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Linda Roorda

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  1. Linda Roorda

    A Faithful God...

    By Linda Roorda,

    I don’t pretend to have all the answers.  I know how prone I am to fret and worry.  I often don’t take my concerns to the Lord in prayer right away, but tend to stew on them and think I have to fix the problems myself.  On the flip side, there are times I wait longer than I should to implement what God wants me to do.  Yet, time and time again, our gracious God has been faithful to see me and my husband through difficult situations and painful losses, showering us with blessings throughout those times.  His wisdom shines through when we finally realize there really was a purpose behind the trial we didn’t want to face. 
    When faced with various difficulties, we can remind ourselves that “…the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen and protect [us] from the evil one.” (II Thessalonians 3:3 NIV)  How often don’t I need to remind myself to look to God, to seek His guidance first?  I am so prone to wanting to “do it myself,” as a little child is apt to say.  How independent and stubborn I am… we are!  But then, lest we forget, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9NIV)  Our God has a short memory of our failings when we unburden our hearts to Him in prayer and repentance.  
    I also like Psalm 89:1 which says, “I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever…”  To praise our God in song and the written word for all He has done for us is to share His faithfulness with those around us.  Like a mother hen, who we can visualize protecting her young chicks with her wings, David penned, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”  Such comfort there is to be found in the Psalms.
    Every day our loving God stands with open arms ready to show us His love and compassion anew.  “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’” (Lamentations 3:22-24NIV)  Oh, to be patient and wait for God’s answer to our prayers.  He wants to bless us!  But it also means His will may not be what we want.  It requires patience and prayer from us as we wait for His answer, His blessing… as he sometimes takes us through a difficult time before we see the good come out of that circumstance.
    For He is faithful and just, full of mercy and grace, and will meet us where we are.  We are each uniquely created by Him, the One who knows exactly who we are, and who knows how best to meet our needs.  Then, as we wait on Him, we can “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.  For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.”  (Psalm 100:4-5 NIV) 
    May you know His blessings as you experience the faithfulness of God in your life!
    A Faithful God…
    Linda A. Roorda 
    A faithful God…
    Who loves me dear and draws me near
    Who speaks to me in ways I can see
    Who knows my heart and helps me live my part
    Who hears my cry and knows how hard I try
    Who holds me tight in His arms of might
    Who forgives my sin on confession to Him
    Who stands me tall when again I fall
    Who deserves my praise in songs I raise
    Who never lets go as the way He doth show
    Who carries me through a trial and loves me all the while?
    A faithful God...
    ~~
  2. Linda Roorda

    A Friend

    By Linda Roorda,

    There is something truly special about the love of a friend… something to treasure and be thankful for!  The bond that develops is hard to break… especially when tested by time and circumstances in all of life’s ups and downs. 
    A friend shows empathy and genuine concern for another’s well being.  A friend understands the other’s need of a quiet respite for a time when life comes hard against them.  A friend reaches out in those difficult times to say, “I’m here… whenever you need me.  I won’t interfere… just know that I’m here for you.  I love you, and support you with my thoughts and my prayers.”  A friend once told me when we were both going through extensive health issues, “Now you’ll learn who your true friends are,” and she was so right.
    A friend shares your joy, while you share a gladness of heart when they are blessed, even during times of your own hardship.  Encouragement flows from one heart to another and back again for the endeavors you each pursue… strengthening the bond between both, sharing peace, joy and contentment. 
    A friend speaks truth to settle disputes.  A friend does not begrudge another their needs.  A friend does not mock, lie, retaliate, or deceive for personal gain.  A friend is willing to apologize, recognizing their own failings.  A friend forgives, yet discerns with God’s wisdom when the relationship is abusive.  And in forgiving, with or without apologies from the other, establishes boundaries of responsibility and accountability with honesty… for there are times when a relationship is detrimental and one must walk away, even when no one else understands, allowing God to work His healing.  He will give you strength and courage… for trust and respect are earned and maintained within a healthy and stable relationship, bringing honor to God.
    A friend listens with a servant’s heart… not for what they can get or take, but for what they can offer from their heart… whether with contemplative quiet or words of wisdom... without expecting anything in return.  Which all reminds me of a good marriage when you each give 100%. Needless to say, we all have times when we give less to our spouse, or to a friend.  But we don’t stay there.  We discuss and overcome what has upset us, knocked us down, and we apologize, forgive, and move forward with 100% once again.  With accountability, and that kind of trust and giving, we exhibit God’s love as He intended.
    And dear are the friends who, on getting together even infrequently, love each other enough to pick right back up where they left off as if there had been no time or distance between their meetings.  As Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.”
    Such a friend is a blessing from God… someone who understands your heart… who complements what you already have or perhaps are lacking… who is able to wisely point out where you may be in the wrong… who can share in your joy… who can simply and quietly be there when your heart is breaking… who can give loving support to help accomplish a task when your skills might be limited… who will gladly come alongside with no expectation of repayment or recognition in any manner for a good deed… being someone who simply loves the other just for who they are.
    And so, we give a heartfelt “Thank you” to each of our dear friends who have stood by us, and supported us, through the numerous life challenges we have faced over the years. Such a friend… a spouse… can be so like our Lord… the One who blesses our heart with abundant love… who comes alongside, gently calling us away from life’s harms… who loves at all times… and who lays down His life to cover our sins… as we seek Him for all of our needs.  A friend like no other…
    A Friend
    Linda A. Roorda
    A friend reaches out to touch your soul
    As you share a love and a bond that twines
    From the time you meet you’re drawn in close
    You want to know more about this new friend.
    ~
    A friend is one who will ever be near
    Ready with kind words and a caring heart
    A friend will share the depths of your soul
    Midst tears that flow and the days of joy.
    ~
    A friend is waiting with arms held out
    To listen with care and understanding
    To hold you tight when life overwhelms
    To never let go no matter the trial.
    ~
    A friend gently holds your heart with joy
    Like a rose in bloom with beauty fragile,
    Yet strongly stands to face stormy days
    That test the strength of ties that bind.
    ~
    A friend is there to listen at length
    When anger erupts like a storm at sea
    And days arrive with hurts that steal joy
    To clear the heart of issues that strain.
    ~
    A friend will wait no matter how long
    To regain the lapse when life interrupts
    As you pick back up where you both left off
    Not missing a beat with hearts in tune.
    ~
    A friend’s precious words lift up your heart
    To heal the wounds and cover the scars
    With guiding wisdom extended in love
    To cheer the soul and renew the joy.
    ~
    A friend brings peace for a troubled soul
    To share quiet time and ease tensions tight
    To calm the fears and carry the loss
    And help you walk a difficult path.
    ~
    A friend shares the joy that floods your soul
    The blessings of life in showers rich
    Those unannounced and those from long hope
    As you give sweet praise for heaven’s ways.
    ~
    A friend will give their life as a gift
    To sacrifice self for the gain of all
    A friend clings to hope that the best in you
    Will still shine bright when all else seems lost.
    ~
    A friend there is no greater than this
    Than the Lord above with His love divine
    He holds out his hands, draws us to His side
    And blesses our hearts with joy from a friend.
    ~~
  3. Linda Roorda
    I'm sharing something a little different today.  Yesterday would have been our Jenn’s 43rd birthday, now celebrated in her heavenly home. As family and friends, we never forget a loved one who has left us, especially sooner than we expect.  Yet, we can remember and celebrate their life with joy as a blessing from God. Today, rather than a poetry reflection, I’d like to share memories in Jenn’s own words from psychology class at Houghton College.  It gave me insight into her thoughts, experiences, understanding of her family, and thoughts on her future.  This is what I longed for after she died – something in her own writing, her perceptive memories, providing a window into the heart and soul of who she had become.
    With a double major of elementary education and psychology at Houghton College, she earned her Master’s degree as a School Psychologist from Alfred University a month before she left this world the end of June 2003 at age 25.  I found comfort and peace in writing about her life that summer and fall, a healing catharsis, and appreciated reading her college papers, like the one below, and learning more about who she was as a young adult. May you be blessed in your own memories of loved ones who have left this world before "their time."
    UNIT ONE:  Childhood Recollections and Experiences:
    Jenn drew a floor plan of our house, and was asked to “sit quietly and try to recapture the sights and sounds and smells of each room,” and “the experiences and feelings [she] associated with each.”
    A – Who lived in this house with you?  When we first moved into this house, my family consisted of my mom, dad, sister & myself.  However, the house was built while my mom was pregnant w/ my little brother.  He joined our family two months after we moved into this house.
    B – What was your favorite place?  Why?  My favorite place was the basement because a section of it was set up as a playroom.  I spent hrs. playing here w/ my sister & brother.
    C – Where were your secret places?  I don’t remember having any secret places.  Mom kept pretty good track of me & my siblings.
    D – What room or area of the house do you remember as the most unpleasant or uncomfortable for you?  Why?  I didn’t like having to go to the basement at night when it was dark.  I wouldn’t leave the safety of the stairs until I had turned on the lights.  I disliked having to retrieve something from the garage the most.  This was because it was dark, damp, cold & quite (sic, quiet).  I was afraid something would get me when I opened the door.  I also remember us having a slight problem w/ a mouse in the basement when we first moved in.  That may have contributed to [my] fear.
    E – What was the prevailing atmosphere or mood in your house?  Before I was nine, I remember the mood being fairly cheerful.  Afterwards, the atmosphere was filled with some tension, worry, & yet also a lot love & caring.
    F – What was your most significant experience during the time you lived in this house?  How was this experience significant?  When I was in 2nd grade, my grandparents had to sell the family farm b/c my dad could no longer help his father.  My dad’s eyesight was deteriorating.  Over the years. he continued to lose what little sight he had & he eventually was declared blind.  This experience put a lot of stress on my family, especially my parents’ marriage.  But our faith in God held us together & pulled us through this difficult time.  As a family unit, we are much closer now.  Family is very important to me.  I learned important lessons about being supportive to others & persevering through hard times.  I also had to mature quicker as the oldest child & take responsibility for my sister & brother.  Note:  My dad now works as a customer service manager for a local company.
    G. Think about your early experiences with your family at mealtime.  Family mealtime (supper) was my favorite part of the day. We would all get a chance to discuss our day of school or work, sharing disappointments, as well as exciting news. It was also a time filled w/ humor & laughter.  My Dad, sister, & brother were gifted w/ a sense of humor, & always had my mom & [me] laughing so hard it hurt! I know we also had conflict w/ one another at the table, but all the good experiences dominate my memory overwhelmingly. After eating we almost always had family devotions.  These have changed as my siblings & I have grown up.  First my parents read Bible stories to us.  Then once we learned to read, we all took turns reading the stories.  Now we read the “Daily Bread” booklet.  These experiences really pulled us together.  I believe this is one activity that helped us through my dad’s blindness.  I will forever be thankful for these good times &hope to continue the tradition when I marry & have children.
    I have learned how much I value my family.  They are so important to me.  They are my support, my source of encouragement & of love.  The exercise on mealtime was the most valuable exercise as it made clear the importance I place on family.
    UNIT THREE:  Alfred Adler and Individual Psychology:
    I - Early Recollections:  “To understand a man we must know his memories.”  --Ancient Chinese Proverb
    A.  Beginning with your first recollection, identify your earliest specific memories.
    1 – My earliest memories begin in the trailer my family lived in from the time I was born until I was 4.  I remember that when I was about 2-1/2, I would crawl into my sister’s crib in the morning.  I was really proud of my baby sister.  I liked talking to her & playing w/ stuffed animals with her until mom got us up.
    2 – Another memory from the trailer that I have is when my family got a dishwasher.  However, my sister & I were more interested in the box that it came in than the dishwasher itself.  My mom put the box in the backroom & my sister & I would often play in it.  Our favorite game was to put a larger than normal beanbag on a small cart that some wooden letter blocks normally set on & place that cart on top of the box.  Then we would crawl inside and shake the box until the cart fell off.  Then we would repeat the process.  It was simple but great fun.
    3 – I remember moving in August from our trailer into our newly built house.  I remember going from room to room, checking everything out. The coolest part was the stairs.  For some reason my sister & I were absolutely fascinated by them.  Once we were fully moved in, we would pretend to have picnics on them.  Once again, it was simple but great fun.
    4 – In October, my brother was born.  I don’t remember a whole lot about this.  However, I do remember my dad dropping my sister & [me] off at my aunt’s house and picking us up at night for about 2 days or so.  I remember being excited about getting a new brother, but I also missed my mom & couldn’t wait for her to come home to play & read books again.
    5 – I remember going to the family farm & spending time in the barn w/ my dad & my grandfather.  I liked to sit on top of the feed cart w/ my own little scoop so I could “help” feed the cows. I also liked playing w/ the barn cats, & mixing up the formula for the calves.  I felt grown up when my dad would let me carry the flashlight as we walked home at night or allow me to help carry the milk pail.  I also liked riding on the tractors w/ my dad.  The only bad experience that I remember from the barn was a time that I was following my dad & was running to keep up.  I cut a corner too tight & ended up face down in the gutter of manure.  My dad picked me up and carried me home so mom could clean me off.
    II.  Reflect upon your early memories. My memories seem to be focused on experiences primarily w/ my sister (i.e. memories 1-3). We did everything together as kids & even today I feel close to her.  I am also close to my brother.  Overall, I think my memories reveal my strong attachment to family.  My memories reveal a happy environment in which I received love & had enjoyable times.  My family is very close-knit.  I think this has helped us in our times of trouble, b/c we knew we could lean on one another.
    As for explaining my present personality, I think the closeness & the trust that I built w/ my sister & my family as a whole has led to my tendency to trust others. I also think the pride I mention in memories about my siblings reveals my tendency to act “motherish” at times, specifically w/ my siblings.  My early experiences in the barn represent an early introduction to responsibility & my dedication to getting a job done on time.
    B.  Inferiority Feelings:  Adler believed inferiority feelings form the basis for all human motivation and striving. 
    Once my sister & I were both in school, I began to have feelings of inferiority. She always wanted to do what I could do, and once she learned it, she often performed better than I did.  I felt threatened; as the oldest child, I wanted to maintain my “superior” position.  I didn’t have an inferior organ, nor did anyone receive excessive indulgence & pampering, & I wasn’t rejected or neglected by anyone.  My parents consistently worked to temper any competition, & establish the fact that we each have our own individual qualities & strengths.
    E.  Style of Life: Adler believed basic life-style patterns and structures of personality are established early in life… 
    I value friendship.  I think it may come from the close companionship that developed b/t my sister & I as children.  I also don’t like conflict.  My mom deterred my siblings & I from fighting.  I remember having to sit on the couch & hold hands for several minutes after having arguments w/ them.  I also didn’t like seeing my parents fight during a stressful time in our home & try to steer away from it myself.  I’ve also been a very quiet & compliant child.  I allow other people to dominate conversation & I go along w/ the majority consensus – typically.  There are of course exceptions.
    I think I am a combination of the avoiding type and the socially useful type.  I like to avoid conflict. I know how to get around issues & how to choose my words wisely to keep from causing a problem.  However, when a problem does arise that requires attention, I do face reality & attempt to solve it.
    I also admit that I am shy & do not talk a lot.  But, those people who know me well, realize I am very interested in social activity. I care about others and wish to help them out as needed.  I also enjoy being involved in committees and other extra-curricular activities.  I was quite involved while in high school.  However, since entering college, I have found myself having to concentrate more time on studies & have not been able to do a lot of other things.
    G.  What are some of the important things you have learned about yourself?
    This entire unit on Adler’s theory of personality was very interesting & helped me learn a lot about myself.  I discovered how oriented I am around achieving excellence & wanting to be the best I can be in all areas of life. Working with children also seems to be a highly important thing for me.  I have a genuine concern for children who don’t have the same opportunities to succeed that I had.
    UNIT SIX:  Psychosocial Theory:
    1.a.  Think back to your early years in school.  Was this a discouraging time for you, or were you able to achieve success in learning and developing the skills necessary? I don’t remember a concentrated time of frustration although I did struggle with learning some things as any child does.  For example, in 1st grade I had a hard time learning to read.  With extra help from my parents at home, I soon caught on & excelled. However, I had already been molded into a stereotype at school and could not move out of the lower reading groups because of it.  So my parents stimulated my reading interests at home.  I think their efforts kept me from giving up.  In other subjects I tended to succeed & overall I enjoyed school.
    1b. My parents helped me a great deal with reading & I grew to enjoy it & excel at it.  I also remember participating in 4H.  A neighbor lady held meetings in her home once a week.  I enjoyed this & did well at cooking contests.  
    2.  In efforts to establish a stable ego identity, has your quest for an occupational identity been a major concern?  Maybe, to a certain extent.  I know that I want to work with children in some way, shape or form.  But I haven’t been able to fully identify what it is I want to do. I have thought about teaching elementary school and thus, I am an El. Ed. major.   I also have considered some kind of counseling, or maybe even a school psychologist. Thus I am also a double major in psychology.  I am slightly confused about which way to turn, but I haven’t totally panicked yet.  But my identity has not been solely based on my future occupation. There is more to who I am than the job will hold after school.  I trust God in that area of my life and have tried to develop my other characteristics.
    3.  We are living in a time of changing sex roles and patterns, and there is much sex-role confusion in our society.  Have these social changes contributed to your personal difficulties in achieving a stable ego identity?  No, this has not influenced me at all.  I come from a “non-traditional” home in some sense, because my dad is blind and I’m used to him being a house-husband.  He, of course, does have a regular job now, but he continues to help my mom out with laundry and grocery lists and cooking, etc.  I believe both males and females can share in household duties.  I also see nothing wrong with a woman choosing to be a housewife. If I ever have children, it is in fact my desire to stay home to simply be a mom and a wife.
    As far as occupations go, I think each person should do something that will best use their skills and talents and will make them happy.  I, however, am against any legislation that will make it mandatory for men and women to be absolutely equal.
    5.  Discuss the strengths you have developed and the tasks yet to be completed.  I think I have established a stable ego identity.  The values I have formed are ones I hold to quite strictly.  I am capable of handling responsibility given to me by others.   I have set goals for myself and am considering various options for my future beyond Houghton.  I know I am shy, yet able to voice my opinion when necessary.  I have established preferences for what I like to do in my free time, food I like to eat, etc.   I generally know who I am and am satisfied with the roles that I play in the relationships I have with family, friends, etc.   
    6.  Am I strong enough in my identity to fuse myself with another without fear of losing my own identity, autonomy, and integrity?  I think I am ready and have been ready to be in a close relationship with another person.  I know who I am as a person.  I have confidence in my special skills and abilities and I am able to respect others for who they are and am willing to help as needed. I began my first ever relationship almost exactly a year ago.  It has been a very healthy and satisfying relationship.  We get along very well.  We are both mature individuals and are able to discuss our differences (when they occur) in an appropriate manner.  We have also had to deal with our relationship being long distance.  We have very open communication lines with a “no secrets” policy. We also allow each other to continue the development of our varying interests.  We are both interested in learning about what the other person does or likes.  Lastly, we build each other up and encourage one another in our individual pursuits.  We complement each other well and I am grateful for him being a part of my life.
    7.  How are your mother and father each expressing and developing ego maturity through generativity?  I remember when I first left home to come to Houghton and the difficulty my mom had with “losing” her first born.  She cried a bit.  However, it has gradually gotten easier.  She recently made a comment that she and my dad will like having the house to themselves after having a weekend of no kids.  I had to smile.  My mom is also becoming engrossed in a genealogy project of my dad’s family and would like to do one of her own family. It’s a little harder for my dad since he’s blind.  He can’t just choose to do something.  He doesn’t appear to be bothered, but I can’t really judge for sure.
    F.  Old age – integrity versus despair with old age, the final psychosocial stage of ego development and maturity. 
    (Note: I am talking about my dad’s parents since I see them more often.)  I think my grandparents are developing integrity as they are now in the final stage of ego affirmation.  They are both still very much in love with each other.  They also have an excellent sense of humor.  Laughter can be expected when we visit them.  I also enjoy hearing about the past – including experiences that were good and others that were bad.  No matter how a situation turned out, they’ve accepted it and have moved on with life.  They are also very willing to help others and to give advice.  Before my sister and I got a car this semester, my grandparents helped my mom with the task of driving us back to Houghton after breaks.  They do, of course, have problems, but generally I think they are quite well adjusted into their last stage of development.
    G.  Summary - What are some of the important things you have learned about yourself after doing these exercises?
    I have learned that the environment my parents provided me as a child and as a teen has facilitated a healthy outcome at all of Erikson’s stages.  I also think my faith in God has been an asset in my development.  It helps with things like careers to know that God is in control and He will guide you.  He has been a source of strength through all sort of problems and trials, and a blessing in times of happiness.  In addition, I’ve learned how important healthy relationships with others are in developing yourself.
    The entire unit was quite informative and I found it interesting to reflect on the issues that were raised.
    Professor:  Great – A wonderful job overall!  Thanks Jennifer!
  4. Linda Roorda
    What a beautiful sunny morning for Mother's Day!  Within the busyness of life of working full time in both raising a family and earning an income through a career, finding relaxation through resting or enjoying a special hobby, may you be richly blessed in all you do that is dear to your heart.  Wishing each mother a very special Happy Mother’s Day! 
    How to explain a mother’s love…  It’s all encompassing… She believes the best, encourages, supports, and nudges her young ones forward from infancy as they grow up to become who they’re meant to be.
    As a mother holds her tiny newborn in her arms, she feels an intense and special tender love.  From deep within her heart, this new love emerges as each little one is born… for every child is created unique by God… an individual with a distinct character and personality… unlike any other in the world. 
    Children are also not born with a set of instructions in one hand as they enter the world… sometimes unfortunately!  But, with biblical Godly wisdom, a mother, a parent, also grows within… to become wiser as her children mature.  It’s a process involving her learning and understanding while her children move through their own maturation processes.  She holds her hands out to pick her young ones up when they fall… while at the same time she tries to let them fail so they can learn from their mistakes… often called tough love.  We want so much to keep them from feeling pain, loss and disappointment.  And I’ve been guilty of being a helicopter mom… I didn’t want them to face some of the pains I did while growing up.  But, that’s not the best option.
    A mother also realizes she has not always been wise and successful at every turn of the way.  She makes mistakes too.  At times I needed to apologize for my own misunderstandings and mistakes, being willing to learn from the experience with my children, and to move forward a bit wiser. 
    Discipline, responsibility, accountability, honesty and respect are necessary for a child’s growth, taught and modeled by parents. One form of discipline I incorporated from Ed’s Aunt Ethel with our three children was to have them all sit on the sofa holding hands together when they had been arguing.  Unbeknownst to me, as soon as my back was turned, they stuffed their hands down between the sofa cushions – so they wouldn’t have to touch their sibling.  As soon as Mom reappeared, they held hands again.  When I could see they were treating each other well again, I sent them off to play.  As adults, they shared with me what they used to do.  I laughed and said, “But it worked!  It got you talking and working together, even if you were conspiring against me to unhold your hands!” 
    As a child, Jenn liked to take chocolate chips to her room, hiding them in her desk drawer.  One time, this concept went too far.  While their dad was at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Massachusetts, I took the kids grocery shopping with me.  Turning around one time, Jenn slowly took her hands out of her pocket with an odd look on her face.  I knew… I just knew what had happened.  Sure enough, she’d slipped a candy bar into her pocket.  I made her put it back, telling her that the store manager had literally just walked past us.  If he had seen her, I said, he would have charged her with shoplifting.  And people who do that go to jail.  Maybe that was harsh to tell an 11-year-old, but this was going to be stopped.  On the way home, I even drove past and pointed out the county jail. 
    When we visited their dad at his Aunt Ethel and Uncle Harry’s home in Massachusetts a few weeks later, I shared my concern with Uncle Harry.  The next day, he took us all to the Boston Aquarium. We saw the Old North Church, like an ant, tucked down amongst tall “skyscrapers.”  Then he took us to see “Old Ironsides,” the famous ship from the War of 1812. It was impressive to walk on a piece of early American history!  We thought it was especially neat to see a sailor in an 1812-era uniform on deck, talking on a modern telephone!  On the way home, Uncle Harry drove us past a prison with its high barbed-wire fences, telling us it was for teenage delinquents. I’m sure the message was received. Jenn never attempted to steal anything again. True love, and guiding our children through the maze of learning appropriate behavior, does not leave them to blindly follow their own selfish desires.
    After our daughter, Jennifer, passed away at age 25, I wrote my memories of the growing-up years of Jenn, Em and Dan in a book, “Watch Them” for family and friends.  In one chapter I wrote, “Our children – each a unique individual, a most precious gift from God to be treasured and loved as we guide them in their journey through life.  My late friend, Mimi, shared a special quote from her stitchery:  ‘There are two lasting gifts we can give our children – one is roots, the other is wings.’ May we love our children enough to provide them with the deep roots of a sturdy foundation, and yet love them enough to discipline them, giving them wings and freedom to fly out into the great big world on their own.”
    To me, that is what a mother’s love is all about. And I love each of my kids and grands so very much!  God bless you all, and Happy Mother’s Day! 
    A Mother’s Love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    A mother’s love
    From the first smile of joy
    For the precious bundle held in her arms
    To the pride in her heart
    As to the future her child is given.
     
