Linda Roorda

My family's order of 3 doz mixed baby chicks arrived safe and healthy with no dead little ones back in the spring of 1970... and as a teen, I commenced a crash course from my Dad on how to care for them once my Mom said they were old enough to be put out in the newly remodeled old chicken coop. And I learned responsibility and a love for my collection of mixed breed hens! Too many people, like Rosenthal, think they know better how to run our lives than we do!!!

Though spring is right around the corner, winter left behind another remnant with a thin dusting of fresh white powder on a newly greening yard with continued flurries and a temp of 20 this morning. So I can either be distressed or accept winter’s last fling, or two, knowing it won’t last as spring will soon be here… the large influx of noisy blackbirds looking for refreshment testified to that yesterday morning! It’s just one of the things I’ve learned to accept, something I can do nothing about other than to appreciate each day of new life and the joy it brings in a myriad of ways. Similar to the ways in which we view our individual life setbacks, problems and struggles. But we know God is still here with us, still caring for us, still guiding us thru each difficulty that we might learn from His wisdom. And I wish you God’s many blessings and abundant love today and always... Sometimes I Strive -- I have struggles in life… like everyone else. I don’t like to see the downtrodden victims of society, regardless of the circumstance. Like others, I ask why there is suffering. Why are innocents murdered? Why do some suffer virtually lifelong with chronic health issues while others go their whole life with barely a problem, and live past 100 (like my great-grandmother)? Why do we find inequality in many societal sectors? Why does it so often seem like the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer? But then, those questions beg another and another… like why is there evil in the world? Is there an evil underplay which thwarts God’s good? And, where is God in all the mess? There was, and perhaps still is, a religious philosophy called the “prosperity gospel.” If we live and pray a certain way before God, we will be blessed… yes, but it's not just a cause and effect. It often seems to go along with faith healing… as if having enough faith, or praying just the right way, will gain us our desires from God… like health, wealth and happiness. Ours is a society that expects instant gratification. In reality, it’s a dangerous message that twists the true meaning of God’s blessings which aren’t always readily poured out the way we want… and may tend to promote the thinking that the degree of blessings is based on our level of faith and spirituality… a works-based manipulation of God through various methods to meet His favor... like my being asked "have you tried this" to gain a certain response from God... We may hope and pray for years that God will heal us or rectify some problem… yet, we may or may not see the answer in our lifetime. We may hold onto Scripture that seems to promise God’s blessings upon faithful followers. Unfortunately, at times, answers that we hope and pray for never seem to come… or, the answers may not be what we want. Why? What’s wrong with us? What are we doing wrong that our prayers aren’t answered, while others seemingly live an unfettered life of health, wealth and happiness? It’s as though a dissatisfaction builds, and we get caught up in looking over our shoulder at what others have or don’t have. And that should not be... it's wrong. So, if we take a step back, we might hear that still small voice in our heart… the voice of God speaking to our soul. As we contemplate Psalm 37, we find the shepherd king David wrote verses rich with meaning, even for us today: 1) “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” [vs.3; the secure care and provision by the Lord, our shepherd] 2) “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.” [vs.4; seek the Lord, study His word, meditate on His truths, and He will give you the desires which mirror HIS will] With the wisdom God granted him, King Solomon advised that we “trust in the Lord with all [our] heart and lean not on [our] own understanding; in all [our] ways acknowledge him, and he will make [our] paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) Even James reminded us in chapter 1, vs.2-5 that we should “consider it pure joy, my brothers, 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 without finding fault…” And yet, how well we know that it’s not easy to be joyful in trials. We can find a multitude of examples throughout Scripture of those who loved the Lord yet suffered unjustly, while their faith was strengthened through various trials. Job lost everything, but he learned to trust God’s sovereignty. Joseph, too, suffered unjustly, being sold into slavery by his brothers. It took years before God felt his trials in total had prepared him sufficiently to become second in command under Egypt’s Pharaoh. Our Lord’s disciples were not rewarded with health and wealth for having known Jesus personally. All but John were martyred with their blessing, instead, being a powerful witness to us of Christ’s loving grace which continues today. And, the beloved Apostle Paul shared his own physical struggle in II Corinthians 12:8-10. It was his belief that he was given an irritating “thorn” so that he would not become conceited in his ministry. “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me… For when I am weak, then I am strong.” Can I say that? No, not always… Paul had tremendous faith, a highly honorable witness of God's love and grace, yet even he was not healed as he desired. Even in turning back a few pages to Romans 8:28, we read that Paul reminded us to “…know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” For “this is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14) Then, as we “…seek first his kingdom and his righteousness…all these things will be given to [us] as well. (Matthew 6:33) The blessings come with faith and trust in God and His will for my life… not following or pleading for my own desires. In the midst of our troubles, as we seek the Lord’s love and guidance, He uses those trials to bring His will to completion in us, causing good to emerge out of what we consider bad… not necessarily health and wealth, but certainly that for which we can bring praise and honor to our loving God as our faith grows through the trial and suffering. For in the end, He is all we need… not riches and great fame. And there I rest my case, putting an end to my own strivings and struggles against what at times seem to be unfair life circumstances… to “be still, and know that [He is] God.” (Psalm 46:10) For who am I to question what trial God will use to bless and mature me into wisdom… or to draw me closer to Him and His great love… and maybe to bless someone else from what I’ve learned? As our Lord’s prayer says, “…Thy will be done…” Sometimes I Strive Linda A. Roorda Sometimes I strive against You, my God Without an answer to desperate pleas. How can it be that silence ensues From heartfelt prayers and a depth of faith? Yet no promise was ever uttered That a life of ease for asking was ours, For at the core of trials and tears Lies deeper faith with trust at its heart. To watch and wonder why suffering exists, What is the purpose? Where is the healing? Did you not say, “Take delight in Me And I will grant the desires of your heart?” But that’s only part of truth in blessing For when it’s Your will and we bear much fruit Will it be said You answered my pleas? No, even then answers seem fleeting. For in the asking You give what is best, Not what we want, but what meets our needs. As You work for good whatever we face Therein lies peace in accepting Your will.

I, too, enjoy reading several sections, read state rep updates, enjoy the efforts of other Local Writers and greatly appreciate the readers of my own columns, and often peruse the daily chit-chat tho I seldom respond to comments there - and would hate to see you end this project!

Despair… a lack of hope... a feeling of utter defeat… like you’ve been so beaten down you can’t get back up to face the world. The loss of something good can be that devastating… whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the disabling of physical abilities, the loss of a job, or perhaps the loss of something greatly treasured. Maybe one of these difficult issues is what you’re facing right now. My poem below was written in 2014, during a very difficult year for us as a couple, found among my cache of unpublished reflections. Ed faced a life-and-death situation from severe pancreatitis with no known cause, the doctor telling him if he’d waited one more day to come to the ER, he would not have survived. That recovery was followed by additional health issues, procedures and surgery for Ed, with my own diagnosis of breast cancer with procedures and surgery. To say we were overwhelmed by life, trying to handle so many health issues one on top of another, would be an understatement… Any loss can be difficult as you slowly wend your way through grief. Your emotions have taken a hit. Yet you may not realize it’s actually healthy to go through the several steps of grief to process a loss… as long as you don’t get stuck in one of the stages. For it’s important to know that, in the end, you will be ok… you are normal… and you will survive to ultimately smile at the world once again. Like many others who have faced losses, my husband and I also faced several major losses which, at the time, seemed utterly overwhelming. And we fell right in line with the Kubler-Ross stages of grief - denial, anger, the “if only” stage, depression, and acceptance. Admittedly, it’s not an easy journey. But in looking back, we can honestly say we overcame the challenges and moved forward in peace knowing the Lord was at our side… every step of the way. One of the initial major losses we dealt with began for my husband in 1985. He had always known poor vision after pure oxygen damaged his eyes as a premature twin in an incubator (then called retrolental fibroplasia, now labeled retinopathy of prematurity). But, unknown to us as a young couple was the disease’s typical gradual deterioration of the retina in his left eye (the right optic nerve was damaged irreparably by the pure oxygen). Going for a second opinion due to odd shadows in his vision field, he was told he had a major retinal tear that the previous ophthalmologist had overlooked and actually denied to another doctor who felt that was the issue… and Ed needed urgent surgery. He could not even do barn chores that evening… or ever again… in order to preserve his only viable eye and limited vision for as long as possible. To Ed, it felt as though it were the end of life… the end of farming with his Dad, the only working relationship he had known, a way of life he absolutely loved. He was only 33, and we had three young ones to care for. In coming to terms with our situation, I went back to work a month after his surgery, while he stayed home to care for our children. Unfortunately, he faced further vision loss a few short years later as we returned from a trip to New Jersey to visit my family. We shared an unforgettable day of fun and laughter when my Dad and step-mother took us to the ocean at Sandy Hook. But on the way home, driving north through the hills of Scranton, PA, his eye began hemorrhaging. After two surgeries, he was left with limited light and color detection, and the stages of grief set in once again. Typically, major loss is also faced with denial and shock that such a thing could happen. Yes, it was devastating. How could this happen to us, and why? He’d lost his farming job and had no idea what else he could do with limited useable vision. We’d also purchased a new riding mower that spring which he was looking forward to using. You think things will get better… soon, somehow… they just have to! You hold out hope that life will return to normal… but the norm we were used to was gone forever. And then, anger and frustration took over. You may go through a time of blaming yourself, or someone else. Life seems unfair and you find yourself retreating into a world all your own. If only things were different, if only I’d done things differently… At this stage, Ed smashed his white cane until broken. What we learned after seeking professional help for the blind and their families from Binghamton’s AVRE was invaluable. Later, while Ed was at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA for six months, he again learned this was part of a normal grief process. Other residents had also taken out their anger and frustration in various ways, with most, if not all, breaking their first cane. It was hard to learn a new way of doing things… to tackle the simplest of tasks with very limited or no vision… learning to do the things we take for granted. Out of his training at The Carroll Center, came the blessing of skills for a new office job. Then, as the final curtain of darkness closed in around him about 10 years later, a deeper depression settled in. As he lost the last remnants of vision, Ed would describe dreams in vivid colors to me. They seemed to taunt him on awakening, and he would be devastated once again to find his world was still dark, totally devoid of all light and color. I suspect that may also be why he wasn’t overly fond of colorful descriptions of things he could no longer see. I get it… that was like rubbing salt into an open wound; it was easier for him to just not think about his vision loss. Gradually, though, he came to accept his situation as his old self rose to the occasion. Just like when he grew up with limited vision in school and on the farm (20/200 with glasses, reading with a book very close to his face), he was determined to accomplish whatever seemingly insurmountable task was put in front of him… and succeed he did! His faith remained strong in God who had given him a kind and gentle heart with a depth of wisdom and sense of humor that once again carried him forward. And remember that new riding mower which Ed never got to use? Well, we have a photo of him sitting on it, reaching to the front of the mower with his new white cane… positioned to guide his path... just for the fun of it. He always impressed me with his sense of humor and inner strength, another gift from God, for I truly don’t know that I could have handled all that he had… as well as he had. Yes, he continued to have occasional difficult days of depression, as anyone does with major loss, but He carried on with strength and courage from the Lord to face each new obstacle. With our hope, faith, and trust in God above, we find He’s there for us. He has promised “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 12:11) “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) Our God may have to carry us for a while, but He’s there, helping each of us face the darkest and most difficult days… on our journey to joy. The Journey to Joy Linda A. Roorda ~ I see your hurt and sorrow within As you gaze out from a darkened pane Where once shone light and humor bright Now focus is turned to inward retreat. ~ Not yours to enjoy are bright sunny days And seldom is heard laughter’s easy ring. Your days often pass in a hazy blur With meaning to find in the depth of loss. ~ For you the birds do not sing their songs And clouds have covered the light in your heart. Each waking moment a reminder grim Of all that once was and all that can’t be. ~ But change will come when you least expect And so it is with healing’s growth With subtle tones your soul will be filled As glimmers of hope displace the gloom. ~ For if you allow the dawn’s gentle rays To open windows in the heart of your soul A breath of fresh joy will encompass you Bringing its light on the wings of hope. ~ Then throw open wide shutters of despair And let the Son cover you with His peace Listen to His voice bring soothing comfort Drawing you near in His arms of love. ~ May your heart hear the birds sweetly sing And may your soul see the Light of the world As grateful song brings praise to His name, For He has wrought this journey to joy. ~~

