.  With the development of Walloon Bay area over the last two centuries has come the discovery of their bones and parts of ships.  To commemorate these soldiers’ lives and what they gave in the fight for independence, the Prison Ship Martyrs’ Monument was built.  Located in Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn, it was dedicated on April 6, 1808 with improvements made to it several times since.
    At least another 5-6000 men died in the sugar houses, bringing the total who died as prisoners to more than 17,500 in the sugar houses and ships, more than double the battlefield losses.  Sugar houses were buildings meant to store sugar and molasses.  Affidavits by my ancestor, Henry Vunck, and friends note he was held for a few months in the “stone sugar house.”  This could only mean the Livingston Sugar House, a six-story stone building built in 1754 by the Livingston family on Crown (now Liberty) Street in Manhattan.  Demolished in 1846, buildings No. 34 and 36 are now on the site.
    A second sugar house, the Rhinelander, a five-story brick warehouse, was built in 1763 at Rose (now William) Street and Duane Street.  This building was eventually replaced and is now the headquarters of the New York City Police Department.  A third, Van Cortlandt’s sugar house, was built about 1755 by the early Dutch family of this name at the northwest corner of the Trinity Church in Manhattan.  It was demolished in 1852.
    10) Hans Georg Jacob Dubendorffer (George Jacob Diefendorf), b. 01/23/1729, Basserstorff, Switzerland – a Loyalist during Rev War, he left Mohawk Valley for Philadelphia and New York City, returned to a daughter’s home in Canajoharie, NY after the war rather than remove to Canada.  A patriotic son, he disowned his father, taking his middle name (his mother’s maiden name) as his new surname, removing to Virginia.  George Jacob married Catharine Hendree; their son Jacob Diefendorf married Susanna Hess, my g-g-g-g-grandparents.
    On February 3, 1783, the British government acknowledged the independence of the American colonies.  The next day, they formally agreed to halt all military operations.  A preliminary peace treaty was ratified in April, and Canada offered free land that summer to Loyalists who sought a new life.  Still, the British military maintained a presence in Manhattan.  When Britain signed the Treaty of Paris September 3, 1783 to end the war, the hated Redcoats finally and slowly began to abandon their New York City stronghold. 
    Next would begin the task of establishing the government and president of this new nation, the United States of America.  George Washington rode into Manhattan on November 25, 1783 with his officers and troops, eight horses abreast.  At the same time Washington’s parade began, British soldiers and ships were setting sail for their homeland across the Pond. 
    Flags were joyfully waved, church bells rang in celebration, and cannons were fired in honor of those who had fought and for those who had lost their lives, all for the independence of this fledgling nation.  The war had definitely taken its toll; but, on this day, great joy was felt in every heart for what had been accomplished. And that is why we continue to celebrate our 4th of July heritage in style – as we remember and commemorate those who gave so much that we might enjoy so much.  And I trust we will never forget what their efforts wrought for us in America!
  2. Linda Roorda
    Suppose tomorrow was your last. How would you spend it? I’ve asked myself that question after our Jenn died on June 30, 2003.  And it’s with joy for a life well lived that we remember her. All that spring of 2003, I sensed the world was going to end that summer… but I kept pushing the thought away. That May, Jenn graduated with a master’s degree in psychology. In early June, Em flew home for vacation from California where she was working after her Houghton graduation. So, we three girls went to a favorite spot, Watkins Glen Gorge.  Several times, I heard the words loud and clear, as if someone stood next to me, “Watch them. Watch them!” So, I did… for a bit. But the pull back to the plants, rock formations and water was strong. Ah, hindsight! If only I had known…
    We have no idea what tomorrow will bring.  We tend to blithely traipse through life, thinking we’re so in control of our destiny.  But are we?  Personally, I find comfort and reassurance knowing that God is ultimately in control.  I know He understands who I am because He created me.  He knows how each little bit and piece of my ups and downs, my joys and sorrows, my successes and failures all fit together to make my life something of value.  So, when life hands me a bump in the road, I can rest assured knowing that He will work it all out for my good, even though I don’t like the difficulty I must face… because He holds my hand, and He knows where He’s leading me.
    None of us wants to think about losing someone we love.  Yet, eventually, we all face the loss of a family member, our parents, grandparents, a friend, our beloved spouse, or even our own mortality.  It’s then, during our darkest days of grief, that we realize life is all too short.  What’s truly important comes into focus in the realization that tomorrow is not promised to any of us...  And we focus on how we can best use the balance of time we’ve been allotted on this earth.
    After the sudden and unexpected loss of our married daughter, Jennifer, grief hit hard.  On the 28th, she had collapsed at home, urgently needing an ambulance, going into cardiac arrest shortly after.  On life support, barely surviving the flight to Rochester’s Strong Memorial, we were told there was no remaining brain function after testing on the 30th.  Ending life support was certainly not what her husband or we ever expected for Jenn’s life.
    At 25, this former high school valedictorian, alumnus of Houghton College, had graduated a month earlier from Alfred University with high honors and a master’s degree in school psychology.  She touched the lives of many with her heart of love, gifted in reaching deeply troubled children in her psychology work.  Her profs stood in awe of her ability, saving videos of her work as teaching tools for the future.  Her love extended to classmates who had mocked her for not socializing in bars with them after classes.  Instead, she invited them to her home for projects, sharing homecooked dinners with her scrumptious desserts, ultimately winning them over with love.  In fact, two former classmates spoke at Alfred University’s memorial that October.  Reading Scripture in Jenn’s memory, they told everyone it was Jenn’s love for them which led them to accept Jesus as their Savior. 

    But while at Strong Memorial Hospital, knowing our daughter would soon be leaving this world, I simply asked God, “Why?  I don’t understand!”  Not out of anger… simply out of confusion, sorrow, and pain.  There was no seeming answer to any of our prayers.
    The next morning at the Rochester International Airport, waiting for our daughter, Emily, to fly in from California, I had a heavy heart. To my left, five plaques hung on the wall.  I remember one was an ad for spaghetti sauce. But in the center was a shiny black plaque with silver lettering.  As I read the words, I literally felt a tremendous wave of peace wash over me from head to toe.  There for all to read were the beautiful words of Psalm 139:13-16 (NIV): “13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 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. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
    God heard my plea.  He answered my heart’s cry!  And He knew these words were exactly the comfort I needed as I felt a wave of peace wash over me.  God was always with us, loving us through our pain. 
    The day after her death, I sat in my garden, praying, thanking God for her life, for her legacy of love to others, and for the 25 years we were blessed to have her with us.  Suddenly, while praying, I saw her in my mind’s eye – bathed in brilliant light, standing near a tree at the base of a hill that was covered in lush green grass with beautiful flowers all around, surrounded by children, as I clearly heard Jenn say, “Be strong!”  And I felt a tremendous sense of absolute contentment as peace enveloped my entire being. 
    What precious words of comfort directly out of Scripture – Be strong!  Be strong and of good courage… Be strong in the Lord...  Be strong!  God is with us in our deepest loss, our deepest pain… ready to comfort, hold, and encourage us as He showers us with His all-encompassing peace and strength.  My prayer is that others who grieve will find the same comfort and peace we have come to know – while focusing on using the tomorrows wisely that our God has graciously blessed us with.  Because none of us knows what tomorrow will bring… 
    Were I to know…
    Linda A. Roorda
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d want to say how much I love you.
    I’d want to know I made a difference
    In someone’s life along the way.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d watch the sun as it rose in glory
    While dawn awakens the world below
    And birds and creatures stir from slumber.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d see the world surrounding us all
    As with eyes that beheld for the very first time
    And stand amazed at creation’s beauty.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d stay in the garden to hear His voice
    As He speaks within the depth of my soul
    Embracing my heart in the beauty of nature.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d end the chase of meaningless tasks
    And focus instead on what matters most
    In the life and love of family and friends.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d see again the love in your eyes
    And listen as you share dreams of your heart
    To forever hold this memory dear.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d share the gift of love and peace
    That overflows in a thankful heart
    From blessings only God can give.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d gaze in awe on the sun’s fading light
    With colorful hues and shadows dark
    As moon and twinkling stars burst forth.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d want to share my Jesus, my Lord
    For knowing Him and His gift of grace
    We’ll rest in His peace and heavenly joy.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d share my vision with all the world
    Of brilliant Light and overwhelming Peace
    Within Christ’s glory on arriving Home.
    ~~
  3. Linda Roorda
    The old red barn stood tall on an open flat, alone against the gray sky, a testament to a long life.  It had weathered countless storms, looking a tad bit worn… another great photo by my friend Kathy’s husband, Hugh Van Staalduinen.  And once again, the picture painted a thousand words that raced through my thoughts.
    For some time now, I’ve felt like writer’s block has taken away my ability to write reflections, never mind the poems where words used to flow through my fingers almost faster than I could write or type. When the words stopped flowing, I knew the poem was complete. I would literally feel drained… because those words came from the depths of my soul, often a cathartic poem which healed emotional wounds long embedded deep.  And perhaps that’s the point… as God reaches out to each of us, maybe there comes a time when healing is complete from a time and place long ago, and we move forward to new experiences He has for us.
    After Ed passed in 2023, and with what would have been his 73rd birthday this Wednesday, I’ve thought about the brevity of life… now facing my own “autumn/winter” phase of life’s four seasons.  Spring is, after all, a beginning, the gift of new life and growth, the carefree days of youth… then summer comes along and we’re in our prime with busy days where all is well with us and the world around, learning and yearning through the passage of time…. as autumn slowly engulfs us in its changes, with colorful harvesting of awards and rewards, reaping the benefits of what we had begun… while winter overtakes us unannounced, bringing a cold and quiet idleness of hands and feet, leaving us breathless to keep up with an ever-changing world which seemingly has no use for our skills or input… though often we ably repurpose our days and ways to assist another soul on their journey to success… as forever onward we go.
    And if you were one of those to whom Ed opened his heart, you were blessed. He shared his life stories with me over the years, but it was never enough.  He insisted on doing whatever he could for as long as possible to be like everyone else.  He tried to be there for me and our children as best he could. He loved to read to them when he’d come in from barn chores at night, giving us all his sound advice as needed, and how we miss his big snugging hugs.
    My friend Elaine said that when Ed passed away, we lost his wealth of knowledge… We not only lost the kind and gentle man he was, but we lost his wit and wisdom, and a tremendous depth of knowledge that he kept tucked away and shared now ‘n then... because he was not a big talker.  But especially as he became much sicker, it was almost too much effort for him to think and make steady conversation at times. 
    Recently celebrating Father’s Day, that barn seemed to be the perfect illustration of my husband Ed’s character over the years.  In fact, the day I saw the photo, and wrote this poem in a couple hours in 2017, I was waiting to bring him home from yet another hospitalization.  Stalwart and steadfast, he remained standing no matter what life sent his way, a true gentle giant.  And like that barn, he’d faced many storms head on, never bending or collapsing as the winds attempted to shake his foundation. He remained firm and resolute with his faith in our Lord, resting secure in God’s provision and love, a pillar of strength for our family. 
    Yet, it had not been easy.  There had been some serious storms that sent waves crashing against him… and against us as a couple.  Despite some plain old-fashioned trials, dashed hopes causing great disappointments, the loss of a daughter, and his losses of sight, physical strength and ability, he overcame those trials with an inner strength and peace that came from his strong faith in our Lord.  For it was God’s wisdom gifted to Ed which saw him through as he grew up, married, helped raise our children, and changed careers from farming to office assistant.
    Later, facing a continued ebbing of strength and ability with the progression of permanent muscle damage caused by statin/cholesterol drugs, and worsening congestive heart failure, we began discussing what we should do when he could no longer function and get around on his own.  In all honesty, we didn’t know what our options would be in the not-so-distant future.  We were facing new frontiers. And then, in late 2022, Ed’s health deteriorated even more as he succumbed to several health issues magnified by Covid, leaving this world on God’s timeline in January 2023.
    Still, through each difficulty, his and our faith grew stronger, for we’d learned that “[we] can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens [us]” (Philippians 4:13)  As I’ve said many times before, and I often need reminding of, James 1:2-4 puts it so well even though we don’t want to welcome one more difficult challenge.  “Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” 
    Being “strong in the Lord and in His mighty power” (Ephesians 6:10-13) is the foundation on which we survive great storms and come out standing. (Proverbs 10:25)  Just like that barn in Hugh’s photo, if we have a firm foundation on the solid rock (faith in our Savior Jesus Christ), weathered by time (experience and wisdom), the structure (our character) will stand tall… and prove stalwart and unwavering. 
    The Stalwart
    Linda A. Roorda
    Stalwart and stoic through the test of time
    Facing the world to weather life’s storms
    Meeting head on whatever befalls
    Humbly proclaiming, steadfast I stand.
    ~
    Bringing together nature’s harmony
    Weathered and worn, reliably true
    Dependably there to meet others’ needs
    Asking for nothing but structural care.
    ~
    Like the pioneers who settled this land
    And carved their place from wilderness wild,
    Weathered by nature midst elements raw
    They kept life sheltered from all threats and harm.
    ~
    Without proper care, wood planks become warped
    Foundations fail without wisdom’s base.
    Oh, can’t you see!  The meaning is clear!
    How like old barns are patriarchs wise.
    ~
    Learning through hardship true wisdom is gained
    Taking a stand for what matters most,
    Sometimes enduring alone in the crowd
    Serene and secure midst turmoil and storm.
    ~
    God bless the stalwart, unwavering friend
    Who braves the path no matter the storm.
    Of foe unafraid, on wisdom standing
    Steadfast and loyal with comforting peace.
    ~~
  4. Linda Roorda
    Father's Day... a time to remember the dads we treasure. They've taught us well in the ways of life.  I remember a lot about my dad.  In fact, it would be fair to say that I had put him on a pedestal while growing up... not a wise placement for anyone.  But it seems he could do anything and everything, a jack-of-all-trades, almost perfect in my little-girl eyes.  Though none of us can measure up all the time, there is One who is perfect... who forgives all our failings... our heavenly Father.
    Yes, there is so much my Dad taught me and my five siblings, including all about the love of Jesus.   As a small child on the farm, I would say, “Jesus is my best friend!”  But, for a time as a teen, I forgot my childhood friend until my Dad reminded me of those words I used to say as a little girl.  Oops! 
    I loved playing board games on Sunday afternoons with my Dad, especially Scrabble. I love the challenge of this game and tend to play aggressively, perhaps because I was in tough competition with my Dad.  Though I won only one game against him over those several years, it was a sweet victory knowing that I’d accomplished the win without his having given me an edge… his way of readying us for the world.