    A mother’s love
    With hugs, tears and kisses
    That heal life’s bruises
    As arms enfold her child tight
    A place that no one else can fill.
     
    A mother’s love
    From deep within her tender heart
    A love that forever hopes the best
    A love that believes in guiding the will
    And a love that never ever lets go.
     
    A mother’s love
    Is kept in gentle memories
    From her tender sweet smiles
    To the depths of her heart
    Forever a love held precious and dear.
    ~~
  5. Linda Roorda
    “Young love, first love, filled with true devotion…”*  Glimpses of memories linger from sixth grade at Passaic Christian School of a former farm girl whose family had moved back to city life in Clifton, NJ.  It was where life began for her, and where her father’s Dutch immigrant family had lived since the Great Depression era of the 1930s.  She was tall at 5’7” in sixth grade, tallest student in the school actually.  With a natural springing high jump, long arms and legs, she had the strength to punch the ball hard to beat everyone at tetherball – including one classmate in particular.  Poor guy!  He simply gave up and walked away the last time they played.  But she must have made an impression.  After making their silhouettes in art class, he brushed the nose of his next to hers saying, “Eskimo kiss!”, and I was smitten. 
    Getting out of his seat for an inquisitive peek out the window one day, our teacher said, “Curiosity killed the cat!” to which he immediately replied, “But satisfaction brought it back!”  I loved his quick wit.  Once a week that spring until school was out for the summer, he walked me home after classes.  One time, he stopped, moved a cinderblock away from a garage door, and positioned me next to it as he stepped up.  Looking down, he exclaimed, “There! Now I’m taller than you!” 
    We carry many special memories in our hearts as we travel through life. And, as we glimpse back through the window of time and recall days of long ago, fragments return of treasured days. We’ve held onto dreams and hopes, we’ve made mistakes that we regret, apologized, moved on and matured. Yet, first love remains with its sweet simplicity and priceless memories… a tender young love.
    In 2018, my mother’s first beau sought her out.  After visiting her nephews on their farm, he was able to contact me and arrange a visit to see my Mom at the nursing home.  Telling me she had left an impact on his life, he made amends.  They had a wonderful visit, a special time of reminiscing.  All those years ago, they’d met at the county fair in Cobleskill, NY.  As farmers, they had a similar background, living not too many miles apart.  They kept steady company through the end of high school and a bit beyond for about 3-4 years.  He loved racing on the local track, known for a fast reputation which broke their relationship.
    Another young man, Ralph, pursued a beautiful girl with a penchant for fast driving... and he asked a friend who that young woman was as she sped by, actually late for work!  Soon she knew this farmer was “the right one” for her as they spent many a Saturday night square dancing, getting to know each other better.  The following spring, they married.  And 11 months later, I arrived as the oldest of six. 

    In seasons of time, young love made itself known once again.  When a tall, dark and handsome young man saw her for the first time, it was love at first sight for him.  Still, it took over a year for Ed to gather the courage to ask that pretty girl out on a date.  And I fell in love with this gentle, caring, humorous, tall farmer with a strong faith in God who was determined to do as much as possible despite his vision limitations. He told me that if I ever felt sorry for him, then I didn’t belong at his side. And we shared our hearts and filled our life with young love and true devotion… meant to last a lifetime, shortened by the limitations of life that no one can predict.
    Yet, there is a love far deeper than any of our tender loves… a love that lasts far longer than our earthly loves… because our “God loves us deeply [and] is full of mercy” (Ephesians 2:4)  Our God has tenderly loved us from before we even were born…words which Israel’s King David penned that our heartfelt praise can echo: “You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made… My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139: 13-16)  No matter our past, no matter the cost, our “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)
    Happy Valentine’s Day!! 
    A Tender Young Love…
    Linda A. Roorda
    A tender young love from days long ago
    Held in the heart as memories smile
    From the depth of care to the pain of loss
    Felt in the hands together held tight.
    ~
    A tender young love never forgotten
    Still tucked away in pages of yore,
    Reflecting upon the days of old
    That gently carry the heart’s awaking.
    ~
    A tender young love of silent reverie
    The sheltered moments in passage of time
    That pause to reflect on life together
    Sharing sweet dreams and heart-felt caring.
    ~
    A tender young love that sparkled within
    And lit the world with eyes shining bright
    A focused adoration so well understood
    But lost too soon to the whims of life.
    ~
    A tender young love to always treasure
    As I hold your heart in memories dear
    Your wit and wisdom with hearty laughter
    A voice from the past where our dreams come true.
    ~~
    “Young Love” sung by Sonny James, written by Ric Cartey, Carole Joyner.
     
     
  6. Linda Roorda

    A Tiny Seed

    By Linda Roorda,

    I love spring!  It’s a season full of the promise of new growth, new life.  Yet as I thought about life emerging from a tiny seed, fed and nourished by the sun’s warming rays and watered by a refreshing shower, I could not help but think of the Lord feeding and nourishing our souls to help us grow.
    As a TA sub in a science class recently, I was reminded of this unpublished blog. Studying plant life, the students experimented with seeds in different situations.  Seeds were placed on a folded paper towel with a specific amount of water… some were set on a windowsill where they would have sunlight and warmth, while others were put into a dark cupboard where it was cooler.  Checking on the progress of their seeds daily, each group measured and looked for growth.  The seeds with the sun’s warmth did the best with rich green young growth, while the seeds in the dark cool cupboard had some growth with long tendrils of white or very pale yellow instead of a darker rich green… they were searching for light and warmth.
    Interestingly, when I searched my photo file for a particular set of pictures, I saw this photo for today’s post was taken exactly 6 years ago – 04/30/2017!  The bursting leaf buds on my maple trees are at the very same stage as back then!  A reassurance when the world around us seems to be in constant flux that we are still in His care.
    In observing that experiment’s results, I realized how like us and our spiritual growth when we have Jesus and His Word, His light, as our guide, versus the darkness without His guiding light.  In Jesus, we have a solid foundation to lean on.  We’re fed with spiritual nutrition from His Word, Holy Scripture, as we turn to Him for answers in dealing with life’s problems.  And I can’t help but wonder about those who lash out at life around them, having little to no purpose or meaning.  Without a solid foundation and moral guidance to keep them on the right path, they often grow with negativity, seeking the easiest route to self-gratification regardless of collateral damage.
    I long for them to know and feel the embrace of God’s overwhelming love.  In creating us and knowing who He’s designed us to be, it must give God great pleasure to watch us fulfill the purpose He’s placed within each of us as we seek His wisdom.  Like a seed pushing upward and outward from its protective shelter below the soil, growing from a tiny seed until the whole of its beauty is evident, so is our life. 
    Developing from a tiny cell, we grow until we are one day born unique, created by God like no other being.  From infancy onward, we continue our maturing process to exhibit a growth and beauty within our heart and soul as we become who God intended us to be… a beautiful life meant to glorify Him. 
    A Tiny Seed
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Once upon a day a seed was planted
    Just a tiny seed, held gently in hand
    The soil was tilled and the seed tucked in
    To patiently wait, its growth to begin
    Learning to endure the seasons of life.
     
    As the tiny seed emerges frail
    From winter’s long and darkened sleep
    Into the warming breath of spring
    The sparkling rays of golden sun
    Shine down upon its tiny head.
     
    The rains gently fall to nourish the soil
    The sun rises high to share its warm glow
    And day by day the seed begins to grow
    Coddled with love, nudged into life
    Slowly but surely potential to gain.
     
    So it reaches up yet higher still
    Straining to achieve its dreams and goals
    Looking unlike any other around
    In plain and simple, yet elegant attire
    Focusing on its purpose ordained.
     
    And then one day a small simple bud
    Opens its petals for all to take note
    Delicate beauty unfolding soft
    To praise the One who created it so
    Like you and me with purpose unique.
     