I’m very thankful to be celebrating another birthday, and the many blessings within the sadness of these past several months. God has answered my prayers for strength, to “be strong”, our daughter Jenn’s words of Godly wisdom from my vision of her in heaven while praying in my sitting garden the day after her passing… so fitting even now, as God has wrapped His arms of love around me by using each of my friends and family with their gifts of love, hugs, and encouraging kind words – because you each have a gift within your heart to share… reminding me of this blog and poem written several years ago. Sometimes, our best inspiration comes from the most unlikely place! With the admonition to be “in the world, but not of it,” we find ourselves living out our faith foundation in the world around us (Romans 12:2). After graduating from 6th grade at Passaic (Pine Street) Christian School in New Jersey, my Dad felt it was time to live out my faith by attending public junior high. Despite the culture shock, I learned invaluable lessons… especially since I think we tend to compartmentalize “church/faith” versus every-day worldly life. So yes, sometimes our best faith inspiration comes from the most unlikely place! I used to enjoy relaxing in the evenings with Ed by watching reruns of M*A*S*H, though it’s no longer on that cable station. Though not overly fond of some of the show’s escapades, I especially prefer Corporal Walter (Radar) O’Reilly and the latter years with Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce’s new surgical partners, Captain B.J. Hunnicutt and Major Charles Emerson Winchester, III, as well as their commanding officer, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, and Major Margaret Houlihan. The show and its characters seemed to have evolved from a certain nonsense to one of moving and memorable themes. As the varied characters offer a wide array of human egos and emotions, I’ve found the wisdom of humanity expressed well in many of the shows. There’s an episode that has always held a special place in my heart, one that I consider the arrogant Major Winchester’s best. After operating on a wounded soldier, able to save the young man’s leg with his surgical expertise, Winchester tries to encourage his patient further. Explaining that, although he’ll have permanent nerve damage to three fingers of his right hand, it won’t be too noticeable. Angry, the soldier is reduced to tears and despondency, telling Winchester that his surgical efforts weren’t good enough. His hands were his life… he was a concert pianist! Feeling the pain of failure, Winchester turns away despondent. Then, with determination, Major Winchester approaches the 4077th’s company clerk, Corporal Max Klinger, handing him a list of sheet music to pick up in Seoul. Later, with music in hand, Winchester wheels Private David Sheridan into the Officers’ Club and positions him in front of the piano. Despite his patient’s disgust, Winchester attempts to encourage the young man’s gift to make music. Angry and resentful, Sheridan wants none of it. Unshaken, Winchester shares the story of a pianist from another time who’d lost the use of one hand. Placing sheet music for a one-handed pianist in front of Sheridan, he asks, “Don't you see? Your hand may be stilled, but your gift cannot be silenced if you refuse to let it be.” Private Sheridan scoffs at his surgeon: “Gift? You keep talking about this damn gift. I had a gift, and I exchanged it for some mortar fragments, remember?” With great feeling, Winchester responds: “Wrong! Because the gift does not lie in your hands. I have hands, David. Hands that can make a scalpel sing. More than anything in my life I wanted to play, but I do not have the gift. I can play the notes, but I cannot make the music. You've performed Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Chopin. Even if you never do so again, you've already known a joy that I will never know as long as I live. Because the true gift is in your head and in your heart and in your soul. Now you can shut it off forever, or you can find new ways to share your gift with the world - through the baton, the classroom, or the pen. As to these works, they're for you, because you and the piano will always be as one.” Slowly and hesitantly, Sheridan began playing, gradually finding himself taken over by the emotion as the music in his soul found its voice. (from the TV series M*A*S*H: "Morale Victory", 1980) Just as Maj. Winchester tried to help Pvt. Sheridan understand, we’ve each been blessed with a special gift, a talent. We can hide it, misuse it, or use it to benefit others... we have a choice. Though we may not see our gift as the blessing it is, Jesus’ brother James acknowledged that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…” (James 1:17a) Even the Apostle Peter encouraged us by writing that “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.” (I Peter 4:10 NIV) We can encourage a friend with our words or any of our unique special gifts, like teaching, serving, leadership skills, mercy and compassion, or even simply giving the gift of our time (Romans 12:6-8). When we make wise use of our talents and training, we truly are blessing the recipients of our gifts. In faithfully serving others, may we one day hear our Lord say to us, just as he told the young man who grew his financial gift: “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!” (Matthew 25:21) You’ve A Gift Within Linda A. Roorda You’ve a gift within your heart to be shared To love your neighbor as you do yourself But much more than this is humble service Sharing devotion from depths of true love. ~ Seek out the hurting, the ones bewildered In a world of turmoil, in the midst of grief, At a loss for words, not knowing where to turn, Be an anchor bringing peace to their soul. ~ Be generous with praise, speak truth with wisdom, Carry the burden to lift the heavy heart Encourage and esteem, strengthen with hope Humbly meeting each need on your path. ~ Lift up the oppressed, release from restraints Enfold in your arms those wounded by life. Show mercy and grace, forgive the offense Come alongside to guide the wavering feet. ~ For out of confusion and cries of the soul In walking a line tween query and quest, Comes peace that calms and joy that rebuilds From the gift within your heart that was shared. ~~

I woke up early one Sunday morning several years ago with the beginning of this differently-phrased poem running through my thoughts… and got up to write it down immediately. I couldn’t risk losing the thoughts that flowed. Reading it again, I see how fitting it is for this season of Lent. As our busy days and weeks draw us closer to celebrating Easter, we ponder all that our Lord did for us when He walked upon this earth, especially in His great sacrifice. For the picture that came to mind was of Jesus, the Bread of Life, the spotless Lamb of God, leisurely strolling among us, the great sea of humanity, just as we read in the Holy Scriptures. We touched Him, listened to His words, praised Him for His great love, kindness, healing... and we sat down to dine with Him. But then, to our amazement, He willingly allowed himself to be taunted and whipped. Bleeding, his skin in shreds, unrecognizable, He took upon His shoulders a cross, weighed down by all of our sin. The Son of God came to earth so that, as son of man, born of a virgin, He might live among us, His creation. Though perfect in every way, He was tested, understanding our frailties, our weaknesses. He came to seek and to serve us, with all humility, that we might learn from His ways. He taught and ministered with wisdom beyond our finite comprehension. He healed some and forgave the sins of others, all that we might come to understand His mission more fully. He took my place… my shame… my guilt. My sin left deep stains and wounds upon His body, yet He gently covered me with a garment woven from His Words of Life. The garment was dipped and washed in His blood, but it emerged pure and spotless… undefiled… and undeserved by me. And humbly I bow, with praise and thanksgiving for Him alone… Jesus, my Savior, my Redeemer, my God… the Bread of Life. The Bread of Life Linda A. Roorda ~ I watched intently The Bread of Life Walking among The sea of humanity As He, the gentle Perfect and spotless Lamb of God Willingly Took upon His shoulders My guilt My shame My sin All that defiles And wove for me With Words of Life A garment Pure and spotless Cleansed By His blood poured out Which covered my stains As I With grateful heart Praise the One The great I Am My Advocate Who took my place And welcomes me With open arms And nail-scarred hands Forgiven. ~~

My desk calendar has a quote from Victor Hugo – “Winter is on my head, but eternal Spring is in my heart.” So true, isn’t it?! Even in difficult times, we still have hope, we still look forward, and try not to dwell on the negatives… tho sometimes it’s easier said than done, and something I have to work on at times to keep focusing forward in hope… to hope in the Lord to see me/us through our difficult days. Which reminds me of this blog, for winter can seem so dark, so long… yet even then there is beauty to be found in the simplicity of winter, and the simplicity of our days, if we just open our eyes to truly see the blessings around us. Though this poem and blog were written several years ago, reading and updating it led me to be thankful again for the little things, life’s simplicity, God’s blessings. Enjoy! ~~ ~~ ~~ There’s beauty all around us in even the simplest of things… if we just take the time to truly see. Sometimes when the days were hectic and I’d get overwhelmed, just sitting in my gardens would help to wash away the stress, like a cleansing of the soul. And in the depths of a cold winter, I’d set out sunflower seeds, peanuts in the shell, and suet… to quietly watch the birds descend on the dining bounty. Whether sitting in a summer garden surrounded by blooming splendor or sitting in the warmth of my house gazing outward at a pristine snowfall, there is so much beauty to enjoy. I’ve shared other poems and reflections about the beauty of nature. Truth be told, outside is where I’d rather be, no matter the season. Except, having discovered a tick embedded with a resultant bull’s eye rash in early 2015, I’m not as much a frequenter of the outdoor world as previously. But when writing this blog in mid-January 2016, winter had finally settled in with her bitter cold, howling winds, and a light snow. After being spoiled with an extra warm late fall/early winter compliments of El Nino, it was only fitting we returned to more seasonable weather… which prompted me to feed the birds. Almost immediately, a downy woodpecker settled on the upright peanut-in-the-shell feeder I’d made several years ago. It’s been frequented by downy, hairy, red-headed and red-bellied woodpeckers, blue jays, nuthatches and chickadees. And that doesn’t even include the wide variety of birds which have flown in to seek a snack in the other feeders. Some very interesting species during migrations were also drawn in when seeds were set out longer during the season than in the recent few years. While watching the birds though, I couldn’t help but notice the stark-naked tree limbs reaching skyward. There’s a distinct beauty in their coarseness. Some branches drape downward, others reach beckoning hands out and up, as they twist and turn in various directions. And they all carry leaf buds that before too much longer will begin to swell with the promise of spring… to once again be clothed in shades of green and dazzling pastels. I especially enjoy the warm days of spring that flow into the heat of summer. I absolutely love to hear the early spring peepers and frogs. And I love to hear the variety of birds singing as they fly around our yard, swallows swooping to catch bugs on the wing... and the calls of hungry nestlings to their busy parents… all music to my ears. To watch a gorgeous sunrise as the faintest of color pierces the velvet dark sky, or to gaze on a beautiful sunset with rays of sun which slice outward from behind clumps of clouds is heavenly. And, taking a long look at those clouds, notice the different types, forms, and shapes. Again, there is so much simple beauty to be found anywhere the eye can look. Take time to peer a little closer at weeds while taking a walk. Their delicate flower forms often closely resemble cultivated relatives. Watch a stream flowing by, water gurgling over the rocks, little fish darting here and there. Observe a bee or a bug from as close a perspective as you can get. Study the bloom of a flower. Appreciate what’s right there in front of you, and drink in the beauty we often and casually walk on by… It seems that as we contemplate nature’s beauty around us, life begins to ease into a slower pace. Allow yourself the chance to slow down… stand still within life’s fast-paced frenzy. Look around… and truly see the beauty in the tiniest of details. For as Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time…” So, take the time to pause and contemplate life in all its delicate beauty … I See Beauty Linda A. Roorda I see beauty in the world around Where some see a tree I see living art I see God’s hand in the rays of dawn The streaks of light that brighten our world. I hear the chirps of birds in the air Tunes of delight as they share their praise With grateful hearts for daily blessings Their endless singing brings joy to my soul. I gaze upon a flowing river Or gentle stream and watch its passing From whence it came to where it will go While I at the edge can only look on. I climb these hills covered in thick wood To look on scenes spread out far below A miniature world enchanting and calm Creation’s beauty forever enjoyed. It gives me pause to contemplate life Reason and meaning for all in this world Breeze in the air and sun on my face With reassuring peace midst bustling din. While gazing still away to the west This day winds down and shadows lengthen The sunset dazzles as it slowly fades A perfect ending, its treasure to hold. ~~