    He taught me honesty was the right way such that in 8th grade English class I chose to write an essay entitled “Honesty Is The Best Policy”, receiving a coveted A.  Actually, I may have gotten writing and art abilities from him.  Although he was an exceptional storyteller, perfectly imitating voice and mannerisms of various comedians, I speak best through the written word.  He also had a gift for drawing with his talent for art passed on to me and my son.  He loved trains, especially the old steam engines, having grown up next to the tracks in Clifton, NJ.  I loved watching him as he built a passenger car for his train set, using tweezers to handle those tiny parts.  I watched him build Packard and Duesenberg model cars, and a German Focke-Wulf plane from WWII, taking us with him as he flew it using a remote-control system… until an unexpected gust of wind dove and smashed the plane into the ground.
    As we grew up, we loved hearing Dad tell family stories of his and our childhoods.  He had a gift for telling any story in a humorous unique way, and how I long to hear them all again.  I asked him to write them down for posterity, but he never did.  When he drove truck in the 1960s through the 1990s (and later huge tractors for an Iowan farmer), he’d come home with stories from the road.  He shared radio routines by Bill Cosby and Southern Cajun comedians, recalling their stories and imitating accents perfectly!  That was way better entertainment than TV any day! 
    I recall a few stories of his time in the Army at Fort Greely, Alaska (1956-1957), a foreign assignment before official statehood. From 18 months to 2 years of age, I was too young to remember my 6-8 months at Delta Junction with my baby sister.  But I also remember having heard how he, his best buddy Roland Neefe, and two other friends found a sunken rowboat.  As it lay not far below the surface of a lake, they pulled it up, cleaned it off, and took it out to fish.  It made for an interesting adventure to say the least – while they took turns fishing, the other three worked hard at bailing to keep the boat afloat!  Now that’s dedicated fishermen! 
    Fort Greely is also where he learned to drive big rigs.  With someone ill, he was asked to take over in the motor pool one night.  Proving he could handle backing up a trailer perfectly, the commanding officer asked where he’d learned to do that since everyone else struggled.  “Backing up a manure spreader, Sir!” was his dutiful reply.  They kept him in the motor pool, where he gained invaluable training for later driving 18-wheelers.
    He was also given a rare promotion because he took the time to thoroughly clean an office coffeepot, a skill learned from his Dutch immigrant mother who had taught him all aspects of housekeeping while growing up, like any good Dutch mother. When a general visited Fort Greely, the coffee-making task was passed off to my Dad as no one wanted to be making coffee for a general!  He didn’t complain but took pains to provide a clean urn for making fresh-percolated coffee… which greatly impressed the general.  When the general asked who made the coffee, the aide who was supposed to have made it “blamed” my Dad.  Instead of the feared reprimand for the typically bad-tasting coffee the office was known for, the general complimented my father on making the best cup he’d ever tasted!  Turning to the senior officer, he ordered him to give my father a promotion!
    When we were younger, he always had time for us. When we lived in Jersey, I loved it when he took us fishing at Garret Mountain in Clifton, Lake Hopatcong and Upper Greenwood Lake. It got me out of the city and into nature where I felt at ease.  And, though I could never bring myself to touch those worms (still can’t!), let alone put them on a hook, and never did catch “the big one,” it was the quality time with our Dad that meant so much to us kids.  As a tomboy, I especially enjoyed working outside with my Dad whether it was in the barn learning to care for the animals, in the huge vegetable gardens, or traipsing the fields and woods to hunt rabbits and deer.  That love just naturally transferred to enjoying time spent working alongside my husband in the barn or in the yard, and growing and weeding gardens of my own.
    As we grew older, we teens were often in our own little world yet I still adored my Dad.  He listened and gave sound advice.  I recall the day he didn’t go to work, taking me instead for a drive to discuss a problem I was dealing with.  At times though, I wasn’t ready to listen to him because, as life moved on, his anger took control and he wasn’t always there for us as a family, causing division with his divorce by expecting full support for his side.  No parent in a divorce situation should ever do that their children.
    But I treasure our renewed relationship later in life.  With apologies for my own errors as a teen, I heard his sadness as I expressed how family dysfunction affected all of us, and he understood my saying I/we all had needed him more than he realized when he was on the road for 2-4 weeks at a time.  I appreciated his compliments on my writing for a local newspaper, my own blogs, publishing genealogy research on my mom’s ancestors in a nationally recognized journal (The New York Genealogical & Biographical Record), and for how well I raised my family and took care of my Mom, even saying he’d never realized all the difficulties I’d faced in my life.  Honesty and forgiveness cleared the way for a better relationship with love expressed to both my parents.  God truly takes our most difficult situations, working them for our good when we love Him, admit our errors, and make amends.
    My Dad’s careers changed from his love of farming, to driving a grain truck delivering feed to dairy farmers (winning top NY State Purina Feed salesman awards for 1961 and 1962), to carpentry with his Dad, a revered general contractor in northeast New Jersey, to driving an 18-wheeler hauling tanks locally and later OTR (over the road/cross country).  When we lived in Clifton, NJ, he drove chemical tankers “locally” in northeast Jersey, southern New England, and New York City.  What stories he brought home from his experiences!  I got to ride with him only twice and wish it could have been more.
    But I was never so happy as when we moved back to New York on August 16, 1969!  Though I hated city life, I can now look back at special memories of Clifton where I was born.  As we settled into “backyard farming,” he taught me how to care for our mare, War Bugg, a granddaughter of Man O’ War, a retired Western working ranch registered Quarter Horse.  One of his trucking buddies also rode the rodeo circuit and put War Bugg through her paces – she did a figure-eight so tight you’d’ve thought she’d fall over!  I helped Dad build her corral and box stall in the barn, along with re-roofing and remodeling the old chicken coop for our flock.  And then came the heavy-duty barn chores of bringing hay down out of the mow, hauling 50-lb bags of grain, mucking out the pens, learning to groom War Bugg and pick up her feet to clean the soft undersides, devouring books on horses and their care, dreaming of being an equine vet.  I saw his deep concern when I stepped on a wasp’s nest in the haymow with 11 stings on my leg, and his gratefulness for my dousing him with a 5-gallon pail of water when a torch threatened to catch him on fire while trying to burn tent caterpillars, chuckling later that I almost drowned him! He did have a great sense of humor, which I valued in my husband Ed, too.
    But I also learned the hard way that running War Bugg flat out up the road and back could have killed her, hot, sweaty and lathered.  Not realizing the depth of War Bugg’s Western training, I’d simply clicked my tongue and she took off like a rocket, so I let her run… on the paved road.  I was scolded hard, yet taught to walk her slowly, allowing her to have only small sips of warm water till she cooled down.  After riding her another time, I dismounted, tied her to the backyard light pole, and ran into the house briefly.  On returning, I realized she’d pulled on and broken her bridle, standing as if still tied with reins straight down.  And it was then I realized she was Western trained to be “ground tied” and to take off at the click of the tongue, very responsive to touch, the absolute best horse!  I still miss her… and her gentle neighs when I put grain and hay in her feed trough.
    Soon enough, I got married and began a new life with my new family, while my siblings and parents scattered themselves around the U.S.  Life changes, and we change with it. We learn from those childhood mistakes and grow up wiser for them.  As a child, I teased Dad when he turned 30 that he was old, and that when he’d turn 50 he’d be “over the hill!”  Well, Dad, guess what?  Your oldest daughter reached that milestone a good ways back, and she’s still thankful to be alive and working!  Giving him this writing in 2014 before he passed away April 17, 2015, his wedding anniversary with my Mom, he knew I felt blessed to have him as my Dad.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive the childhood fun of days long ago, but I treasure those memories that linger still... and I love you, Dad! 
    May you each be blessed with very special memories of your Dad, too!  Happy Father’s Day! 
    I Remember A Dad
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    I remember a dad who took me fishin’
    And remember a dad who hooked my worms,
    Who took those hooks from fishy mouths,
    And showed me the country way of life.
    ~
    A family of six, two girls and four boys
    Fun and trouble we shared as we grew.
    From farms and fields to paved avenues,
    Walking and biking, exploring we went.
    ~
    I remember a time spent playing games,
    A dad who’d not cheat for us to win.
    Family and friends and holiday dinners,
    Lakes and farms and countryside drives.
    ~
    Weeds were the bane of childhood fun,
    So ‘tween the rows we ran and we played.
    But as I grew and matured in age,
    Weeding was therapy in gardens of mine.
    ~
    I remember a dad who thrived on farming
    Livestock and gardens, and teaching me how.
    I remember a dad who took me huntin’
    Scoutin’ the fields, always alert.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught us more
    For growing up we learn by example.
    I remember working alongside my dad
    Roofing a barn and building corrals.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose gifts were given
    In fairness to meet each child’s desire.
    I remember a dad whose wisdom we honor
    In memories of caring and love in small ways.
    ~
    I remember a dad who brought us laughter
    With Cajun and Cosby stories retold.
    For blessed with a gift of retelling tales
    Family and childhood events he recalled.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose time was given
    To help his children face life’s turmoils.
    Time spent together are memories treasured
    For things done best put family first.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught me more
    To treasure my faith in Jesus my friend.
    In looking to Him as Savior and Lord,
    Salvation by Grace, not earned by my deed.
    ~
    As I look back to days long ago,
    I remember the dad I knew so well.
    For I miss the dad who took me fishin’
    And remember the dad who taught me more.
    ~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  5. Linda Roorda
    Maybe we don’t say it enough… those little words that mean so much - “You make a difference…” or “I appreciate you…” or “I love you!”  Along with the words, there are ways we can show how much we care, and here are a few I’ve been pondering. 
    Since retiring, I have totally enjoyed a second “career” - subbing in our public school district, and noticed something right away that has been consistent… the welcoming words and smiles from staff on up to the principals and superintendent – words of appreciation and thanks for coming in and helping out, for being there for the kids, no matter their age, from pre-K3 thru high school.  And it got me to thinking about us as family and friends.  I appreciate each of you for who you are, for your being a very special part of my life, for your kind loving words, for words of wisdom and words that teach me… Thank you! You’ve made a difference in my life! And I love you! 
    In thinking about others, one of the best ways we can express how much we care is by simply serving them, expecting nothing in return.  As the Apostle Paul wrote, “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4)  Ask how they’re doing and truly listen when they express life is not going so well.  Make the effort to really understand what someone else might be feeling, or what they might be going through.
    Volunteer your time, that rare commodity in our hectic schedules.  We can help those in a difficult situation, or those recovering from surgery or illness.  We can provide a meal or simply give attention to a shut-in to let them know they’ve not been forgotten.  Perhaps we’re able to volunteer in a program where serving will benefit many… such as the local fire department, ambulance squad, or a local food cupboard.  There are so many ways we can share our time to express care.
    Be a mentor to others.  Encourage them in their endeavors.  Help them succeed.  Lift them up emotionally.  Listen to their concerns.  Cheer them on!  Perhaps helping to widen their horizon in a favorite hobby might lead them into a fulfilling venture.
    Be there for the grieving.  Many words aren’t necessary.  Simply ask how they’re doing.  Sharing the silence with a hug and sitting with them brings comfort.  Listen to their heart as they express their sorrow.  Share their pain.  Show you care.  And know that so many have done this well.
    Give a smile to those you meet along your daily path, even strangers!  Watch their face light up knowing that you care enough to share a simple smile to brighten their day! 
    Be joyful for each other!  Praise them for even their smallest accomplishments, and express how happy you are for them in their larger successes. 
    Let someone know you'll pray for them.  Make someone a gift using your special talents, or gift them something unique to their interests.
    Greet others with a genuine friendly tone.  Share a positive attitude.  Make others feel wanted and welcomed.  Let them know how much you appreciate them and all that they do.
    With the passing of my friend Julie’s daughter a few years ago (the age of my children who shared my March birthday), I shed tears of sadness for her family in their deepest loss.  She had become a dedicated funeral director, comforting those who grieved their loved ones.  She moved on to a new job, showing those in need, and those she took care of in group homes, the depths of love from her heart.  Loved by family and friends, she made a difference in the lives of others. 
    Two years ago, I learned this month that my friend, Mimi (a distant cousin found when I was researching my Mom’s ancestry), was in serious condition in the ICU.  My heart broke to hear that news, and then again when she passed away.  Treasured like a sister, we bonded right away, learning we had so much in common when we first met online.  We shared family ancestry data that we had gathered, while I learned much from her.  A former nurse, she next found fulfillment as a teacher’s aide, assisting special needs children.  In so many ways, she made a difference in the lives of those with whom she came in contact from her own caring and generous loving heart.
    In the past, I’ve shared some of our daughter Jenn’s writings for a college psych course, as a memorial to who she was.  Passing away too young at 25 in 2003, she had much to look forward to, but God knew her days before even one of them came to be… She made a difference in the lives of everyone around her with gentleness, wisdom, and a kind and caring heart of love.
    As a sub for teachers and TAs since March 2021, I’ve enjoyed giving each of my students a listening ear and caring. Sometimes I feel like their “adopted grandmother”, giving time and attention as they each need. And it does my heart good to hear some of their comments, “You’re our favorite sub… we really appreciate you… it’s because you care.” Little do my students know that their responding well to my input and caring completes the circle of love.
    And I know that you, too, can name many examples of how others made a difference in the world around them, even in your life… just as you share this same loving kindness to make a difference in someone else’s life… someone in need of your compassion, comfort, kindness and generosity.  Feel free to share your thoughts with us all below.
    We can each make a difference wherever we are in whatever we do!  Shining our inner light as a reflection of Christ’s love within us, we let others know how much we care about them.  Be the one who makes a difference in the world today!
    You Made A Difference…
    Linda A. Roorda 
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You gave a smile to someone in need
    Your face truly showed you cared from the heart
    For your love was felt wrapped up in the glow.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You lent an ear to someone hurting
    You listened to tears and heard their story
    You held their heart in the depths of your soul.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You walked the path where a friend was plodding
    You carried their burden, you went the extra mile,
    You eased their stress and brought hope to their day.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    Your hands rough and worn, were held out with warmth
    Bestowing attention, you covered their needs
    As your arms enveloped to guard and protect.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You spoke words of truth with gentle kindness
    You showed concern, asking how they were
    And shared their dreams scattered in the storm.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You took the time to sit in silence
    You held their hand bringing peace and comfort
    When their life was torn apart in sorrow.
     ~
    You made a difference in the world today…
    You shared their joy with laughter’s ring
    You praised them for a job well done
    As your love and hugs showed the depth of care.
    ~~
  6. Linda Roorda
    “You never think of your parents as much more than parents. It isn’t until you are older yourself that you begin to realize they had their hopes, dreams, ambitions, and secret thoughts. You sort of take them for granted and sometimes you are startled to know they were in love a time or two…. You never stop to think about what they were like until it is too late…” (Louis L’Amour in “Tucker”)  Oh how true!!