    For by His loving and abundant care
    Sheltered and nurtured within our heart
    Is gently worked His will and His plan
    So that we beloved, precious children of His
    Bring honor and praise to our glorious God.
    ~~
  7. Linda Roorda
    How do you write a tribute to celebrate a life, and capture the essence of 70 years in just a few words? I couldn’t, but will share some snapshots of Ed’s life that I read yesterday at Ed’s burial service with several family and friends present.
    When he went back to the ER yet again on January 13th, Ed calmly told me he was praying for God to take him home. He was tired and worn out from the constant health issues he’d had since October 2008. He wanted me to know how much he loved me and our family, and that he could not have done life without me at his side for those 48 years - well actually 49 years if you count from Christmas Day 1973 when we started dating.
    But I also want to share that Ed’s cousin Kevin called me March 29th.  He told me something he was hesitant to tell Ed when it happened, and now wishes he had. He had wanted to tell me after Ed passed but was afraid of breaking down so he waited … but in November, he’d had a very vivid dream of Ed.  Kevin was in front of his house when Ed appeared and said “Hey Kevin! Look what I can do!” as he ran back and forth!!  Kevin believes it was a premonition that he didn’t realize at the time, a treasure!! 
    Ed was an easy-going, laid-back kinda guy, with a great sense of humor. When his friend and coworker Jeff Grover, who he thought highly of, picked him up for work at VTI and apologized for oversleeping and being late, Ed would simply say, “It’s ok. You must’ve needed the extra sleep”. Ed was kind and compassionate to a roommate who’d had a terrible night after surgery such that Ed got very little sleep. Bruce, who grew up a dairy farmer and was a disabled policeman, so appreciated Ed’s kindness and reawakening of his own faith in God that when Ed was discharged, he got out of bed to give Ed a hug and broke down crying on Ed’s shoulder for the friendship bonding they’d shared that week.
    Ed did not like attention on himself. He was quite a fighter in life and never gave up, working hard to prove he could do things with his limited vision. Over the past several years of his illnesses, he was determined to do whatever he could, for as long as he could, rather than sit back and do nothing. His faith in God was a very real part of his life, praying for God’s wisdom and guidance. He told me he even prayed for a wife, and God had sent me. And he was very supportive of my endeavors, often reading my blogs before posting and gave constructive advice. Yes we had difficulties as a couple, but we made a commitment when we got married and worked through those hard times with God at our side.
    He was a two-month premature twin, spending a month in an incubator with pure oxygen which damaged his eyes. With no vision in his right eye, and only 20/200 vision with glasses in left eye, he managed to do a lot. With new glasses at age 5 or 6, he was ecstatic to see kids sledding down a hill, something he’d never been able to see before. He used to lose his glasses regularly, with the family finding them in odd places like hanging from a beam in the haymow after haying! He wouldn’t let it be known he couldn’t see the board from a front row seat, but one special teacher caught on and let Ed copy from his notes. He was appointed swim team manager for the state championship team while at Warwick High School. He swam like a pro, but wasn’t allowed to compete on the team for fear he’d hurt himself or someone else by not being able to see his lane, a great disappointment to him, but he accepted it and moved on.
    Ed had helped on the farm since he was a little kid. As he grew older, he wanted to do what his brother Marv did – like driving tractor and doing field work. His Dad said, “Okay, you can try, but you’ve got to be careful” – not telling his Mom till later.  He tried, and was very careful, proving he could handle their John Deere 520 and machinery like he was born to the job. He loved nothing better than doing fieldwork, alert to machinery sounds and problems. He was always extra cautious, never reaching over or into running machinery for the danger that posed. He was also great at rhyming words, making short silly “poems,” telling me it was from all those years of endless hours on the tractor! Ed also had a close friendship with hired hand, Mat Donnelly, who was surprised I was Ed’s wife; we knew each other in Lounsberry.  Ed and Mat really enjoyed working together, and visiting together over the years, talking and listening to Ed’s records or CDs.
    Ed had also milked cows since he was young; but by getting his head under a cow to see where to put the milking machine, his Dad advised him that if he was going to milk cows, he’d better find another way to put the machines on or he’d be getting his head kicked in a lot!  So, like for other tasks, he put the machines on by feel.
    He loved working with his Dad who allowed him the ability to succeed by trying, and did so well at many things that I took his abilities for granted. He grew up on rented farms in Orange County, NY, before moving to their own farm in Spencer in April 1968. That lasted until June 1985 at age 33 when he had a major retinal detachment. Imagine going to the eye doctor, being told you need urgent surgery, and you can’t even do barn chores that night… or ever again. He was devastated. And we had three little ones to raise. But moving forward after recovery he helped take care of the house and kids while I went to work. He made the grocery list until a few weeks before he passed away. Tho he’d given me his master list, I struggle with actually making that list now!
    Ed held a life-long love of music, from traditional hymns to classic country music, and classic rock from the 1950s thru the 80’s, especially the Beatles!  As a little boy, his parents and relatives were amazed at how he knew which little 45-record was which. If someone asked for a song, he always knew the right one to put on the record player his grand-parents had given him. He told me that he never understood why they were all so amazed because, “I just memorized the picture on each record that went with each song!”  Of course!  How simple… so like Ed, a man without pretentions!
    But he could have been a DJ.  He often knew a song by just a few initial notes, and the background stories of so many singers and their bands, and who left what group to go solo or start another group.  Without vision, he knew every CD he had in several boxes, and knew which song was on what track on which CD, just like he’d known his many records! While dating and after we were married, he took great pains to patiently play a record, stop it, write down the words in a letter to me, play the next phrase, stop, write it down, repeat, repeat, repeat. Later he did this with internet songs, writing down special lyrics for my birthday and our anniversary. I loved that he took the time to do that for me, or that he’d ask someone to take him to the store so he could buy me a card.  That’s true love!
    Eventually, he had more eye troubles with hemorrhaging and surgeries, and was left with additional vision loss. He went to The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, Massachusetts for 6 months of personal training from November 1989 to April 1990, spending every weekend by his Aunt Ethel and Uncle Harry, helping them with firewood!  He learned Braille well with large dots, but when he had to use smaller dots, he could not feel them to read. After returning home, he was hired by Vergason Technology in Van Etten.  He worked as a customer service rep, teaching himself to write programs for the shipping and receiving clerks with the assistance of an engineer and listening to tutorials. He could read large white-on-black print on a closed-circuit TV, was able to see some colors, but lost the last remnants of vision in 1998. Going through another bout of deep depression, we learned from counselors it was a typical response, as his old self gradually rose again to deal with being totally blind. But then he was laid off a month after 9/11/2001.
    AVRE (Association for Vision Rehabilitation and Employment) in Binghamton again assisted him in seeking new employment. His aide took him to an interview at Cornell’s vet school office. Afterwards, the woman doing the interview told him he’d been the best candidate she had ever interviewed with his knowledge, calm demeanor and ability to think on his feet, but they really needed someone with vision. He understood, appreciating her input, while the aide from AVRE later asked why he wasn’t nervous. Telling her he had been very nervous, she replied, “You never showed it!  You were one cool cucumber under pressure!”  And that too was so like Ed!
    A few weeks after Jenn died in June 2003, Ed was still on the Federated Church’s prayer list, looking for work. He told me he had prayed and asked God to bring the job to him because he had done all he could do with no results. That week there was a knock on the door. Ray Maratea came in, pulled a chair by Ed in his recliner, sat down, and asked Ed what he could do for them because they wanted to hire him! God answered Ed’s prayer by sending the job to him! Ray had seen Ed’s name on that prayer list!  Working with AVRE, Raymond-Hadley Corporation set Ed up as an office assistant with his customer service background. He set up tractor trailers for pickup and delivery, tracked certificates for files, and made collection calls. When he wasn’t able to work in the office, they willingly set him up at home to continue doing collection calls because he was so good at it - he never got flustered, never got upset at customers, and handled situations with a calm and easy-going manner.  Just a few days before he died, he asked me to write his resignation letter as he knew he would not be able to handle the job when he came home again, saying it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to ask me to do for him - he absolutely loved his job for the company and the wonderful people he worked with.
    Ed loved his family deeply, and it hurt him that he couldn’t do things with them, go places with them, or visit them. He was very proud of all their accomplishments, and the wonderful adults they became - Jennifer (who’d married Matt), Emily (who married Nick) and Daniel (who married Beth). He also loved his 5 grandchildren very much – Liam, Wesley, Gwen, Samuel, and Maxwell, and always wished he could have seen them, read to them like he did with our own kids before bedtime, or played with them. We love and miss Ed, but rejoice that he’s in his heavenly home with his Savior, and can see and run!
  8. Linda Roorda

    A Vessel of Worth

    By Linda Roorda,

    I love to sing, always have, since I was a kidlet.  In my childhood, it was the old Hymns of Faith whether in Christian elementary school, church, choirs, in the backseat of the car singing with my sister as our family went for a drive, or as she and I sang an occasional duet in church.  As a teen, I sang along with old country/western and then rock songs of the early ‘70s on 99.1, the WAAL.  Yet, I’ve always enjoyed the old hymns, simply for the truth of the words and the joy of singing, though I also appreciate the upbeat contemporary praise and worship songs on Family Life Network, 88.5-FM.  As I age, I still love to sing though my voice is not always as crisp and clear, nor even as loud as it once was.  With pulmonary sarcoidosis, I just don’t have the volume or depth of air in my lungs anymore.
    As a retired member/leader of a church Praise Team, it was a humbling honor to select music for the worship service - hymns, country gospel songs, or contemporary praise songs.  Each week we brought a different set of songs, usually chosen in an attempt to mesh with the Scripture readings.  Our hearts were touched when we chose music not knowing the Scriptures to be read and the songs fit perfectly, knowing God worked through us!  Occasionally, we felt moved to change a song, or for some reason we unexpectedly needed “Plan B” with a different option.  Time after time, we saw what could be looked at as a failure of our plans but which instead was intended by God for His purpose… to touch someone’s heart in a way we could not have foreseen.
    For there’s something about singing that lifts the heart up… from utter despair… from a difficult day… from the trials and wounds of life… from pains and losses in life that scar… like a cleansing of the soul, bringing a renewed sense of worth.  God takes our brokenness and makes something of beauty from it.  If only those who complain about musical choices could understand that perspective, what a joyful difference it would make!
    Because singing also lifts the heart up in praise to God for all the goodness He’s blessed us with… for His taking us through those difficult times to better days… for His working through our wounds and scars to refine us and use us for His purpose, for His glory… so that, with praise and joy for all He has done for us, we might then touch another life along the way.
    After I wrote the poem below, its message reminded me of the old hymn, “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” by Adelaide A. Pollard (1902), put to music by George C. Stebbins.  This worshipful song has been a favorite since my childhood.  “Have Thine own way, Lord!  Have Thine own way!  Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.  Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting yielded and still.”
    And the Scriptures from which both the above hymn and my poem’s messages are drawn reflect the Master Potter’s work in us: “So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands, so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.” (Jeremiah 18:3-4 NIV)  Another prophet felt the same way as he praised our heavenly Father by writing, “Oh Lord, you are our Father.  We are the clay, you are the potter; we are the work of your hand.” (Isaiah 64:8 NIV)
    Our life is a continual process of growth and refinement through the years.  As we stay focused on our God and His love, He refines our rough edges… our failures, mistakes, and sins… and works through them to bring out our best, just like the Potter, almost without our realizing it… 
    Then, one day, we take a look back.  As we ponder the path we’ve been on, we realize how our Lord took us through difficult times to clear away the pain of wounds… to draw us closer to Him… to cleanse us from our sin… to refine and change our attitudes from within… to renew our life’s direction… and to bring joy to our heart… as we become a vessel of worth, more like Christ.  And that’s something worth singing about! 
    A Vessel of Worth
    Linda A. Roorda 
    I’m like a clay pot, a plain earthen vessel
    Scarred and fragile, bruised and broken.
    What can I offer in this condition?
    What is my value, and what am I worth?
     
    So I watched the Potter as he took raw clay
    Gray bland in color, an undefined block.
    Throwing the clay with fingers easing
    All the rough edges, the lump he refined.
     
    Faster he pedaled, wheel turning smooth
    Humming a tune, his hands deftly worked.
    His vision emerged through design taking shape
    While gently he scraped imperfections aside.
     
    Yet there in the clay for all to see clear
    Lay fissures and cracks now being exposed.
    Some faults ran deep, others lay shallow
    All marred perfection, casting doubt as to worth.
     
    Swiftly he worked to shape and refine
    As beauty beneath was slowly brought forth.
    Heat up the furnace! the potter exclaimed.
    It’s only through fire refinement is made.
     
    Purging the defects, molding and shaping
    Tempering through fire, perfection to find.
    For hidden from view in mind’s eye alone
    Lay His creation, a vessel of worth.
     
    As I stood aside observing the skill
    Which molded and shaped a plain lump of clay,
    I thought of the One who had created me
    A vessel of value, made worthy by Him.
    ~~
    2014
  9. Linda Roorda
    Before I retired, I looked forward to the weekend.  But often found that once I got there, the chores on my list seemed to never end.  There was no escape!  They needed to be taken care of… though I’d much rather enjoy a respite with my hobbies – sewing, gardening, taking a walk, reading an in-depth well-researched historical book, or just relaxing on a bench in my gardens enjoying nature's beauty and listening to the birds.  But the demands of responsibilities in every-day life like paying bills, laundry, cleaning house and the pellet stove in the winter, baking Ed’s favorite cookies, etc. all take precedence over my “play time”… which I then savor as a treat, like dessert, after the necessaries have been properly take care of.
    And my thoughts turned to Proverbs 31 and the excellent wife… a woman more valuable than the most beautiful and precious gem.  Her accomplishments in caring for her husband and family are deserving of great reward.  “A wife of noble character who can find?”  [Prov. 31:1 NIV]
    This excellent and virtuous woman embodies all we could ever want or hope to be.  She not only excels in the care of her home and family, but she also excels outside the home in the business world.  Her husband trusts her completely, knowing that she has his good at heart.  And, with the knowledge of her support, he earns great respect in his own business arena.  The excellent wife and mother cares about her family as well as those in her employ.  She has wisdom, empathy and mercy… with a loving and discerning heart to meet their needs.  She provides for her family’s future; and, knowing all that she has done in advance, she can smile or even laugh at the hardships which will inevitably come. 
    On the other hand, I am well aware that I simply don’t measure up.  Though I sure try, I so often fail.  On verbalizing my thoughts of failure while studying this chapter a while back, I discovered I wasn’t alone in those feelings amongst us ladies.  We were all reminded that that is where God’s loving forgiveness and grace comes in… as we pick ourselves back up and try again with our Lord always at our side. 
    Our excellent wife, or even a single woman, also embodies the wisdom found in the whole book of Proverbs, intended for each of us… a wisdom in its entirety which I do not have.  Left to my own devices, I revert back to thinking I can handle life all on my own, thank you very much.  But, knowing that I don’t measure up, Proverbs 31 reminds me whose wisdom and discernment I need to seek to guide me daily… even on a minute-by-minute basis.  And with our Lord’s guidance, I am more prepared to face the world and all of life’s demands.
    An Excellent Wife
    (Based on Proverbs 31) written in February 2015
    Linda A. Roorda
    An excellent wife is of matchless worth.
    Priceless she is, more valued than gems.
    Her husband trusts completely in her
    And knows her heart as she gives her best.
    ~
    She chooses well, her hands work with skill
    She shops with knowledge to find the best deals.
    She wakes before dawn her household to feed
    Eager to serve those under her care.
    ~
    She ponders wisely when purchasing land
    And gains a profit from crops she has raised.
    The money she’s earned in turn will be used
    Grapevines to buy, others to employ.
    ~
    With physical strength she tackles her tasks
    She knows what to do and pitches right in.
    She presents for sale her quality goods
    To ensure her home no lack or need knows.
    ~
    In one hand she holds the needs of her home
    And with her fingers she carries out plans.
    When storms descend her heart is fearless
    For she’s prepared, her family protected.
    ~
    Blankets she makes, fine clothing she sews
    Remnants she uses, no wasting supplies.
    Her crafts to sell, a profit to gain
    That gifts she may give as others are blessed.
    ~
    Her husband is admired by all those he meets,
    As he holds a place among the respected.
    Strength and dignity cover her well
    She smiles with peace at trials to come.
    ~
    In wisdom she rests when speaking her mind
    Her instructing words show kindness and love.
    She keeps her focus when running her home
    That idle hands would not be her theme.
    ~
    Her children observe her busy deeds
    They praise her heart and bless her dear name.
    With understanding her husband sees all
    For he knows her heart and praises her worth.
    ~
    In contemplating women of renown
    She far exceeds whatever their fame.
    For “charm is deceptive, beauty is fleeting”
    But she who worships the Lord shall be praised.
    ~~
  10. Linda Roorda

    Abusers Among Us

    By Linda Roorda,

    Learning that last Sunday, 09/19/21, was Abuse Awareness Day in the Christian Reformed Church (in which both Ed and I grew up), I am sharing my blog which was posted to their website in 2017. 
    There once was a man who appeared on the scene.  Suave and debonair with confidence bold.  Flattery oozed like syrup sweet.  And despite her protests, he flattered yet more.  After all, he said, she deserved the praise for she was worth it.  Despite her protests, she absorbed the attention… until she understood his world of deceit.
    Abuse encompasses an array of distorted behaviors and abuses within friendships and marriages, destroying God’s gifts. Lacking respect, those with self-centered narcissistic and/or predatory traits have a need for power and control over others. They are confident and prideful.  Their goal is to exploit, crossing boundary lines with intimidation to prove their superiority, having a need to diminish the worth of others to feel good about themselves.  They claim repeated mocking put-downs are jokes.  If you attempt to break the cycle, they contend you can’t take a joke, are too emotional, and too sensitive.  “Like a maniac shooting flaming arrows of death is one who deceives their neighbor and says, ‘I was only joking!’” (Proverbs 26:18-19  NIV)
    With callous disregard, they lie when faced with truth.  They may abuse emotionally, verbally or physically. Their story changes to suit confrontation as they feign innocence, create confusion, and claim they don’t understand what you’re talking about.  In attempts to hold them accountable, they skillfully play the innocent hurting victim, project blame onto the true victim, and will not take personal responsibility for their own issues. They don’t feel a need to apologize, claiming they did nothing wrong – evidence of a hardened heart.
    Predatory grooming, done in specific stages, is universal against children, teens and adults to control with a perverted form of trust to the perpetrator’s benefit.  After targeting someone perceived as vulnerable, they reel in an unsuspecting heart with the flattery of false love.  Keying in on filling an emotional need, they try to isolate their victim in secrecy from those who would realize what’s happening divide-and-conquer technique).  Innocuous sexual advances are made which gradually become bolder until the abuser thinks control can be maintained to score the ultimate goal.
    Grooming also manipulates the victim’s responses to garner increased affection.  If you desire to please others, you’ll meet their needs.  In time, you will be manipulated into doing more of their bidding.  They’ll make excuses and manipulatively use Scripture so you’ll accept their abuse, thwarting your protests.  When they think they’ve got you under control, emotional destruction begins.  You are despised for having qualities of love and joy which they cannot feel, necessitating an endless pursuit of new victims to manipulate in order to fill their heart’s void.
    If you back away from their chaos, they may use threats, turn angry or violent, quickly revert back to a loving persona to throw you off balance, and resort to stalking behavior.  Unless they show and express true sorrow and repentance for their behavior with evidence of genuine change, walk away from their abuse… and stay away. 
    For we read, “There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.” (Proverbs 6:16-19 ESV)
    The opposite of such discord is a love which embodies all that is good.  “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude.  It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”  (I Corinthians 13:4-7 ESV)
    As we speak with such love, we encourage each other.  “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29-32 ESV)
    Typically, those who trust others have a heart of empathy, are naively innocent (without “street smarts”), and are more easily taken advantage of.  Predators know this and zero in on their target like a hunter on its prey.  To realize that someone would target you for their advantage is to feel a range of emotions from guilt and shame for having been used, to anger at another’s attempts to destroy you.  Genuine love is not in the abuser’s heart despite claims to the contrary.  With evil intent, you are used for their benefit - a lack of respect for your worth.  When that is recognized, you are on your way to recovery and healing.  I know… I was a victim. Sadly, several times because I simply forgave and moved forward, trying to make the relationships work. Not until after I had walked away from them and no longer allowed any contact, did the abuse end.  Yet, out of the experience came wisdom from God.
    Mutual friends who have never fallen under the blinding spell of narcissistic and/or predatory deception, nor suffered attacks of retaliation, do not see the abuse.  They see only the passive mask, the public face of supposed innocent humility, and often excuse and enable abusers.  After all, they’re so kind and loving, so good to everyone – until, behind the scenes, you cross them, buck their mistreatment, and begin to confront their wrongs with truth privately or publicly.
    Yes, these types of abuses are found within the church, the perfect cover with our Christ-like love for, and generous forgiveness of, one another.  As the body of Christ, we should listen, believe, respect, and support the victim who dares step forward. The abuser only recovers when the façade of innocence is removed by admission of wrong, repentance, and proves the desire for a changed heart.
    To the youngster or adult being swayed by abusive pressure or bullying - hold tight to your convictions, ideals and honor.  Don’t allow anyone to take these from you.  Respect yourself enough to say “No” and walk away – whether it be “No” to drugs, “No” to someone wanting to take away your innocence, “No” to emotional or physical abuse, or “No” to sexting, sexual abuse, or sex trafficking.  Walk away and seek advice from a trusted, qualified professional to help you stand firm against such unwanted pressure.  Respect yourself as a child of God.  Don’t be taken down.
    Taken Down
    Linda A. Roorda
     She was taken down the garden path
    And showered with seduction’s prose,
    Sweet words of praise and silken flattery
    That touched her heart to follow his goals.
     