This is a previously unpublished poem and reflection that I wrote in June 2016. It was written at a time Ed was feeling disheartened by the constant, never-ending difficulties and health issues he faced. He read it back then, and appreciated these words intended to lift him up. And if you are facing a difficult season of life, may God bless you through these words, and comfort you with His peace. ~~ I suspect there are a number of good folks, especially the elderly and the disabled, who may feel as though no one needs them anymore. They’ve given their life to working and helping others, and now their body has begun to fail them, leaving them to think they’re worthless… maybe even feeling as though they’re a burden to family and friends… or simply feeling down or depressed about their life’s turn of events. And perhaps this malady affects more of our friends and loved ones than we care to think it does. Stop! You are not worthless! You have so much value to share with others around you! If we’re honest, we all struggle at times with whether we’re really needed, or even appreciated for what we do. I know there were times my husband, Ed, felt discouraged with his disabilities, like he wasn’t a valuable part of our marriage or family team. But I reassured him how much I really needed him. I needed his sense of humor, his strength of faith and character, his wise and godly words of wisdom, his comforting hugs with those long arms wrapped around “little tiny me” (our joke), his even-keeled and easy-going personality, with his arms and words bringing comfort and peace when I’d become overwhelmed by life. And this poem and reflection were written to encourage him during a time when he was feeling down about all his health issues. Think of the wisdom you’ve gained over a lifetime of working, learning, and maturing. Just maybe you have something to contribute that others might find helpful on their life’s journey. Maybe you have an answer to a perplexing problem that they couldn’t see their way out of. Maybe you could simply be the ears to hear their story… listen to their cries… and give them the tangible support of a shoulder to lean on. Be that someone they can vent to… someone to share their heartaches with… someone to share their joys with… while you, in turn, might share your own wisdom and humor. Help them see their way back out of the Tunnel of Defeat to smile again and become a help to others - “…[to] comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” (II Corinthians 1:4) Each of us has a value and worth far beyond what we can ever imagine. Share what you see among the positives and strengths in their life. Open their eyes to the character and person they truly are… the one that others see within. Let them know how much you need them… that their inner strength, which was once so vibrant, may lie hidden now, and they may have forgotten it exists, but it is still there… just waiting to emerge and be shared with some needy soul. For just maybe… you truly are worth more than you ever might think! Maybe Linda A. Roorda Maybe you think you’ve nothing to give Maybe you wonder where all the years flew Maybe you think of what could have been Maybe you wonder why life’s valleys are deep… Maybe you don’t see your gentle heart The love and wisdom your words express The protection found within your arms A restful solace with comforting peace. Maybe you remember your youthful strength Maybe you wonder why health is shattered Maybe you think that you’re not needed Maybe you wonder what value you have… Maybe compassion which empathy shares From a humble soul which doesn’t praise self And humor and smiles that lift heavy burdens Bring glowing praise for life’s simple blessings… For maybe your life is a shining beacon That others may know Who guides your heart still As the light of wisdom, that humble honor Proves faith and trust rests solely in Him. ~~ 06/17/16

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. ~~

I cannot even begin to say “thank you” enough for all the kindness in the many caring words in cards and in person, the shared tears, meals, memories and laughter, and thoughts and prayers family and friends have showered upon me and my family in the loss of our Ed – husband, Pop, Gramps, brother, cousin, uncle, and friend. Thank you to everyone who came to the calling hours and memorial service yesterday, you deeply touched our hearts - including the surprise to see my niece and her family who traveled from Tennessee, and our friends, our late Jenn’s dear in-laws, who drove down from Maine – we shall never forget their kindness in being here with us. Thanks to my daughter for finding the direct contact person at the newspaper headquarters who so kindly amended Ed’s online obituaries to include our Jenn’s name as having predeceased him, because… in all the upheaval, I forgot to include my own daughter. All the offers of help in so many ways are greatly appreciated. I’m still looking around to find Ed, wondering why he’s not holding onto my arm, but I’ll be ok and know Ed is rejoicing in heaven’s glory with perfect vision! Each one of us encounters failures and losses in life. Each one of us encounters disabilities in ourselves or those around us. But it’s what we do with, and how we react to, all that comes our way that makes a difference... in our lives and in the lives of others. We can carry on with selfish pride in what we can do, we can roll over in defeat at failure... or we can face the challenge in humility, asking God to guide us along a broken and difficult path. For 27 years (from 1982 to 2009), we burned wood to heat our house. When my husband, Ed, farmed with his dad, he cut his own firewood with a chainsaw despite very limited vision. Came the day, though, that Ed lost the balance of his limited vision and was completely blind. He could no longer use a chainsaw after just a few years, later had to stop using an axe to split wood, and it remained to be seen how he would handle the other obstacles that faced him after becoming totally blind. Initially, he went through a difficult transition and grieving process, common to all with any serious loss. None of us knew how best to handle the change. It was a learn-as-you-go process until we found professional guidance specifically for the blind at A.V.R.E. in Binghamton, NY and The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA. And then, his old self rose up to meet the challenges, determined to do whatever he could to face whatever came his way… with a catch. As he stacked firewood one day without any remaining fragments of light and color to guide him, the rows kept collapsing. He simply could not get the pieces of wood to fit together well enough to stay in neat upright rows. In utter frustration, he sat down and put his head in his hands, feeling like an utter failure. All of his life he’d had to struggle with limited vision, being classified legally blind from infancy on. He struggled in the classroom, not being able to see the board, often refusing to ask for help. He wanted to be just like everyone else. Most of us can tackle any activity, job or hobby with ease. But Ed was denied what he longed to do… he couldn’t play football or basketball with his 6’7” height. He could swim like a pro, but wasn’t allowed on the team for fear he’d hurt himself or others if he strayed from his lane. Instead, the coach made him manager of their state division championship team from Warwick, NY. But, at other times, peers mocked and belittled him. Why couldn’t he be accepted just for who he was? Why did everything have to be so hard? Why couldn’t life be easier and simpler… like it was for everyone else? It wasn’t fair, he thought. Yet, he had accomplished so much with so little for so many years! He could milk the cows, climb the silos, drive tractor and do all the field work except plant corn, and that was only because he couldn’t see where the last row left off. With his limitations, he knew to be extra cautious and it always paid off. But, now it seemed that even this last bit of enjoyment in stacking firewood was being taken from him, too. Except, while sitting there, with the wood he’d stacked falling down, he decided to pray and ask God for help in this seemingly simple, but now very challenging task. He prayed that God would guide each piece of wood he picked up so it would fit and the rows wouldn’t fall down… so that he could stack the wood himself without having to ask yet again for more help. As he stood up and once again picked up the firewood, he soon realized that every piece he stacked fit… well, actually, fit perfectly! When he was done, his rows stood straight and tall without collapsing! And then he began hearing comments from neighbors who marveled at how great his stacked firewood looked. By a man who couldn’t see, no less! As Ed told anyone who commented, “It wasn’t me; it was God.” It was only after he prayed each time before he picked up the first piece of wood that he was able to manage this seemingly impossible task. But, if he forgot and just delved right in to stacking, the wood invariably collapsed… until he sat down and had a little talk with God. My poem below is reminiscent of a story floating around the internet of violinist Itzhak Perlman performing with a broken violin string. Though that feat was unable to be confirmed by reliable sources, the concept is worthy of illustrating our brokenness in disability. Another young man, Niccolo` Paganini, was an Italian child prodigy who played mandolin and violin from ages 5 and 7 respectively. Supposedly, he once played with three broken strings, refusing to allow the handicap to end his serenade. Paganini excelled in part because of Marfan’s Syndrome which gave him his height and extra long fingers, a genetic syndrome also found in both of our families. The elasticity of joints and tissues allowed Paganini the flexibility to bend and extend his fingers beyond the norm as he used the disability to his benefit. Like Ed and others with disabilities, we can either resent our situation or we can have a little talk with God, asking Him to guide us through whatever we face. The Broken String Linda A. Roorda Four strings create beautiful music Perfection in pitch, magnificent tone All they expect, not asking for more Performing with pride just as it should be. Pulling the bow across the taut strings Gently at first, then faster I stroke The symphonic sound brings tears to their eyes This is my gift to their list’ning ears. Closing my eyes to the beauty of sound Caressing the strings, deep feelings evoked From graceful and light to dramatic and rich Till one string popped, now what shall I do? Adversity gives a chance to prove worth As now I’ve lost a string that flails free. In silence all eyes are riveted on me; Would I be angry or would I accede? Silently I prayed, God give me the strength I’ve been disabled, humbled before all. Help me I pray to carry on well Let them now see You working through me. Adjusting my bow and fingers for sound Quickly I learned to amend my strokes, As to my ears a beautiful tune Emanates yet while focused on God. When the finale at last had arrived With a soft sigh I played my last note, And as it faded they rose to their feet With wild applause from their hearts to mine. Perhaps it was all intended to reach This attitude of pride within myself. A lesson was learned in how to react, Adversity’s gift to sink or to soar. For without You what does my life mean? What value is placed on my outward skills? Do You not, Lord, see deep in my heart Where my soul reflects my pride or Your grace? My attitude then a choice I must make Embrace gratitude or sink in despair. For I cannot change what happens to me Instead, I’ll play while focused on You. Humility grows by resigning pride As a broken string reflects trials of life. Others I’ll serve as You did for me For in You is found the selfless way of life. ~~ 05/31/14 ~ An abridged version of the following reflection was published in “Breaking Barriers” in March 2016, a publication of the Christian Reformed and Reformed Church in America Disability Concerns Ministries.