    The tomboy that I was while growing up in my teens, working and learning beside my Dad, prepared me for later becoming a farmer’s wife.  After all, the love of farming is in the blood of both my parents!  I was not fond of housework, though certainly took good care of my home, but I much preferred to be outside or in the barn. Yet we women fill so many different roles.  Not all of us are wives and mothers.  Some of us remain single.  Some of us are meant to pursue life-time careers.  Some of us work to support our family, when we would prefer to be at home raising our children. Often, our likes and dislikes, and even careers, change throughout our lifetime. 
    Typically, we women are great multi-taskers, but I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad! We come from different walks in life, and we’re very different from each other in feelings, perspectives, and opinions. I’ve had several “big sisters” or “surrogate mothers” and mentors in my lifetime who added a special dimension to my maturing and learning - my Dad’s mother, Grammy, with whom I wrote letters every other week for decades from my teens on, who helped raise me as an infant and toddler, and was there with an ear and advice as I raised my own children; my cousin Howard’s wife, Carol, like a big sister to me and whose four children my sister and I babysat during their weekend auctions in our teens, and with whom I continue to keep in touch; and his brother Robert’s wife, Virginia, briefly my hunting partner in my teens, also taught me how to cook certain meals when I lived with their family while working in Ithaca several months before my marriage to Ed, learning to make delicious homemade spaghetti sauce and a down-home scrumptious simple goulash, both a favorite in my own family’s supper menu. 
    But I remember my Mom for many things… as I grew up, she was a traditional housewife, taking care of the home and growing a large garden.  She continued her mother’s example by canning and freezing the produce every summer except the years we lived in Clifton, NJ.  When we butchered chickens, Dad put them on the chopping block, we two sisters were the “dunk-and-pluck” crew, while Mom knew how to properly dress them for the freezer from her growing-up years, showing us one hen’s set of graduated eggs sans shells from large to very small!  She was quiet and reserved, did not share much, if anything, about herself or her family as I grew up, but she had a strong faith in God.  Her mother died when I was 9 so I have limited memories of her, though eventually my mother shared stories of growing up and of her mother’s busy life raising 12 children, helping on their large chicken and dairy farm. My mom loved the country/farm life as do I. And she knew how to deliciously cook up the squirrel I shot, and all game and fish my Dad brought home!
    A few things she shared included making true homemade ice cream (no pre-made mix) as we kids clamored for a turn at hand cranking, bottling homemade root beer, and cooking up the best hot cocoa with real cocoa powder, sugar and milk on the stove – all things from her childhood.  She also made a Dutch barley soup with buttermilk and brown sugar that I loved, as well as the most delicious cream puffs in the world using our duck eggs.  She could sew, but it was not her favorite.  She taught me to iron clothes and Dad’s handkerchiefs before permanent press fabrics hit the market.  I loved her homemade bread and made some a few times after I was married, but it was not my favorite venture.  As a kid, I savored her delicious toasted-cheese sandwiches with her homemade dill pickle slices tucked between slices of her homemade bread – long before Vlasic ever thought of selling bottled dill pickle slices for that very purpose!  
    My sister and I did a lot of the bean and pea picking, snapping and shelling.  Though we tossed some of those veggies as youngsters when we were tired of our chore, freshly picked and cooked peas remain my favorite.  I loved visiting the farm my Mom grew up on, and later in life enjoyed hearing stories of her younger days.  She shared some of her wisdom, but typical of teens, I wasn’t always listening or accepting.  I did not hear much of her childhood until I began researching and documenting her family’s genealogy decades after I got married. And treasure the time I drove her around her hometown of Carlisle, NY, sharing and pointing out places connected to her life, as I wrote down her childhood stories.
    My only desire had been to be a stay-at-home mother like my Mom, but circumstances beyond our control put me back into the workforce when my children were very young.  Each of my secretarial jobs (beginning part time as a high school senior in an Owego law office), built the foundation and skills for the next job, preparing me for my final medical transcription career before retiring and changing direction once more - subbing for teachers and their TAs, jobs I absolutely love, “being there” for “my” students.  Sewing many clothes for myself, husband and children, and canning and freezing a year’s worth of garden produce and fruit while raising my little ones were all reminiscent of the “good ol’ days.”  But whether it’s being a mother or having a career, that’s not where all our satisfaction is found. 
    It does our heart good to “be there” for someone else, whether to provide emotional support, bring a meal to a shut-in, or lend aid in other ways to someone in need… sometimes even if only to give an ear and a shoulder for their hurts.  And that doesn’t begin to describe the love felt by the recipients of our gifts of love and time.  But doing good for others is not where we derive all our satisfaction either.
    For several years, a popular women’s Bible study has been the “Proverbs 31 Woman.”  I like this passage of Scripture in Proverbs 31:10-31 (NIV), written by Israel’s King Solomon who had achieved fame as the wisest man in the world.  It speaks about a wife of noble character, and what she does to bring blessing to her husband and children… her family.  She works to care and provide for the needs of her household.  She buys and sells property and goods for a profit.  She respects her husband and brings him good in all she does, whether at home, among her friends, or in the city at large.  She speaks with a wise heart.  She does not sit around in idleness; instead, she demonstrates strength and dignity in all situations.
    As I ponder this passage, I feel like it shows that I clearly don’t measure up.  For I know all too well my own failings.  Yet, there’s no reason why I cannot pursue change within.  So, I seek that quiet time to study, meditate, pray, and listen to what the Lord has to say within my heart.  It’s the Lord’s approval I long for… to guide my steps, to change my course, to cover me with forgiveness, peace and contentment, and to find satisfaction in doing what He expects of me even when it’s not the easiest path, nor the one I would choose.
    May you be blessed - whether or not you are called Mom - for all the love you share, and for all the time and effort you put into being there for those around you… Happy Mother’s Day! 
    I Am A Woman
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    I am a woman.  I am a mother.
    I’m a little girl, deep in my heart.
    I am emotions, raw and revealing.
    I am deep strength when life overwhelms.
    ~
    I’ve carried love within my heart
    For family dear, and friends held close,
    For husband wise, light of my world
    And children young, growing their dreams.
    ~
    I see the needs to be fulfilled.
    I reach to you, a life to touch.
    I shed a tear, and hold your hand
    To ease your pain, and bring a smile.
    ~
    In quiet time, I seek Your will, Lord.
    A time to renew, to calm my fears,
    To savor sweet dreams, my hopes and plans
    As You care for me and meet all my needs.
    ~
    I fail at times to walk the straight path
    Yet You, oh Lord, are at my side.
    You pick me up each time I fall
    To gently remind, Your child I am.
    ~
    I’ve harbored pain of losses that wound.
    I’ve weathered storms, battered and scarred.
    But my weary soul with peace You fill,
    That I may praise and bless Your name.
    ~
    I hear Your voice and will in Your Word,
    For wisdom I’ve gained upon this road
    Will lead me on to comfort and love
    Others in need with You at my side.
    ~~
  7. Linda Roorda
    Ahh, spring! My favorite season! And hasn’t it been looking beautiful outdoors? Building on last week’s barely emerging florals and greenery, this week’s warmth and rain has showered us with bursting color! I love to see the signs of new life that slowly appear, almost imperceptibly, after earth’s long wintry sleep.  To smell the fresh earthy aroma that follows a gentle spring rain is so refreshing, to see the grass almost immediately turning from shades of crisp tan and brown and dingy green to rich verdant hues of green, and to watch the daintiest leaf or flower bud begin to develop… these all bring joy to my heart. 
    With a bright sun’s nourishing warmth, those leaf buds soon swell and burst open, bringing many more shades of green to life.  Then, as flowers open to brighten the landscape, it’s as though all of creation rejoices with an endless bounty of color.  “For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.  The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2:11-12)
    I’ve often pondered the great joy and pleasure it must have given our God as He created every aspect of this world, every plant and creature… each uniquely designed!  After His work of creating separate aspects of this world over six days of the week, “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31 NIV)  Wouldn’t it have been wonderful to have been a witness as this marvelous creation came to be?  I’ve also imagined that the first week of creation was spring with vivid colors bursting forth in blooms from every kind of plant and flower imaginable!  An amazing palette of color! 
    When God created man and woman in His image to tend and care for the beautiful Garden of Eden, ultimately to be caretakers of the new world at large… they were each uniquely created and loved by God… just as we are in our own time.  And to know that all this beauty was created for our pleasure, to treasure and nourish… what an awesome responsibility and beautiful gift we were given! 
    Enjoy the beauty of spring in all its glory as it bursts forth anew to revive and color our every-day world with exhilarating joy!
    Colors of Spring
    Linda A. Roorda
    From brilliant yellow of forsythia arched
    To burgundy red on trees standing tall
    The colors of spring emerge in great beauty
    To brighten our days from winter’s dark sleep.
    ~
    From shades of chartreuse as leaf buds burst forth
    To pink and white flowers in cloud-like halos
    Hovering on branches in glowing full bloom
    Swaying above carpets of undulating green.
    ~
    From rich azure sky with puffs of white-gray
    To pale blue horizon at forested hills
    With sun-streaked rays like fingers of God
    To lengthening shadows as light slowly fades.
    ~
    From velvet black night as moon rises full
    To glittering diamonds twinkling bright
    Up over hills on their path through the sky
    Gliding above trees with limbs reaching out.
    ~
    From earth’s colorful palette awakening clear
    To the crisp and bold and shades of pastels
    Shimmering and dancing to brighten our day
    Created by God, our pleasure to behold.
    ~~

     
     
  8. Linda Roorda
    There’s beauty all around us in even the simplest of things… if we just take the time to truly see. 
    Sometimes when the days were hectic and I’d get overwhelmed, just sitting in my gardens would help wash away the stress, like a cleansing of the soul, with time to ponder and pray. But in the depths of a cold winter, I’d set out sunflower seeds, peanuts in the shell, and suet… to quietly watch the birds descend on the dining bounty.  Whether sitting in a summer garden surrounded by blooming splendor, or sitting in the warmth of my house gazing outward at a pristine snowfall, there is so much beauty to enjoy.
    Writing this blog a few years ago, winter had finally settled in with her bitter cold, howling winds, and a light snow.  After being spoiled with an extra warm late fall/early winter compliments of El Nino, it was only fitting we returned to more seasonable weather… which prompted me to feed the birds.  Almost immediately, a downy woodpecker settled on the upright peanut-in-the-shell feeder I’d made several years ago.  It’s been frequented by downy, hairy, red-headed and red-bellied woodpeckers, blue jays, nuthatches and chickadees. And that doesn’t even include the wide variety of birds which have flown in to seek a snack in the other feeders.  Some very interesting species during migrations were also drawn in when seeds were set out longer during the season than in the recent few years.
    While watching the birds though, I couldn’t help but notice the stark-naked tree limbs reaching skyward.  There’s a distinct beauty in their coarseness.  Some branches drape downward, others reach beckoning hands up and out as they twist and turn in various directions.  And they all carry leaf buds that before too much longer will begin to swell with the promise of spring… to once again be clothed in shades of green and dazzling pastels.
    I especially enjoy the warm days of spring that flow into the heat of summer.  I absolutely love to hear the early spring peepers and frogs.  They remind me of the first spring after we were married, hearing them through open windows in our trailer.  They have a lulling effect on me, taking me back to those early happy days. And I love to hear the variety of birds singing as they fly around our yard, swallows swooping to catch bugs on the wing, and the calls of hungry nestlings to their busy parents…  all music to my ears.
    To watch a gorgeous sunrise as the faintest of color pierces the velvet dark sky, or to gaze on a beautiful sunset with rays of sun which slice outward from behind clumps of clouds is heavenly… taking a long look at those clouds, noticing the different types, forms, and shapes.  Again, there is so much simple beauty to be found wherever the eye may look.
    Take time to peer a little closer at weeds while taking a walk.  Their delicate flower forms often closely resemble cultivated relatives.  Watch a stream flowing by, water gurgling over the rocks, little fish darting here and there.  Observe a bee or a bug from as close a perspective as you can get.  Study the bloom of each flower.  Appreciate what’s right there in front of you, and drink in the beauty we often casually walk on by…
    It seems that as we contemplate nature’s beauty around us, life begins to ease into a slower pace.  Allow yourself the chance to slow down… stand still within life’s fast-paced frenzy.  Look around… and truly see the beauty in the tiniest of details.  For as Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time…”  So take the time to pause and contemplate life in all its delicate beauty … 
    I See Beauty
    Linda A. Roorda
    I see beauty in the world around
    Where some see a tree I see living art
    I see God’s hand in the rays of dawn
    The streaks of light that brighten our world.
    ~
    I hear the chirps of birds in the air
    Tunes of delight as they share their praise
    With grateful hearts for daily blessings
    Their endless singing brings joy to my soul.
    ~
    I gaze upon a flowing river
    Or gentle stream and watch its passing
    From whence it came to where it will go
    While I at the edge can only look on.
    ~
    I climb these hills covered in thick wood
    To look on scenes spread out far below
    A miniature world enchanting and calm
    Creation’s beauty forever enjoyed.
    ~
    It gives me pause to contemplate life
    Reason and meaning for all in this world
    Breeze in the air and sun on my face
    With reassuring peace midst bustling din.
    ~
    While gazing still away to the west
    This day winds down and shadows lengthen
    The sunset dazzles as it slowly fades
    A perfect ending, its treasure to hold.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  9. Linda Roorda
    Impetuous Peter… the disciple like so many of us if we’re honest.  I tend to speak quickly, not always giving as much thought to my answer as I should.  My husband, on the other hand, would take time to formulate his reply. And I so often realized the depth of wisdom he shared in what he’d mulled over.
    Then, there’s the side of us which is a bit miffed at someone’s denials of wrongs to protect themself.  Does their conscience ever pierce their heart?  Is there a snippet of guilt or shame?  Don’t they know a heart-felt apology for wrongs helps restore relationships?  More importantly, have we forgiven them anyway?  Or do we hold onto that grudge.  For faithful is the friend who remains supportive and encouraging.
    Which reminds me of the twelve disciples gathered around Jesus and their inner thoughts… no different than us. Unbeknownst to all but Jesus, one of their own, Judas, was in the process of selling out their Lord for thirty pieces of silver, even as they shared the Passover meal together. (Matthew 26:14-16, 17-30)
    The disciples all knew how much Jesus loved them, so it must have caused great consternation as they heard Him warn Peter that before a rooster crowed twice, Peter would deny ever having known Jesus. (Mark 14:30) They must have wondered how their Teacher could think such a thing, let alone say it! (Luke 22:31-34; Mark 14:27-31) Even Peter protested that he would rather go to prison or die with Jesus than ever renounce his best friend!
