Linda Roorda

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. ~

“You have cancer.” Among the scariest words we can hear. I was in shock. My mind was racing. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks. I was both numb and yet devastated emotionally. It caught me totally off guard. Me? Cancer? I could not think clearly. My heart was pounding. I was in panic mode. This cannot be happening! I have so much to do to take care of my husband. I don’t have time for this interruption in my life! October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Diagnosed in 2014, I remain cancer free. Because a grieving process is normal when diagnosed, I share my story annually in the hope it helps encourage even one woman to make sure she does her own self breast exams and schedules a mammogram, preventing or finding breast cancer early for a good outcome. And, if facing her own diagnosis, may she know there is a lot of support available. I am so thankful for the support of my cancer team nurse, and surgeon who, on seeing me in the pre-op area for Ed’s surgery two weeks before my own surgery, simply put his arm around my shoulder briefly to offer that silent voice of compassion. My story was also shared in the past on the Christian Reformed Church Network website, and my cousin’s wife Carol submitted it to the Bradford Co., PA “Daily Review” who published it in October 2021 – all to remind others how important those exams are, because… I had actually intended to cancel my mammogram. There was too much on my plate and I simply didn’t want to take the time to go for this exam in my already hectic schedule. But, my husband (God bless him!) told me to take care of myself for once, and go get that mammogram. Dutifully, and now thankfully, I listened to him. I could not have my husband with me when I was given the results of my biopsy - he was home with his own health issues, particularly severe constant dizziness when upright, along with extensive muscle and joint pain, recovering from life-threatening pancreatitis, multitudinous medical appointments, treatments, even surgery sandwiched between my biopsies and surgery, and he had not been able to work for several months. Being blind, he cannot drive me to and from my appointments. He can’t be with me to give his emotional support at my appointments, or even be with me at my surgeries. He can’t be there to help ask questions, or simply put his strong arm of support around me… until I get home and share my fears with him. And he’s been so good to me, so loving and supportive, sharing his Godly wisdom to help calm and soothe my anxious thoughts. God blessed me with the best husband I could possibly have! But, I’m afraid. I don’t know what lies ahead. Will I get more cancer? How will I take care of my husband and everything else if I’m incapacitated? I don’t want to deal with all that I’m being forced to deal with. I want to be left alone. I want to be a little girl again without any cares or troubles. But that’s not reality. Reality means I will seek answers. And so, as a medical/radiology transcriptionist, I research my diagnosis. I read the literature from my surgeon’s office, and devour the words which reputable online medical centers or cancer associations have posted to discuss the disease and the best treatment options available. Objectively, I understand what they’re talking about… I know what the words mean. But, deep down inside, I don’t want to digest it. I’m overwhelmed. I want to push it all away. It’s become too personal. Yet, I have decisions to make. Decisions I never thought I’d be making. I’m more comfortable being on the typing end of the diagnostic language, feeling sorry for “my” patients. Knowing that others have gone through this diagnosis and treatment before, and survived, is both helpful and unhelpful… mostly because each diagnosis and the dealing and healing is personal. No one else can go through, or feel, exactly what you do. I talk with my husband’s aunt who faced her own cancer diagnosis several years ago. She made her decisions, and did what needed to be done. I like her attitude. She is a true woman of faith, an inspiration to me as she looks to our Lord for his guidance every step of the way. And gradually, after making panicked decisions, then rethinking and picking each option apart, I come to a decision I can live with. A decision my family and closest friends support me in. And I’m okay… being reassured to know my cancer has been caught at an early stage. For there are others I’ve known with a cancer diagnosis and prognosis worse than mine – those who have recovered after surgery and treatments and done well, those who have been through extensive treatments only to relapse, and those who have lost their lives from such a devastating disease… And my heart goes out to every cancer patient and their families for all they have gone through. This poem was written in three sections at three different times after my diagnosis. I was amazed at how the words seemed to flow with only minor adjustments. But then, I shouldn’t be amazed at a God who has held my whole life in His hands. And I praise the God who blesses me with the words and thoughts to write. And, while contemplating it all, this favorite verse of my late daughter, Jennifer, came to mind. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13) I had embroidered it in a floral design to hang on the wall when she went to Houghton College, also making embroideries for my other two children, Emily and Dan, with their favorite verses. I also found reassurance in “…know[ing] that in all things God works for the good of those who love him...” (Romans 8:28) While reading around this verse, I see, “…hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us…in accordance with God’s will.” (Romans 8:24-27) Even as I face my diagnosis head on, not knowing what to do or if I’m making the right decisions, God is there. He answers my heart’s prayers, which I initially didn’t even know how to express other than “Help me, God!” Then, as I read Romans 15:13, these comforting words enter my soul with more meaning than ever before, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Along this journey, I even found laughter… in, of all places, the book “Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Cancer Book, 101 Stories of Courage, Support and Love.” [pp.156-158] It was the kind of hearty laughter that brought tears to my eyes… a rolling-on-the-floor kind of laughter! It may have been stifled for a while, but laughter is still within me. And soon, smiles will once again reflect the joy deep in my heart! So, I’m at peace. I find comfort in knowing God knew this obstacle on my journey before I even came to be. He knew I would struggle, but He also knew how He would continue to draw me to His side, providing loving, caring family and friends to support me who gladly filled in for Ed by being at my side in the hospital, and bringing meals to us. To know the extent of love, caring thoughts and prayers from family, friends and neighbors in our community is overwhelming. As I’ve grappled with life’s changes, I know the Lord has had to carry me at times, but He has also led me through the maze as I’ve slowly learned to accept and deal with what He has allowed to come my way. And I renew my hope in Him as He leads me forward. HOPE Linda A. Roorda When dark is the way and fear gathers ‘round When the road seems long with twists and turns The unexpected now comes into view Quite unprepared, my course it alters. The vista ahead fraught with fear and stress. How can this be? Can’t happen to me! How do I deal with changes to come? My plate is too full. I can’t handle more! Why, Lord? I ask. I don’t understand! As I plunge into the depths of despair. I’m at a loss. Why this obstacle? Why me? But then… Why should it not be? Some days I’m numb. Some days I just cry. With a loss of hope, and a heavy heart Many life changes I don’t want to face A grief ensues, a mourning what was. As sadness descends and stress consumes I want to cry. I want to scream out. I haven’t the time. I just cannot deal. Difficult questions now haunt all my thoughts. When darkness of night seems far too long And no answers come to pleading prayers Hold me tight Lord, in Your arms of peace That without fear a new day I may face. So I withdraw to an inner retreat My haven safe away from the pain A place where I rest to gather my fears Handing them over, releasing my frets. For there on the side just waiting for me With arms open wide He hears my deep sighs The cries of my heart, the fears locked inside Taking my burdens and guiding my steps. Who but you, Lord? Who else but you? Who cares enough to count every tear? Who feels the pain, the fear and anguish That steals the joy from within my heart? Hope like a beacon peeks brightly through tears With a peace that calms my troubled seas Always at my side with a whisper soft Drawing me near and holding me close. Though I’ve felt lost while clinging to faith You’re always here embracing with love Returning my joy to face each new dawn Giving me hope in the peace of Your Light. ~~