    She trusted him and his glowing words
    Though his zest for life held deceitful charm,
    As her heart of love for all in her world
    Was purposely swept by grooming words smooth.
     
    How easily swayed is a trusting soul
    Who believes and thinks the best of her friends,
    Yet who is misled by the foxy wiles
    Of one who claims humility’s garb.
     
    Why the conquest instead of friendship?
    Why the seeking to own gentle hearts?
    Why the pleasure in taking away
    That which is not yours to alone enjoy?
     
    How can you claim a God-honoring life
    As you betray a friend’s trusting heart?
    Such evil flays the inner soul
    And leaves a wound not easily healed.
     
    But comes reality when the truth sets in
    And she regains boundaries once lost
    As true emotions with selfless empathy
    Emerge once again to prove her value.
     
    For in disrespect concealed by flattery
    Lies the evil of a planned defeat.
    He cannot abide reality of love,
    And must destroy the one with a heart.
     
    As she unravels the disillusions
    And begins to heal her eyes are opened.
    Emotional depths of her heart and soul
    Are restored in full, her peace made complete.
    ~~
  11. Linda Roorda
    If there’s anything that exemplifies the Christmas season, it’s the music.  The familiar faith-based carols and popular melodies embody the meaning of a beloved holiday as well as add to our joyous spirits.  But Christmas music back in the early days of America wasn’t what we think of today.  Obviously, there were no radios for listening to popular tunes, no records, cassettes, CDs or MP3s to buy.
    And, if anyone was dreaming of a white Christmas, it certainly wasn’t with a popular tune!  It was simply the beauty of a night made more silent by the pristine-white ground cover, and the time it took to harness the horse and ready the sleigh for a trip thru the woods and over the river to Grandma’s welcoming arms.
    It’s hard to believe now, but centuries ago the singing of Christmas carols was officially banned from the medieval church!  Undeterred, hearty souls who loved to sing songs of their faith went door to door, singing to their friends.  That is, until Oliver Cromwell put a ban on this activity in 17th century England.  Even the early American Puritans did not celebrate Christmas, and William Bradford ordered those slackers back to work who dared to celebrate – after all, Christmas was not a holiday… not yet, anyway!  It wasn’t until 1870 that we Americans officially recognized Christmas as a “Federal” holiday.  Prior to that, festivities began to be popular about 1840; previously, celebrations were considered “unchristian.”
    Biblically, early Christians were encouraged to “speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.  Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord…” (Ephesians 5:19 NIV)  So, it’s really no wonder songs of joy have been in the hearts of those who celebrated Christ’s birth over the centuries, including our ancestors. 
    In the Roman Catholic Church, perhaps the oldest Christmas song was written by St. Hilary of Poitiers in the early 4th century.  The Latin “Jesus refulsit omnium” or “Jesus illuminates all” is believed to have been written by St. Hilary in 336 AD for the first Christmas celebration.  Aurelius Prudentius, a Christian poet also of the Roman Catholic Church, wrote “Corde natus ex Parentis” (i.e. Of the Father’s Love Begotten”), a 4th century hymn, not a Christmas carol per se`. 
    A few years later in 354 AD, the Roman Catholic Church drew up a list of bishops, with a note for 336 AD:  "25 Dec.: natus Christus in Betleem Judeae." (i.e. December 25, Christ born in Bethlehem, Judea.)  Thus, December 25, 336 is believed to be the “first recorded celebration of Christmas” (i.e. Christ’s mass) even though no one knows the actual date of Jesus’ birth.
    In the early 13th century, Italy’s St. Francis of Assisi used live “Nativity Plays” with singing of carols to revive a Christmas spirit among his parishioners.  As Christianity spread, the Roman Catholic Church began singing “Angel’s Hymns” at the Christmas mass, and other churches followed the example across Europe.  Over time, new carols were written with Scripture-based themes, and traveling minstrels shared the music on their travels. 
    Though once banned, the old carols regained popularity as common folk sang privately or in special bands for Christmas Eve services.  Eventually, Christmas carols were welcomed in the church worship service, and continue to thrive today not only in our many church hymn books, but have also been made popular via modern media.  Most carols we sing today are only a few centuries old, written in the 18th and 19th centuries, while many newer carols and popular songs were written in the latter 19th through the 20th centuries, with even newer and more contemporary Christmas music written in the mid-20th century through this current 21st century. 
    With carols being songs expressing our joy, and knowing their origins, they are especially meaningful to us as we sing our favorites during the Advent and joyous Christmas season.  Only one verse is shared of each song except the last two; you will easily find the balance in your hymnbook or in an online search.
    O Come, O Come, Emmanuel – a long-time favorite, a song of the medieval era, perhaps written in the 9th century by a monk or nun.  John Mason Neale, an Anglican priest of the early 19th century in the Madeira Islands near Africa, translated this Latin poem from an ancient book of poetry and hymns he had discovered.  Neale is believed to have used musical accompaniment from a 15th century funeral hymn of French Franciscan nuns, as per a manuscript at the National Library of Paris.  The tune we still sing today is based on the ancient “plainsong” rhythmic style.  There are eight or nine original verses, but the typical church hymnal uses five.
    Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
    And ransom captive Israel,
    That mourns in lonely exile here
    Until the Son of God appear.
    Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
    Shall come to you, O Israel!
    God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – though the composer of both this carol and the tune are unknown, it has been sung in churches as far back as the 16th century.  First published in 1827 or 1833 (source difference), it was traditionally sung in the streets of London by watchmen and among revelers in taverns.  In fact, Charles Dickens referenced it in “A Christmas Carol.”  When Ebenezer Scrooge heard this song being joyfully sung in the street, something he could not abide, he threatened to hit the singer with a ruler!  It has been popularized by numerous 20th century recordings.  Originally, there were eight verses.
    God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,
    Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day;
    To save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray.
    Refrain:
    O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;
    O tidings of comfort and joy.
    Joy to the World – this favorite carol by Isaac Watts was published in 1719 in his book, “The Psalms of David.”  Based on his paraphrase of Psalm 98, it does not reference the traditional Christmas story found in Luke 2.  Though not being written for Christmas per se`, it celebrates Christ’s coming again as all earth rejoices – completing the reason for His humble birth in Bethlehem.  There are four verses to this very joyful and beloved carol.
    Joy to the world! The Lord is come;
    Let earth receive her King;
    Let every heart prepare him room,
    And heaven and nature sing,
    And heaven and nature sing,
    And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.
    Hark! The Herald Angels Sing – one of over 6000 hymns written by Britain’s prolific hymnist, Charles Wesley, this carol was penned in 1739 as a poem of ten verses.  An original line, “Glory to the newborn King” was later changed by Wesley’s student, George Whitfield, to “Glory to the King of kings.”  That change led to a rift between the two men with Whitfield eliminating some of the verses, yet this carol is considered one of the richest theological assets to the church hymnal.  Its melody was written by Felix Mendelssohn, a familiar name as he was quite the musician and composer himself.
    Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King;
    Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!” 
    Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies;
    With the angelic host proclaim, “Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
    Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King.”
    Angels We Have Heard on High – this popular nativity carol originated in 18th century France among the people who truly love to sing their “Chants de Noel” or Christmas carols.  The title is taken directly from Scripture, Luke 2:14, using Latin for the chorus: “Gloria in excelsis Deo” (i.e. Glory to God in the highest).  The carol entirely references Luke 2:6-20, and was first published in North America for the Diocese of Quebec in the “Nouveau recueil de cantiques” (i.e. New Hymnal) of 1819.  It was first published in the Methodist hymnal in 1935.  There were four original verses.
    Angels we have heard on high
    Sweetly singing o’er the plains,
    And the mountains in reply
    Echoing their joyous strains.
    Refrain: Gloria in excelsis Deo! Gloria in excelsis Deo!
    Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! or Silent Night, Holy Night! – the simple yet elegant words to this beloved carol were written as a poem in 1816 by Joseph Mohr, Catholic priest at Mariapfarr.  Two years later, Mohr had become priest for St. Nicholas’ Church at Oberndorf in the beautiful Austrian Alps.  When the organ broke just before Christmas, Mohr took his poem to the organist, Franz Gruber, asking him to write an easy tune for singing with guitar. Gruber then composed the organ accompaniment several years later.  But, if it were not for the organ repairman taking a copy of the song with him and sharing it with others, one of our favorite carols might have remained a seldom heard Austrian folksong.  In 1859 or 1863, Mohr’s original poem of six verses was translated from German into the familiar English version by an Episcopal priest, John Freeman Young - verses 1, 6, 2 being what we sing today.  Read more history at Stille Nacht Gesellschaft. 
    This carol was sung during a WW I truce between American and German troops.  Men climbed out of battlefield trenches to celebrate their beloved holiday together, while the war carried on as usual the next day.  The Austrian von Trapp family (of The Sound of Music fame) included this carol in their singing tours, helping to popularize it in the U.S. after they had escaped the Nazi regime during WW II.
    Silent night, holy night,
    All is calm, all is bright
    Round yon virgin mother and Child.
    Holy Infant so tender and mild,
    Sleep in heavenly peace,
    Sleep in heavenly peace.
    Cantique de Noel, or O Holy Night – my absolute favorite, this poem was written in 1847 by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure, priest in a small French town, for mass that Christmas Eve.  His friend, Adolphe Charles Adams, was asked by Cappeau to write the musical score.  Unfortunately, learning that Cappeau was a socialist and Adams was a Jew, the church leaders banned the song, proclaiming it was not appropriate for worship services.  Fortunately for us, the parishioners loved the song so much they sang it anyway!  John Sullivan Dwight, an abolitionist, was deeply moved by the phrase, “chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother, and in His Name all oppression shall cease,” and published the song in his American magazine during the Civil War. 
    Across the sea, O Holy Night was sung by a French soldier on Christmas Eve in 1871 during war between France and Germany.  Climbing out of the trenches and walking onto the battlefield alone, the brave young man began singing, “Minuit, Chretiens, c’est l’heure solennelle ou L’Homme Dieu descendit jusqu’a nous,” the first line in French.  Then, a German soldier climbed out of his foxhole to sing another carol, “Vom Himmel noch, da komm’ ich her. Ich bring’ euch gute neue Mar, Der guten Mar bring’ ich so viel, Davon ich sing’n und sagen will.”  “From heaven to earth I come” is a carol written in 1534 by the reformationist, Martin Luther.  Feeling the bon homme of Christmas, fighting ceased for 24 hours, with the French church subsequently welcoming this beautiful and popular carol in their worship services.
    O holy night!
    The stars are brightly shining
    It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
    Long lay the world in sin and error pining
    Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
    A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
    For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
    Refrain:
    Fall on your knees
    Oh hear the angel voices
    Oh night divine
    Oh night when Christ was born
    Oh night divine
    Oh night divine
    What Child is This? – this poem was written by William C. Dix in 1865 (1837-1898), an Anglican layman born in England, who lived and worked in Glasgow, Scotland.  It is believed the hymn was written to fit the tune of Greensleeves, a traditional English melody which dates to the 16th century. Shakespeare actually referred to this particular tune in his play, “Merry Wives of Windsor.”  Though Dix references the traditional Nativity scene of Luke 2:8-16, the original poem entitled, “The Manger Throne,” also refers to Christ’s later suffering on the cross. 
    What Child is this who, laid to rest
    On Mary's lap is sleeping?
    Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,
    While shepherds watch are keeping?
    (The following section of this first verse is used as chorus for each subsequent stanza):
    This, this is Christ the King,
    Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing;
    Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
    The Babe, the Son of Mary.
    I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day – In 1861, tragedy struck America’s beloved poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, author of “Paul Revere’s Ride” and “The Song of Hiawatha.”  In July, the flame from a candle ignited his wife’s dress.  She ran to her husband’s study where he tried to put out the flames with a small rug and then by wrapping his arms around her.  She died the next morning, but his face was so injured he could not attend her funeral.  After their eldest son went off to war, Lt. Charles Longfellow was nearly paralyzed by a bullet passing between his shoulder blades in November 1863. Traveling to Charley’s side, a still grieving widowed father sat down Christmas Day 1863 and wrote this poem from personal anguish, yet with a heart of hope as the church bells rang out… for God is not dead! Peace on earth, good will to men. 
    I heard the bells on Christmas Day
    Their old, familiar carols play,
    and wild and sweet, The words repeat
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men! …
     
    …And in despair I bowed my head;
    "There is no peace on earth," I said;
    "For hate is strong, And mocks the song
    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
     
    Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
    "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
    The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail,
    With peace on earth, good-will to men."
    Away in the manger – traditionally thought to have been written by Martin Luther in the 16th century, it first appeared in a Lutheran Church hymn book in 1885.  It is now believed the song was not written by Luther, but was a song published anonymously in the Lutheran children’s songbook and given the title of Luther’s Cradle Song.  The third verse was written by Dr. John T. McFarland, a Sunday School superintendent.
    Long considered a child’s hymn, and perhaps the best well known, it captures our hearts with its simplicity.  Christmas is not about the gold, glitter and gifts.  It’s the story about God humbly coming to earth as a newborn baby for our redemption.  His earthly parents found no room of comfort in the inn for the birth of their first child.  Instead, baby Jesus was born in a stable, surrounded by cattle, donkeys, and likely cats, mice and other animals, and was laid to rest upon a humble bed of hay in a manger, a feed trough. (Luke 2:1-7)
    Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
    The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head.
    The stars in the sky looked down where He lay,
    The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.
    May each of you and your families be blessed with a most wonderful Merry Christmas!  With much love, Linda and Ed.
     
  12. Linda Roorda

    And He Smiled

    By Linda Roorda,

    None of us knows the impact we can have on those around us.  We live our life as best we can, trusting God, and simply doing what needs to be done with what’s in front of us. We don’t look for adulation. We strive to be there in support of those in need, to do perhaps what they cannot.  Perhaps we give a smile, an encouraging word, praise for a job well done, or humor to lighten their day in the stress of life.
    One of my friends, Sharon, fits that description. She wrote this poem as the words came gushing to her mind in the middle of the night a few days after my husband Ed passed away. I was deeply touched with how perfectly these words flowed with very little editing on her part. And I shed tears, for these words from God so perfectly spoke not only the heart of my friend, but brought comfort and peace into the depths of my family’s loss.
    With permission granted, I share her poem with you. It embodies truth as God knows what we are dealing with and has allowed to touch our lives for His purposes.  He smiles, understands, and lovingly embraces us on those difficult days we all face… while we each become the arms of God extending His loving care to those around us.  
    And He Smiled
    By Sharon Babcock - January 2023 
    A gentle giant of a man
    And a slender doe-like young woman
    Fell in love walking the winter fields.
    God had put them together
    Already knowing the trials they would face.
    And He smiled.
     