I struggle with remembering to take life one day at a time, even though I often reference it in my writings. Maybe you too? It’s a daily learning process to release my cares to God. With my husband's need for nursing home rehab, I’ve panicked and become fearful of the unknown future… will he do well, rebuild muscle to regain strength enough to return home… or will he need long-term skilled nursing care… a frightening unknown future for both of us. But then, I remember, trust God – for He has it all under control. He knows the plans He’s already put in motion for me and Ed, individually and as a couple. “’For I know the plans I have for you,’” declares the Lord, “’plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11) For “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.” (Isaiah 40:11) I’m not alone! When I wander with frets and worries, He pursues me… He comes seeking and calling me back closer to Himself… as I then look to Him for guidance, comfort, and peace. Interestingly, our friend and pastor, Charlie (and Natalie) Hale, from Maine, unknowingly confirmed my choice of this blog by sending us his own words of comfort to me and Ed about Psalm 23 last Thursday. He wrote, “God knows we can be afraid and He has promised to take care of us through everything that comes our way. Keeping our focus on God who has promised: “Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-39) We can trust that we are safe in the hands of God come what may because we know we are His and no one is able to snatch us out of His hands. (John 10:29) Thank you, Charlie, for reminding us of our Lord’s precious care as Shepherd. As I wrote back in 2014, Psalm 23 has been a favorite sacred poem to many of us, a calming reassurance, bringing peace to our soul when we face difficult days. What better way for the psalmist David to have described the loving protection and care of him by our, Lord, than through this Psalm based on what he knew firsthand as a Shepherd! My poem below is an interpretative attempt to rephrase David’s work with wording from my heart, and not to take anything away from the original. My hope is that it still reflects the intent of David’s beautiful words, the thoughts and feelings that he conveyed as he spoke from his own experience as a shepherd before God promoted him as king over Israel. For we need a shepherd, too… because, like sheep, we’re prone to wander off to that which beckons and appeals to us. Yet, we can be so unaware of the dangers which lie ahead on our path. With a friend and neighbor who raises sheep, it’s amazed me to learn how “dumb” sheep really can be. They’re followers, like Mary’s little lamb – where one goes, the rest are sure to follow… even into danger. Sheep need a shepherd to protect and shelter them from the elements and storms… someone to guide them to the best pasture and water... to pull them back when they start to wander away. They need a shepherd to prevent dangerous predators from attacking the weakest or those grazing on the outskirts of the flock. They need someone to assist at early spring lambing to assure all goes well; and to see that when a mother abandons one of her twins or triplets, the little one is adopted by another caring mother or cared for and fed by their loving shepherd. Simply put, sheep need someone they trust completely to care about their every need. In my teens, I raised a lamb, a twin abandoned by her mom. I fed little “Lambie” with a baby bottle from my baby brother, made sure her water bucket had fresh clean water, brought hay for her to munch on, took her outside to graze on fresh grass in our backyard while keeping an ever-watchful eye out to protect her as she investigated and jumped around, seeing how much her shepherdess cared for and loved her. Having cared for a little lamb, I can truly appreciate the imagery of Jesus as my Shepherd, listening for His voice of wisdom, and feeling His love guiding and protecting me. The hard part for us, though, is being sure to follow Him... My Shepherd You Are Linda A. Roorda (Based on Psalm 23) My Shepherd You are, protector and shield Providing my needs for body and soul. You cover with peace so I will not fear You give my soul rest, contentment to know. Your Word is my light on this path of life That Your love I may show to all those I meet. Yet when sorrow comes to wrap in despair May I ever know it will not destroy. Though in the valley, death I may face You walk beside me with comfort and peace. For calm is my heart when focused on you As with me you stay ever at my side. Whenever I stray enticed by sweet ways Your directing words still guide me in love. My faith you reward among all my foes As blessings pour out, my life overflows. Your loving goodness with mercy and grace Will follow my days of life on this earth. For within your house, oh Lord I shall dwell To sing your praise now and evermore. Lover of my soul guiding my steps Seeking my heart when wand’ring I stray Bringing me joy to follow Your path My Shepherd You are, protector and shield. ~~

There have been many times when my peace was shattered... in difficult storms, painful wounds, and major losses... and I was in turmoil. Like December 2019 when my husband was found to be in life-threatening diabetic hyperglycemic hyperosmolar syndrome, a rare complication of diabetes type II. We were both overwhelmed with the new diagnosis of type II diabetes, and a new treatment regimen on top of his multiple other health issues. We fully realize countless others have successfully dealt with this diagnosis, but the initial shock left us overwhelmed. This year, Ed was hospitalized twice in July, again at the end of September, in the ER in early December for severe asthma and severe congestive heart failure with pulmonary edema. Arriving home that night after spending 8-1/2 hours in the ER, I found two “thinking of you” cards in the mailbox from dear friends. What perfect timing! God knew we needed a special reminder of how he uses each of us to bring His love and caring to those who need a cheerful lift. And just a few days after Christmas 2022, Ed was hospitalized for 8 days with fluid overload on chronic congestive heart failure. At cardiac catheterization, three stents were placed to open a fully blocked artery, with more near total blockages and damage throughout his heart, and prolonged atrial fibrillation. Now, he’s been readmitted with Covid, multiple blood clots in his lungs, more difficulty breathing, and major weakness. But the cards mentioned above, and the many kind comments of loving care and prayers to my updates, remind me of the following blog I’d penned based on words written so many centuries ago. Reading our devotions one evening several years ago, my husband quietly asked me to read Psalm 91. He wasn’t sure what it said, but he had a strong sense God was urging him to have me read this Psalm for a particular difficulty I was facing. In reading Psalm 91 aloud, I found these words by King David spoke to my heart: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust’… He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart… If you make the Most High your dwelling – even the Lord, who is my refuge – then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent… ‘Because he loves me, says the Lord, I will rescue him; I will protect him…’ He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.” (vs.1-2, 4, 9-10, 14-15. NIV) Despite the tears rolling down while reading the entire Psalm that night, I felt a great sense of comfort and peace… that peace which passes all understanding despite the trial. (Philippians 4:7) None of us is immune to the trials and storms of life. Though sometimes God graciously allows a storm to pass us by without disturbing our equilibrium, other times He fully heals our difficult storm, while other times we have no choice but to wend our way through the storm… for neither are we promised a life of ease. As Jesus reminded his followers in John 16:33, “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” The one who is ill may not even look ill. They remember their busy fulfilling life of the past, replaced by a limited worth or useless feeling that permeates their days. We’ve learned it is normal to grieve life changes with sadness and frustration, even as my husband’s great sense of humor pops through despite a difficult day to envelope us in therapeutic hearty laughter. But I will also admit to a touch of envy knowing most friends can do anything or go wherever they want, not an option for us to enjoy. It can be hard to identify with those who deal with chronic illness… facing health issues and concerns other folks don’t ever seem to encounter. And the grieving process can initially leave you devoid of the joy which James 1:2-3 speaks about as we learn to accept chronic illness. Guilt may even be felt by the chronically ill person and family when prayers for healing seem to go unanswered. To hear a casual or flippant response, to be told we’re not praying right, or to sense a lack of genuine care can be crushing. As we pray for healing, we especially ask for strength to handle each day… because healing as we want may not be God’s plan. The Apostle Paul was not healed as he desired, but learned that God’s grace was sufficient with Christ’s power and strength evident through his (Paul’s) weaknesses. (II Corinthians 12:7-10) Relying on God for wisdom and strength each day, God’s power shines through. I will never forget a hospital chaplain who sat with me when Ed was in the ICU in 2010 for severe life-threatening grand mal (tonic-clonic) seizures. Gradually pulling out our life story, he listened and cared deeply, saying that in 30 years as a chaplain, he’d never met a family who’d dealt with the many issues we had, and I hadn’t even told him all, praying with me in facing a new major stressor. Six months later, Ed was back in the ER, hearing his favorite ER physician say, “I’m so glad to see you! Oh, not that you’re ill again, but that you survived those seizures and have no damage!” Wow! She truly cared! We appreciate the support and prayers of family and friends as we face each new trial. Take time to hear concerns as a new norm is accepted, leaning on God as He walks beside those in the storm. Share your heartfelt hugs. Convey a depth of feeling and understanding in asking “how are you doing.” Friends and family who ask and truly listen to understand what anyone with chronic illness faces bring much comfort. Offers of help are gratefully appreciated, even if they cannot be readily accepted. While we're inside the storm, though the wind and waves batter our world, we do remember God is still there, still in control. We know we can trust Him to hold us tightly, to shelter and protect… even though we may lose everything, including life itself, as when we lost our daughter. Yet, through the difficulty, He will make a way, perhaps close one door to open a better one, and shine His light to guide us as we move forward… one step at a time. It’s where we place our trust that peace will be revealed. And when it’s placed in our Lord’s perfect will, trusting that He has our best interests at heart even in the most difficult times, we see Him help us handle what’s come our way as we grow in faith to become more like Christ. With such trust, our faith remains unshakable and we find a renewed peace… with a joy that passes understanding. There’s a painting I love entitled “Peace in the Midst of the Storm” by Jack E. Dawson. One story is told that a wealthy benefactor searched for the perfect painting depicting peace. The first two beautiful tranquil scenes were rejected. When the artist returned to his easel, frustrated at his work being rejected, his prayer prompted the design of a riveting scene. On a dark and stormy night, water gushes in torrents over rocky ledges…as a mother bird calmly sits upon her nest tucked under a ledge, protecting her young while the elements rage. Now that’s peace! Studying that painting, I also notice a profile of Christ in the rock formations and a cross created by rocky fissures. Considering how our heavenly Father gently guides and protects us during the storms of life, however fierce they may be, it’s His canopy of love and peace that shelters and comforts. And I can be at peace when life is in turmoil knowing that “[He] will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in [Him]. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord…is the Rock eternal.” (Isaiah 26:3-4 NIV) Peace Linda A. Roorda ~ There is a peace in the depth of my soul A joy that only comes from Your love, For in the midst of storms and trials My heart is steady when focused on You. ~ But peace is fleeting when I fail to heed When I take charge and grasp hold the wheel. I need to trust that Your ways are best When through the darkness I walk gripped by fear. ~ For as the waves relentlessly toss Your face I’ll seek for comforting solace. I know You’ll guide me safely to shore As Your light shines down to brighten my way. ~ For what is peace without Your mercy The hand held out to offer refuge, An ear to hear burdens of the heart Arms to envelope the soul in turmoil? ~ Grace beyond measure You pour over me Yet I don’t deserve riches of mercy. Prone to wander, to follow my will Still You pursue to seek and to save. ~ There is contentment just in the knowing Whenever I feel the world crashing down, You call my name and draw me with joy Out of the chaos and into Your arms. ~ And like a fresh rain washing over me Peace like the sun envelopes my soul, It covers my life with joy unreserved Tranquility found as I rest in You. ~~ 07/08/15