Today, I’m celebrating the gift of my mother. Growing up, we heard very little about my Mom’s childhood years, though I loved visiting my relatives on The Farm, sleeping in the big feather bed with feather blankets and pillows, admiring all the antiques, waking up to the clinking milk cans being put on the truck to go to the creamery, walking through the barn and fields with cousins Sandy and Gary, eating my first bowl of Life cereal at their huge table, the kitchen with floor to ceiling cabinets from one end to the other, and playing inside the big farmhouse. This was a place I loved, of which I carry my own special memories. Enjoy this look back to my mother’s childhood, a time and place that emanates the images of “home. My mother, Reba, was born and raised on a farm in Carlisle, Schoharie County, NY at the corner of Cemetery Road with the house fronting Rt. 20, the Great Western Turnpike. Her parents were Leo Jacob and Laura Eliza (McNeill) Tillapaugh. As #11 of 12 kids, Reba grew up on a large dairy farm which included pigs and about 3000 chickens, with draft horses/black Shires doing the field work. They did okay during the Great Depression because their farm and large garden provided food for winter. Her parents drilled a well for running water after they’d been married about 20 years and had 10 kids, with two more to follow. I cannot imagine the work of running a home and farm, and a large family, without running water! Grandma T. cooked large meals every day, made delicious homemade bread in a kitchen woodstove oven, made scrumptious cookies (I remember her big tin of molasses cookies in the huge pantry from which she let us get our own cookies, after we asked her of course!), homemade ice cream, plus fed traveling crews at harvest time. She also found time to tat and embroider, raise a vegetable garden to can for winter, grew gorgeous flowers, visited the sick and shut-ins, and more. My mom remembers that the winters were much worse than they are today. “It seems like it got cold earlier in the fall than now. We would pick drop apples in the fall and have cider made. My mother kept a 20-gal. crock by the back door of the farmhouse. I remember coming home after school and running to that crock, breaking the ice, and drinking some of that tasty cider! My favorite black farm cat, Skippy, had 7 toes on his front feet; he’d stand on his hind feet, reach up and turn doorknobs with his front paws!! I attended the one-room schoolhouse, William Golding, which used a dry cell system for power like my dad did before electric was put in, and the school had an outhouse. My favorite teacher in the one-room schoolhouse was Miss Santora who went skiing in the fields with us kids! We had a big woodstove in the center of the schoolhouse, and when it was very cold we would sit around it to keep warm. I remember the temperature was -25 degrees one morning, but my father was not able to convince the principal to close school that day. Somehow, we got there, but then it closed at noon. My sister and I tried to walk home but it was hard to breathe in the bitter cold and wind, so we called my father to pick us up at the Brand Restaurant opposite the school. It was normal to get 2 feet of snow in storms or blizzards. The wind was so bad in big snowstorms you didn’t know which way you were going. I’m told that in the Oswego area, people tied a rope around their waist to keep from being lost. We didn’t think of that but we always made it. My father had a big wooden scoop pulled by the horses to clear snow out of the driveway. In 1943, my father bought a Massey-Harris tractor; later he had the steel lug wheels changed to rubber tires, and a plow was rigged on that tractor. We had an ice storm, I believe in February 1943, and light poles snapped like toothpicks. The town had an old Lynn Tractor and it was used to plow town roads; for state roads, they had big motorized trucks. I don’t know what they did to clear the roads before tractors and trucks were available, but I assume horses were used. I think it was in 1945 or 1947 when the snow came and the wind blew for three weeks, and we were out of school all that time! Drifts were so high and hard we could walk the horses on top. The workers broke all the snowplows in town, but the county had a snow blower which was used to open all the roads. I heard they had to keep the blower between the light pole wires as they could not tell where the road was. I don’t know how my dad and other farmers got their milk to the creamery then, but, again, I assume they used horses. Rt. 20 was the first to be kept open in snowstorms. My parents often put people up overnight when the road conditions became terrible. Before Rt. 20 was widened about 1941, the road was very slippery when raining and was icy in winter. One time a Greyhound bus went off the road and into the field off Rt. 20, south of our house. They used a bulldozer to pull it out of the field. A state trooper would ride a big Harley during the summer. When he arrested someone, my dad, as justice of the peace, would hold court downstairs; we would be in the room above the dining room, listening through a stovepipe hole! We had at least 3000 chickens in a building west of the main house and we kids helped to water and feed them. My mother candled dozens and dozens of eggs every Sunday