    They made a home together,
    And their family grew,
    Even as they grieved for the babies
    They would not see grow up.
    Their love story went on
    And more babies came.
    They trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    He worked the farm,
    Driving his favorite tractor in neat, straight rows.
    She worked too, and filled their home
    With things she lovingly made,
    Curtains for the windows
    And clothes for the children.
    They trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    His vision faded,
    Blindness finally overtook him,
    And the farming that he loved could no longer be.
    They faced the death of their beloved now-grown little girl.
    The trials that God knew they would face mounted around them.
    His body became a prison of pain and suffering.
    But they trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    The life of the gentle giant and the young woman
    Became a lesson for all to see.
    They had trusted God.
    He had been faithful.
    And He smiled.
     
    Now the gentle giant has gone Home,
    Leaving the young woman alone.
    She will mourn for him, longing for his touch,
    His voice, and the way he made her laugh.
    But she knows he clearly sees now,
    And when he first opened his eyes in Heaven
    He saw Jesus, and there was great rejoicing.
    And God smiled.
     
    He has hugged his children, his twin brother, his parents,
    And all the other dear ones who went Home before him.
    He has looked at their faces and seen their smiles.
    His body, no longer wracked with pain,
    Is young and strong once again.
    He rejoices as he hears the words of his Savior,
    “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
    He waits for the young woman to join him once again.
    And God smiled.
     
    In the quiet moments
    When everyone has gone home,
    She knows her life will never again be the same.
    And yet, she is trusting God for everything, as always.
    And thanking Him for a lifetime of love with her gentle giant.
    She can sing, “It is well with my soul.”
    She is trusting God.
    And He is smiling.
    He knew.
    ~~
     
  13. Linda Roorda
    A Scottish castle on the Hudson?  Drawn to the hazy beauty of this photo, I was mesmerized by the castle’s classic lines… so reminiscent of centuries-old castles scattered around the British and Scottish moors and highlands, intrigued to know it sat upon American soil.  After researching and naming my Mom’s maternal Scots-Irish, I am proud to say that they, too, hold a special place in my heart amongst all my Dutch ancestors.

    Photo of Bannerman's Castle  by Will Van Dorp, on his blog, Tugster.
    Think back with me to an earlier day when the adventurous Europeans followed Henry Hudson’s momentous sail north on a river now bearing his name.  It was an era of exploration, a prosperous time for the Dutch and their friends as they established a considerable presence in the settling of Nieuw Nederlands… and traveled freely up and down the North River with its invitingly peaceful, and beautiful, sylvan surroundings.
    Now envision a fairy-tale castle of Scottish design built upon a solid rock foundation, entirely surrounded by a pristine and placid river as its moat.  At times though, depending on the season and storm, the waters become riled and treacherous, perhaps evoking images of an ancient castle set upon the lonely and stormy seacoast of bonnie Scotland.  Such a sighting embodies the ambiance of castle life in the Middle Ages…  a time of chivalry when knights in shining armor went out to battle, bravely protecting their sovereign and his empire, returning home with honor to win the heart of a certain fair young maiden…
    Roughly 50 miles north of New York City lies an island comprising about 5-1/2 or 6-1/2 acres (depending on source) along the eastern shore of the Hudson River as you head north.  Pollepel Island is a lush growth of trees, bushes, flowers and gardens, clamoring vines, weeds, bugs, ticks, snakes, and rocky ground.  Not surprisingly, the hardy Dutch left their influence on our language and place names all throughout the new world in both New Amsterdam proper and environs of the greater New Netherlands.  Naturally this little island, Pollepel (i.e. Dutch for ladle), was named by these hardy early settlers, situated in an area designated as the “Northern Gate” of the Hudson River’s Highlands.  Just like in the Old Country, the island’s natural harbor provides the perfect setting for a castle… Bannerman’s Island Arsenal, to be exact.  Arsenal, you ask?  Yes, a place where knights could well have donned shining armor for their king and perched behind the battlements with all manner of arms.
    Long before there was a castle of dreamy old-world architecture, it was said that Native Americans refused to take up residence on this mound of rock.  Believing the island to be haunted, the Indians rarely dared set foot upon it in daylight, if at all, while their enemies flaunted that fact by seeking refuge on the rocky shore…
    The hardy mariners who once sailed Hudson’s North River left a legacy of legends and tales of this little island.  Washington Irving of Tarrytown told with skillful imagination the story of “The Storm Ship”,  also known as the “Flying Dutchman”.  Fear of goblins who dwelt on Pollepel Island was as real as that of their leader, the Heer of Dunderburgh.  It was well known that Dunderburgh controlled the winds, those furies which provoked the waters, making safe passage of the Highlands a thing to be envied.  With the sinking of the famed “Flying Dutchman” during an especially severe storm, the captain and crew found themselves forever doomed.  And, if you should ever find yourself traveling the river near Pollepel in such a storm, listen closely… for in the howling of the winds which whip the sails, you just might hear the captain and his sailors calling for help.
    Another legend which early Dutch sailors spoke about was that of Polly Pell, a beautiful young lady rescued from the river’s treacherous ice.  Romantically saved from drowning by the quick wit and arms of her beau, she married her rescuer.  Such are the dreams of the romantically inclined…
    From a more practical perspective, Gen. George Washington used the strategically placed Pollepel Island during the American Revolution in an effort to prevent British ships from sailing north.  “Chevaux de frise” were made of large logs with protruding iron spikes which, when sunk upright in the river, were intended to damage ships’ hulls and stop the British from passing through.  However, these particular obstructions, set up between the island and Plum Point on the opposite shore, did not deter the resourceful British.  They simply sailed with ease past the sunken deterrents in flat-bottomed boats.  Washington also planned to establish a military garrison for prisoners-of-war on Pollepel Island, but there is no proof extant that his idea was ever implemented.
    According to Jane Bannerman (granddaughter-in-law of the castle’s builder) in “Pollepel - An Island Steeped in History”, the island had just five owners since the American Revolution era:  “William Van Wyck of Fishkill, Mary G. Taft of Cornwall, Francis Bannerman VI of Brooklyn, and The Jackson Hole Preserve (Rockefeller Foundation) which donated the island to the people of the State of New York (Hudson Highlands State Park, Taconic Region, New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation).”
    Francis (Frank) Bannerman VI, the island’s third owner, was born March 24, 1851 in Dundee, Scotland.  His ancestor was the first to bear the honored name of Bannerman seven centuries ago.  At Bannockburn in 1314, Stirling Castle was held by the English King, Edward II.  Besieged by the Scottish army, however, Edward II’s well-trained troops were ultimately defeated in a brutal battle.  Less than half the size of England’s army, the successful brave Scotsmen were commanded by the formidable Robert the Bruce, King of Scots.  During that battle, Francis VI’s ancestor rescued their Clan Macdonald’s pennant from destruction.  In reward, Robert the Bruce is said to have torn a streamer from the Royal ensign and bestowed upon Francis’s ancestor the honor of “bannerman,” the auspicious beginning of the family name.
    Fast forward a few centuries and, interestingly, we learn that two years after the February 8, 1690 Schenectady (New York) massacre by the French and Indians, there was a similar massacre in Scotland.  Barely escaping the Feb 13, 1692 massacre of the Clan Macdonald at Glencoe in the Scottish Highlands by the Campbells, , Francis Bannerman I and others sailed to Ireland.  With the family settling in Antrim for the next 150 years or so, it was not until 1845 that Francis Bannerman V returned his branch of the family’s presence to Dundee, Scotland.  There, Francis VI was born into this distinguished family.  When but a lad of 3 years, his father brought the family across the pond to America’s shores in 1854.  Settling in Brooklyn by 1856, the Bannerman family has remained with a well-respected presence.
    Francis V earned a living by reselling items in the Brooklyn Navy Yard which he’d obtained cheaply at auctions.  A few years later, on joining the Union efforts in the Civil War, his 10-year-old son, Francis VI, left school to help support the family.  Searching for scrap items after his hours in a lawyer’s office, young Frank VI also sold newspapers to mariners on ships docked nearby.  In the evenings, he trolled or dragged local rivers and searched the streets and alleys, ever on the lookout for profitable scrap items, chains, and other odds and ends, even sections of rope, all eagerly bought by local junkmen. 
    Returning from war an injured man, Francis V saw how successful his son had become with his scrap business.  By realizing that items he sold held more value than ordinary junk, young Frank had made good money.  To handle the growing accumulations of items his son had collected, and the military surplus purchased in 1865 at the close of the Civil War, Bannerman’s storehouse was set up on Little Street.  Next, a ship-chandlery shop was established on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn.  Returning to school with his father at home, young Francis received a scholarship to Cornell University.  However, owing to his father’s disability, family loyalty won out and he declined to pursue the halls of higher education in order to help run the family business.
    In 1872, 21-year-old Francis VI took a business trip to Europe.   Visiting his grandmother in Ulster, Ireland, he met Helen Boyce whom he married June 8, 1872 in Ballymena.  Two of their sons, Francis VII and David Boyce, eventually joined their father in the family business.  A third son, Walter Bruce, took a different path by earning his medical degree.  Sadly, their only daughter died as an infant.  Charles, grandson of Francis VI, married Jane Campbell, a descendant of the ancient Campbells who had attempted to destroy the Macdonald clan (from which massacre Francis I had escaped).  Their marriage showed love was the impetus to rise above the ancient rivalry between the families, reminiscent of the Appalachian’s storied Hatfields and McCoys. 
    Considered the “Father of the Army-Navy Store”, Frank Bannerman VI opened a huge block-long store on Broadway by 1897.  Here, his large building of several floors housed untold numbers of military supplies, munitions and uniforms from all around the world.  Francis/Frank was the go-to man in equipping soldiers for the Spanish-American War.  At that war’s end, the company bought arms from the Spanish government and most of the weapons which the American military had captured from the Spanish.  Printing a 300-400 page mail order catalog from the late 19th century through the mid-1960s,  collectors found a large array of military surplus and antiquities.  As city laws limited Bannerman’s ability to retain his massive holdings within the city proper, a larger facility was sought to store their collection of munitions.  
    As he relaxed by canoeing the Hudson River around this time, David Bannerman observed an inconspicuous little island.  Finding Pollepel Island perfectly suited to their needs, his father, Frank VI, approached the Taft family and purchased the island in 1900.  Designing a Scottish-style castle to honor the family’s legacy, they built an arsenal to store their vast munitions supplies, with a smaller castle providing a family residence.  On the side of the castle facing the Hudson River, “Bannerman’s Island Arsenal” is embedded in the castle façade, clearly informing all passersby of its purpose to this day.
    As the largest collector of munitions in the world, buying and selling to many nations, including Japan during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, and to private citizens like you and me, even Buffalo Bill Cody, military memorabilia collectors, theatrical establishments, and artists needing props, Mr. Francis Bannerman VI held an in-depth knowledge of the military supplies and ordnance in his possession.  But, not being a man of greed, he refused to arm revolutionaries and returned their money on learning their intention.  At the opening of World War I, he reportedly shipped 8,000 saddles to the French Army and delivered thousands of rifles and ammunition to the British at no cost. 
    Though extremely successful selling munitions, Francis/Frank Bannerman VI considered himself a kind and generous man, “a man of peace”.  It was his intention that such a vast collection of arms as his would eventually be considered “The Museum of the Lost Arts.”   Energetic and devoted to his church and public service, he also taught a boys’ Sunday School class.  He enjoyed bringing friends to the island to experience his family’s hospitality.  His wife, Helen, who loved to garden, had paths and terraces constructed throughout the property.  Even today, tour guides point out the many flowers and shrubs she planted which have survived the decades, the beauty of which enhance the antiquity of the castle ruins.
    With the death of Francis Bannerman VI on November 26, 1918 at age 64, building on the island stopped and many setbacks seemed to befall his estate.  Two years later, an explosion of 200 tons of stored shells and powder destroyed part of the castle. With State and federal laws controlling the sale of munitions to civilians, sales began to plunge for Bannerman’s Arsenal.  Family continued to reside in the smaller castle on the island into the 1930s; but, for the sake of their customers, sold their goods more conveniently from a warehouse in Blue Point, Long Island into the 1970s.  In 1950, a pall fell over the island and its castle when the ferry “Pollepel” (named for the island it served) sank in a storm.  Then, when the island’s caretaker retired in 1957, Bannerman’s island remained abandoned and untended for years. 
    Frank VI’s grandson, Charles, wisely predicted in 1962  that “No one can tell what associations and incidents will involve the island in the future.  Time, the elements, and maybe even the goblins of the island will take their toll of some of the turrets and towers, and perhaps eventually the castle itself, but the little island will always have its place in history and in legend and will be forever a jewel in its Hudson Highland setting.”
    Ultimately, New York State bought the island and its buildings in 1967 after all military supplies had been removed, and tours of the island and castle commenced in 1968.  Unfortunately, a devasting fire on August 8, 1969 destroyed the Arsenal along with its walls, floors and roofs making the island unsafe, and it was closed to the public.  Though the castle now sits in ruins, much of the exterior walls are still standing, accented with climbing ivy, and held up in the weakest sections by supports.  Since virtually all interior floors and walls were destroyed by fire, “vandalism, trespass, neglect and decay”   have continued taking their toll over the decades. 
    In more recent years, the island once again made headlines with a tragic story.  On April 19, 2015, Angelika Graswald and her fiancée, Vincent Viafore, kayaked to Bannerman’s Castle Island.  Attempting to return from their outing in rough waters, Viafore’s kayak took on water and overturned, resulting in his drowning.  Graswald, charged with Viafore’s murder, admitted to removing the drain plug.  Arraigned in Goshen, Orange County, NY, a plea deal was later reached before the case went to trial.  Pleading guilty to a lesser charge of criminally negligent homicide, she was released from prison not long after, having duly served the time of her reduced sentence.
    Few people know and remember “Bannerman’s Island” during its glorious past like Jane Bannerman (wife of Charles, Francis VI’s grandson).  Assisting The Bannerman’s Castle Trust and the Taconic Park Commission to repair the buildings, Jane has noted, “…it all comes down to money, and if they don’t hurry up, it’ll all fall down.  Every winter brings more destruction.”  Unsafe conditions on and around the island are due to both underwater and land hazards, not to mention unstable castle walls.  Due to these conditions, it is advised you do not attempt to visit the island on your own.
    The Bannerman’s Castle Trust has initiated “hard hat” tours along with other entertainment venues.  By making island visits possible, it is the Trust’s hope they will be able to restore the castle, smaller castle home, and gardens for the public to enjoy more fully.  In the interest of preserving the rich history of this Scottish Castle on a small island in the Hudson River, we hope The Bannermans’ Castle Trust is successful in its restoration endeavors.
    Hudson River Cruises advertise a tour from Newburgh Landing: “Ruins of a 19th century castle on Bannerman’s Island can be seen on special guided history and walking tours departing from Newburgh Landing and Beacon.”  For information on 2-1/2 hour guided tours held May through October call:  845-220-2120 or 845-782-0685.
    With my own maternal Scots-Irish McNeill and Caldwell heritage (the Irish only because they settled in the northern Protestant section of Ireland), I was intrigued by the photos of such an old-world castle built on a small, seemingly insignificant island.  The fairy-tale ambiance of this Scottish castle stands out, visible by boat and train, amidst the New Netherlands’ Dutch influence up and down the Hudson River.  I hope someday to take a guided tour on Pollepel Island and see Bannerman’s Castle; but, for now, the photos and articles will have to do. 
    Many thanks to Will Van Dorp, a family friend from childhood, who initially piqued my interest by posting his photos and synopsis of the island, castle, and its environs on his blog, Tugster.  See Hudson Downbound 18b, April 12, 2018 - and scroll down to photo of Bannerman’s Castle prompting my story.
  14. Linda Roorda