Christmas is so much more than busy days of shopping, fancy decorations, and Santa. It’s more than admiring a special baby in the manger with his parents and shepherds. It’s all about the why of his birth, and the hope he brings to our world. But I wonder if I take my faith for granted. I’ve known Jesus and been “in the church” since I was a baby. I have seen God work in my life in special ways, felt Him draw me to His side as my Savior, and heard Him speak to my heart. Yet, what would I have thought if I had walked where Jesus walked when He lived upon this earth? How would I have reacted when Jesus taught his disciples and the crowds that gathered? What would I have thought of His combined humanity and deity, His love for sinners, and His great miracles? Would I have accepted Him as my Savior? Or, would I have turned my back and rejected Him, calling for His death as others did? What would I have thought if I had been Mary? With her pregnancy foretold by an angel, not married to Joseph yet, she was initially troubled. But, Mary soon felt overjoyed to be chosen as mother of the Son of God as the angel had said (Luke 1:26-38) and glorified her Lord in song! (Luke 1:46-53) Joseph was also visited in a dream by an angel to help him understand Mary’s pregnancy. Yet, what about the attitudes they may have faced among family and friends? Despite what the angel said, and Mary’s simple faith in God, she could have been stoned to death for her supposed unfaithfulness to Joseph by being pregnant before marriage. (Deuteronomy 22:20) Still, Joseph was a good man, heeding the angel’s message, loving and protecting Mary rather than walking away from her. And into these humble but loving beginnings was the Son of God, the baby Jesus, set to be born… (Matthew 1:18-24) When it was time, Mary gave birth in a stable full of dirty smelly animals because no one, no one, had even a small room where they could welcome their precious newborn. As she gently wrapped her baby in swaddling cloths, calmed his tears, snuggled him in her arms and nursed him, I imagine she gazed on him with the tender love and joy in her heart that every new mother feels. When he’d fallen asleep, she laid him gently on the hay in the manger, as the animals made their own soft chorus of night-time noises. (Luke 2:4-7) And what would I have thought if I were a shepherd on the hills protecting my sheep when suddenly a brilliant light appeared? Imagine hearing an Angel say that a Savior had been born. A Savior? Was this the Messiah promised to the world so long ago? And then the heavens opened as a great host of angels appeared in the brilliantly-lit sky, all singing and praising God! What an awesome sight and sound! It must have left them speechless! (Luke 2:8-13) When the angels left, the shepherds rushed to Bethlehem to search for this newborn babe. And they found him exactly as they’d been told, lying in a manger in a stable. Quietly, the shepherds gazed in awe upon Mary’s little boy. She was amazed they knew all about him, and he was just born! She heard about how the angels sang praises of her baby, calling him Christ the Lord. Now these humble men glorified and praised God for her baby… as Mary treasured and pondered it all in her heart. (Luke 2:15-20) And how could Mary ever forget the time she and Joseph couldn’t find Jesus among the crowds as they walked back to Nazareth. Imagine their consternation on finding him teaching the elder rabbis in the tabernacle. Her little boy was only 12 years old! He had even told his parents, “Don’t you understand I must be about my Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49) His father’s business? His father was a carpenter, not a rabbi! She and Joseph did not understand, but she pondered these things in her heart… how odd it all was, and yet how amazing! Surely, she remembered what the angel had said about her little boy… Mary saw the crowds who followed after her son as a grown man, hanging onto every word he spoke… going from town to town. How well did she and others understand that Jesus truly was the Son of God, the long-awaited Messiah? The religious leaders walked away deeply troubled by his teachings. Yet, there were so many miracles… and no one had ever seen or heard anything like this before! Then there were the 12 men who were called her son’s disciples. Jesus had chosen them to follow Him, and follow they did, going everywhere with their beloved teacher. And yet, even they did not truly understand. Oh, sure, Jesus taught them with authority and an earnestness. One time he even asked them, “Who do you say I am?” Peter had answered, “You are the Christ (Messiah), the Son of the living God.” Then Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon… you are Peter (which means rock)… for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven…” (Matthew 16:13-20) Peter knew, he understood, and believed; but, just how deep was his faith? Anyone’s faith at that time? Because, sometime later, after the soldiers had taken Jesus from their midst in the Garden of Gethsemane, Peter was questioned by two servant girls and others around a warming fire. Three times he told them “I don’t know the man!”… and then the cock crowed… and Peter remembered Jesus had said he would deny him. (Matthew 26: 69-74) “Even if I have to die with you, I never will disown you!” Peter had exclaimed. (Matthew 26:31-35) But now he had done just that. Oh, the shame of it all! Peter walked off by himself, sobbing with a broken heart. (Matthew 26:75) He had abandoned his best friend, the man who had called him a rock for the firm foundation within him, for the church to be built on this rock, this faith. He, Peter, who had been nothing more than a humble, dirty, smelly fisherman before Jesus saw something better in him… he, Peter, afraid of people’s reactions, afraid to admit how close a friend he had been to Jesus. Did Peter really understand that his best friend, Jesus, truly was God? All these things Mary pondered in her heart as her son was dying a horrendous death above her on a cross. Did she understand what her son’s birth and life on earth had been all about? That he really had been going about His Father’s business? That His heavenly Father was theirs also? That her son was born to live among them, yet came with a purpose… to die for their sins and ours, and that He arose and returned to Heaven, that we all might have the gift of salvation and eternal life with Him? “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16 KJV) Would we have understood the truth Jesus was teaching… without the written Word in our hands? Would we have followed Him, regardless of the cost? Would we have shown others what the love of Jesus means? So much to consider… so much to ponder… that I have to ask, would I? May you have a Blessed Christmas! Would I? Linda A. Roorda Would I know this Child from Heaven sent? Would I pause like Mary to ponder? Would I grasp His Love meant for me? Would I walk the paths that He trod? Or, Would I be ashamed to know Him? ~ Would I know the depth of His love? Would I feel the sorrow His heart felt? Would I stay awake as He prayed? Would I take His cross on my back? Or, Would I pound the nails in His hands? ~ Would I know Jesus died for me? Would I feel His grief for my sin? Would I know my Lord in risen glory? Would I in joy to God’s Gift be true? And, Would I love, forgive, and shine forth His Light? ~ April 2012

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go!”* We love that old song and the memories it stirs. But what does Christmas look like? Along with hopes for the proverbial white Christmas, we each have special ways we remember and celebrate this joyous holiday. Lights are strung to outline houses, bushes and trees, and even vehicles! Christmas trees of real or faux evergreen in varying sizes are put up inside the house. Then we choose white lights, mixed colors, or a single-color theme. And we add decorations and bows, candles, poinsettias and more to bring a festive holiday look to our homes. There are as many ways to decorate as we are each different and unique! But then there’s the other part… shopping! It can either be fun or a chore... yet, there’s something in the busy, frenzied pace that belies the true peace of Christmas. I confess to not liking the commercialization that used to start barely after Thanksgiving was over, but now even earlier. I don’t like hectic shopping, looking for just the right gift by trekking from store to store for hours on end, and waiting in long lines that go on forever. And we especially don’t care to be among rushing crowds that push and shove and grab… we’ve all heard about those examples which, thankfully, I’ve not personally witnessed. The deals may be hard to beat, but… that ambience leaves a bit to be desired. I prefer leisurely shopping trips, enjoying a pleasant day out, listening to Christmas music playing in the background with list in hand… because I’m not good at off-the-cuff gift decisions. I enjoy gazing at the fancy decorations and gift ideas on display, and watching the faces of little kids light up at the sights. But shh!! I have to admit I’ve taken advantage of online shopping over the past several years. Yes, me! Someone who could never imagine she’d ever do that! Oh, and let’s not forget the best part of Christmas… all those gift-wrapped packages under the tree! They hold hidden treasures for loved ones and friends, secrets known only to the giver. Giving a gift is exciting, really the best part! As the recipient unwraps their gift, they tend to take on the bright glow of joy... and treasure the gift wrapped with love from your heart to theirs. I’m sure some of my other favorite Christmas memories are yours, too… like Christmas Eve candlelight services, caroling with friends to greet those who are housebound, memories of Christmas Day morning worship services of my childhood, and the happy gatherings of family and friends. All of which brings me to contemplate the treasured gift we celebrate on this special day - a baby born a long time ago. Seemingly no different than any other infant… except that this one was born in a stable, amongst the cattle, donkeys, dogs, cats and mice… a baby whose birth was announced by angels to lowly dirty shepherds living out in the fields… a baby whose life still holds special meaning for us today. To an astonished young woman, the blessed virgin Mary, the angel Gabriel had appeared with this message: “’Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.’ Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “’Do not be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.’” Luke 1:29-32 NIV In due time, Mary’s little baby was born… in a stable, there being no room in the inn at Bethlehem. “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not! For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.’ And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’” Luke 2:8-14 That birth announcement must have been so exciting, yet very humbling, to have seen and heard! How awesome to consider that God sent us His love as a tiny infant, gift wrapped in swaddling clothes. The baby Jesus - Emmanuel, God with us… yes, the one who walked this earth on His journey to a cross… He’s the gift of salvation for us to unwrap and treasure. Yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Gift Wrapped Linda A. Roorda In wintry stillness there’s a peace I find While the world’s a’bustle with its fast-paced voice Midst a din that beckons in all directions To draw me away from peaceful reflection. ~ From frenzied crowds to pushy shoppers There’s a greed we find in ego’s actions. May we bless instead by giving of self For within each heart we hold the treasure. ~ Yet it seems we rush from here to there Exhaustion filling our stressed-out lives. Did we accomplish what needed doing Or merely deplete our dignity’s calm? ~ May even we with our lists so long Take time to ponder and remember why The reason for joy in this season of cheer Is gift wrapped in peace and given with love. ~ In celebration our voices are joined Recalling a birth from long, long ago Announced to shepherds by angels on high “Glory to God…and on earth peace to all.” ~ For with the birth of baby Jesus We gaze in awe on the promised One Messiah, Savior, and Light of the world The Prince of Peace for our seeking hearts. ~ Most holy of nights when God came to earth To share Himself, gift wrapped and swaddled, With an invitation that we would unwrap His gift encased in salvation’s love. ~~ 12/05/16 *Written by Meredith Willson in 1951, sung by many, hits by Perry Como and Bing Cosby in 1951.