    After dinner, they went to the Garden of Gethsemane to rest and pray.  Judas (who had left the table of his dining friends) eventually rejoined them, bringing along a large entourage of soldiers.  And then he boldly gave Jesus a traitor’s kiss as soldiers surrounded his former teacher. To prove his own devotion to his best friend, Peter rashly sliced off the ear of one of the Roman guards with his sword.  With tender love for those who meant him harm, Jesus gently restored the man’s ear, and rebuked Peter for his hasty behavior. (John 18:10-11) Surprisingly, as Jesus was being arrested, His closest friends… His followers, His disciples… turned their backs in abandonment and ran away out of fear. (Mark 14:50-52) 
    Later that evening as Peter warmed himself around a fire in the courtyard during Jesus’ trial, a servant girl thought she recognized him. Concerned for his own life after Jesus’ arrest, Peter vehemently denied being among Jesus’ closest friends… three times he rebuked their remembrances, the last time swearing like the old fisherman that he was.  Immediately, a rooster crowed for the second time.  And Peter recalled what Jesus had predicted.  His heart sank in broken-hearted grief.  He had vehemently denied that he’d ever do such a thing to his closest of friends, and yet that’s exactly what he had done.  Feeling utterly ashamed and alone, he walked away from everyone, and wept tears of great sorrow and remorse.  (Mark 14:66-72)
    Once again, Peter had reacted rashly, thinking he was deflecting harm to himself by denying the truth without taking the time to think of the consequences.  Yet, Peter loved his Lord.  And Jesus loved Peter… unequivocally.  For after Jesus’ crucifixion and then resurrection, the angel in the tomb told the women, “[Jesus] is risen! He is not here… Go, tell His disciples and Peter.”  To me, those words signify how deeply our Lord loved Peter.  Despite Peter’s hasty denials, God wanted to be sure Peter heard and understood the good news! (Mark 16:7)  In Luke 24:9-12, we read that as soon as Peter heard about Jesus’ resurrection, he got up and immediately ran to the tomb to check out the story’s validity for himself.  So like our impetuous Peter, isn’t it?!  But it also shows how deeply Peter truly loved his Lord!
    Some days later, unexpectedly meeting their Lord on the shore of Galilee after fishing all night, John retells for us how Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved Him. With a tone of voice that likely reflected his deepest feelings, Peter was irritated and hurt that Jesus would ask him the same question for a third time.  And Peter gave the same response each time, “You know I love you!”  (John 21:15-17)  Yet it was all done to help Peter understand that he was truly loved… and forgiven for his denials because of his repentant heart… and that Jesus was now giving Him a second chance with a new responsibility.  Peter was to reach out to a world of hurting souls with the same love that he had been given from Jesus after his own failures! 
    The reason Jesus was born into this world… the reason He died on a cross… was to pay for the sinful deeds we’ve done, no matter their size.  “For we have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption of Jesus.” (Romans 3:23-24)  As we confess our sins and need for a Savior, we receive God’s most gracious gift of forgiveness.  “For God so loved the world that He sent His only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)  What depths of mercy and grace are ours!
    A Blessed and Happy Easter to each of you! 
    Do You Love Me?
    Linda A. Roorda
    Do you love me?  More than all these?
    You know I do, Lord!  A loving friendship.
    You know my thoughts, my words and my ways,
    Surely you know how deep is my love.
    ~
    Do you love me?  Do you truly love?
    You know I do, Lord!  I’d sacrifice self.
    Then feed My sheep, meet them in their need,
    Go to My flock, and lead them in truth.
    ~
    Do you love me?  With your heart and soul?
    Oh Lord, I am grieved!  My heart has been stabbed.
    But oh! the shame of having denied
    One with whom I’d walked, the leader of hearts.
    ~
    Did you not warn of what was to come?
    I pledged you my love above all others.
    I’d follow you Lord, even unto death!
    I’d never disown my Savior, my God.
    ~
    But when confronted, my heart shrank in fear.
    I heard my own words deny with alarm.
    Twice more they claimed I was with the condemned,
    When out of my mouth came vicious cursing.
    ~
    I winced in shock to hear the cock crow.
    My heart sank in shame for what I had done.
    My Lord had said deny Him I would,
    Now all I could do was bitterly weep.
    ~
    You gazed thru my heart. You saw my soul’s depth.
    You poured out Your love though faithless was I.
    And now, Lord, you ask, do I truly love?
    Yes, Lord, I do! With heart, soul and mind.
    ~
    Then tenderly care for the sheep of My fold.
    Go to the fields and guide them in truth.
    Feed them my Word, everlasting life.
    Shower with mercy and grace in My name.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  10. Linda Roorda
    We’ve all heard the old adage that there are two sides to every story, and a classic trial brings that point out vividly.  I’ve served on three juries in the past – one guilty, one given a lesser settlement than desired, and one not guilty.  It’s an honor to be selected to sit with peers to carefully review and ponder the facts of the case as presented by the respective attorneys, and to be responsible for the right verdict.  Certainly, some have abused the trial-by-jury system and condemned truly innocent folks; but, more often than not, it has been and still is an equitable and fair justice system.
    The legal teams for the defendant and the plaintiff each present salient points to be considered, arguing their case convincingly with evidence and witnesses.  Once the case has been handed over to the jury, it’s up to these 12 peers to discuss evidence presented and determine guilt or innocence.  Typically, at each trial, we jurors took our first poll at the beginning of deliberations.  It was evident that we could often tell early on where the truth lay.  We also brought along our own life experiences and knowledge which helped weigh the evidence from both sides as we listened to each juror’s assessment.
    But sometimes it seems that a trial with its accusations is like that voice in my head reminding me of how guilty I am.  It’s Satan pointing out all of my sins… one after another, stacked high, like a mountain tall.  The right way to live is spelled out in the Ten Commandments, in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and scattered all throughout God’s Holy Word. But I’m also well aware that we cannot keep God’s commands and expectations to live a pure and holy life… because we can be easily swayed in the wrong direction when overwhelmed by life’s challenges or our thoughts are not resting secure in God’s Word.  And I have a serious debt which I can never repay.

    So, what am I to do? Go to the Lord, confess my sins and failures, and accept God’s love and forgiveness, for nothing I could ever do will wash away my guilt.  My favorite verse since childhood has been – “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  (John 3:16 KJV)  
    Jesus took the punishment I deserved on that fateful day we call Good Friday.  He was put on trial, a one-sided sham of justice.  He was whipped, mocked, and nailed to a cross… not because of anything He had done for He was sinless, faultless, perfect… fully human, yet fully God. He did that for me… and for you.  He willingly took our place, giving His life to purchase our right to join Him in heaven forever.  His grace and mercy bring me to tears.  Someday I will stand before Almighty God, my judge, to give an account of my life.  I will have nothing to say in my defense… except that I put faith in my advocate, Jesus, who will be standing at my side, declaring me guiltless because He already paid for my sins… with His own life… my advocate, my Lord and Savior. 
    My Advocate
    Linda A. Roorda
    With accusations I’m now confronted
    No plea have I but guilty as charged
    I hang my head to litany stark
    And with quiet shame my accuser I face.
    ~
    It once had seemed the world was my own
    I learned the games to lie and to cheat
    I did not care if others were hurt
    As long as my will and goals were achieved.
    ~
    But in the spiral of downward tumble
    I lost the vision I’d once beheld
    A purer focus, others before self
    Humble respect in tangled webs lost.
    ~
    And one by one as charges were read
    I clearly recalled the past with deep pain
    Words now regretted, carelessly spoken
    How could I ever repair what I had done?
    ~
    In my despair while under scrutiny
    My only hope was to beg for mercy
    That perhaps some deed along the way
    Would balance the book, the ledger of sin.
    ~
    But, alas, I heard the judge declare
    Guilty as charged; no mercy be shown.
    Like rock upon rock my sins were stacked high
    As I stared upon that mountain of debt.
    ~
    Just then the doors were flung open wide
    And striding forth came a man in pure white
    Boldly he exclaimed, “This debt has been paid!”
    “I hung on the cross, and took all the shame.”
    ~
    Slowly I sank to my knees in awe.
    Who was this man who gave all for me?
    How could he give his life for my debt?
    For I can’t repay such a merciful gift.
    ~
    Reaching out gently he pulled me up tall
    And showed me his scars and nail-pierced hands
    He held out his arms in welcome embrace
    As he dried my tears and declared me free.
    ~
    I love you my child… I did this for you.
    I carried your shame upon my beaten back.
    I purchased your soul with life-giving blood
    That you might have life with mercy and grace.
    ~
    Now all I ask is by faith you walk,
    Bringing to the world compassion and peace.
    Carry my light to the corners dark,
    Open your heart to love and forgive.
    ~~
     
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  11. Linda Roorda
    There is One who walked this earth long ago, who shared this life, and who felt the same emotions we do… the One who walks this road beside us still.  One who understands our fears and anxieties, telling us to come and bring all our cares to Him, to rest in His peace.
    I suspect we tend to think of our Lord’s journey on this earth as one which was just as perfect as He was.  We have the ability to look backward with Scripture in hand and see that Jesus’ three years of ministry were anything but a life of ease.  Though we realize He was fully God, He was also fully human… and maybe we tend to forget that just a little from time to time.  I know I do.
    At the beginning of his ministry, he graciously changed simple water into the best wine for a wedding feast at Cana which He attended with his mother. (see John 2:1-11) But, He also had an intense righteous anger at the money changers in the temple. (see Matthew 21:12-17)
    Jesus got hungry, yet He taught that man should not live by bread alone.  With these very words, he resisted Satan’s temptation in the wilderness.  Fasting for 40 days, Jesus was tempted by Satan to throw himself down from the highest point of the temple and let the angels catch him.  Satan then offered to give him all the kingdoms of the world if he bowed down and worshiped him.  Instead, Jesus trusted in His heavenly Father, and commanded Satan to get away from him, “For it is written:  ‘worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”  Jesus was being prepared for the demands of His ministry ahead by facing His own human temptations.  (see Matthew 4:1-11)
    Jesus ate with people considered sinners and unworthy by the pious wealthy and religious men of society.  He taught small intimate groups and large boisterous crowds.  He felt sorry for them in their hunger, and fed them with just five little fish and two loaves of bread… recovering 12 big baskets of leftover crumbs!  We can hardly fathom the excitement that must have run through the great crowd of thousands.  Did you see that?  How can that be?  That’s beyond amazing!  That’s a miracle!
    Jesus was the embodiment of love and compassion.  He had compassion on those who were ill, and healed them when they came to Him in their faith.  He forgave their sins, just as He heard their whispers asking who this man was… for no one but God could do that!  I marvel at the awe and respect they felt toward Jesus.  They didn’t have Scripture in hand to tell these stories like we do.  They witnessed it!
    He had compassion on a group of ten lepers and healed them.  Afterward, only one man returned to thank Jesus for healing him.  I’ve always thought the other nine were so ungrateful to accept their healing without one word of thanks.  It’s as though they took their healing for granted… like we often do with our own blessings.  And I have to ask, where is my heart in response for all God’s done for me?
    Yet, Jesus was so like us in many ways.  He got tired after a long day.  He needed to get away from the noisy bustling crowds.  He would slip off to a quiet place, away from the pressing urgency of people all around Him as they clamored for more teaching, more miracles.  Jesus needed to rest and have quiet time alone with His heavenly Father… just like we do.  He needed time to pray, time to meditate, and time for simple rest to refresh His soul.  That’s why I enjoy time in my sitting gardens… time to think and pray, to give thanks, and to rest in the beauty of God’s awesome creation around me.
    Jesus also showed compassion and forgiveness to a woman caught in adultery, an offense punishable by stoning to death.  When the men brought her to Him with their accusations, he stooped down to write in the sand.  Standing up, He told them that whoever was without sin to cast the first stone.  One by one, each of her accusers silently walked away.  I’ve always wondered what it was He had written in the sand that confronted each of them… Perhaps, Jesus began writing down their sins, for not one of them, or us, is sin free.
    Jesus knew the adoration of the crowds.  He had awed them with many miracles of healing, but told some not to share their good news with anyone.  In every fiber of His being was humility.  He did not go about looking for the praise of the people.  Yet, how often don’t we hope for praise for something we’ve done. 
    On Palm Sunday, He rode into Jerusalem on the colt of a donkey as the crowd spread their cloaks on the road ahead of him, waving palm branches and praising Him for all He had done.  This was the one time He allowed such adulation saying the rocks and stones would cry out if the people didn’t!
    Yet, Jesus also knew rejection and scorn, mocking and ridicule.  His own disciples argued about who should be seated next to Him in His future kingdom.  They really didn’t understand what His ministry was all about… not yet, anyway.  He knew and heard the accusations swirling around Him.  Jesus knew His days were numbered.  He knew that the powerful rulers within the Jewish community wanted Him silenced.  They believed He blasphemed to call himself God.  And so, He was sold… stabbed in the back, so to speak, by one of His own disciples, Judas, for a paltry 30 pieces of silver, the price of a slave.
    Even the night before He was killed, just like we might do, Jesus prayed to God that the agony of what was in front of Him would pass Him by.  Yet, He was obedient to His heavenly Father.  He understood that the shame He would soon face … the ultimate sacrifice for each one of us and our condemning sins… would all be borne on His shoulders on that cross… but then eclipsed by the glory of His resurrection.  It was His ultimate gift to each of us, ours to accept in simple faith, as He welcomes us into His kingdom – our eternal heavenly home. 
    What love… what incomprehensible love! 
    Who’s Walked This Road Beside Us?
    By Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Who’s walked this road each step beside us?
    Who knows the way?  Who’s been there Himself?
    Who’s felt our love and adoration?
    Yet knew the pain, rejection and scorn?
    ~
    Who’s been tempted, tried and tested?
    Just as we are was He among us.
    Hungry and weary, needing time alone
    Away from the crowds, away from demands.
    ~
    Who’s walked among the poor and needy?
    Who’s shown true love for outcasts of life?
    Who called the broken to draw from His well,
    And gave His life for the least of these?
    ~
    Who’s walked with those just clinging to faith
    With nothing left but a seeking heart?
    Who gave His words, a beacon of hope
    To carry forth His light in this world?
    ~
    Who’s walked beside those who are mourning?
    With tears of sadness, who’s shared in our loss?
    Who’s eased our pain with comforting peace
    That we in turn may console sad hearts?
    ~
    Who’s walked beneath humility’s grace
    To freely carry our burdens of guilt?
    Who willingly faced mocking and shame
    That we might know redemption’s mercy?
    ~
    Who’s walked alongside that we might yet share
    Our hopes and fears in honest release?
    Who’s cared enough to guide every step
    With wisdom’s voice when to Him we pray?
    ~
    Who’s held our hands when life overwhelms?
    Who’s taught us to trust by giving our heart?
    Who’s picked us up each time we stumble,
    And lovingly drawn us back to His side?