    Be My Tower

    By Linda Roorda,

    I wish every Mother a very Happy Mother’s Day, including those without children who mother other children!  Below is another different reflection, but written out of the blessing from within life’s difficult reality.  Nor is it my very first poem, but close enough. It was written at an extremely difficult and stressful time in my life after my mother had a stroke on Christmas Day 2011.
    My mother was different. As I grew up, we didn’t get along well, and that continued as I raised my own family. I envied friends whose mothers talked easily with their kids, were involved in their lives, and who enjoyed doing fun things with their family. Growing up, I picked up on little cues from those who didn’t seem to like her or made fun of her in subtle and, sometimes, not-so-subtle ways.  She was mocked and belittled.  She was beaten up, twice, by the same hand that physically lashed out at me but not my sister. I hurt for her, and didn’t understand what was wrong...
    She was always “there” with us, but I/we couldn’t talk with her. She didn’t play with us as kids; but, then, neither did her mother, who had been involved with raising, feeding and clothing 12 children, feeding groups of farmers as they all went around helping each other with crops and butchering animals for food, growing a huge garden, helping with farm chores for a large dairy and several thousand chickens – all without running water until a year or so before my mother was born.
    My mother was distant, not someone I could share my heart with, confide in, or seek help from for my problems.  Simply put, I felt she was not a good mother.  And, as the oldest of six, I dreaded the day when I would have to “take care of her,” especially after my dad left and remarried.
    The call came the evening of Christmas Day 2011.  It was my mother.  I could barely understand a word she said, her speech was so garbled, but I managed to make out, “…stroke… need help…”  That sent a shockwave of fear and sadness through my heart.  Oh no!  My poor mother!  But, what do I do?  I’m ashamed to say it, but I wanted to turn around and find someplace to hide.  Why did I have to be the oldest child?  Why did I have to feel so responsible for everyone and everything, always?  Suddenly, I felt very alone.  The time had come for me to take care of my mother, and I was not prepared. 
    Thank God for her sister, my Aunt Lois.  I contacted her and she willingly offered to go with me to visit my mother in the hospital and later the nursing home in Rochester, nearly three hours away.  A city… that alone struck fear in my heart – I don’t like driving in cities.  During our trips to and from Rochester, Aunt Lois and I had some great talks, a time of sharing and understanding.  My mother is the 11th child in an old-fashioned farm family, while Aunt Lois is the youngest.  They were aunts to nieces about the same ages they were.  I don’t even know all my relatives! 
    Visiting my mother brought me up short to the realities of life.  As a medical transcriptionist, I saw this all the time in my work – folks are fine one minute, but the next minute their life is altered by a sudden change in health.  My mother, at 78, still worked as a part-time toll collector on the thruway.  Not only was her life suddenly and unexpectedly changed from being active to being an invalid, but my life was in the process of being totally turned upside down, too.
    Over the years I had asked my mother to let me know where she lived – “Yeah, I’ll send you directions,” she’d say, but she never did.  I’d asked her to make a list of important papers, where she did her banking, etc., just in case something ever happened – “Yeah, I’ll write it down,” she’d say, but she never did.
    Now, something had happened, and I was forced to take charge of her affairs with no clue of where or how to begin.  I signed papers to be her Power of Attorney and Health Care Proxy.  But I had no idea about what to do!  I didn’t even know where she lived!  I felt so utterly overwhelmed.  I already had so much on my plate caring for my husband with his blindness and multitude of health issues, working full time from 3-11 a.m. at a hospital, and taking my husband nearly every afternoon of every week for so many years to so many medical appointments, plus taking care of most all household chores.  I literally wanted to turn around and walk (no, run) away from everything I faced… but I knew that was not an option.  I felt so helpless.
    And so I prayed.  And a poem, a desperate plea really, wrote itself in my mind and it became my prayer to God, over and over:
    Though I may weaken and crumble
    Beneath the strain of stress,
    Be there, Lord, to guide me safe
    O’er crashing waters near.
    Be my tower of mighty strength
    Firm and strong to lean upon.
    When I think impossible
    Help me take that other step.
    Aunt Lois helped me find my mother’s apartment and van.  The neighbor ladies shared they’d heard my mother’s calls for help and saw her fingers poking out from under the door.  My mother managed to reach her keys and pushed them under the door so the ladies could unlock it.  They found her sprawled on the floor, unable to get up.  She absolutely refused to let them call an ambulance to take her to the hospital; all they could do was help her back to bed.  They apologized to me that they hadn’t called an ambulance anyway, but I reassured them I was not blaming them.  This was out of their hands; my mother had vehemently refused their assistance, even though they should have called an ambulance anyway.  But I was not into blaming.  The next day, Christmas Day, my mother knew something was terribly wrong and had called the ambulance herself.
    I scheduled more time off from work to spend a few days with my friend, Sue, now living in Rochester, who willingly offered to help me start taking care of my mother’s affairs.  She, too, was a blessing from God.  She knew just what to do, and kept me calm!  She helped me find the banks my mother used, and establish my Power of Attorney with them so I could take care of the necessaries.
    On returning to my mother’s apartment and opening the door, I was shocked at what I saw as reality sank in.  Actually, I was ashamed and angry!  “How could she live like this!” I cried.  She was a hoarder.  There was a narrow path through the debris of her life scattered around the apartment.  I knew what her van looked like inside over the years, but had no idea her apartment was this bad, too!  Tears rolled, and hugs were given as Aunt Lois and her daughter, Donna, joined me and Sue to help with the cleanup.  With their sense of humor, they kept my head above water with laughter as we spent hours sorting through every piece of mail, every box, and every bag of stuff to keep or toss.  And, unfortunately, a lot of her life had to be tossed.  I simply had no room at my home.
    Then, another friend, Elaine, a retired legal secretary, willingly came alongside to assist.  She helped me clean out the van, and sort through the stash of important papers we’d found strewn around the apartment and van.  With a small filing box and file folders, she organized the papers by labeling and sorting.  In my frustration, I made the comment about the unbelievable mess, especially after finding papers that she had not one, but two, storage units full of more stuff that needed to be cleaned out!  In her gentle way, Elaine reminded me of what the doctor had said, “Your mother has been mentally ill for a long time.  That is why she was a hoarder and lived the way she did.” 
    Elaine’s comment hit me hard emotionally, but they were words I needed to hear.  I was so overwhelmed at having to blindly pick up the pieces of my mother’s life that I hadn’t seen what was obvious to the doctor and others – she really had been mentally ill for many years, if not her whole life.  That’s why we and others thought she was odd.  That’s why she couldn’t relate to us kids.  Now, after being properly diagnosed by her physicians, and being put on medication, she’s so much better emotionally.  With Elaine’s gentle comment, I finally came to terms with, and understood, my mother’s emotional fragility, and thanked Elaine for the awakening in my heart.  I came to understand that my Mom had lost her husband and her children to divorce, and all her stuff was the balance of what she could control by desperately holding onto it all.
    Through the difficulty of picking up the pieces of my mother’s life, sorting blindly through her affairs that I’d known nothing about, making a ton of phone calls to her employer and banks, etc., getting her into my first-choice nursing home near me, filling out the application and gathering copies necessary for the massive Medicaid application process, and handling several legal judgments and subpoenas against her for debts, God was with me every step of the way.  He answered my desperate plea more abundantly than I ever expected! 
    Every time I felt utterly overwhelmed, God put someone there to walk with me, guide me, and help me over each new hurdle.  Even to the card which arrived from my daughter-in-law’s mother, MaryEllen, on the very day I got the letter from the department of social services with its overwhelming huge list of requirements for the Medicaid process, some of which we never did find and which DSS granted a special waiver with understanding, and then to having Elaine’s experience guide me through it.  And I must give special thanks to my husband, Edward, who has been here every step of the way, supporting me and guiding me with his quiet words of wisdom while being unable to help physically.
    In visiting with my mother at the nursing home, our relationship has grown. So, I decided to do something special for her – to make a quilt.  Since I was a teen, I’ve loved to sew clothes and quilts for myself and family, but hadn’t made time to sew in ages.  Around this time, I’d made Ed and myself each a log cabin design quilt using our old jeans, followed by a quilt for each grandchild.  On asking my mother what her favorite color was, she replied, “I don’t know.  I never had a favorite color.”  I felt a stab to my heart.  How could someone not have a favorite color?  So, I decided that since she was a September baby, I’d use shades of sage green and golden browns.  Making her quilt was a labor of love and I couldn’t wait to give it to her that upcoming Easter Sunday.  And she absolutely loved it! 
    But, you know what else special happened?  On our walk one evening back then, Ed told me I’d begun calling her “Mom” - she wasn’t just “my mother” anymore!  God used her stroke to work a miracle in my heart, and I have come to love the Mom that He blessed me with!  And God has given me one more blessing in the aftermath.  My Dad, who had walked away from me for a time, began corresponding with me again after I sent a Christmas card.  He even voiced approval for how well I’d handled every difficulty in life that was tossed my way, including a compliment on how well I was taking care of my mother. And, when I broke the ice by saying words I don’t recall ever hearing while growing up, Dad and Mom both responded by saying “I love you” every time we talked!  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!  I love you!  (Photo above of my Mom holding me, her first precious baby.)
    Be My Tower
    Linda A. Roorda
    Though I may weaken and crumble
    Beneath the strain of stress,
    Be there, Lord, to guide me safe
    O’er crashing waters nigh.
     
    Be my tower of mighty strength
    Firm and strong to lean upon.
    When I think “impossible,”
    Help me take that other step.
    ~
    12/31/11
  15. Linda Roorda

    Be Still and Know

    By Linda Roorda,

    Well, we’re all hunkered down, preparing for the “big snow” tonight into tomorrow, with some to get more and some less depending on the temps and initial sleet/freezing rain. I gotta say, I’ve always loved a big snowstorm… just not the aftermath cleanup. And I also don’t have to drive 20 miles to work in it anymore!  But the coming snow reminded me of this previously unpublished poem and reflection written several years ago. 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 blessed in pausing to contemplate just a bit on the love of God toward each of us on this path called life.
    With a big snowstorm predicted for later today, we know it can be mesmerizing to watch the snow fall.  As you gaze out at those huge 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 NIV)  In the stillness, we can see His majesty in creation all around us – in people and in nature.  We can hear His still small voice speaking to our heart.  In the stillness, we can consider how He would want us to handle a certain situation.  And, as we take time to ponder, we begin to see how various aspects of life fit together to help us understand the overall picture. 
    Be still… and know that God has it all under control.  He loves each of us deeply and has our best interests at heart… even when we go through the storm and upheaval of some great difficulty.  Just like Jesus’ 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.  Even after having heard 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, “Quiet!  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 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 is 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 shall 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.
    ~~
  16. Linda Roorda
    I have to admit… it sure would be nice to win the big lottery!  Life would be so much easier with all that money, wouldn’t it? ‘Course, ya gotta play to win!  And since I don’t play, there’s no chance I’ll ever go home a millionaire… ah well, it was a fun thought while it lasted!
    But watching the newly “rich and famous” with their instant money, I also wonder how happy many of them really are.  They seem to have it all… from gorgeous clothes to the most beautiful mansions. But, on the flip side, do they ever ask if that’s all there is to life?
    When you open the door to peek in on their private lives, how often don’t we find them less than the seemingly perfect and shining example we think they are?  Don’t get me wrong, some know how to handle their wealth with an envied wisdom.  On the other hand, too many blow through their new wealth by not having the inner strength to handle what comes their way… while many of those who have truly earned their way up the ladder of success and wealth usually seem to know the secret to handling their situation wisely.
    And I can’t help but wonder, do any of them ask if that’s all there is to life… for I have a suspicion that many “rich and famous” have an ache, a pain, deep in their heart... a void needing to be filled.  Too often, the news contains stories of their drug addiction, wild parties and debauchery… only to leave us quietly asking the words of the hit song written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller in the 1960s, and made famous by Peggy Lee, “Is that all there is?” As Pastor Greg Laurie wrote in “Lennon, Dylan, Alice, & Jesus, “Contrary to popular belief, adversity is not the greatest test of character; overnight success is.”
    Because that’s not all there is to life...  Money is not the answer to all our troubles, and the “rich and famous” will tell you that if they’re honest.  Unfortunately, some learn the hard way there’s truth in the old biblical saying that “…the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”  (I Timothy 6:10)  With this thought, I was reminded of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, believed by many scholars to have been penned by the wisest man who ever lived, King Solomon: “Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income…” (Eccl.5:10)  Later, Solomon reflects that “When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other…” (Eccl.7:14)  Note that it’s the “love” of money that can taint a life.  For, with the blessing of wealth, can also come the ability to give… a giving to bless others out of love.
    Though we may look upon the “rich and famous” as enjoying the epitome of happiness, we often see those in front of us who struggle from day to day, barely getting by, as the ones who exude true joy.  There are those who live a life of unending pain, emotional and/or physical, yet they share a heart of empathy.  There are those with hurts so deep no one knows the true depth of their hidden pain, but they have love to spare.  And, there are those who cover their pain with a shield of protective bullying, alcohol and drugs, while others cover their pain with the smile of brave endurance.  And we wonder about the difference.
    As much as we might wish it so, a life of riches, free of pain and sorrow, was never promised to any of us.  By learning to accept our trials, we grow through perseverance into wisdom, understanding, and joy… like the wisdom found in Hebrews 13:5 – “Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be satisfied with what you have.  God has said, ‘I will never leave you; I will never forsake you.’” And, in understanding those words, we realize that “…the testing of [our] faith develops perseverance.” (James 1:2-3) But, oh how hard the journey can be at times!
    In all honesty, life’s difficulties mature us into wisdom as we experience pain, loss, and discomfort… over time, not overnight… if we let them. It’s not by longing for the world’s many riches, but by being content in our life’s situation that we find happiness.  Unlike Job’s friends who castigated him for his supposed sins having been the cause of his great suffering, it is in the depth of our struggles that we often learn who our true friends are.  And, we also find out where our real strength lies… in God. 
    For it’s as we learn to walk with God at our side during life’s ups and downs that we find ourselves trusting all the more the One who knows the purpose and reason behind our trials.  Then, as we come to understand why He allows us to travel the darkened road, we gain insight into issues hidden within our own life, and acquire an empathy to feel for, and share with, those who might be traveling a similar bumpy road.
    Be a blessing to others through your difficulty!  And praise God for the blessings He’s given you along your difficult road! 
    Behind the Door
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Behind the door of our curtained lives
    Lies the dark ache of a hurting soul
    So often hidden as though behind walls
    Feeling as if the world doesn’t care.
     
    The life of pain has many faces
    Some openly brave, some hidden and sad
    But all are covers for truth in the depths
    Which we conceal behind words and smiles.
     
    Yet there are those seemingly untouched
    Who exude the ease of life without pain
    All sun and fun, or so it would seem
    But what have they learned of perseverance.
     
    Do not envy what appears so grand
    Since hidden lessons don’t emerge from glam
    Many are they who follow such dreams
    Only to find silken paths want more.
     