evening for hours. The eggs were kept cool in the basement, being weighed, cleaned, candled, and crated by hand on Sunday night, with as many as 7 large crates of 30 dozen eggs going to the hatchery in Albany every Monday morning. My mother candled hundreds and hundreds of eggs to ensure a quality product was in those crates for the hatchery. We took milk to the creamery every day in traditional milk cans, and supplied wood to heat not only our house but the church and one-room school. We raised several pigs with my father holding a neighborhood butchering day on our farm. After the butchering was done, he cut up meat for the smokehouse, put some in crocks of salt brine, and made homemade sausage, etc. As gangs of local farmers traveled from farm to farm to help each other at harvest, my mother fed the crews when our farm was harvested. She had all her recipes tucked away in her head, and made the most delicious ice cream, hand cranked by us kids clamoring for a turn! She even shared beautiful flowers from her gardens with local shut-ins. About 1938 or 1939, Admiral Byrd’s snowmobile, the Snow Cruiser, was run up Rt. 20 on its way to Antarctica. As a child, age 5 or 6, I was afraid to go inside when it stopped near our farm on Rt.20. The rubber tires were not appropriate for use in the severe cold, and it was abandoned in Antarctica. There was an article and photo about it in the July/August 1996 “Reminisce” magazine, pp. 39-40.” My family made our own maple syrup and sold some, and still do that now. Back when I was little, my brothers would tap 300 maple trees for sap to be boiled down to syrup, so sugar rationing during World War II was not a problem for us. We trudged through deep snow in the woods each spring to help. My brothers also cut ice off the ponds in the winter, stacking and packing it in sawdust in the icehouse on the back side of the barn. Ice was cut from farm to farm the same way summer crops were harvested - by harvesting bees of many farmers working together. It doesn’t seem like ponds freeze over long enough or thick enough to do this now. That ice sure helped make my mother’s delicious ice cream – I think hers was the best at the ice cream socials! ~~ I, Linda, remember my mother Reba saying she and her next older sister Shirley, and youngest sister Lois, were in the 4-H with a lot of pins and awards. When fair time came, they got vegetables ready for show at the Cobleskill Fair, forcing mom into canning and freezing. Lois remembers we dug up all the veggies in the garden in order to display 'uniform' vegetables!!! Thinking back, Lois says, “she might have wanted to kill us, but it kept us grounded and out of trouble. Wouldn't trade it…!” My cousin Allan remembered our Aunt Lois trying to ride a heifer to their house as if it was a horse. OH THE GOOD OLD DAYS!!!!!!!! My Mom also shared that growing up in the Great Depression you made your own fun. She remembered her father had an old school bus, and the kids would go there go in there to play and sit and talk. At Christmas there was a very large family gathering at the long table. She helped walk the draft horses, black Shires, to pull the ropes which helped her brothers put the hay up into the mow. She and a few of the younger sibs took their Little Red Wagon out by the road to pick up the grass mown by the hi-way dept. They’d pile the wagon high, and pull it back to the barn. Mind you, this was in the days of real horsepower. So, imitating how their dad and older brothers put hay up into the mow with the huge hayforks on rope pulleys with the horses doing the work, she and her sibs took ice tongs and smaller ropes, slinging the rope up over the pipes above the cow stanchions. With kids on each side, the ice tongs held bits of hay as the kids on the other side lugged on the rope to pull the hay up and over, and down into the feeding trough for the cows! Now that’s imagination! Reminds me how I used to milk cows when I was 4-5. In the barn with my dad as he milked in Marion, NY, I stood on a bale of hay, moving an old teakettle along on the road-side wall ledge, I’d stop to “milk a cow” every few inches! My mother’s father was a jack-of-all trades, not just a farmer, but a man before his time. It was from him that I inherited green eyes. He built a top-quality registered Holstein herd with Canadian Holstein-Friesian bulls before most other farmers. I remember seeing the bulls as a kid in their pens as I peered between cracks in their wooden stalls. Besides a dairy herd and chickens, he raised pigs, and sold extra hay. He took community responsibility seriously as Carlisle town highway superintendent, Carlisle school superintendent, Justice of the Peace, and Cobleskill school board member and president. A highly respected man of the community was my Grandpa Leo, as well as Grandma Laura.