    ~
    Who’s walked each step so we’d learn from Him?
    Who’s given of self that we might receive
    Showers of blessings to meet all our needs
    That in this bounty His praises we’ll sing?
    ~
    Who’s walked with us and covered our soul?
    The great I Am who calls each His child!
    That upon life’s path we’ll safely abide
    When under His wings, sheltered by His love!
    ~~
  12. Linda Roorda
    Sometimes we hold onto the pain from hurts long ago... holding tight to a grudge.  It doesn’t do anyone any good, least of all us.  It’s quite likely the other person has no clue why we might be upset at them.
    Life is full of hurts and offenses… some are made accidentally without realizing we’ve done the offending, while at other times we intentionally get even with someone for the pain they’ve caused us. Oh, what a vicious cycle!
    Then there is the pain and guilt we feel for our offense that has hurt another.  It’s a healthy inner warning signal which nudges us when we’ve caused pain to that other soul.  It prompts us to seek forgiveness by confessing and repenting, and making restitution to the one we’ve offended. 
    But, if you live with abuse, or are the abuser, you are urged to seek appropriate professional guidance. God does not approve of abuse in any form. We know that, but we somehow manage to let it slide, quickly forgiving repeatedly, taking responsibility for trying to make things better. However, it’s the abuser who needs to understand in their heart that what they are doing is wrong. With true repentance and sorrow, and a genuine change in behavior, a relationship can be reconciled and restored… but not until the evidence is visible.  Others unfamiliar with the patterns will not recognize this and try to coerce you back into a relationship… which can become even more harmful.
    Yet, forgiving ourself is also sometimes easier said than done.  We think we cannot forgive and release the burden within ourself… thinking we must hang onto the pain… like carrying such a heavy burden will somehow compensate for what we’ve done.  Yet what right do I have to think I cannot forgive myself when God clearly forgives us upon our confession of the wrongdoing. He doesn’t hold it over our head into the future.
    In giving it all to the Lord, He wants us to pray and express the depths of our heart to Him.  In prayer, we can visualize placing the issue that overwhelms us into His hands, asking Him to take care of it for us, and to heal everyone involved… rather like the popular saying, “Let go and let God!” 
    Still, I know how hard that can be – as the oldest of six, it’s one of my struggles, thinking I can fix everything… or that I cannot forgive myself for something I said or did even after asking for forgiveness.  In reality, I cannot always fix it.  Though I certainly must do my part to apologize and forgive, I need to confess and give any situation to the Lord for Him to handle with His infinite wisdom. After all, didn’t He say, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 NIV)
    And in so doing, we find the rest we need from our fretting, worrying, and trying to fix the problems… while the Lord blesses us with His love and peace as we are covered with His mercy and grace… so we can share with the world the same love that He gives to us! 
    All My Heart
    Linda A. Roorda
    Some days the pain that life hands out
    Is more than I alone can bear,
    But there is One who calms my fears
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    How easily kept are hurts and pains
    We tightly hold to stay in control,
    But they don’t matter and are best let go
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    And though I’ve learned that life is not fair
    Some days I plead, Oh God are you there?
    Can you hear me? Do you really care?
    Then all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    From out the silence He whispers soft
    You are my child. Your life’s in my hands.
    Give me your cares, your burdens and fears,
    As all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    Do not carry the guilt and the shame
    That overwhelms from days of the past,
    Trust in His Gift with arms open wide
    As all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    You have taught me the depths of true love
    That anchors my heart when dark storms assail
    And calms my soul with heavenly peace
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    A love that learns to think beyond self
    With others first Christ’s love shines through
    To meet their needs in body and soul
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    A love that chooses to hold ever dear
    Even despite disappointments deep
    Then greater are the gifts and rewards
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~
    A love that grows and matures with time
    That finds its way to the soul at peace,
    Blessings of love abundantly known
    When all my heart to Him I give.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  13. Linda Roorda
    There is no greater prayer than The Lord’s Prayer.  Actually, it’s the perfect prayer… from Jesus Himself, given to His disciples as part of His great Sermon on the Mount. 
    Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.
    Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.
    Give us this day our daily bread.
    And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
    And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil:
    For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.  (Matthew 6:9-13)
    This prayer touches every aspect of our lives, from praising our heavenly Father for who He is, to confessing our sins and asking for forgiveness just as we forgive those who have wronged us, to bringing all our needs before God, even the smallest of these.  The prayer of our Lord makes us stop and think about our relationship with Him, and then how we relate to everyone around us.
    Answered prayer may come as a Yes, No, or Wait on the Lord for His Will to be made known… because He may not answer in the way we expect.  His answer may come in time as we learn to live through the difficulty for what God wants to teach us.  And, in that learning, we are blessed in ways we would not have understood without having gone through some of the most difficult times of our life. 
    As I pondered the words of Jesus in His prayer, my poem was a simple attempt to put into my own words a prayer to thank and praise God, to call to mind the many ways He blesses me and answers my simple prayers every day.  May you be blessed as you consider our Lord’s words above, and as His words seep into your heart and life every day.  May my words below touch your heart as we each contemplate and form our own prayers of thanksgiving and praise to our heavenly Father.
     A Prayer
    Linda A. Roorda
    (Based on The Lord’s Prayer)
    God, our Father, in heaven above
    Holy are You and Your name over all
    Your sacred word will guide me in truth
    And help me to seek Your kingdom first.
    ~
    May Your will ever be first in my life
    O’er all that beckons and calls to my heart
    For in submission I surrender all
    As daily I seek Your will before mine.
    ~
    Let me not stray beyond Your strong grasp
    But when I roam, Lord, call me back home
    Back to Your side with mercy and grace
    For in You is peace that calms my soul.
    ~
    My needs You meet as daily You provide
    Nothing’s too small, You know what is best
    Then may I share rich blessings from You
    And praise Your name as You shower with love.
    ~
    Yet I covet, I want, that which is not mine
    Deliver me Lord from temptation’s snare
    Break sin’s great chain, free me from its grip
    Keep drawing me close to Your precious side.
    ~
    For who am I beneath Your just gaze
    Knowing You paid the debt I can’t pay
    Take my hand, Lord, lift me to my feet
    That I may be forgiven and free.
    ~
    Just as Your spirit guides my footsteps
    Your merciful Gift now frees me from guilt
    That I may release the pains to my heart
    And not turn my back on pleas of others.
    ~
    In gratitude then I share Your great love
    To bless those I meet on this path of life
    May I share gifts that brighten their day
    And meet their needs to lift up their soul.
    ~
    For in You is power, glory and honor
    May Your kingdom dwell in my grateful heart
    To shine Your light and freely share love
    That I may bring praise to Your Holy name.
    ~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  14. Linda Roorda
    During the season of Lent, we tend to reflect a little more intently on Christ’s mission and sacrifice for us.  Since He gave so much in giving His life to redeem us, it seems we could easily give up even a little for Him.  Though the traditional idea of giving up something for Lent has not been something I have done, my friend and distant cousin, Carolyn, got me thinking more deeply about the season of Lent. 
    A few years ago, as Carolyn read her “Catholic Weekly” magazine with its daily devotionals, she shared with me a Lenten focus on the Roman Catholic perspective of the “seven deadly sins.”  These sins can lead us away from God… away from that close relationship we long for.  Unfortunately, I/we often exhibit the pride of self or greed as we exclude others to serve ourselves first, jealousy in coveting that which is not ours, wrath or inappropriate anger, sloth or laziness when we could and should do something constructive, lust of a sinful nature, and gluttony or self-indulgence in so many ways.  Yet, we know that each one of these sins is absolutely forgiven on confession and repentance to God; and, under His tender mercy and grace, our heart is renewed as we follow in His footsteps.
    In synchrony with the above, we also recall that Solomon wrote in Proverbs 6:16-19, “there are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”
    Some also say there is an unpardonable sin, the blasphemy against God and His Holy Spirit.  As Jesus was performing miracles and driving out demons, the religious leaders’ unpardonable sin was in claiming Jesus’ power came from the devil rather than acknowledging that He had the power because He truly was the Son of God. (Mark 3:28-30, Matthew 12:31-32)
    If we turn away from the Spirit’s convicting promptings that what we’ve done is wrong, we may harden our heart, turn our back on God and not repent, willfully continuing in sin.  Perhaps even expressing that God loves us no matter what we do… a sense of pride allowing for willful sins wrongs. Instead, on conviction of our sin, confession and repentance, we can be assured of God’s welcoming arms and loving forgiveness… for nothing can separate us from the overwhelming love of God.  (Romans 8:34-39)  May I always be convicted of my sins, confess them, and ask for forgiveness from God and those I’ve offended.
    Pondering the above Lenten theme as mentioned by Carolyn, and the variety of themes from many churches for spiritual renewal each year, my own failings came to mind.  Sadly, it can be said that I/we betray our Lord’s love in so many ways because we are far from perfect.  Yet, as a reminder of Christ’s love for us, and living within us, there are familiar virtues we can strive for.  As the Holy Spirit leads, guides and helps us live out our faith, we exude “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)  These fruits evidence the Holy Spirit’s work within us, as God transforms us to be more like His Son. (II Corinthians 3:18)  Because He loved us first (I John 4:19), even in our sinfulness, we can live a grateful life of holiness, bringing honor and glory and praise to God for all that He has done… because to this we were created. (Revelation 4:11)
    We can demonstrate our love for God and those around us with our faith or reliance, hope or trust, and charity or love as shown in I Corinthians 13, the “love chapter”.  We can share this joy and peace in living out our faith in God by showing such loving kindness in our interactions with others.
    With courage and wisdom from the Lord we can face those difficult trials. Just as God has granted mercy and grace to us, we can show the same to others, forgiving them as we’ve been forgiven, acting with moderation and self-control, with honesty and integrity in our dealings.  Against these virtues there would be no complaint as we respect others, bring glory to God, and become a beacon to point others to Christ… not only during Lent, but always.  As the familiar Golden Rule reminds us, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12)
    Though our Lord was mocked and betrayed as He walked this earth, may we never forget the depth of all He suffered in His great love for us despite knowing our wayward penchants. For it’s only through Jesus’ shed blood that we have forgiveness and reconciliation with God. 
    As I prepare myself spiritually this Lenten season to focus more intently on Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, Carolyn’s words echo the thoughts of my heart when she wrote that “these are the things we could all reflect on during the 40 days before Holy Easter, and maybe change our hearts and minds to reflect more of Christ’s love.” 
    From Betrayal to Beacon
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    There is One who felt the heavy hand
    The slap to the face, the mocking abuse
    The glib excuses, lies begetting lies
    Betrayal by friends, abandoned in need.
    ~
    But there was a man who took this and more
    A man who never responded in wrath,
    The Son of God, who sought us in love
    Who lay down His life that we might live.
    ~
    The Light of this world, a rejected man
    Scorned by His own and scoffed by scholars.
    Still there were those who pondered His words
    Words that were new and words that gave hope.
    ~
    Bless those who misuse, pray for their soul
    Just as our Lord, the servant of all,
    Dwelt here in peace and drew us to His side
    To offer us hope with redemption’s gift.
    ~
    Be that beacon to a world needing hope
    Bring peace and comfort with welcoming arms.
    Offer your love to the soul in pain
    Become a servant to meet the needs.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  15. Linda Roorda
    Wisdom... that value within our heart and soul which helps guide our steps on this path called life.  An entity more precious than gold.  Lady Wisdom’s knowledge often comes from experience, by learning and gaining insight the hard way… you know, those mistakes that can either break or make us.  She brings a common sense, discernment, shrewdness… an innate understanding of what’s right and wrong.  But this sound judgment can be lacking when we become distracted or enticed by what seems so right, yet in reality is so wrong when we heed the voice of Folly.
    “Blessed are those who find wisdom, those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed.” (Proverbs 3:13-18)  For the wise woman “is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” (Proverbs 31:25)
    One of my favorite life verses is “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) Wisdom is knowledge we apply to every-day life God’s way.  But as I’ve said before, I often think I can take the reins and direct my own steps… only to realize that I erred, once again, and need to grasp God’s hand, allowing Him to guide and lead me as I learn from His infinite wisdom.
    With wisdom comes the ability to discern or judge right from wrong… to think and act appropriately, and to not become enmeshed in folly’s foibles.  Again, at times in my life I have failed in this, too. Yet on understanding the “errors of my ways” and returning to our Lord’s side with admission of wrongs, He has covered me with forgiveness.  We’re all familiar with the old adage “if only I knew then what I know now”.  Because, if we knew then what we know now, we might’ve been spared a lot of grief from the turmoil.  But isn’t betterment often found in the opposite by learning and growing in character and wisdom through the difficult times and from those mistakes and errors?
    As God searches the depth of our heart, His Spirit reaches out to us with a still small voice in our inner being.  If we’ve embedded Lady Wisdom’s truth within our heart, we’ll know whose voice to trust and follow… while folly proceeds headlong toward a path of destruction.
    And as we humbly follow Lady Wisdom’s righteous ways, a calm and peaceful tranquility will envelope our soul.  We’ll know we’ve chosen the right path when we’ve given time and consideration to acting in a way that would receive God’s blessing.  I love the book of Proverbs for the depth of Godly wisdom gleaned as we “Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not ignore it.  Blessed is the man who listens to me… for whoever finds me finds life… but whoever fails to find me harms himself.” (Proverbs 8:33-36)
    Lady Wisdom… a personification of God’s attributes in the feminine form.  She is not meant to take His holy place, but rather to give a human side to God’s omniscience… for “the fear [awe, respect] of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” (Proverbs 9:10 NIV)
    Lady Wisdom
    Linda A. Roorda
    Lady wisdom carries high her torch
    She lights the way with truth on her side.
    Her words bring strength to face life’s trials
    With comfort and peace when the winds blow fierce.
    ~
    Listen and heed her still small voice
    Words to the soul that lead and protect,
    For like a lantern which brightens the way
    So is Wisdom in guiding your life.
    ~
    When lured and tempted by desires for more
    Do not be swayed by enticements sweet.
    For trust is earned with truth and respect
    A higher calling than rebellious ways.
    ~
    Seek out the Lord whose hand will uphold
    Stand firm on His word within your heart.
    Learn at His feet, discerning the right
    His knowledge gain with treasured insight.
    ~
    Be wise in judgment, perceiving the darts
    Trust in the Lord with all your heart.
    Lean not upon your own understanding
    But acknowledge Him, the giver of Wisdom.
    ~~
     
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  16. Linda Roorda
    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 didn’t know the breed, but she had light gray wool with a black face and black legs.  Recently, one of my students who absolutely loves goats and sheep, and knows all the breeds, said Lambie looked like a Suffolk, and I agree with him from further research.
    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 a 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! 