    For in trials deep do our hearts learn truth
    By laying open the heart, mind and soul
    Riches are found as depths are plumbed
    Knowing persistence leads to wisdom’s gold.
    ~~
  17. Linda Roorda
    Easter is always a special time of year.  It reminds us that warmer weather is arriving after the long winter’s cold, and spring is beginning to show its colors!  It’s a time of renewal as new plant life exemplifies rebirth by poking through the covering of a late snow, leaf buds begin to swell and emerge from their long winter’s sleep, and early flowers showcase their gorgeous colorful blooms. 
    It’s a special time for children as they have fun decorating eggs, enjoy the search for hidden eggs to fill their baskets, and savor scrumptious chocolate treats and marshmallow peeps.  I also remember a time, way too many years ago, when it was fashionable to buy a new spring dress and white bonnet for Easter service at church.  When the Covid pandemic kept many of us from attending church, I drew Easter chalk art on our sidewalk to celebrate the joy of Resurrection Day.  And I also admire the Polish/Ukrainian Pysanky a friend makes – gorgeous delicate painted artwork on eggs.
    But, there’s so much more to the meaning of Easter.  Each year we are reminded again of all that took place about 2000 years ago.  That precious little baby whose birth we celebrated just a few short months ago grew up with a purpose.  As my husband’s niece, Rebecca, once said, “That God would become a man and understand our struggles on earth just blows my mind.  [That’s] true humble love.”
    Yet, in contemplating God’s love, I sometimes find it hard to think of such unconditional love for me...  After all, what about that little thing I did?  Was it really wrong?  Maybe I can just excuse it away.  Will my family, my friends, or even God, forgive me for certain errors I’ve made?  I know He has, as have friends to whom I’ve apologized over the years.  How could God still love me when my temper flares… again…?  What does He see in me?  I can never measure up…  Well, actually, none of us can.  We all sin and fall short of the glory of God… “for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 3:23) So, why would God care so much for me… for each of us? Because of one man, Jesus…
    That one man, perfect in all he did or said, willingly took my unworthiness, my shame, my heavy load of sin, and endured the penalty of the cross, just for my soul, is overwhelming.  I cannot repay such a debt!  Wait… I don’t have to? My debt is paid in full? Because Jesus gave His life that I might live, all I have to do is believe and accept His free gift? Jesus really loves us that much? Yes! That’s the grace and mercy of God’s love… it does not define and cancel us for our failures, but rather shows that we are each created unique by God, worthy of His love and forgiveness, redeemed through Christ from a life of sin. (Colossians 2:13-14) Now that’s unconditional love… as He blesses us with His wisdom, courage, compassion and peace.
    I am reminded of Johnny Hart’s “B.C.” cartoon column.  He was a good friend of my husband’s Uncle Mart and Aunt Tilly and their family in Ninevah, NY, members of the same Presbyterian Church where Hart also taught Sunday School.  How succinctly Hart put the thoughts of this holy week into perspective in his comic strip:
    “I hate the term, Good Friday.” 
    “Why?” 
    “My Lord was hanged on a tree that day.” 
    “If you were going to be hanged on that day and he volunteered to take your place, how would you feel?”  “Good.” 
    “Have a nice day!”  [Johnny Hart in B.C., 04/09/03]
    Which brings to mind a similar thought-provoking cartoon I had also saved years ago from “The Wizard of ID”, a joint venture written by Johnny Hart and Brant Parker, illustrated by Parker:  
    Friar:  “Happy Good Friday Sire!”
    To which the king grumbles:  “What’s so good about it?”
    The friar replies:  “It took an act of God, but they finally found somebody willing to die for you.” ...with  the king left standing there speechless.  [Copyright Creators Syndicate Inc.]
    But, after the brutality and agony of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, His friends are devastated. All their hopes and expectations for Jesus as the earthly king of the Jewish nation appear to be dashed.
    Yet, envision with me the beauty of an early morning sunrise.  Birds are beginning to sing as the sun’s first rays appear.  The dew has settled gently on the flowers in the garden as they open their buds to the sun’s warmth.  According to Mark 16:1-5, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome quietly arrive at the tomb just after sunrise on the first day of the week.  They carry spices with them to anoint their beloved friend and teacher, Jesus, who had died a horribly painful death on a cross… only to see in astonishment that the great stone has been rolled away from the entrance.  Upon entering, they see the tomb is empty.  Already sad, now they are also afraid. 
    Suddenly, two men stand before them in brilliant light.  Knowing their fear, an angel speaks gently to reassure them.  “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here; he has risen just as he said.  Come and see the place where he lay.  Then go quickly and tell his disciples…” (Matthew 28:5-6)  Trembling and bewildered, the women run from the tomb.  Despite their confusion and fear they run to tell the disciples.  Peter and John arrive after hearing Mary Magdalene’s report, look into the empty tomb, and also see only the burial cloths which lay neatly in place. (John 20:3-8)  They wondered and believed.
    As the others return to their homes, Mary Magdalene stays at the empty tomb, crying, missing her Lord.  As a man she presumed to be the gardener speaks to her, she asks where he put him.  On hearing the man speak her name, “Mary,” she recognizes him as her dear friend, Jesus, and calls out, “Rabboni!” (Teacher).  After their conversation, Mary hurries to share the good news with the disciples that she “has seen the Lord!” (John 20:10-18)  Jesus truly is alive!
    And to think that with a simple child-like faith in Jesus who willingly gave His life for me… for each of us… He will live in our hearts now and for eternity. As John 3:16 reminds us, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish but have everlasting life.”
    What pain there is to realize that I fall short of His tender love every day.  But what joy in humbling myself to recognize and confess my sins, and to ask for forgiveness for the errors of my ways from those around me and from my Lord, and then to feel the forgiveness… as the Lord’s love and peace with mercy and grace surround my soul.  That’s what Easter is all about…  God’s great love!  Hallelujah!!  Christ is risen!!  What a Savior!!  
    Besides… I love you!
    Linda A. Roorda
    Who am I?  My soul doth ask.
    What am I worth? And to whom?
    I see only failure as I take the reins
    And do not give my Lord the lead.
    ~
    How can you love the me who I am
    When all I see are my struggles?
    Yet, Lord, You do love even me
    In ways that I cannot comprehend.
    ~
    To sight unseen You guide my path
    Ever at my side, gently calling.
    And as you wrap loving arms around
    You cover my soul with tender mercies.
    ~
    For You opened wide Your arms on a cross
    Giving Your life that I might live,
    And in return You ask for my love
    With all my heart, my soul and my mind.
    ~
    But you didn’t stay within that tomb
    For on day three You rose from the dead.
    Seen by many, in the hearts of more,
    Eternity waits Your Gift of Love.
    ~
    Where once I felt the crashing waves
    That overwhelm and burden my soul,
    Now peace and joy have filled my heart
    With love to share for those on my path.
    ~
    Your presence surrounds me with Your peace
    As You offer grace to light my way,
    And then I hear You whisper soft
    Besides… I love you!
    ~
    A Happy and Blessed Easter to all!
    ~~
  18. Linda Roorda
    Easter is always a special time of year.  It reminds us that warmer weather is arriving after the long winter’s cold, and spring is beginning to show its colors!  It’s a time of renewal as new plant life exemplifies rebirth by poking through the covering of a late snow, leaf buds begin to swell and emerge from their long winter’s sleep, and early flowers showcase their gorgeous array of colorful blooms. 
    It’s a special time for children as they have fun decorating eggs, enjoy the search for hidden eggs to fill their baskets, and savor scrumptious chocolate treats and marshmallow peeps.  I also remember a time, way too many years ago, when it was fashionable to buy a new spring dress and white bonnet for Easter service at church.  When the Covid pandemic kept many of us from attending church, I drew Easter chalk art on our sidewalk to celebrate the joy of Resurrection Day.  And I also admire the Polish/Ukrainian Pysanky a friend makes – gorgeous delicate painted artwork on eggs.
    But there’s so much more to the meaning of Easter.  Each year we are reminded again of all that took place about 2000 years ago.  That precious little baby whose birth we celebrated just a few short months ago grew up with a purpose.  As my husband’s niece, Rebecca, once said, “That God would become a man and understand our struggles on earth just blows my mind.  [That’s] true humble love.”
    Yet, in contemplating God’s love, I sometimes find it hard to think of such unconditional love for me...  After all, what about that little thing I did?  Was it really wrong?  Maybe I can just excuse it away.  Will my family, my friends, or even God, forgive me for certain errors I’ve made?  I know He has, as have friends to whom I’ve apologized over the years.  How could God still love me when my temper flares… again…?  What does He see in me?  I can never measure up…  Well, actually, none of us can.  We “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) … “for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) So, why would God care so much for me… for each of us? Because of one man, Jesus…
    That one man, perfect in all he did or said, willingly took my unworthiness, my shame, my heavy load of sin, and endured the penalty of death on the cross, just for my soul, is overwhelming.  I cannot repay such a debt!  Wait… I don’t have to?  My debt is paid in full?  Because Jesus gave His life that I might live, all I have to do is believe and accept His free gift? Jesus really loves me and you that much? Yes! That’s the grace and mercy of God’s love… it does not define and cancel us for our failures, but rather shows that we are each created unique by God, worthy of His love and forgiveness, redeemed through Christ from a life of sin. (Colossians 2:13-14) Now that’s unconditional love… as He blesses us with His wisdom, courage, compassion, and peace.
    I am reminded of Johnny Hart’s “B.C.” cartoon column.  He was a good friend of my husband’s Uncle Mart and Aunt Tilly and their family in Ninevah, NY, members of the same Presbyterian Church where Hart also taught Sunday School.  How succinctly Hart put the thoughts of this holy week into perspective in his comic strip:

    [Johnny Hart in B.C., 04/09/03]
     
    Which brings to mind a similar thought-provoking cartoon from “The Wizard of ID”, a joint venture written by Johnny Hart and Brant Parker, illustrated by Parker:  
    Friar:  “Happy Good Friday Sire!”
    To which the king grumbles:  “What’s so good about it?”
    The friar replies:  “It took an act of God, but they finally found somebody willing to die for you.” ...with the king left standing there speechless.  [Copyright Creators Syndicate Inc.]
    But, after the brutality and agony of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, His friends are devastated. All their hopes and expectations for Jesus as the earthly king of the Jewish nation appear to be dashed.
    Yet, envision with me the beauty of an early morning sunrise.  Birds are beginning to sing as the sun’s first rays appear.  The dew has settled gently on the flowers in the garden as they open their buds to the sun’s warmth.  According to Mark 16:1-5, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome quietly arrive at the tomb just after sunrise on the first day of the week.  They carry spices with them to anoint their beloved friend and teacher, Jesus, who had died a horribly painful death on a cross… only to see in astonishment that the great stone has been rolled away from the entrance.  Upon entering, they see the tomb is empty.  Already sad, now they are also afraid. 
    Suddenly, two men stand before them in brilliant light.  Knowing their fear, an angel speaks gently to reassure them.  “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here; he has risen just as he said.  Come and see the place where he lay.  Then go quickly and tell his disciples…” (Matthew 28:5-6)  Trembling and bewildered, the women run from the tomb.  Despite their confusion and fear they run to tell the disciples. Peter and John arrive after hearing Mary Magdalene’s report, look into the empty tomb, and also see only the burial cloths which lay neatly in place. (John 20:3-8)  And they wondered and believed.
    As the others return to their homes, Mary Magdalene stays at the empty tomb, crying, missing her Lord.  As a man she presumed to be the gardener speaks to her, she asks where he put him.  On hearing the man speak her name, “Mary,” she recognizes him as her dear friend, Jesus, and calls out, “Rabboni!” (Teacher).  After their conversation, Mary hurries to share the good news with the disciples that she “has seen the Lord!” (John 20:10-18)  Jesus truly is alive!
    And to think that with a simple child-like faith in Jesus who willingly gave His life for me… for each of us… He will live in our hearts now and for eternity. As John 3:16 reminds us, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish but have everlasting life.”
    What pain there is to realize that I fall short of His tender love every day.  But what joy in humbling myself to recognize and confess my sins, and to ask for forgiveness for the errors of my ways from those around me and from my Lord, and then to feel the forgiveness… as the Lord’s love and peace with mercy and grace surround my soul.  That’s what Easter is all about…  God’s great love!  Hallelujah!!  Christ is risen!!  What a Savior!!  
    Besides… I love you!
    Linda A. Roorda
    Who am I?  My soul doth ask.
    What am I worth? And to whom?
    I see only failure as I take the reins
    And do not give my Lord the lead.
    ~
    How can you love the me who I am
    When all I see are my struggles?
    Yet, Lord, You do love even me
    In ways that I cannot comprehend.
    ~
    To sight unseen You guide my path
    Ever at my side, gently calling.
    And as you wrap loving arms around
    You cover my soul with tender mercies.
    ~
    For You opened wide Your arms on a cross
    Giving Your life that I might live,
    And in return You ask for my love
    With all my heart, my soul and my mind.
    ~
    But you didn’t stay within that tomb
    For on day three You rose from the dead.
    Seen by many, in the hearts of more,
    Eternity waits Your Gift of Love.
    ~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  19. Linda Roorda

    Blessings

    By Linda Roorda,

    I suspect we’re all beginning to think about Thanksgiving, planning guests and menus…time to spend with family, fun and games… yet knowing we each have so much to be thankful for… every new day. But, if you’re anything like me, some of those blessings tend to be taken for granted… some things are just such an “every-day” part of our life, we forget to stand in awe of how special they really are. Being in contact with those less fortunate than we are, my heart goes out to them while seeking God’s guidance on how best to meet those needs. God gives us these opportunities to share from the bounty He’s provided us.  And may you be richly blessed this Thanksgiving in so many ways! 
    Blessings... those gifts given with no expectation of payback.  They arrive unexpectedly from many sources… from our dear family and friends, from strangers we pass on our daily path, from a special moment in time, and all from our God above.  Blessings convey love from the sender.  They invoke inspiration as we face nature’s finest moments of grandeur.  Given by our Creator God, blessings take our breath away as we pause in awe.
    Blessings come in the simple form of a thankful heart when we’ve given to meet someone else’s need without expecting a reward…
    Blessings come within the deep sense of pleasure for that special little something done as a random anonymous act of kindness and generosity to cheer another soul on their journey of life… 
    Blessings come specific to each person… for we are each created unique.  My blessings are different from yours, and yours are different from those who you know.  When we truly stop to think about it, we realize that all of life is a blessing.  I remember the old hymn from my childhood, “Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your blessings, see what God hath done…”  But, in reality, I cannot even begin to count all my blessings nor to comprehend their great number.  And that’s the key – understanding that all of life, from this entire world and universe down to our little life in and of itself, is a blessing in every way imaginable from our great and awesome God!
    Blessings come with prayer and a thankful heart as we receive them from God.  He, as creator of this universe and each of us within it, owes us nothing.  Yet, He loved us so much, despite our disobedient ungrateful hearts, that “[He] shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) We owe Him everything… every ounce of praise from our thankful heart… for from Him, we have life, even the air we breathe, and so much more which we take for granted every day… and from Him, we have our precious gift of eternal salvation that nothing can destroy.
    And when we see our life and the world around us that way, we truly see our blessings with a grateful heart… ready to offer praise with thanksgiving to God for such awesome gifts in even the simplest of treasures.  May you be blessed, today and always!!
    Blessings
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Like dawn awaking to a gentle rain
    Are blessings showered upon our lives
    From seemingly small to greatest of all
    They are the simple, and yet not trivial.
     
    We take a breath with no thought to the gift
    Each second, each minute of every new day
    Yet it’s a blessing we take for granted
    With nary a thought as to the Giver.
     
    From dawn to dusk the sun bathes our world
    As our eyes behold the beauty around us
    With its warming glow is our life enhanced
    While we think naught from whence it came.
     
    A whispered word of gentle praise
    And loving concern expressed with feeling
    Abilities shared with ease of talent
    These, too, are blessings which touch deep the soul.
     
    An act of kindness, random or thoughtful
    Given from the heart is but a reflection,
    An image of grace like that received
    And bestowed in mercy by our Lord above.
     
    Love from the heart, in tenderest form
    Treasures each life we meet on our path,
    To bless another aside from our wants
    Enriches us both as God leads our way.
    ~
     
  20. Linda Roorda

    Broken Beauty

    By Linda Roorda,

    Ever feel as though you’re broken and scattered… like pieces of shattered glass?  You’re so overwhelmed by life, torn apart by one situation after another, perhaps in rapid succession.  And you begin to feel like you want to run away from all the stress and responsibility.  I have… and know I’m not alone.
    We all get hit hard by life at times, like the disruptive past few years midst the coronavirus pandemic.  We all stumble and fall.  We’re all broken… broken by our mistakes, sins, fears, unending pain, ongoing chronic illness, loss of a loved one, financial stress, or simply by the weight of life’s never-ending demands.  But are we willing to admit we’re broken people?  Do we think we’ve got it so together that we would never admit a failing? Do we lash out at others around us out of anger, hurt and resentment? Do we perhaps look down on those who might stumble in a moment of weakness?  Or do we humbly apologize and ask forgiveness from those we might have offended?
    The damage from any trauma or abuse can be devastating, leaving us feeling raw and exposed, torn apart.  Just the simplest things can take a toll when we’re overwhelmed by stress without relief.  Long-term illness or disability can have the same effect.  We keep hoping that one day… somehow… things will get better… but they don’t seem to.
    Reminds me of what it might be like sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake without oars, rudder or motor when the storm hits.  We won’t get very far.  In fact, the storm will toss us about unceasingly or capsize us without that rudder to steer and stabilize the boat, or the oars to row our boat to shore.  And it’s so true that life’s challenges can blindside us when we least expect them and catch us totally unprepared, leaving us feeling like we’re unable to handle what comes our way.  Certainly, we don’t feel like our brokenness is beautiful!
    God never promised us a life without problems and pain.  But He did promise He’d give us what we ask for when we ask in His will, and that He will always be with us.  We just need to ask and trust Him as He “works all things for the good of those who love Him…” (Romans 8:28)  He intends our journey of difficulty to strengthen our faith.  For James 1:2-3 reminds us to “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance…” Yet that trial, or broken road, can sure seem long and tedious, and not something we readily rejoice in!
    Still, as we draw closer to our Lord in the difficulties, we realize He’s been drawing us close to Himself.  He’s at work putting our broken pieces back together to make us complete… to restore us.  How often haven’t we felt His love surround us when the path is hard and long, and we seemed so alone?  Haven’t we looked back to see He’s carried us at times when we’ve done all we could and felt as though we couldn’t take one more step? And isn’t He the one who sent someone to wrap their arms around us, with an ear to listen to our heart, words to heal, and arms to hold us up and help us stand… until we felt stronger and able to function again?  Just like Paul wrote, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”  (Philippians 4:13)
    Recently I read about the Japanese artform of Kintsugi (golden joinery), or Kintsukuroi (golden repair) https://www.britannica.com/art/kintsugi-ceramics .  These are terms for a special type of repair to broken pottery which began in about the 15th century.  Artisans take gold, silver or platinum dust, mix it with a special lacquer or resin, and apply it to the broken pieces.  As they fit the broken pieces together, the shattered pottery is made whole again.  Typically, the broken vessel becomes even more beautiful in its new state of repair – broken beauty, in other words!
    No matter what we go through, God will bring comfort and peace to our heart when we look to Him for strength to face each trial.  He has it all under control, and even has a reason for taking us through the storms, allowing us to grow and heal through the difficult journey.  He welcomes us as broken people, and makes something beautiful from our shattered pieces of life! 
    Then comes the day when we realize we’re healed… maybe not exactly as we’d wanted… but the pain no longer has a grip on us… for our brokenness has been used to heal a weakness!  The difficult journey was worth every step from brokenness to a new wholeness … because it has given us a better understanding of life with a greater empathy for others, with peace like a comforting blanket… enabling us to come alongside someone else who is struggling and overwhelmed as we “encourage the disheartened [and] help the weak...” (I Thessalonians 5:14)  For we know that God has used our trial in such a way that we now shine a light from within that we never knew we had… as we’ve gone from broken to beautiful in God’s restorative eyes! 
    Broken Beauty
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Sometimes…
    Like a beautiful vase
    Our life is shattered
    Like so many shards
    Of broken glass
    Where once there was
    A vessel whole, unbroken.
    ~
    Because…
    Trials of life
    Came crashing down
    To take their toll
    Inflicting damage
    Leaving emotions raw
    Trying to destroy
    The joy from within.
    ~
    But…
    There comes a day
    When it’s time
    To pick up the pieces
    And one by one
    To then reclaim
    The former beauty
    Of the vessel treasured.
    ~
    So…
    An effort ensues
    To fit the pieces
    Back together
    In such a way
    That there will shine
    Illuminating brilliance
    Never before seen.
    ~
    For…
    An inner strength
    Has taken hold
    So that the pieces
    Broken and scattered
    In coming together
    Now give the vessel
    A broken beauty!
    ~~
    02/05/14
     
     
     
     
  21. Linda Roorda
    It’s a fact that we Americans 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 the two important founding documents 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.  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 240 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.”
    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 traveling 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 to 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.  And, 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.”
    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!
    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 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, 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, I am uncertain 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.  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, having been involved in the siege and survived. 
    5) Timothy Hutton, b.11/24/1746, New York City.  He married 2nd) Elizabeth Deline b.1760.  Their son George b.1787 married Sarah Wyckoff b.1793, 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 grave marker in Carlisle, New York.  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 is on display at museums in Albany, New York.
    6) Johannes Leenderse (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.  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; taken captive with his 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 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.
    😎 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.  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 (those 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. (see websites below.)  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 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 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. 
    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 given 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, may we will never forget what their efforts wrought for us.
    (Data sources available upon request.)
  22. Linda Roorda
    Today, I’m posting something a little different on Poetic Devotions. So many of us are thankful for the blessings we, as a nation and as a people, have received since our nation was founded. And today, I’d like to celebrate those who gave their support to the founding of our great nation. In knowing a little about some of my maternal family’s ancestors who took part in the American Revolution, it helps put a personal perspective to the many individuals who gave of themselves that we and so many others might enjoy the freedoms we’ve been blessed with. Are we individually or collectively as a nation perfect? Of course not!  But we learn and grow from past mistakes, not from erasing them from history, praising God for all He has blessed us with.  Enjoy your celebrations of our nation’s founding with your friends and family!!
    It’s a fact that we Americans 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 readily recall the two important founding documents 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.  
    So, why is history important to us?  To quote David McCullough in "Why History?" in the December 2002 Reader's Digest, 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, 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, I am uncertain 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, having been involved in the siege and survived. 
    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 columnar 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 (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 becoming 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.)
    8 ) 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 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 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!
    Read my full research article by clicking below at: Celebrating Independence Day! - Homespun Ancestors - Twin Tiers Living:
     
     
  23. Linda Roorda
    It’s a fact that we Americans 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 the two important founding documents of our nation: 
    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…”  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.”
    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 traveling 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 to 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.
    dJuly 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.  And, 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.”
    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, 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, I am uncertain 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, having been involved in the siege and survived. 
    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 columnar 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 (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 becoming 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 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 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!
     