Sitting in my East Garden yesterday, I absorbed the warm sunny rays while viewing the garden’s fading beauty, enjoying the colorful zinnias now more beautiful with recent cooler days and refreshing rain, gazing out beyond the garden proper to encompass the yard, our house, and the road beyond… listening to the golfers’ chatter and excited shouts of joy... spying birds flutter among the hidden branches above, hearing their gentle twitters – tuhweet, tuhweet… watching a gentle breeze stir the branches and leaves above me and beyond… remembering the many years that have passed us by, 40 to be exact, since we moved into our new house… thinking of all the good times and the difficult days that entered our lives… and so very thankful for the blessings of home and family. Like the tiny seed in my poem that was once upon a day planted with so much hope held within the task, to the joy it brings on seeing and touching the beauty in full array as it reaches its zenith… so it has been in our lives. Among blessings more than we take the time to count, our precious little ones have grown up from being nestled in our arms, absorbing our love and attention, building the foundation on which to stand while testing their wings, flying all too soon out into the great big world to find their own way… And that growth, that wisdom, which they eagerly absorbed into their hearts and minds, came into their lives as we parents tried to follow the wisdom from our creator, our Lord God above. “Train up a child in the way he should go, And even when he is old he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6) It is He who has established and numbered our days. “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:13-16) It is God who has blessed us with our many talents and wisdom. James, the brother of Jesus, describes such wisdom from God as, "the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere." (James 3:17) It is the same God who guides us as we seek our way along this life’s journey... though sometimes we take the reins until we recognize God’s greater wisdom is really the wiser portion, for “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105) Our pathway might be smooth or it may be rocky, strewn with one obstruction or hurdle after another… all part of what matures and teaches us, giving us a deeper understanding of life, empathy and insight to support others facing a similar storm… as we turn for peace and comfort in God lest we become arrogant, thinking we alone know best. King Solomon reminded us so long ago to “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5, 6 NIV) Or, as the King James Version says, …”and He shall direct thy paths.” But we so easily forget and take charge of those reins… only to realize later that we need to return to the true source of wisdom once again. Though Solomon wrote down his profoundly wise words centuries ago, granted to him by God through prayer on becoming king when his father died, he encourages us in our walk of life today. “The proverbs of Solomon son of David, king of Israel: for gaining wisdom and instruction; for understanding words of insight; for receiving instruction in prudent behavior, doing what is right and just and fair; for giving prudence to those who are simple, knowledge and discretion to the young -- let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance -- for understanding proverbs and parables, the sayings and riddles of the wise. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction. (Proverbs 1:1-7) And thus we see how blessed we’ve been when looking back…acknowledging how God has led us all the days of our lives… guiding us when we didn’t even realize it… using the difficulties to teach us wisdom for the future… making our paths straight for His purpose… What an awesome God we serve!! Once Upon A Day Linda A. Roorda Once upon a day a seed was planted Just a tiny seed, held gently in hand The soil was tilled and the seed tucked in Patiently waiting its growth to begin. As the rains commenced and the sun shone warm The seed emerged from protective shell, And with firm foundation of sturdy roots Its tender leaves burst into the light. While storms blew fierce it held on firm Tightly gripping its feet in the soil Its tender stem and each tiny leaf Were gently swaying, dancing to the tune. Despite the tempest our plant stood tall It weathered the storm for its roots went deep Our plant knew its purpose, the unswerving truth And humbly displayed character unbent. And so with us as we arrive at birth Helpless and feeble, but eager to grow Nourished in love with foundation deep We mature to face the storms of life. Though we might break without firm support And may wander down destruction’s lane Yet often it’s from our mistakes that we learn The wisdom of God planted deep in our soul. ~~