Yesterday, my husband was in the E.R. yet again, with difficulty breathing and clearing his lungs from fluid buildup in a long-term battle with congestive heart failure. Every day is a struggle for him, just as it is for so many others around us. A year ago, I shared this blog from my longer speech at a Women's Faith Retreat in 2014. I need to be reminded of my own words, and of God's faithfulness in so many ways. Thinking others might need the comfort in knowing God truly is there at our side, I decided to share this again. And may you be blessed in whatever difficulties you are facing today... In December 2021, I wrote: This past week, my husband Ed was in the hospital a few days for worsening congestive heart failure causing pulmonary issues with his COPD. And then, multi-tasking, running in a gazillion directions at once, I walked nose first in the dark into an open door I’d forgotten to close. Thankfully it wasn’t broken, just wounded. Ed is “ok” but continues to struggle with activities of daily living, as exercise-induced shortness of breath and weakness take over… just as frustration and learning to accept more limitations within his many diagnoses affect us both. Knowing we are definitely not alone among so many others in facing various trials and tribulations, I re-read the words below taken from my larger essay written in 2014. Nothing can separate us from the love of God when we deal with the difficulties of life… and I needed to be reminded of that, too. For God is still here, guiding us each step of the way. I was asked to speak at a local women of faith retreat in December 2014 on their theme, “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” It was an honor to have been asked to share my life’s faith testimony, but it was also a humbling experience to open my heart in a “public” venue. It’s entirely different from writing poems and reflections “behind the scenes” for my blog, Poetic Devotions. While God has graciously given me more understanding and wisdom gained over a lifetime of spiritual growth, He has also continued to draw me into a deeper faith through all of life’s ups and downs. This may not seem like a Christmas type message, but without the birth of our Savior, who would we seek when times get tough? My prayer is that God will use these words taken from my larger speech to bless your heart. I’m the oldest of six children, blessed to be born into a Christian family, albeit a somewhat dysfunctional and fractured family, with my father divorcing my mother not long after I married. There was never a time I did not know about Jesus from church, Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and Christian elementary school. At 14, having moved 15 times, and to a new school district for the fifth time, saying I had no friends, my father reminded me that as a little girl I would say Jesus was my best friend. Ouch! I’d forgotten that! At 15, I recognized my need for Jesus as my Savior and asked Him into my heart. Still, I did not seek God and His will as I should have during my late teens. Yet, it’s in knowing that when I seek the Lord with my confession and repentance, He forgives me and wipes my slate clean for “…as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” (Ps.103:12 NIV) I was married at 19 to Edward in October 1974, waiting until the fall crops were in. Celebrating our 47th anniversary this past fall, I look back and see how immature I was. But I also look back and see how faithful the Lord has been, always beside me, guiding and drawing me closer to Himself, giving me a husband whose love, insight, and wisdom have met my needs. Like other young couples, Ed and I thought we’d live happily ever after without problems. Instead, like so many others, our life together seems to have been one struggle after another, though it’s how we react and what we learn that makes a difference. There was a time years ago when I did not understand that… when I felt lost, questioned whether I was truly saved, not knowing how to accept or learn from problems sent my way. But the Lord took the wounds and scars in my life and turned them into blessings as He helped me grow spiritually through those tough times. Admittedly, it’s been the journey of a lifetime learning to seek God, to listen to His still small voice and nudges within my heart. Sometimes His message is loud and clear. Sometimes God is quiet and doesn’t seem to hear my prayers, with no clear answers, no direction, no healings. Yet, it’s in those times that I remind myself to keep moving forward in faith knowing that God is with each of us through the tears and difficulties, not just the best of times, for “…we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28 NIV) Despite my share of struggles and failures when I take the reins instead of allowing God to have control, I can honestly say, as I look back, that it’s also been through the toughest days that God has blessed me in many ways. Sometimes I long for a quiet simple life, one without any difficulties. But that is not the life given to me. I need to rest knowing that He is in control. He uses our struggles to teach us, to draw us closer to Himself, and to reach others through struggles we go through. He understands what we face and allows our difficulties in order to help mold us into the person He wants us to become. And I can’t help but wonder if I would have grown spiritually if I had never faced the various trials sent my way. For God does not heal us of our problems the way we want just because we pray for healing. Literally being told that Ed was not healed of his blindness because we were not praying right, or that we should pray certain ways for healing, set dangerous tones of self-centeredness, not seeking or accepting God’s will. As we scroll through Scripture, we find that Paul sought the Lord three times to be healed of his “thorn in the flesh.” Instead of healing, he heard the Lord say, “’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness…’” and Paul responded by saying “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weakness… for when I am weak, then I am strong.” (II Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV) Yet, Ed and I know how hard it is to live out those words of faith when we have not seen the healing we prayed for. So, it’s the Lord’s wisdom I seek to guide my steps, to direct my path, to cover me with mercy when I am weak and fail yet again. And when I’m so often stressed to the max by life and its busyness, I find He is there, even in the mundane. He’s teaching me to seek Him… to lean on Him… giving me peace and contentment in the turbulence. In this, I can find satisfaction doing what He expects of me even when it’s not the easiest path nor the direction I want to go. For our walk of faith takes us to new dimensions with Christ that we would not have known without those difficulties. As the Lord has drawn me and Ed closer to Himself, He has strengthened our faith, taught us forgiveness and patience under his grace and mercy, and carried us when we feel so overwhelmed. He has been with us through days when we wondered why it seemed He wasn’t answering our prayers… when we lost our two unborn babies, later giving birth to three beautiful healthy children; when Ed, a premature twin who was legally blind from pure oxygen in the incubator, went to an eye doctor for vision issues, told to quit farming that day, had 9-hr retinal/eye surgery, and I had to find a job; long-term effects of my undiagnosed PTSD from past abuse; my Tourette’s syndrome since age 10; when our son was diagnosed with a rare congenital heart situation needing an implanted defibrillator; when our oldest daughter died at age 25 from an undiagnosed heart abnormality; when Ed went to The Carroll Center for the Blind for training, then lost his job as customer service rep after 9/11, telling God he’d tried everything he could to find work, putting it in God’s hands to find him a job – and God answered him with a new job when the company’s owner knocked on our door to ask what Ed could do for them! When I had multiple neck fusions, back and hand surgeries, an autoimmune disorder (pulmonary sarcoidosis) with severe IBS necessitating a very restricted diet, and breast cancer. When Ed had permanent statin drug muscle damage needing multiple surgeries to repair torn cartilage in knees and shoulder from struggling to stand from sitting, neck fusion, a brain shunt causing seizures, unrelenting pain and dizziness since 2008, severe congestive heart failure, COPD on chronic asthma, diabetes; and much more I’m not going to list… But now, retired, I’ve been blessed with a sub position in our local public schools, hoping to make a difference in the lives of local youngsters. Through it all, God showered us with love in answering our prayers in ways that best fit His plan. As my friend Natalie wrote, “God does not always reward faith with blessings. He allows our faith to undergo challenges - to be tried through a fiery testing.” Job, Paul and James all speak of God knowing our path through trials as we persevere in faith and wait on God’s timing, as hard as that is at times. And in seeking Jesus this Christmas season, may we each find Him in the humblest of places within our heart… not in the rich embellishments and trappings which boldly confront us. May we find Him in serving others with a heart of love, even the least among us… in caring for the hurting souls among the noisy din of humanity. Then, wherever love is needed, may we reach out to reveal Christ among us, and know the gift of His strength and comfort, and hope and peace in the midst of life’s turmoil. For with that peace comes the gift of inner joy because in Matthew 6:33 we are told to “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” In this joyous Christmas holiday season as we celebrate the birth of our dear Lord and Savior, may we all remember to wisely seek Him first… whatever comes our way. Seeking You Linda A. Roorda Seeking you Lord, Your will in my heart Giving all thanks and praise to Your name, As Your loving hand with mercy and grace Guides through rough seas to calm peaceful shores. Seeking you Lord, in the dark of night When sleep won’t come and dreams bring on fears, As I arise to the morning dews And greet the sun for a bright new day. I’m drawn to Your side when cares overwhelm Teach me Your ways from words filled with hope. Grant me Your peace when life darkens doors Guide every step, Your wisdom impart. With riches great we travel secure Thinking we have control of our life, But when troubles come we turn quick to you Pleading for strength to carry us through. This strength I seek from Your loving arms Moment by moment to face new demands With head bent low my prayers rise to You To humbly shine Your light from within. May I ever know You walk alongside Guiding my steps and the path that I take May words expressed show love to others From a heart that seeks your wisdom and truth. Then may I know Your mercy and grace Covers my soul with comforting peace Granting wisdom from within Your word As I praise Your name and seek Your will first. ~~

December 5th is a day my/our Dutch ancestors celebrated Saint Nicholas Day or Eve, part of traditional European Christmas celebrations for centuries. My cousin Sytske Visscher in the Netherlands shared that “St. Nicolas Day/Sinterklaas Day is celebrated on December 5, or the weekend before or after. According to the myth, the Bishop of Myra in Turkey (St. Nicolas) was born on December 6 and started to give presents to the poor members of his congregation on the evening before, December 5. Families nowadays decide to celebrate the weekend before or after the official day. Especially celebrating with only adults can better be organized on a weekend (Friday or Saturday evening) when most people do not have to go to work the next day. Many not only give presents but also make poems to say something to the receiver of the present about what happened to him or her in the last year.” I think Christmas is everyone’s favorite time of year, especially a white Christmas! Right?! Even shopping begins in earnest the day after Thanksgiving. But, many of our current holiday traditions either changed dramatically or began only in the 19th century. Writing in the “Broader View Weekly” local newspaper in December 2012, I explored the origins of many of our American Christmas traditions. The Dutch word “Sinterklaas” for Saint Nicholas is considered the origin of our American “Santa Claus” with Washington Irving and Clement C. Moore helping to make him who he is today. The earliest writing in America of a figure resembling our modern Santa can be found in Washington Irving’s satire of Dutch culture. In “History of New York” published in 1809, Irving writes in chapter IX: "At this early period…hanging up a stocking in the chimney on St. Nicholas eve…is always found in the morning miraculously filled; for the good St. Nicholas has ever been a great giver of gifts, particularly to children." Clement C. Moore immortalized St. Nicholas in “’Twas The Night Before Christmas.” In this ode to St. Nick, he appears on December 24th, Christmas Eve in America, not the traditional St. Nicholas Day/Eve of December 5 or December 6. Moore’s poem, published anonymously in a Troy, New York newspaper on December 23, 1823, promotes a new appearance to the original lean St. Nicholas: “He had a broad face and a little round belly…He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf…[with a] "sleigh full of Toys" [and] "eight tiny reindeer…[as] Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound." The two original reindeer names of Donder and Blixem were later changed to Donner and Blitzen. Once again, the Dutch influence in the former New Netherlands was involved as “donder” means thunder and “bliksem” means lightning. While Irving and Moore both present the jolly gift giver as Saint Nicholas, political cartoonist Thomas Nast is considered the first to refer to “Santa Claus” in his illustration for the January 3, 1863 edition of “Harpers Weekly.” President Lincoln had requested that Nast depict St. Nicholas visiting the Union troops. Nast’s illustration shows Santa Claus sitting on his sleigh at a U.S. Army camp, handing out gifts in front of a “Welcome Santa Claus” sign. Another treasured tradition of our modern Christmas is Charles Dickens’ short story, “A Christmas Carol,” written as a commentary on the greed of Victorian England. Available in book stores the week before Christmas 1843, it sold very well, never being out of print since. Scrooge has the distinction of being one of the most well-known literary characters. But, what do we care… Bah, humbug! Our decorated Christmas tree comes from German traditions with Queen Victoria’s husband Prince Albert putting up the first decorated tree at Windsor Castle in 1841. Based on illustrations of this event published in America in 1849, Christmas trees then became fashionable on this side of the “pond.” Small candles were used to light the tree, with popcorn and cranberry strings typically used for decoration. From the religious aspect, Christmas celebrations differed in many ways based on national origin. I found it interesting to learn that Christmas celebrations were outlawed in Boston by the Puritans in the mid to late 17th century with fines for violations, while the Jamestown, Virginia settlers enjoyed their merry celebrations under Capt. John Smith. After the American Revolution, Americans looked down on English traditions, including Christmas. Apparently, Congress was even in session on December 25, 1789! In fact, Christmas did not become a federal holiday until Congress declared it such on June 26, 1870. By the late 19th century, celebrating Christmas was made popular through children’s books and women’s magazines. Church Sunday School classes began encouraging celebrations, and families were decorating Christmas trees with everyone “knowing” Santa Claus delivered gifts on Christmas Eve, traditions which have been carried on into the 21st century. Other popular traditions we all look forward to include decorating our homes and trees, baking scrumptious special treats, singing carols, and either making or shopping for just the right gift for each special person on our list. But, alas, the years have also taken a simple celebration in honor of Jesus’ birth and made it into a highly marketed holiday, one often filled with ostentatious materialism. Personally, I prefer to step back to the simpler traditions of my Dutch ancestry and childhood home, one without “all the trappings” and media frenzy. With my dad being a first generation Dutch-American, we veered from Dutch tradition in some ways. We maintained Christmas Day with a morning church service and a big family dinner; but, our gift-giving was held the Saturday before Christmas, not the Dutch traditional day of December 5. My husband’s Dutch family gave gifts on Christmas Eve as they had Christmas morning worship service after barn chores, but we decided on Christmas morning for our kids to open gifts. My first and last adoration of Santa Claus came the Christmas I was 5 years old when Santa visited my grandparents in Clifton, New Jersey. We three oldest granddaughters shyly sat on his lap to share our wants. Afterwards, my grandmother took us to an upstairs window to watch Santa and his reindeer leave. All I saw was a car with red tail lights driving away between the snowbanks. At that moment, I was crushed and disillusioned, and just knew there was absolutely no Santa Claus because, despite dressing the part, he did not have a sleigh and reindeer! After all, everyone’s favorite reindeer is Rudolph with his nose so bright! Supposedly written by Robert L. May for his daughter when her mother was dying of cancer, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was actually written in 1939 for his employer, Montgomery Ward, as a Christmas book given out free to customers. Though May’s wife did die around the time he wrote the story, he read it to his 4-year-old daughter as he worked on it simply to ensure it held a child’s interest. With memories of his own childhood, May decided on a tale with roots in “The Ugly Duckling” and the taunts he had suffered as a child. Poor Rudolph was ostracized by other reindeer for being different, having an obvious physical abnormality… a glowing red nose. No one else had one! Regardless of his defect, Rudolph thrived under his parents’ love, overcame his disability and the taunts to became a responsible young deer! And then one foggy night, Santa noticed how Rudolph’s nose shone through the dark, and asked him to lead the team of reindeer pulling his sleigh on Christmas Eve! How excited and honored Rudolph must have felt! We’ve all been blessed with special Christmas memories over the years. While visiting my mom at Elderwood nursing home in the past, she shared that her mother had always put up and decorated a large Christmas tree in their front parlor. It was a big change for her to learn that her new husband was not so inclined to such displays due to his more austere Dutch upbringing. With limited decorations and no trees until my mid-teens when my dad finally gave in to the pleading of his six kids, I have found it difficult to step out of that mold. Yet, I have enjoyed putting up a tree with lights and decorations when our three children were young. And now, since my mother-in-law gave me her ceramic tree the Christmas before she passed away, I am honored to share her generosity in this smaller and simpler display. My favorite Christmas memory was when my husband, Ed, farmed with his dad. With finances tight, I usually sewed clothes for all of us. But, one year I also made doll beds for each of our children by taking free boxes from the local grocery store, gluing the bottoms together, and covering them with wood-grain contact paper. My step-mother gave our three children a Cabbage-Patch type doll she had made, while my grandmother sewed clothes and blankets for each doll. And our kids could not have been happier! Our local churches do not have a Christmas morning service like Ed and I grew up with, though we have enjoyed the local Christmas Eve candlelight services and singing of favorite carols. We also began a tradition of reading the Christmas story with our children before they opened gifts on Christmas morning. And another favorite of our family has been the TV special, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by Charles M. Schulz. With the busy holiday shopping extravaganza and commercialization, I think we sometimes lose a little of the wonder of that very first Christmas. “Narrator: It was finally Christmastime, the best time of the year. The houses were strung with tiny colored lights, their windows shining with a warm yellow glow only Christmas could bring. The scents of pine needles and hot cocoa mingled together, wafting through the air, and the sweet sounds of Christmas carols could be heard in the distance. Fluffy white snowflakes tumbled from the sky onto a group of joyful children as they sang and laughed, skating on the frozen pond in town. Everyone was happy and full of holiday cheer. That is, everyone except for Charlie Brown…” “Charlie (to Linus): ‘I think there must be something wrong with me. I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess. I might be getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I’m still not happy. I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel…’” “Later, after a day of frustrations, Charlie says: ‘I guess you were right Linus; I shouldn’t have picked this little tree. Everything I do turns into a disaster. I guess I don’t really know what Christmas is about. Isn’t there anyone who understands what Christmas is all about?’” “Linus: ‘Sure, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.’ [Walking to the center of the stage, Linus speaks:] ‘And there were in the same country Shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not! For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger.’ And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’” [Luke 2:8-14] Did you notice Linus drops his blanket? He knew who to trust. And, for me and my family, that’s what Christmas is all about… As we begin to celebrate this Christmas season, share your special memories...