    In warm weather, Lambie went to her pen in the barn, following 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 she was 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 her grave at the edge of the raspberry patch and bury little Lambie by myself.  I loved that lamb more than I’d ever realized.  And Dad kindly gave me time and space to process my grief.
    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 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 I am… 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 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? I know He has for me. How comforting it is to know our Lord and Savior, Jesus, draws us back to His side. 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.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  17. Linda Roorda
    Sometimes our best inspiration comes from the most unlikely place!  With the admonition to be “in the world, but not of it,” we find ourselves living out our faith foundation among the world around us (Romans 12:2).  After 6th grade graduation from Passaic (Pine Street) Christian School in New Jersey, my Dad felt it was time to live out my faith by attending public junior high.  Despite the culture shock, I learned invaluable lessons.
    Yet, I think we tend to compartmentalize “church/faith” versus every-day worldly life.  So yes, sometimes our best faith inspiration comes from the most unlikely places!
    Ed and I used to enjoy relaxing in the evenings watching reruns of M*A*S*H.  Though not overly fond of some of the show’s early escapades, I especially liked Corporal Walter (Radar) O’Reilly and the latter years with Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce’s new surgical partners, Captain B.J. Hunnicutt and Major Charles Emerson Winchester, III, as well as their commanding officer, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, and Major Margaret Houlihan.  The show and its characters seemed to evolve from a certain nonsense to one of moving and memorable themes.  As the various characters offered a wide array of human egos and emotions, I found some of the best wisdom expressed so well in many of the shows.
    There’s an episode that has always held a special place in my heart, one that I consider the arrogant Major Winchester’s best.  After operating on a wounded soldier, able to save the young man’s leg with surgical expertise, Winchester tries to encourage his patient further.  Explaining that, though he’ll have permanent nerve damage to three fingers of his right hand, it won’t be too noticeable.  Angry, the soldier is reduced to tears and despondency, telling Winchester that his surgical efforts weren’t good enough.  His hands were his life… he was a concert pianist!  Feeling the pain of failure, Winchester turns away despondent.
    With determination, Major Winchester approaches the 4077th’s company clerk, Corporal Max Klinger, handing him a list of sheet music to pick up in Seoul.  Later, with music in hand, Winchester wheels Private David Sheridan into the Officers’ Club and positions him in front of the piano.  Despite his patient’s disgust, Winchester attempts to encourage the young man with his gift to make music.  Angry and resentful, Sheridan wants none of it.
    Unshaken, Winchester shares the story of a pianist from another era who’d lost the use of one hand.  Placing sheet music for a one-handed pianist in front of Sheridan, he asks, “Don't you see?  Your hand may be stilled, but your gift cannot be silenced if you refuse to let it be.”
    Private Sheridan scoffs at his surgeon:  “Gift?  You keep talking about this damn gift.  I had a gift, and I exchanged it for some mortar fragments, remember?”
    With great feeling, Winchester responds:  “Wrong!  Because the gift does not lie in your hands.  I have hands, David.  Hands that can make a scalpel sing.  More than anything in my life I wanted to play, but I do not have the gift.  I can play the notes, but I cannot make the music.  You've performed Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Chopin.  Even if you never do so again, you've already known a joy that I will never know as long as I live.  Because the true gift is in your head and in your heart and in your soul.  You can shut it off forever, or you can find new ways to share your gift with the world - through the baton, the classroom, or the pen.  As to these works, they're for you, because you and the piano will always be as one.”  Slowly and hesitantly, Sheridan begins playing, gradually finding himself taken over by the emotion as the music in his soul finds its voice. (from the TV series M*A*S*H, "Morale Victory", 1980)
    Just as Maj. Winchester tried to help Pvt. Sheridan understand, we’ve each been blessed with a special gift, a talent.  We can hide it, misuse it, or use it to benefit others... we have a choice.  Though we may not see our gift as the blessing it is, Jesus’ brother James acknowledged that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…” (James 1:17a)  Even the Apostle Peter encouraged us by writing that “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”  (I Peter 4:10 NIV) 
    We can encourage a friend with our words or any of our unique special gifts, like teaching, serving, leadership skills, mercy and compassion, or even simply giving the gift of our time (Romans 12:6-8).  When we make wise use of our talents and training, we truly are blessing the recipients of our gifts.  In faithfully serving others, may we one day hear our Lord say to us, just as he told the young man who grew his financial gift:  “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!”  (Matthew 25:21 NIV)
    You’ve A Gift Within
    Linda A. Roorda
    You’ve a gift within your heart to be shared
    To love your neighbor as you do yourself,
    But much more than this is humble service
    Sharing devotion from depths of true love.
    ~
    Seek out the hurting, the ones bewildered
    In a world of turmoil, in the midst of grief,
    At a loss for words, not knowing where to turn,
    Be an anchor bringing peace to their soul.
    ~
    Be generous with praise, speak truth with wisdom,
    Carry the burden to lift the heavy heart.
    Encourage and esteem, strengthen with hope
    Humbly meeting each need on your path.
    ~
    Lift up the oppressed, release from restraints
    Enfold in your arms those wounded by life.
    Show mercy and grace, forgive the offense
    Come alongside to guide wavering feet.
    ~
    For out of confusion and cries of the soul
    In walking a line tween query and quest,
    Comes peace that calms and joy that rebuilds
    From the gift within your heart that was shared.
    ~~
     
  18. Linda Roorda
    Blessed Are You… The Beatitudes, Jesus’ words of blessings to all who seek Him. They give us guidance on qualities of spiritual life that we should strive to live out daily.  In effect, they are the reverse of what the world might consider valuable assets.
    In Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, He told the crowds who were listening that they should “watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them… A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree bears bad fruit… Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.” (Matthew 7:15-20 NIV)
    The Apostle Paul explains that “…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. (Galatians 5:22-23 NIV)
    In aiming to follow our Lord’s guiding wisdom, we seek an intimate relationship with God in reverence. Sharing love generously like Jesus, we don’t compromise values or morals, maintaining a listening ear to the Holy Spirit’s guidance within us. And we remember Jesus’ words to “’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 this.” (Mark 12:30-31 NIV)
    But left to my own devices, I indeed fail. I need to follow wisdom far greater than my finite mind.  In writing my poem below, my hope was to rephrase Jesus’ words of perfect love for us into thoughts from my own understanding... not to take anything away from what our Lord said, but simply to add contemporary meaning and dimension as I focused on His guiding words.  Continuing to read Matthew chapters 5 through 7, more paraphrasing into poetic verse came to mind.
    From there, further rephrasing of Scripture from Philippians 4 seemed to fit the context of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  Contemplating Jesus’ teaching through the “Beatitudes” to His disciples and the crowds of followers, how might we relate His great words of wisdom as we go about our day… among family and friends, and at work or in school?
    Again, it is not my intent to take anything away from God’s Holy Word, but to add dimension for our hearts to contemplate as we bring His words into our daily life… an exercise illuminating how great His love is for each of us.
    Blessed Are You
    Linda A. Roorda
    (Based on Matthew 5-7 and Philippians 4)
     ~
    Blessed are you with no hope left but God
    For you will know acceptance by Him.
     ~
    Blessed are you whose heart has been broken
    For you will find your comfort in Him.
     ~
    Blessed are you with humility mild
    For you will show His love from your heart.
     ~
    Blessed are you whose heart seeks His will
    For you will share the wisdom of God.
     ~
    Blessed are you when hurting and stressed
    For you will have a life filled with mercy.
     ~
    Blessed are you untainted by vice
    For you will have a pure heart before God.
     ~
    Blessed are you who humbly seek peace
    For you will be a true child of God.
     ~
    Blessed are you when mocked for your faith
    For you will stand firm with the Lord at your side.
     ~
    Rejoice and be glad as salt of the earth
    For you shine forth His light from your heart.
    Then be reconciled to those you offend
    That peace may abound in the hearts of all men.
     ~
    Love your enemy as your neighbor dear
    That you may be called a child of our God.
    And blessed are you on forgiving those
    When they have sinned against you and our Lord.
     ~
    And worry not what the future holds
    For your Father knows the needs of your life.
    Ask, seek and find, knock to open doors
    For our Father waits to bless through His will.
     ~
    Broad is the path to destruction goes
    But narrow the gate that leads us to Life.
    For as the good tree will bear its best fruit
    So we shall see the fruit of our deeds.
     ~
    Thus, he who hears must show in his life
    The wisdom found in the house which he builds.
    For that upon sand cannot withstand storms
    While that built on rock stands firm in the Truth.
     ~
    Do not be anxious, but think on these things
    And with thanksgiving send prayers to our God
    That content you’ll be regardless the task
    Knowing you can work through His strength alone.
     ~
    Stand firm in the Lord, press on to the goal
    Guard well your heart and mind in the Lord
    For He gives peace beyond understanding
    Rejoicing always in His gentle spirit.
     ~
    For whatever is true, whatever is honest,
    Whatever is right, whatever is pure,
    Whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable,
    Whatever is excellent, whatever worth praise…
    Think on these things and blessed you shall be.
    ~~
  19. Linda Roorda
    What is love?  We say “I love you!” to our family and friends … but we also say we love a book, a movie, a car, a new outfit, our pets.  Is love found in endless glowing words of romantic emotion or selfless acts to please another?  What makes love tick?  It’s the minutes between the anniversaries that make the memories special.  Writing for our 44th anniversary in 2018, I thought this poem and reflection would be fitting for Valentine’s Day this Friday.
    My husband used to write me special letters to express his deepest feelings.  Not able to buy cards unless someone took him to the store, many were the times he listened repeatedly to a specific song on record, tape or CD and painstakingly wrote it out, phrase by phrase... just to express what was in his heart.  That effort on his part meant more to me than the world’s most beautiful romantic manufactured card.
    He also showed his love in a myriad of ways… like willingly helping with our babies after he came in from 14-16 hour days of farm chores just because he wanted to.  He learned to diaper them, lovingly rocked and burped our little ones, and even read bedtime stories to them before his own dinner.  Seeing my big 6’7” guy hold our tiny babies in his calloused farm-worn hands clearly evoked an image of tender love.  He was committed to his family, always there for me and our children, helping guide them as they grew, or enveloping us in his arms when we needed a warm snuggle.  He helped with household chores despite vision and physical limitations – just because it was his way of showing love... trying to ease the load I carried after working a full shift, taking him to medical appointments, and handling more and more of what he could no longer do.
    Years ago, I attended an annual women’s faith retreat.  In one of the classes, we were asked to share how we express love to our spouse in a unique way as the leader wrote 10 ways on the board.  A few said they’d write “I love you” with shaving cream on the bathroom mirror or add a special note when packing lunch for their husband, etc.  My simply saying “I love you” to my husband was laughed at when shared with the woman next to me, a pastor’s wife.  I felt so humiliated.  What I wanted to explain (and should have said but was afraid to) was that my husband was blind and my saying those three simple words had always been special to him, and that everyone’s examples were only good for those with vision.  Baking scrumptious meals and desserts, and not treating him as incapable of doing things just because he was blind, seeking his advice when I had a problem, or even waiting for him to ask for help before offering or giving my assistance… these also showed my love in tangible ways that he appreciated.
    My husband meant what he said.  His words were not empty, hollow flattery.  When he said something, listen close because there was a depth of truth and wisdom from his innate ability to understand life and how people operate.  He was a man of few words.  I used to wish he’d talk more, like me!  But I came to understand and appreciate the meaning behind his few words chosen well, his sense of humor, his devotion to me and his family, his strong faith in God in the midst of blindness and multiple health issues, and his ability to share Godly wisdom. 
    Giving flowers was never his thing, though I tend to long for beautiful bouquets. On the other hand, he knew the value of our hard-earned dollars.  He didn’t frivolously throw it away on something that would be tossed aside in just a few days… like flowers.  He preferred to spend his money on something to be enjoyed long term.  And I admired him for that.
    As a widow, I treasure my husband who respected me and appreciated all that I did.  Maybe he didn’t tell me every day; but, when he did, it was worth the wait to hear those words because he meant them.  It was a hard life for him, yet he didn’t feel sorry for himself.  Being legally blind since he was a premature infant, and though he could drive a tractor on the farm or along the roadside, he could not hop in the car or truck and go whenever and wherever he wanted.  He was stuck at home, unless someone drove him to his destination.  How frustrating that was for him at times!  I appreciated his attitude of acceptance as, in his later years, totally blind and with health issues that limited his mobility, he accepted the path God allowed his life to take.  He was able to express wisdom and insight we both would not have understood had we not gone through these various difficulties. 
    My husband loved me despite the immaturity I came into our marriage with at 19.  He loved me enough to help me grow, to become the best wife and mother I could be, and to use the hidden talents God blessed me with in ways I could never have imagined.  In turn, I loved him for being there for me, listening and talking through issues we faced.  He’d been gifted with a sense of humor that cropped up when needed most.  I loved working by his side in the past in the barn, doing yard work, or in the house.  He used to tease me, saying I followed him around like a shadow in the barn, and when he’d stop short to take care of something, I’d “crash” into him and we’d burst into laughter with hugs!  I miss those times working closely together… a lot. 
    Yet, no marriage is perfect.  We had our share of problems and arguments when our wants got the upper hand.  But we made it work and kept our vows to each other rather than running away when times got tough.  Love comes in admitting our wrongs, asking forgiveness, and understanding the unique and different strengths we each bring as gifts to be shared for personal growth.  In contemplating love, the depth of a heart is revealed in the willing ability to stand by a loved one no matter the cost, except in the case of abuse. Yet, even then, if the abuser is willing to admit their wrongs and truly change from within, the path of regeneration, or reconciliation, is well worth the effort.  But, if the abuser refuses to see or admit their wrongs, and perpetuates such behavior, even if others may not see it, then it’s time to walk away for one’s physical and/or emotional preservation, whether in a marriage or a friendship.  Love is not about what someone else can give you; it’s all about what you can give the other, in building them up, without looking for praise.  And in that, I’m reminded of Jesus’ words, words rephrased in our marriage vows, that “greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”  (John 15:13) 
    Though I may not have been married to the most romantic guy in the world, God truly blessed me with Ed’s love and practicality.  Perhaps the complement to my emotional heart and creativity, he brought a balance to keep me grounded and contented, sharing laughter with his great sense of humor that helped bring many smiles to our faces.  He had an innate ability to understand people… like the depths of my heart, our children’s needs as they grew up, sharing wise words when they came to him with problems, or taking seriously his former role as a church Elder/Deacon… knowing how to balance his role as leader of our family with the Lord as guide.
    We were far from perfect, but it’s knowing how to pick our battles, and how to pick ourselves up again in the storm, with “promises to keep and miles to go” to quote another poet.*  Therein lies the secret of true love as we seek the wisdom of God above… letting His love permeate our hearts and souls to become a better person.  Because I firmly believe God put us together, allowing us to face various difficult trials to draw us closer to Him as we grow in faith and love.  And, if Christ loved each of us so much that He willingly lay down His life for us, for our sins, then we can surely share that love with others around us.