  24. Linda Roorda
    Change… whether visible on the exterior or inside and unseen, it can be a hard adjustment to make.  I don’t like change.  Those who know me, know that aspect of me well.  Change has not always been kind to me.  But, once I wrap my brain around it, understand and accept said change, I roll with it and move forward.  Because, as I’ve grown older, and wiser with the years, I’ve learned change is inescapable… of value for the lessons it teaches… and have learned not to fear it.  Perhaps some of you welcome change… and I admire you for that!  So, what is it about change we don’t like? 
    Nature exhibits obvious and dramatic changes right before our eyes.  From winter’s dazzling white to its not-so-white coverings of stark-bare limbs of trees reaching out and the dirty-white snow on roadsides… to spring bursting forth with new life in its many-colored splendor as birds bring joyful song to our lives… to the warmth and long-term blooms and verdant green of long summer days… to the casting off of autumn’s multi-colored leaves and darkening skies signaling the portent of dark and dreary days ahead… these are changes we clearly see and can identify with.  We understand these changes, even welcome them, as we accept the inevitable in the forward march of time.
    We visibly change, too.  From the moment we’re born, we continually change... as we grow and mature from infancy on through adulthood and elderhood.  We never stop changing as we age, and our appearance gives credence to this process which is as old as time itself.
    But what we don’t see are the changes beneath the surface.  In nature, it’s the life substance within a plant that moves it forward with growth to change through the seasons.  For us, change is evident in our learning processes, our maturation.  Just raising a child provides ample evidence of virtually daily change and growth - physically, emotionally and spiritually.
    Our physical change and growth are obvious.  From helpless newborn to the excitement of childhood growth, learning to do things “myself,” to the physical growth and aging process propelling each of us forward into young adulthood and on through the decades as we become “senior citizens,” change never stops.  We know it, we see it, and we feel it.
    Emotional change, though, is less obvious, yet still evident in our behavior and reactions as we mature from childish ways and selfish ambition.  “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became [an adult], I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face…and now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  (I Corinthians 13:11-13NIV)
    Emotional maturity develops as we process our wins and losses in life… as we learn to share, to understand and appreciate each other, to show empathy for someone else’s situation, to feel pain and loss, to feel and share joy, peace, and more.  All these emotions are developed inside, invisible within our thought processes, but are evidenced in our maturing reactions.
    And then there is spiritual change in our faith.  This, too, is an unseen process of growth and maturation... a change that is often and especially brought about by life’s trials.  “Consider it pure joy…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, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all…”  (James 1:2-5 N IV)
    As we grow in our spiritual faith journey, becoming more like Christ, we are constantly learning and understanding, changing our hearts and minds from within.  We learn to accept change instead of grumbling and complaining… learn to understand and grow by going through the difficulties rather than simply trying to escape and get out from under the trial.  “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 your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
    For it’s often that trial with its pain and tears which brings about learning and understanding - a process of growth... as we gracefully accept true change and joy brought about by the difficult and painful journey. And it’s only in that painful journey that we grow under God’s wisdom… as we become either embittered and hardened, or more gentle and kind... an invisible change within our heart, yet visible in our attitude and behavior. 
    Changes Without and Within
    Linda A. Roorda 
    The birds have hushed their lilting songs
    Bright colored flowers have faded away
    The trees have turned to brilliant hues
    And the sky with clouds is gathering dark.
     
    A silence of sorts ensues with the change
    Though here and there a bird can be heard
    But ever still grows the ambience
    Of nature’s peace midst colors of fall.
     
    Yet what we see belies the fact
    That underneath the surface calm
    Lies greater change than evidence shows
    A turmoil within to stir transition.
     
    For what can’t be seen is the moving force
    Behind the progress to destiny’s goal.
    So let the heart of every soul
    Heed wisdom’s call, accepting its purpose.
     
    This heart of change is all you ask
    That humbly I come as You draw me near
    To be still and know that You’re in control
    As you define Your place in my life.
     
    Inevitable change without and within
    As time moves forward on its forever path.
    Then what of our heart when the depth is exposed,
    Are we bitter in change… or more gentle and kind?
  25. Linda Roorda
    Whether or not we had ancestors or extended relatives who served in the American Civil War, it’s only fitting that we commemorate the 159th anniversary of its conclusion this past April.  This was the war that gave freedom to all slaves, despite that issue not being the war’s original intent. 
    It all began when seven states from the south seceded from the bonds of the United States of America upon Abraham Lincoln’s election as president in November 1860.  By February 1861, the Confederate States of America had formed, whereupon the United States government declared its existence was illegal.  Four more states seceded from the Union with the April 12, 1861 firing by Confederates on Fort Sumter in Charleston, South Carolina, a Union-held fort.  Only later did the slavery issue become the leading bone of contention between the north and south. 
    Not until September 22, 1862 did President Lincoln declare that as of January 1, 1863 “all slaves in states in rebellion against the Union ‘shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.’”  Lincoln was also astute enough to know this would be "the central act of my administration, and the greatest event of the 19th century."
    And so, one hundred and fifty-nine years ago, men on both sides of our nation’s civil war lay down their arms after four long years.  But, few knew when dawn broke on Palm Sunday, April 9, 1865, that it was the beginning of the end.  General Robert E. Lee of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia was backed into a corner on the battlefield with nothing left to do but accept the offer of surrender to General Ulysses S. Grant of the Union (i.e. Northern) Army. 
    Grant had pursued Lee’s army relentlessly.  In fact, Grant’s troops were entrenched around Petersburg and Richmond, Virginia.  Grant thus kept Lee under a loose siege in an attempt to sever the supply lines which enabled the Confederate armies to remain viable.  As the Union Army drew Lee’s forces into battle on April 1, 1865 and cut their supply lines, Lee had no choice but to abandon ground he had held for virtually ten months.  In retreat, he expected to meet up with other Confederate units in order to regroup as designated supply trains arrived with fresh provisions.  Unfortunately, the Union cavalry found and attacked remnants of Lee’s army enroute, forcing several thousand Confederates to surrender.  Supplies were also captured by the Northern Army, preventing the Southern troops from getting their designated supplies in order to continue fighting.
    On April 7, and after several small skirmishes, Grant sent a message to Lee suggesting that he surrender.  Though Lee refused, he did ask Grant to spell out the terms being offered, hoping to buy sufficient time to meet up with additional Southern troops.  The next day, however, three Confederate supply trains were captured and burned at Appomattox Station by Brevet Maj. Gen. George Armstrong Custer.  This left two more Southern armies which were arriving to support Lee without their desperately-needed supplies of food and more.  Knowing there was just one more supply train available a little farther west at Lynchburg, Lee decided to fight on and push his army through the Northern Army’s lines of defense. 
    On Sunday morning, April 9, the Southern Army forced back a section of the Northern Army’s line of defense.  As they pushed forward, however, the next line of the Union Army slowed the Confederates down.  Desperately continuing their charge forward, they finally broke through the Union defense… only to find that, as their cavalry reached the summit of a hill, the Union Army lay spread out before them fully prepared to repel the Southern Army. 
    Maj. Gen. John B. Gordon sent a message to Gen. Lee stating, “…I have fought my corps to a frazzle, and I fear I can do nothing unless I am heavily supported by Longstreet’s corps.”  Knowing that Lt. Gen. James Longstreet was fully engaged by the Northern Army and unable to come to Gordon’s aid, Lee knew he had no other choice but to surrender.  “Then there is nothing left for me to do but to go and see General Grant and I would rather die a thousand deaths,” Lee replied to Gordon.  [The Appomattox Campaign: March 29-April 9, 1865, by Joe Williams, National Park Service.  Per Wikipedia]
    General Robert E. Lee went to meet Grant that Palm Sunday, April 9, dressed impeccably in full uniform.  General Ulysses S. Grant (having allowed Lee to select their meeting site) arrived as is from the battlefield in an unkempt uniform spattered by mud with his pants tucked into well-worn muddy boots.  Lee’s men had been hounded as they tried to gain the upper hand over his fellow graduate of West Point.  Even supply trains seemed to contrive against him as they were prevented from meeting his Southern troops at designated stops.  The great Confederate effort had begun to unravel… rapidly.  Though his soldiers were bone weary, starving hungry, emaciated, emotionally and physically drained, they were ready to follow their beloved commander wherever he led them.  And this was where Lee brought them… to Appomattox Court House, Virginia, to the country home of Wilmer and Virginia McLean… to surrender.
    The meeting between Grant and Lee was initially emotional as they discussed their only other meeting about 20 years earlier in the Mexican-American War.  Sitting down to business, the terms of surrender given by Grant were more generous than expected.  See Robert E. Lee's Surrender at Appomattox from the pages of Harper's Weekly.
    Written documentation was provided by Grant’s adjutant, Ely Parker, a Native American of the Seneca tribe.  When Lee learned of Parker’s heritage, he commented, “It is good to have one real American here.”  Parker replied simply, “Sir, we are all Americans.”  Grant allowed that each man could keep his own horse or mule, so vital for the spring field work ahead.  The officers could keep their small sidearms, but all men were to leave their larger shotguns, rifles, artillery field pieces, and public property.  They were to refrain from taking up arms in the future against the United States of America, and to respectfully embrace all laws within the state they lived.  After the formalities were concluded inside the house, they stepped quietly outside.  As Grant’s men began cheering in a celebratory manner, he ordered them to stop immediately.  “The Confederates are now our countrymen, and we [do] not want to exult over their downfall.”  Respect was paramount in Grant’s eyes.  He even provided food rations to Lee’s starving army.  [quotes above from April 1865: The Month That Saved America, Jay Winik; New York:  HarperCollins, 2006, p.191.]
    On April 12, 1865, Gen. Robert E. Lee’s soldiers lined up to stack their guns under the Union Army’s watchful eye.  Brig. Gen. Joshua L. Chamberlain, the Union officer chosen to lead the formal ceremony of surrender, wrote a moving tribute:  “The momentous meaning of this occasion impressed me deeply.  I resolved to mark it by some token of recognition, which could be no other than a salute of arms…  Before us in proud humiliation stood the embodiment of manhood:  men whom neither toils nor sufferings, nor the fact of death, nor disaster, nor hopelessness could bend from their resolve; standing before us now, thin, worn, and famished, but erect, and with eyes looking level into ours, waking memories that bound us together as no other bond – was not such manhood to be welcomed back into a Union so tested and assured?  …when the head of each division column comes opposite our group, our bugle sounds the signal and instantly our whole line from right to left, regiment by regiment in succession, gives the soldier’s salutation, from the ‘order arms’ to the old ‘carry’, the marching salute... honor answering honor.  On our part not a sound of trumpet more, nor roll of drum; not a cheer, nor word nor whisper of vain-glorying, nor motion of man standing again at the order, but an awed stillness rather, and breath-holding, as if it were the passing of the dead!”  [Passing of the Armies, Joshua Chamberlain, pp. 260-261; per Wikipedia]
    When the roughly 28,000 soldiers of Gen. Lee’s former Confederate Army of Northern Virginia stacked their arms, they must have done so with tremendous mixed emotions.  It’s not easy to lose.  It’s not easy to have fought so hard and so long for what you believed in with all your heart only to have it come to this... surrender.  But, Grant allowed them to retain their dignity.  As they walked past their former enemies, each man was saluted with respect.  With this solemn ceremony, both sides must have felt a great sense of relief that the long and bitter war was finally over. 
    The Surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, April 12, 1865.  Painting by Ken Riley.  Courtesy West Point Museum, U. S. Military Academy, West Point, New York.
    The respect that Gen. Grant and his men paid to the Southern soldiers was intended to be taken back home to their countrymen as each man turned and walked away... back to the family each had left behind so long ago… back to a family that might no longer be intact… back to a home or farm left tattered and ruined by the men they were surrendering to. 
    It would be a long road home for men on both sides.  They faced physical and emotional difficulties as they recovered.  But, the road for men traveling south may have been fraught with a depth of anxiety the northerners likely never knew.  What remained of the family and home left behind?  Too often, very little.  It would be a long road ahead to rebuild the devastation of a countryside laid waste by war… crops to plant, homes and farms to rebuild, and cities and business to re-establish.  It would take a lot of determination to move forward, but move forward our nation would. 
    Yet, thousands of men and boys did not have the opportunity to go home.  Many, if not all, of those walking home had family members and/or friends who had given the ultimate sacrifice.
    By April 1865, the nation had been at war for four long weary years.  Additional Confederate armies surrendered over the ensuing days and weeks.  Everyone was tired.  The nation at large was utterly drained.  The war had exacted its final toll from about 630,000 men while over one million were formally listed as casualties of war, i.e. wounded - some with loss of limbs, some in emotional turmoil, some carrying disease that began on the battlefield or in prison.  The after-effects lasted far beyond the cessation of actual physical combat.  And then, just as the end of war was beginning to register in their weary minds, the nation’s much beloved and equally hated president, Abraham Lincoln, was assassinated.  What next?  What was this world coming to?  How would the nation continue to move forward?
    Among my ancestors and extended relatives who fought in the Civil War are two McNeill half-brothers, each of whom spent time in Confederate prisons.  They were sons of Robert McNeill who served in the War of 1812, removing to Michigan with his family; Robert is an older brother of my ancestor, Jesse.
    1)      Chauncey McNeill, b. about 1819, Carlisle, Schoharie Co., NY, son of Robert and 1st wife Matilda (Crego) McNeill.  “Chancy” enlisted in 8th Michigan Cavalry Sep 2, 1864, went missing in action at Henryville, Tennessee Nov 23, 1864.  Imprisoned at Camp Sumter/Andersonville, admitted to hospital Feb 21, 1865, died March 5, 1865 of “Cronick Diarheah and exposure in said Rebel Prison,” buried grave No. 12733 at Andersonville, Georgia, leaving a widow and two young children.  [Above per NARA military service records purchased by Roorda.]
    “12733, McNiell, C, 8 cav, Co M, died March 5, '65, diarrhea c.”
    A List of the Union Soldiers Buried at Andersonville, by Dorence Atwater.  As a prisoner he kept a daily log of all Union soldiers who died in the prison for the commander, given to the U.S. government after the Civil War.  [Gourley, pp.8, 172]
    2)      DeWitt C. McNeill, b. about Dec 18, 1845, Savannah, Wayne Co., NY, son of Robert and 2nd wife Catharine (Vosburgh, Coe) McNeill.  DeWitt enlisted Sep 26, 1862 at Copake, NY, promoted from private to corporal to sergeant Co. E, 159th N. Y. Infantry.  Captured Sep 19, 1864, Winchester, Virginia, released March 2, 1865 at Goldsborough, North Carolina, returned to camp May 4th, mustered out August 4, 1865 at Savannah, Georgia.  He died March 16, 1868 at age 22 of illness from time spent in prison, leaving a young widow.
    Closer to my direct lineage, John and Henry Leonardson went off to war from Montgomery County, New York.  They were brothers of Mary Eliza Leonardson (b. ca. 1832) who married William Ottman (my great-great-grandparents) of Carlisle, Schoharie County, NY.  One brother came home after several years of war, while the younger sibling was killed only six months into his enlistment.  
    3)      John D. Leonardson, b. Jan 10, 1830 in Montgomery Co., NY, son of Arent/Aaron and Lana (Gross) Leendertse/Leonardson.  John enlisted Dec 14, 1861 at Lyons, NY as a musician into F Co., NY 98th Infantry, re-enlisted Jan 4, 1864, serving in siege against Petersburg and Richmond VA, mustered out Aug 31, 1865 at Richmond, VA.  He died August 10, 1899, Sharon, Schoharie Co., NY. 
    4)      Henry Leonardson, b. about 1840, Montgomery Co., NY, son of Arent/Aaron and Lana (Gross) Leendertse/Leonardson.  Henry enlisted as private Jan 4, 1864 into unassigned NY 16th Heavy Artillery, transferred May 10, 1864 to D Co. NY 6th Heavy Artillery.  Killed Jun 22, 1864 at Petersburg, VA.
    NEXT: Read Civil War, April 1865, Elmira Prison vs. Andersonville
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