Do we remember what it was like to view the world through the eyes of a child? Sometimes yes, but a lot of times no … too often, I see the world through the lens of adulthood, from the various angles of life that have come my way. We all have much to learn in being a living example of Christ’s love for us… for He who came to this earth as a newborn babe, to experience life through the eyes of humanity while being fully God, came with a purpose… to redeem us from our sinful selves. And every once in a while, we see that unselfish core of child-like faith and vision in others. God bless you as we remember together “the reason for the season.” (My poem’s words were written a few weeks before this evening news segment aired, which prompted the following blog several years ago.) I think we often forget how to view life through the eyes of a child. Their wide-eyed innocence and purity come to us like a breath of fresh air… like a flower opening its beauty to the sun’s warm rays. But we sometimes become hardened by the realities of a harsh world. The evening news on Christmas Day 2014 (as told in Huffington Post, “Prankster Gives Homeless man $100…”) showed a brief documentary of what one homeless man did when given a $100 bill by the commentator, Josh Paler Lin. Standing at the side of a highway with a cardboard sign, the poor man must have felt like Lin was his savior when he was handed that much money! He was reluctant at first to take it, but then gladly accepted the free gift and walked away. From a distance, the cameraman inconspicuously trailed the homeless man as he took the money and walked into town. There, the man promptly entered a liquor store… and exited with two large and heavy bags. The assumption spoken in the video was that the money had been used by the homeless man to buy an awful lot of alcohol. I will admit that I, too, had felt great disappointment as I watched the man enter the liquor store. And, I, too, made an assumption by association. As the cameraman and Lin continued to follow the homeless man without his knowledge, the gentleman walked directly to a nearby park, set his bags down, and began to pull out packages… which he handed to others sitting around picnic tables. And what was he handing out? Food. After watching for just a little bit longer, Lin went over to speak with the homeless man. Lin explained what he was doing in his documentary, pointed out the cameraman a short distance away, and then asked the homeless man to explain what he had just done with his $100 bill. Impressed and teary-eyed, I then saw a youthful Lin, with hair dyed both blond and black, tell the older man he owed him an apology for his wrong assumptions. They hugged as Lin shared that he assumed the older man had come out of the store carrying two bags full of liquor. Instead, he had learned a valuable lesson from this selfless, older man who carried all his worldly possessions in a bag… and who thought of the needs of others before his own. “You just touched my heart,” Lin told him. It was then the homeless man told Lin: “There's a lot of people that are just victims of circumstance, and they didn't go homeless because they're lazy… There's a lot of good people that are homeless.” And I was reminded of this poem I had written a few weeks earlier. May I have the ability to see the world through the eyes of a child, coming to the Lord with a simple child-like faith as I put my trust in God’s great love. For as Jesus said, “…I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven… And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” (Matt. 18:3,5) With a child-like faith, may I show the world around me the same love the Lord has lavished upon me, a sinner, in need of a Savior…. quite like the homeless man in our story. It was his simple and generous love for his friends which allowed him to share the food he’d bought with the gift he’d been given. He hoarded neither the money nor the food. And in this, I learned a valuable lesson and must ask myself, “Would I have been so generous?” Yet isn’t that why Jesus humbled himself to be born into this world of sin, a world far different from the glories of His heavenly home… to share His generosity by coming to us as a newborn babe, to view this world from our perspective, and to save us from ourselves? Thank you, Lord, for loving me so much that you saw my world through the eyes of a little child so long ago… The Eyes of a Child Linda A. Roorda Through the open eyes of a little child We see our Lord without the blinders To know His love as gentle as a lamb And feel His arms envelope with peace. ~ The tender faith of one so young Is a gift from God through eyes without fear A simple trust with expectant hope Holding out hands for others to lead. ~ No guile is found within this wee soul Whose love is pure like a heart of gold Who freely gives to others in need That all may praise and bless His name. ~ Untainted youth by worldly vices Pure and trusting are innocent minds With hearts that see the best in us all And faith that hopes with unfailing love. ~ To tenderly hold the hands of a child And feel secure, encompassed by love, To view the world through innocent eyes Is to see the best in all those we meet. ~ For judging others is not their concern They simply believe that all will be well, And though their pride may rear its revolt How willing are they to forgive when wronged. ~ Their trusting heart accepts our reproof When patience is taught by living examples, For character grows with perseverance As praises true will confidence build. ~ What would we see through the eyes of a child Is it pure love that encompasses all? Is it a trust in those who provide? And through such faith do our eyes open wide? ~ Faith to trust Him who holds us through storms A trusting belief in His loving heart And with this love to simply accept He knows what’s best as He leads the way. ~ With eyes of a child may we see our Lord The giver of life, bestower of gifts The One who guides with a Shepherd’s voice Who lay down His life that we might live. ~~

If you know me well, you know that fall is not my favorite season. Oh, don’t get me wrong - I enjoy the brightly colored leaves, sunshine in a beautiful crisp blue sky, the cooler temps, the lack of stifling humidity, and the pungent odor of smoke from a well-run woodstove. But, the darker, dreary, and shorter days with leaves fluttering down to mulch the earth as they leave behind the stark contrast of bare tree limbs against a gray sky tend to bring a sadness for me. I much prefer spring and the emergence of new life. Yet, I cannot miss the fact that time and the pace of life is slowing down. There is more time to focus on home and family projects, hobbies like sewing quilts and writing blogs, and preparing for our two favorite holidays – Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even though my mood may sink a bit on a dark and dreary day, I still get excited to see the first big snow and watch the birds at my feeders. Fall is also when I find time to reflect on a year of many blessings as I begin to write our Christmas letter and remember loved ones. But it’s also the time of year that we look forward to celebrating Thanksgiving and remembering the first celebration of thanks just a few centuries ago. On Thanksgiving Day, we realize once again that we have so much to be thankful for. God has blessed us all in so many ways, yet we often (me included) tend to take much in life for granted. And I cringe every time I hear this special day called Turkey Day, instead preferring to think that deep within each of us is a heart of thanksgiving for all the blessings showered upon us each and every day. As a nation, we treasure the story of the Pilgrims’ first Thanksgiving celebration at Plimouth Colony in 1621. (The Pilgrims of Plimouth are not to be confused with the Puritans who settled the Boston area; they are each of different religious backgrounds.) The original Mayflower passengers numbered 102, with about 50 crew members, when they set sail in September 1620 for the intended destination of the Virginia Colony. Blown northward off course, they arrived in November 1620 to a barren landscape on the shores of Cape Cod amidst cold and bitter winds and snows. Signing the Mayflower Compact on November 11, 1620, their simple but well-written document laid the foundation for the new colony’s self-government in the New World. In December, the Mayflower sailed up to Plymouth Harbor. These hardy souls struggled to survive as the ravages of disease took a toll on board ship where they wintered. Only 53 passengers and half the crew remained alive in the spring. This left a straggling group of humanity to emerge from winter’s stark bleakness to face the early days of spring. Yet, the days were bright with hope and promise as the warming sun nudged green buds alive on plants and trees. They had survived! And, with God’s help, they were determined to succeed in their endeavor to settle this new land. Building huts within the protection of a fort and its cannon, they moved from the hold of the ship to life on shore. They learned to grow vegetables and hunt wild game and fish. Native Americans who had befriended them were of great assistance in teaching the best methods for growing their gardens, and hunting and fishing. At the end of harvest in October 1621, a feast was held for three days, traditionally considered the first Thanksgiving. From records kept, 53 Pilgrims and 90 Native Americans attended this great feast. By 1623, their failed communal farming effort had been given over to the more productive privatized individual family farming. With an abundant harvest following a drought and subsequent beneficial rains, Gov. William Bradford proclaimed a day of thanksgiving that same year: “Inasmuch as the great Father has given us this year an abundant harvest of Indian corn, wheat, beans, squashes, and garden vegetables, and has made the forest to abound with game and the sea with fish and clams, and inasmuch as He has protected us from the ravages of the savages, has spared us from pestilence and disease, has granted us freedom to worship God according to the dictates of our own conscience; now, I, your magistrate, do proclaim that all ye Pilgrims, with your wives and little ones, do gather at ye meeting house, on ye hill, between the hours of 9 and 12 in the day time, on Thursday, November ye 29th of the year of our Lord one thousand six hundred and twenty-three, and the third year since ye Pilgrims landed on ye Pilgrim Rock, there to listen to ye pastor, and render thanksgiving to ye Almighty God for all His blessings.” The Pilgrims’ annual tradition was followed in 1630 by the Puritans’ first celebration, in 1639 by settlers of Connecticut, and in 1644 among the Dutch of New Netherlands. Each group also set aside an annual day of thanksgiving in future years. By the 18th century, various colonies designated a day of thanksgiving for military victories or bountiful crops. In December 1777, a national day of thanksgiving within all thirteen colonies was declared and set aside by General George Washington after British General Burgoyne surrendered at Saratoga. On October 3, 1789, President Washington set aside the first Thanksgiving Day, and proclaimed such a day again in 1795. Since then, a national day of thanksgiving was proclaimed by future presidents, but not necessarily annually. It was President Abraham Lincoln who established a national Thanksgiving Day to be held on the last Thursday of November 1863. Since then, Thanksgiving has been observed annually. However, change once again took place in 1941 when President Franklin Roosevelt set the fourth Thursday of each November as the official date, and there it has remained. What foods were on the menu for the first Thanksgiving Day feast in 1621? From writings kept, the Wampanoag Native Americans killed five deer. The colonists shot wild fowl – likely geese, ducks and turkey. Indian corn was used since what we know as field and sweet corn were not yet available. Jennifer Monac, spokesperson for the living-history museum at Plimouth Plantation, has said they “likely supplemented their venison and birds with fish, lobster, clams, nuts, and wheat flour, as well as vegetables such as pumpkin (not in pie), squash, carrots and peas.” However, what we consider traditional foods for our Thanksgiving dinner, i.e. mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, sweet corn, cranberry sauce, stuffing and pumpkin pie, were not found on their table – these foods had not even been introduced into their diet yet! What sets this day apart for you and your family? What makes your heart thankful? What special memories or traditions of Thanksgiving Day do you share with family and friends? I’d love to hear your memories! Thanksgiving has always been a family day for us, whether during my childhood or with my husband and our children. When I was a small child, my dad had farm chores; but we always attended a morning worship service. In my late teens, and no longer on the farm, and no worship service at our church, he often took us hunting which I thoroughly enjoyed! For my husband, Ed, every holiday was wrapped in the necessary milking and barn chores, continuing after we married. I especially enjoyed the big dinners after church at my dad’s parents’ home in Clifton, New Jersey in my early teens. With her Dutch accent, my grandmother always welcomed us at the door with her cheery “Hello, Dear!” My grandfather, a general contractor, had fully shed his accent, though they both spoke Dutch when we grandkids were not to know the content of their conversation! And I well remember their food-laden table, surrounded by their three children and spouses, and all of us grandchildren. Thanksgiving Day also brings to mind the quintessential painting by Norman Rockwell of the family gathered around the table - Grandma setting down the large platter of turkey, eagerly awaiting Grandpa’s carving. When our three children were young, I began a fun tradition of naming our birds either Sir Thomas or Miss Henrietta, depending on their size. Growing up, our children always enjoyed watching the Thanksgiving Day parades. I often had to work this holiday years ago as a medical transcriptionist for a local hospital, and looked forward to coming home to the delicious aroma of turkey dinner begun by my husband and children. Now, with our two remaining children grown and married, and each with children of their own, they celebrate with their respective spouse’s family. Ed and I celebrate with a small quiet dinner. And then, we eagerly anticipate Christmas and the return of our family for a few days. Thanksgiving Day also never fails to remind us of those who have left behind an empty chair and a hole in our hearts – our oldest daughter, my husband’s parents, and both of my parents. Yet, sweet memories of their love cast a warm glow over all. With thankful hearts for the many blessings God has so generously bestowed on each of us, I wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving Day!