    For as Colossians 3:12-14 reminds us, we are to “…clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”  This is the love I saw in my husband. 
    This is Love
    Linda A. Roorda
    This is love
    beyond a feeling
    in the depths of the heart
    a commitment to keep.
    ~
    This is love
    exhilarating joy
    that flows through the soul
    with a gentle tenderness.
    ~
    This is love
    in the place of self
    a sacrificial gift
    bringing joy to another.
    ~
    This is love
    a blending of hearts
    to become as one
    in sharing life’s journey.
    ~
    This is love
    a tear that is shared
    the hand tenderly held
    the comfort in silence felt.
    ~
    This is love
    a listening ear
    with honest confession
    as mercy and grace pour out.
    ~
    This is love
    to take life’s pain
    and wash it away
    in selfless gifts with joy.
    ~
    This is love
    that One above
    would give His life
    to show us the path of love.
    ~~
     
  20. Linda Roorda
    What our thoughts focus on tends to tell us where our heart resides.  We may focus on our loved ones, our hobbies, fun and games with friends, climbing the corporate ladder, earning a vast estate, and collecting things… reminding me of the popular saying, “The one with the most toys wins.”
    Don’t get me wrong.  These are not, in and of themselves, inherently wrong.  Instead, it’s the how and why behind that which we focus on.  I’m no different than anyone else.  I like my “things” – especially my collection of reproduction Delft, particularly the tiles hung in my kitchen which remind me of our Dutch heritage.  My grandfather had remodeled their outdated kitchen, putting Delft tiles into the wall design, something I had always admired.
    But these things mean nothing to my spiritual and eternal well-being. Instead, it’s who I heed in my heart, whose word I focus on to direct my life.  And I willingly admit, it’s not always easy to stay focused… for this life calls in all its many splendored ways.  So I especially appreciate my favorite Psalm 139:1-18, 23-24 (NIV):  “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For 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. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand - when I awake, I am still with you… 23 Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting with you.”
    Years ago on the farm, a gate was accidentally left open.  Later that evening, Ed’s dad got a phone call.  Cows were in the fields of another farmer about a mile or so up the main road, and the caller was trying to determine to whom they belonged.  Ed and his dad went up to see if they were their cows, and, sure ‘nuff, they were.  But they were scattered all over!  The neighbors wondered how Ed and his dad could possibly gather the whole herd and get them back to our farm.  “No problem,’ said Ed’s dad. My Ed simply started clapping his hands and began walking up the road as his father followed.  And to the stunned amazement of neighbors and farmers, every one of those cows calmly and peacefully gathered behind their leader and followed him home… back to the safety of their own barn with food awaiting their arrival. 
    For you see, those cows had been trained since they were little calves to come to clapping – it meant food and a clean stall in the barn. As they grew older and became part of the milking herd, they continued to respond to their master’s call… for clapping still meant food and a clean stall in the barn at milking time!
    And isn’t this how we respond to our master, our shepherd… our Lord?  If our heart has been trained to listen to His words of wisdom, we will respond and heed His call.  When we find ourselves in time of need, we’ll seek Him and follow His leading along His path.  As Jesus said in John 10:14:  “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…”
    God knows my every thought, establishes my path and guides my way. And when I start to wander, He calls me back to His side.  What peace and comfort are found in His words.  And may it always be His voice that I hear and pay attention to.
    Your Voice I Hear
    Linda A. Roorda
    On You above my thoughts do focus
    You see my heart and the depths thereof,
    The secrets hidden away from the world
    For You know the thoughts that reside within.
    ~
    Yet I freely admit I wander away
    What You expect is beyond my grasp.
    Though I stumble, and now and then fall
    You pick me up to try once again.
    ~
    As Your tender voice calls gently to me
    In the midst of life and trials of pain,
    What shall I fear though my frets alarm
    When your face I seek and You are my guide.
    ~
    May I ever hear Your voice in my ear
    But more important may I heed the nudge
    Of a still small voice down deep in my heart
    A voice whose wisdom guides my every step.
    ~
    It’s a voice that brings singing to my soul
    With a joy that fills my heart with peace.
    For I cannot fail to see You around
    You’re always there to hear my heart’s song.
    ~
    How great is Your love that You’d call me near
    Close to Your side from out of this world,
    A world of cares, a world of troubles
    Gently enfolding, Your love touches me.
    ~
    For You called my name before time began
    You cared for me with a tender joy.
    You carried my heart gently in Your hands
    And stretched out Your arms to wrap me in peace.
    ~
    You gave away Love, the depth of Your heart
    To make my heart sing with joy each new day.
    You lift up my soul and fill me with praise
    As Your love for me encompasses all.
    ~~
  21. Linda Roorda
    Often, it’s in learning to accept the difficulties we face in life that we find healing peace. Yesterday being the second anniversary of Ed’s passing into eternal glory, I thought I’d repost this blog. We are not always healed of our illnesses or disabilities just because we pray for such. I treasure knowing Ed was made perfectly whole in his heavenly home… in God’s perfect will and timing.
    Early one morning several years ago, before heading to another of Ed’s many appts, I stood on the deck with the sun on my face, gazing at the garden beyond a beautiful tree that, 40-some years ago, was about 10 feet tall at most. Even Emily once said when visiting that she couldn’t get over how big it had grown. Hearing the drone of a plane in the bright blue sky overhead, until its sound slowly faded on its journey to far-away places, reminding me of my childhood… laying on the grass, staring at the clouds, listening to planes overhead, without a care in the world, especially not about bugs and ticks in the grass, deciding what the puffy clouds looked like in comparison to my sister’s thoughts… and sometimes, what I’d give for more days like that childhood fun… quiet, unperturbed, no worries or cares, and no fears of an unknown future…
    We spent nearly every day of every week, every month, and every year since October 2008 going to medical appointments.  Ed was often hospitalized for new or recurrent medical flares with additional appointments. Though we were exhausted emotionally and physically, we were thankful he was still here with us for we came close to losing him at least half a dozen times… thankful for my hospital medical transcription job where my boss allowed me to work 3am to 11am so I could take care of him and his appointments in the afternoons over all those years… thankful for the elderly friend who wanted to visit Ed back then and who, on hearing I was sorry to tell him “no” for how exhausted Ed was from his extensive appointment calendar, graciously apologized and said he’d leave us alone till Ed felt better.
    For all who cared enough to ask how Ed was doing, I’d say “ok” or “stable.” We were grateful for their caring. Ed improved somewhat after two hospitalizations in July 2022. Life continued to be a daily struggle for him tho, like for anyone with worsening severe congestive heart failure and multiple other health issues, knowing CHF has no cure. He had a few drug changes, eliminating some nasty side effects while replacement meds brought new issues. For all those times I wanted to do things for him, Ed would say, “Let me do this as long as I can before the day comes when I can’t.”
    We also remembered to focus on God being here with us in the midst of what seemed like never-ending difficulties in health and other challenges, wondering if our prayers were heard, while knowing God does work all things for good to those who love Him (Romans 8:28) … even when we feel so alone… because God has said He will never leave us nor forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8).  And sometimes I needed a little reminder when life became overwhelming…
    I wrote the following article in 2016, accepted for publication at the Christian Reformed Church Disability “Network” website in January 2017.
    Why do we have to deal with suffering? Why aren’t we miraculously healed when we pray for healing? Didn’t Jesus say, “Ask anything in my name and it shall be given you”? So, are we not healed due to a lack of faith or the right prayers? What Jesus did say was: "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7)  He also said “… and I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." (John 14:13-14) 
    John later wrote, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14) And therein lies the key – asking in the context of God’s will. But that then begs the question… what is God’s will?
    Ed and I traveled a long road with his disabilities and medical diagnoses. We were told at church to pray and fast for healing, and trust that he will be healed. It sounds so easy, but healing did not come as they expected. I was told it was our fault that he had not been healed of his blindness because we did not pray right. Although I would never want to destroy a prayer of hope, the Bible does not teach that we can manipulate God into doing what we want just by saying the right words or having "enough" faith.
    With multiple long-term illnesses, disabilities with unrelenting pain and dizziness, we wondered what was wrong with us that healing had passed Ed by… though he did recover when the docs told us he was in a certain life-and-death situation. Intimations by well-meaning folks that healing is simply for the asking has devastating effects, including guilt. While the “well” person can walk away emotionally and physically intact, how do we handle the seemingly raw deal we’ve been dealt? 
    Personally, I think it takes a deeper and stronger faith to move forward without obvious answers and healing. Just maybe there really is a purpose in our suffering. As we read in James, we are to “consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4). For “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial." (vs.12) Once upon a time I did not understand that concept and reacted poorly to adversity. Yet, even in that, I am not alone. 
    Paralyzed from the neck down after a shallow dive not long after graduating from high school, Joni Eareckson Tada initially reacted negatively. She expected answers to prayers for miraculous healing. But healing never came. Disappointed, discouraged and despairing, she finally came to terms with accepting her disability. She has seen God work by changing her heart instead, and she praises God for the blessing her ministry has been in transforming the lives of others.
    Despite his multitudinous losses of family and personal property, Job did not sin in his quest for answers. Learning of his losses, he worshipped God saying, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21b) He did not blame or curse God. But in questioning God, and hearing the Almighty’s queries of him, Job acknowledged an understanding of where he fit in the overall scheme of life. . . that God was in control of the positives and the negatives… and God eventually blessed him even more than before. I am impressed with Job’s humility as he learned to fully trust our loving, all-knowing and all-powerful God. 
    In unbelievable circumstances that I can’t comprehend, others have struggled to regain normalcy after devastating losses, knowing their life will never be the same. I’m sure they wish their life stories were different. But God knows why life has its rough roads. He knows our story from start to finish. (Psalm 139:13-16) He hears our cries and pleadings and rescues us. (Psalms 18 and 34) And, though God seems silent at times, I’m reassured by Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” 
    Then there’s the Apostle Paul, i.e. Saul who sought to kill Jews who had converted to Christianity before Christ appeared to him and he became a great witness for Christ. Whatever his troublesome thorn was, he wrote, “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (II Corinthians 12:7-10)
    As God drew us into a closer relationship with Him on a path we didn’t always like, Ed and I knew that He would never leave us nor forsake us. (Hebrews 13:5b) During years of Ed’s unrelenting health issues and disabilities, we came to understand the redemptive quality and spiritual growth which pain and trials can bring to our lives. As Philip Yancey put it so well, “We’re concerned with how things turn out; God is more concerned with how we turn out.” (“The Question That Never Goes Away – Why?”, p.105) Therein lies the key to accepting and understanding life’s difficulties.
    When there are no answers to pleas for healing, may you, too, feel the Lord’s loving arms gently holding you with a comfort and peace only He can give.  May you feel His strength enable you to finish well the path He’s allowed you to walk. And may you know His answer will yet be coming, in His time…though maybe not until you stand face to face with Him as it was for Ed’s ultimate perfect healing. And may we each be found worthy at the end of our journey.
     Answers
    Linda A. Roorda
    Sometimes we have no healing for pain
    And answers to prayers seem elusive at best,
    But in the silence the Lord whispers soft…
    I am still here; You are not alone.
    ~
    When the way gets rough, I will guide your steps
    When the path is steep, your hand I will hold
    When the night is long, at your side I’ll be
    When you can’t go on, I will carry you.
    ~
    Though sometimes My will is not what you want
    Plans I have made take time to work out
    Wending their way through trials you face
    With meaning found as your heart seeks mine.
    ~
    There’s much I long to share from My word
    Coming together with trust placed in Me
    Finding comfort in My arms of peace
    When to Me you give control of your path.
    ~
    Even though Faith is bright hope unseen
    It covers your soul, a protective shield
    And holds you tight when stormy winds blow
    To persevere when all else seems lost.
    ~
    For though sometimes answers seem fleeting
    Your heart is held still gently secure
    That you may know My mercy and grace
    Hold your best interests in loving scarred hands.
    ~~
  22. Linda Roorda
    Today is National Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. And this story is very close to my heart because someone I dearly loved would not have lived among us if the recommended abortion had taken place.
    With the 52nd 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, not able to keep much food down, she steadily grew worse.  Struggling to carry this new little life, 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 (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 age, 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 extremely 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 pure oxygen and the abnormal growth of blood vessels in the retina.  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, against their mom’s wishes.
    Prior to 1952, 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 those 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 later 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. 
    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 nails; he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, sucks a thumb, sleeps regularly, and even has hiccups!  At full-term, 39 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. 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.
    Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973, allowing for legal abortions in America. The numbers are staggering with an estimated 60.1 to 64.1 million pre-born children aborted since 1973. 
    Some babies who survive saline or chemical abortions and left to die have often been given care by concerned medical staff.  These survivors share their stories with a passion, promoting pro-life options as I listened to or read their stories online.  One survivor, Gianna Jessen, was “bathed in a burning saline solution [which] she overcame to enter the world. Two months premature, weighing two and a half pounds, she spent her first couple of months in a hospital before entering the foster care system. The failed abortion also provided the “gift” of cerebral palsy, as Gianna says. “It allows me to really depend on Jesus for everything.”
    Sanctity of life issues reflect on each one of us because all life is sacred. I believe 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.  Today, churches around our nation will honor God’s gift of life, commemorate the thousands of lives lost to abortion, and commit to protecting human life at every stage.
    Yet, there are many difficult questions on both sides of the aisle. I’ve long pondered that, 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, because the pregnancy may be the result of rape, doesn’t fit our plan, or the pre-born baby is defective?  Do we seek 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? 
    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 late 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 met 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.  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.
    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…
    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?
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda
    With the arrival of new snow to admire yesterday morning, I was reminded of this poem and reflection written several years ago during a big storm. Within this peaceful blanketing of snow lies the image to me of stillness before God, and contemplation of His goodness, grace and mercy, and blessings to each of us. And my prayer is that you are each blessed in pausing to contemplate the love of God toward each of us on this path called life. 
    As we gaze out at those white flakes floating down, perhaps your eyes track one flake from high up until it settles on top of another, each one gradually adding to the depth.  And then you stand transfixed at the shower of multitudinous beautiful and one-of-a-kind flakes fluttering down… gently, softly, quietly…  It’s such a beautiful, peaceful scene, isn’t it?