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. ~~

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... ~~

It feels so good to feel good again! As some of my friends know, my blog absence last weekend was due to being bedridden with covid, despite vaccines. And I’m very thankful to say that tho he continues to deal with daily CHF/congestion/edema struggles, Ed did not get covid… at least not yet. In fact, we celebrated our anniversary with Sayre/Athens, PA’s Greater Valley EMS giving Ed an IV to help relieve fluid retention. It’s a service thru a government grant to help keep patients from going to the ER or being hospitalized, definitely a beneficial program. We are also very thankful to be celebrating 48 years together… a lot of memories have passed thru those years… with our biggest Thank You going to God for always being there, providing the foundation and support on which we have leaned. Anniversaries come and go – with some more special than others. Like bookends, anniversaries hold between them the memories of our lives... of a special deep love, of change and growth, of difficult and painful times, and of joyous days. October 26 marked our 48th anniversary. In years past, I remembered our anniversary with special poems to celebrate where life had taken us all these years. This poem, written in 2014, is a more contemplative poem that essentially wrote itself, words pouring out faster than my fingers could type. The decades have seen a lot of love expressed, and a lot of change within ourselves and our family. And though the years have witnessed much sadness, the Lord has also blessed us with abundant joy and peace. As part of our vows 48 years ago, Edward promised me his deepest love, unselfish devotion and tenderest care. He promised to direct our lives into a path of faith and hope in Christ as a faithful husband, no matter what lay ahead. Expressing deepest joy, I came into a new life with him as my husband, loving him, learning from him, and seeking to please him. As God had prepared me for him, I vowed to strengthen, comfort and encourage him, no matter what lay ahead. Though imperfect, we’ve sure tried! True love cannot remain the same or it will become stagnant, for without growth it ceases to exist. Yet, how often don’t we find that love grows best facing the difficulties of life… those hard times which can either draw two hearts closer or tear them asunder. Love must be nurtured and fed, given room to grow… to expand horizons… in order to complement and care for each other. As my poem attempts to portray, love is much more than dreams… much more than a starry-eyed adoration. It’s so much more than this. True love is all about teamwork that strengthens the bond. True love is a choice to remain committed to vows made before God on a joyous and happy wedding day… because the tough times will come. We’ve been there. We’ve seen days we thought would never end… when it just might have been easier to give up and walk away. For those tough times will attempt to tear apart bonds once considered unbreakable… offering an easy way out to a seemingly better life… for little tears can either become permanent scars that irritate, or become scars which heal the inner soul to bring wisdom and understanding with a deeper love. True love is also about making sacrifices… thinking more highly of our spouse than ourself… carrying the one who stumbles or becomes ill long term… opening up with total and complete honesty to each other… extending forgiveness and grace with arms open wide… for true love grows stronger as the foundation is strengthened. “For neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.” (I Cor.3:7 NIV) Which reminds me of the great biblical love chapter: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres… And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (I Cor.13:4-7, 13 NIV) And I believe true love is a love which draws its strength from the Lord above. He is the nourishment that love’s growth feeds upon… for “…whatever is true, whatever is noble [honorable], whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things… and the peace of God will be with you.” (Phil.4:8-9 NIV) He is the One who walks beside us every day. In fact, like the poem, “Footsteps in The Sand,” I know the Lord has carried us during those times when we felt utterly overwhelmed by life. But, praise God, He has helped us overcome what life has tossed our way, and our bonds have become stronger than when we first began our marriage journey 48 years ago! Much More Than Dreams Linda A. Roorda Do not wonder we’ve reached this milestone! You keep my heart alive and new For do you know how much I care How much I love you even still? Yesterday was an easy path. It seemed that life was starry dreams, An open book with pages to fill, Our love alone would cover all. But hidden deep in years of days Between the glowing adoration And learning who we would become Came heavy cares to weigh us down. Do not think I’d no longer love. Do not think I’d walk away To find another fleeting dream Just because our life got tough. Is not love much more than this… The starry eyes and glory dreams, Romantic notions in the air... To keep us on a journey long? Commitments made are meant to be kept Intentions deep with respect and honor To carry the one who slips and falls For love grows deep with wisdom’s grace. I love you more than long ago For it’s a trust borne out of life As hand in hand this road we’ve walked To bring a strength to ties that twine. Was there a time I could not see Beyond your heart with all its love To tenderly hold you in my soul… For is not love much more than dreams? ~~

I love the change of seasons. But it almost seems to happen while our backs are turned and we’re not quite paying attention. Like this fall. Suddenly, we realize the leaves are turning colors, the weather is cooling down, winds are getting brisker, and fall is here for sure. Many birds who had been singing all summer while they cared for their nestlings have hushed their songs and, a month or more ago, prepared to take off on their migratory routes for warmer climates. Some friends have told me that fall is their favorite season. Though it is not my favorite, autumn does hold beautiful bright colors in the changing leaves, cooler temperatures, tangy aroma of woodsmoke in the air, leaves gently fluttering down, the fragrance of pumpkin and fresh-picked apples baked into scrumptious pies, and the satisfaction of having canned tomatoes, fruits and veggies, and maybe pickles which fill the pantry shelves. I enjoyed all the gardening, canning and freezing years ago to supply our family during the winter months, and savor the memories. I also love the farm smells of fresh chopped corn, the pungent smell of good silage, and getting a good whiff of hay brought down from the mow. And then winter descends with its shorter and darker days. The birds who stay behind to endure the cold and snowy onslaught easily find feeders filled with favorite seeds. Unfortunately, back in 2013 when this was originally written, I came to a tough decision and stopped feeding my birds year around, a first after 30 years. I do miss my birds, though, with their constant twitter brightening the dark and cloudy days. I also miss seeing the variety of birds during their migratory flights. There would be great excitement in searching through my “Birds of North America” by Fred Alsop, finding new birds to add to my list as they stopped in for a snack on their way south or the return trip north. I love the first snowfalls which create a magic and beautiful white landscape. I enjoy the beauty of a wet snow as it clings to every branch, every nook and cranny, but not when it brings those limbs or wires down. And I will also readily admit that soon after the new year I am ready to be done with snow and cold weather, though a long stretch still remains ahead. I remember an ice storm years ago, after which my birds attempted to dine on seeds splayed out on the ice. Gingerly walking up an ice-covered slope of snow, they’d go sliding back down, virtually every time. It was humorous, and I could only wonder if they were as entertained as I was! Hey, Woodstock! Look at me…whee!!! As the wintry days gradually become longer, I look forward to spring - my favorite season bringing new life, new growth, and fresh-earth smells as creation’s beauty comes alive. I love to watch the swelling green buds open daily until the full leaf emerges, having passed through several shades of green, and to watch flower buds mature into beautiful flowers, bringing color back to a dull and grayed world. There is also nothing quite like spring’s earthy smell, especially when the soil is turned over to plant a crop. What my husband misses most from farming is climbing up on his big green Oliver, carefully turning the soil over with the plow, and easing the dead furrow over to plow each field just right. When his plow turned over large flat rocks, he’d take the time to stop, pick them up, and bring them home that evening for me to build garden walls. I also find great joy in watching the birds return in the spring, setting out sugar-water feeders for hummingbirds and grape jelly for orioles. Every year I wait with anticipation for the very first robin to arrive in our yard. Our kids always knew it was spring for real when they heard Mother call out, “It’s a robin!” They’re soon followed by bluebirds, tree swallows and house sparrows all vying for a favorite nesting box among several in our yard. And with eager anticipation, we wait to catch a glimpse of nestlings as they fledge, and watch as the parents bring their youngsters to the feeders. And then, almost without realizing it, spring has become summer with its sunny warmth to brighten our days. We’ve planted vegetable gardens to reap a harvest, and flowers to appreciate their beauty, once again enjoying warm and sunny days outdoors, as autumn’s cooler weather returns and trees turn brilliant colors, while shortened hours of daylight and geese honking loudly high above in their long V formations herald the arrival of winter’s cold and blustery days of stark bare tree limbs midst a gently falling mantle of white. And so, the seasons change… year after year… Seasons of Change Linda A. Roorda It happened one day When we were not looking The passage of spring That bloomed into summer As bright sunny days Slid down into fall While leaves gently turned Bright colorful hues And changes of autumn Faded slowly away When blustery fronts Blew briskly on through From down off the barren Arctic cold slopes Leaving behind A little reminder Of all the cool fun About to begin When flakes of pure white Float gently down Reminding us that surely As seasons still change The dark gloomy days Will soon spring forward Bursting with abundant life!

I'm so glad you have those special memories with your Dad, and that you can hold onto all that he taught you and passed on! That's the key 🙂 Enjoy a great weekend!!

Awww, thank you so much Hal! I'm glad this was so meaningful to you 🙂

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