    Contemplating the peace and quiet of a gentle snowfall reminds me of a Scripture verse I love, “Be still, and know that I am God...” (Psalm 46:10) In the stillness, we see the majesty of His creation expressed all around us – in people and in nature.  We hear His still small voice speaking to our heart.  From His heavenly Sanctuary, He hears our prayers, guiding us as He gives us His peace.  In the stillness, we consider how He would want us to handle situations we may face.  And as we take time to ponder, we begin to see how various aspects of life fit together to help us understand His will in the overall picture… for with our Lord Jesus, “all things work together for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28)
    Be still… and know that I am God.  He has it all under control.  He is our fortress, protector and Savior, the great I Am. He loves each of us deeply and has our best interests at heart… even when we go through storms of great difficulty and upheaval in our lives. (Psalm 18)  Jesus hears our pleas, and reaches down to rescue us… just like He did for His disciples.
    After Jesus had taught the crowds in His “Sermon on the Mount,” He and the disciples went out in a boat on the Sea of Galilee to get away from the boisterous crowds looking for more.  Suddenly, a storm came up, rocking their boat as waves washed over the sides, almost flooding them out.  Despite hearing Jesus preach all day about faith and trusting God, His disciples promptly began to fret and worry in the midst of the storm… so like us, aren’t they?!  On waking the sleeping Jesus, they asked, “Don’t you care if we drown?”  Jesus simply got up and said, “Peace! Be still!”  The winds backed off and the big waves shrank right down to gentle calm ripples.  Wouldn’t you have liked to have been there?  Just like that, there was peace from His simple command!  (Luke 4:35-41 NIV)
    Undoubtedly, it’s a challenge for us to “be still…”  I know it’s hard for me to make quiet time to contemplate God’s goodness toward me… toward each of us.  Life is so busy, so hectic, filled with so many demands on our time and energy.  We need time to be still… time to stop and reflect… time to pause amidst the rush… time to get away from the challenges… time to just be still and listen to what God has to say within our heart… and time to quiet the fear and anxiety which so often grips our heart.
    I know I need to take time to be still… to read His word and pray… to ask for His guidance and wisdom amidst all that I face in this busy hectic world.
    Be still… enjoy the peace and quiet… know that He is God… and let Him be your refuge.   
    Be Still and Know
    Linda A. Roorda
    Be still and know that He is my God.
    He is my rock, my firm foundation.
    Upon His word I stand secure
    Trusting the wisdom found only in Him.
     ~
    Be still and rest in mercy and grace.
    For humble Love from heaven above
    Dwelt among us to seek and to save
    Whose blood was shed for me on the cross.
     
    ~
    Be still and know He embodies Love
    He bought my soul with His precious gift
    That I’d find hope in His selfless act
    As He redeems with mercy and grace.
     ~
    Be still and pause to contemplate thanks
    With grateful heart as blessings abound
    Knowing their source of heavenly love
    As God above graciously bestows.
     
    ~
    Be still my soul within life’s tempests
    For He is my refuge, a shelter indeed
    He calms the storms, I rest in His arms
    To find His peace envelopes my heart.
     ~
    Be still and gaze with reverence and awe
    On One whose sovereign grandeur is revealed
    Bring joyful songs of worship and praise
    For He is God and He alone reigns.
     ~
    Be still and hear serenity’s voice
    Within my heart, throughout creation
    For in His will others we gladly serve
    That we might honor and glorify Him.
     ~
    Be still and know our God is faithful
    He changes not though fickle we be
    His truth remains profound and secure
    That we may humbly His wisdom reflect.
    ~~
    Linda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  24. Linda Roorda
    Watching snow come down Wednesday afternoon, it resembled slushy raindrops that evolved into large flat white flakes that turned into a beautiful white covering Friday morning… and it reminded me of an old familiar hymn from childhood. “Lord Jesus, I long to be perfectly whole; I want Thee forever to live in my soul; break down every idol, cast out every foe; now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow, now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” (Psalm 51:7 and Isaiah 1:18) Which in turn reminded me of this blog from 2017.   But it’s that time again… a time when we tend to make New Year’s resolutions! Every year, many of us contemplate where we’ve been and where we’re going, and what to do about it. We make our New Year’s resolutions with every best intention; but all too often, the determination fades when enthusiasm wanes. As we head into a future of unknowns, we like to exchange some of our old habits for the new, whether they be the simple mundane issues of life or more serious life-changing alterations. Yet, there’s one resolution that’s always in vogue.   Not in the habit of making an annual list, I’ve been confronted in my soul over the years with seeking and extending forgiveness. Pressing on my heart were ways I had offended others. Regretting foolish words said in younger days, I set about attempting to make amends with heart-felt apologies. Though apprehensive at how my messages would be perceived, writing them brought tears in admitting my wrongs, with relief for doing the right thing by apologizing. And then came joy and gratitude with the blessing of generous forgiving responses.   We’ve all been hurt and wounded by the words or actions of others. We can be so hard on each other in this world, intentionally or not. Once we’ve been hurt, it doesn’t take much to be wounded even deeper. And we hold onto those grudges. Been there… coming from a dysfunctional family, it’s a difficult thing to admit. Writing a poem for my Dad, removing all traces of negativity by wording it in positives, we were especially close with forgiving hearts during his last years. Forgiving my mother and making her a quilt after her stroke brought us a closeness we’d not had before. I even heard my parents echo my “I love you” at every encounter, words I’d not heard while growing up.   In the long run, grudges don’t do anyone any good… including, and especially us. They erode our joy from the inside. They take away our ability to see the blessings in someone else’s life. Sometimes we want revenge because of the pain we’ve allowed to fester. But, carrying a grudge for any length of time damages us, not the person we hold it against. They might not even know what they’ve done! Go to the person, explain the problem, and attempt to make amends.   We also feel a release as we forgive the offender even if they don’t apologize or realize that their actions were wrong and hurtful... even when no one else knows or understands what really happened. Releasing the hurt through prayer allows God to take care of the situation. Our forgiveness of the offender’s injustice sets us free to love more fully… just as God loves us, because we sure aren’t perfect.   I appreciate what Desmond Tutu wrote about forgiveness. He understands that “Forgiveness does not relieve someone of responsibility for what they have done. Forgiveness does not erase accountability. It is not about turning a blind eye or even turning the other cheek. It is not about letting someone off the hook or saying it is okay to do something monstrous. Forgiveness is simply about understanding that every one of us is both inherently good and inherently flawed. Within every hopeless situation and every seemingly hopeless person lies the possibility of transformation.”*   Tutu further explained that “Forgiving and being reconciled to our enemies or our loved ones is not about pretending that things are other than they are. It is not about patting one another on the back and turning a blind eye to the wrong. True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the hurt, the truth. It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking; but, in the end it is worthwhile, because in the end only an honest confrontation with reality can bring real healing.”**   As the old saying goes, hope springs eternal, and there is always hope that, in time, restoration will happen between you and another. For there is a much better path found in forgiveness… that of peace and joy. It happens when we each admit our errors, our faults, our sins… and apologize and seek forgiveness from the one we’ve offended, and from our Lord, as we live out the change in our heart. In this is found true peace… a joy-filled contentment that no one can take away.   Yet, it is not always appropriate to return to a harmful relationship. That is between you and God, and no one else has any right to force or expect a reconciliation… because forgiveness does not always mean restoration of a prior relationship that you know was abusive. Elizabeth Esther, author of “Girl at the End of the World”, herself a survivor of spiritual abuse, sums it up well: “Forgiveness means I carry no more resentment. It doesn’t mean I tolerate more abuse… There is a difference, after all, between an apology and repentance. An apology is an acknowledgment of wrong. Repentance is marked by a dramatic change in direction, a noticeable change in behavior.”   We need to set appropriate boundaries of respect. Forgiving someone does not mean they are given an open door to resume their old ways by condoning or enabling wrongful behaviors, especially if they continue to lie, refuse to acknowledge they did anything wrong, or that you were hurt. When you have repeatedly forgiven, tried repeatedly to reconcile and discuss the situation, and no conciliatory effort is made to understand how they offended you, nor a willingness to repent of wrongful behavior, apologize and truly make amends… it is time to walk away. Trust and respect are earned. We can try to cover up guilt with a façade of innocence, hiding our wrongs from others, but God sees… He knows the truth.   The disciple Peter asked our Lord how many times he should forgive his brother who had sinned against him. Jesus replied that he should forgive “seventy times seven” - in other words, endlessly. (Matthew 18:22) As C. S. Lewis wrote, “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” So true! However, in Ephesians 5:11, the Apostle Paul admonishes us to "have nothing to do with fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”   The Apostle Luke wrote that “if your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.” (Luke 17:3) Forgiveness does not mean that abuse should be excused, tolerated or silenced when true repentance is not evident. Forgiveness is a process when there has been consistent abuse in any form. And yes, it is appropriate to alert and warn others, even in churches. We should not shame the victim willing to come forward.   An apology indicates an admission of a wrong to be corrected, with true repentance evidenced in genuine changed attitude and behavior. If the abuser is truly sorry for their actions, they will gladly give you time and space to process and observe them in action, allowing you to make the decision of whether to return to a former relationship or not. Otherwise, it is inappropriate to be forced by others into reconciling when they do not understand the extent of harm that was done, nor should the abuses be swept under the rug with a warning to never discuss them. The person who will not acknowledge their wrongs needs our Lord’s light just like the rest of us.   The Apostle Paul reminds us that we are to “…clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love [and] let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts. And be thankful.” (Colossians 3:12-14) Forgiveness… it may be the last thing we want to do for someone who hurt us deeply… but, when we forgive, it leaves us feeling washed clean and ready for a new start. And our heart is filled with a renewed sense of love to eagerly share with others. What a great resolution to start a new year with!   Wishing you a very Happy and Blessed New Year!     Forgiveness by Linda A. Roorda Hurts of the heart that abound in life The pain inflicted, the soul that’s wounded The careless words and endless strife Erode our spirit and remove our joy. ~ Raging battlefield within our mind Waging havoc amid destruction Erecting walls with blinded eyes That limit our world and destroy us inside. ~ Offender at times, tossing out darts Offended the next with indignation We each share blame for wrongs committed As we nurse our wounds or savor victory. ~ Then my soul pours out transgressions I’ve made For You know my heart, my thoughts and my deeds Nothing is hidden, repentant I am As humbly I pray with face turned to You. ~ Your wisdom alone has pierced my heart You’ve caused me to see the wrong of my ways For within Your Word are Truths that shed light As I walk this path that draws me to You. ~ To cleanse my soul, forgiveness I seek To redeem the gift You’ve given for me Your life on a cross that I might be free The depth of Your love I cannot repay. ~ Then go and seek the one you’ve offended Make right the path you both must walk Follow the lead of our Lord above Lay down your pride, release your burden. ~ Forgiveness like oil my soul You anoint In comforting peace with mercy and grace Your blessings of love now cover my heart Redeemed am I, Your praises to sing. ~ For there is no peace like to that above When forgiveness reigns in our tender hearts Compassion to share as blessings abound Bring heaven’s joy to shine brightly down. ~~ Linda writes from her home in Spencer   *Quote taken from * Desmond Tutu, “The Book of Forgiving: The Fourfold Path for Healing Ourselves and Our World”
  25. Linda Roorda
    As this year draws to its conclusion, I began pondering all that I’m thankful for… among the many blessings God has showered on each of us. It’s been a good year of making new friends and appreciating friends from the past, of joining a new-to-me Reformed church group and their band, able to use my aging voice to share a love of singing praise to our Lord, of treasured memories of loved ones who were a special part of our lives for a time, of family who grace our lives with their love and presence, of the students I sub for and care about, and so much more.
    But sometimes our blessings are taken for granted, because I, for one, forget to focus on the gift of those blessings while some days our hearts fill to overflowing with praise and thanksgiving for even the least of these.  Those are the days we remember all that God has given each of us with love.  And then we wonder how we can ever thank our great God enough for all He’s done for us, especially in the life of Jesus, our Lord and Savior, whose birth we just celebrated, who came to this earth with a purpose, ultimately going to the cross for our eternal salvation. (John 3:16) And that’s a blessing to forever be thankful for!
    My previously unpublished poem below was written several years ago as two separate poems during a particularly difficult year of Ed’s continued worsening health and my cancer diagnosis and treatments. Yet their poetic themes were similar enough that they seemed to flow as one entity of praise in alternating verses, fitting to end this year with and to welcome a new year.
    I also find it easier to write in the first person. From my own life experiences and feelings of my heart, words flow onto the page.  Ed always said I wore my feelings on my face.  But it’s also been said I’m too emotional, by someone in a leadership position who should know better.  It’s true, but that’s the way God created my caring heart.  And often when a poem is finished, re-reading it in its entirety brings tears to my eyes.  For I know God has blessed me with words that often seem to come from somewhere deep in my soul… from someplace with which my consciousness is not always in touch… with words that have touched the hearts of others and brought healing to mine.
    Because yes, it’s my heart that rejoices, my heart that is saddened, my heart that gets angry at times, my heart that despairs, my heart that apologizes and seeks forgiveness for my wrongs and desires peace, my heart that looks up to the Lord for His loving forgiveness, asking for His hand to guide my path, and it’s even my heart that these poetic words lift up. 
    For it’s also my heart that praises the Lord for all the blessings He’s given while allowing me to face hardships and pain, as He brings healing and peace, and joy amid tears from His loving mercy and grace.  In all of life’s ups and downs, He knows best how to guide my heart and my steps… and may He use these words to touch your heart in turn… as I thank each of you for being a blessing to me.
    You’ve Blessed Me
    Linda A. Roorda
    Oh Lord, you’ve blessed me in ways beyond count
    At each new dawning to greet a new day
    With words of praise from depths of my heart
    Like birds taking flight are songs in my soul.
    ~
    How do I begin my Creator to thank?
    For where life began barely touches the sum.
    But were I to try my heart could not name
    All the blessings of love and joy in my soul.
    ~
    Your hand is my guide unaware at times
    Taking for granted simple joys of life,
    So may I pause and contemplate
    The myriad ways Your love covers me.
    ~
    Through seasons of need joy and praise burst forth
    In testing and trial with hope I reach up
    For You always guide each faltering step
    To carry when I fall and ease heavy burdens.
    ~
    Look upward my soul as life and stress deep
    Overwhelm to the core and deprive of peace.
    With hope the key to renew my heart
    I walk not by sight but by Faith alone.
    ~
    Within this world You allow my struggles
    For an easy path was never promised.
    Yet You have vowed at my side to be
    Guiding me over life’s treacherous shoals.
    ~
    For it’s You my Lord, to whom I will run
    Whose voice I hear, whose Word is my guide
    Directing my path, gently leading me on
    Guiding with light, Your Son in my heart.
    ~
    You promised more if I will just seek
    Your grace and mercy since Your child I am,
    With a love and joy that knows no bounds
    And peace that passes all understanding.
    ~
    And oh! the joy that blesses my soul!
    For since time began You’ve called me by name.
    And with thankful heart I praise You my God
    For blessings given in ways beyond count.
    ~~
    Linda writes from her home in Spencer. 
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