The words of this poem flew quickly from thoughts to paper several years ago, essentially as a prayer, asking the Lord to take me and use me… to guide me on the right path that I may bless others and not ignore a need… asking that He help me to remain faithful, to rely on His word to guide my life… With the passing of Queen Elizabeth II of England this past Thursday (September 8, 2022) at age 96, I was surprised and pleased to hear how much she treasured her relationship with Jesus, her Lord… and how much she relied on Him and His wisdom to guide her during her reign of 70 years... an amazing monarch, beloved by so many, including us Americans across the Pond. I cannot imagine the strain she must have felt at a young age when her father became king following the abdication of his brother. She knew she would someday become queen. Yet, as she faced life during and after WWII, with its difficulties then and beyond, Elizabeth was not crushed in spirit. She had an inner strength, a sense of duty with old fashioned values of grace, elegance, and respect… a beloved “Grannie” to not only her family but others. Putting her faith and trust in God to lead her through the many storms of life, as queen she prayed that “God may give me wisdom and strength to carry out the solemn promises I shall be making, and that I may faithfully serve Him and you, all the days of my life.” (Christmas 1952 address) … “For me, the teachings of Christ and my own personal accountability before God provide a framework in which I try to lead my life,” she said in 2000. “I, like so many of you, have drawn great comfort in difficult times from Christ’s words and example.” In a similar vein, after writing my poem below, it reminded me of the old hymn, “Take My Life and Let It Be,” another favorite from childhood. “Take my life and let it be, consecrated, Lord, to thee; take my hands and let them move at the impulse of Thy love, at the impulse of Thy love.” Written in 1874 by Frances R. Havergal, this hymn began as her own prayer to the Lord that He would use her to reach others. Born in 1836 in England, Frances was a gifted child. She had learned to read before the age of 3, and was writing poetry by age 7. She was capable of memorizing lengthy sections of Scripture, knew several languages, and was a gifted pianist and singer. Unfortunately, her mother died when Frances was 11, leaving her with these parting words, “Fanny dear, pray God prepare you for all He is preparing for you.” And, with those words, her life-long prayer was to reach others with the love of God. We are pulled in so many directions every day. There is so much going on around us in life, while we keep all too busy in our own little world. Preoccupied with our own situations and needs, we often forget the needs of others… I know I do. As these words came to me, I realized that I need to ask the Lord to take charge of my life... to take my hand, my voice, my eyes, my ears, my feet… essentially all of me, that I would be open to seeing and meeting the needs of others while walking in His will, sharing His love. Take my hand, Lord… walk with me, and lead me on… Lord, Take My Hand Linda A. Roorda Lord, take my hand and walk with me Lead me on and show me the way And let me know You’re my companion You’ll never leave, You’ll always protect. ~ Lord, take my voice that I may yet speak Treasures of grace in praise of mercy, As I delight in Your wisdom’s depths May all my words reflect back to You. ~ Lord, take my eyes and bless my vision As I encounter those different from me May I now see the world through Your eyes That I may seek to reach out in love. ~ Lord, take my ears and grant I may hear The pleas for help, the cries from the heart May Your tender voice guide all my actions That with compassion others I may bless. ~ Lord, take my feet and guide all my steps Grant me wisdom on this path of life Keep my feet from straying aside Hold accountable the way that I take. ~ Lord, take my soul and cover with grace That I may rejoice in Your salvation, For the cleansing flood that washed over me Has created faith that trusts in You. ~ Lord, take my heart and fill me with joy Share with me Your endless love That I may then to others extend Your precious peace with bountiful praise. ~~

With another school year beginning, I was reminded of my own school days a few many years ago. Thinking back to the start of the school season when my kids were young, brings me back to my own childhood. I attended Public School #15 for kindergarten in Clifton, NJ, and two small Christian schools for elementary - East Palmyra Christian School for 1st through half of 4th, and then Passaic Christian School for the second half of 4th through 6th grade. After my family moved back to Clifton, NJ from East Palmyra, NY when I was in fourth grade, there was a verse which was our prayer at the close of every school day during 5th and 6th grades at Passaic Christian School. Under Mrs. Marie (Rev. Dick, Sr.) Oostenink, we memorized many Scripture passages, including this prayer: “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord, My strength and my redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14 KJV) It was a prayer that had settled itself in my mind though, admittedly, I had not always valued its place in my life. Still, it has often come to my thoughts over the years, reminding me of the few years at that school and the friends I’d made. But it also reminds me that, just like we as youngsters need training and guidance, so do we as adults need reminders at times. We often hear of negatives spread by gossip. Maybe we tell half-truths or outright lies to make ourselves look better to others, think we can hide behind electronic gadgets while taunting, or allow our thoughts to travel beyond the appropriate. Owning my own frustrations when overwhelmed, I’ve spoken words in haste, words regretted, words apologized for. I could have found a better way to express myself, to affirm the right way to handle difficult situations with God’s loving words as guide. In apologizing and asking forgiveness from others, we also go to our Lord in confession, receiving forgiveness from Him. It doesn’t matter what we’ve done, or where we’ve been. As we humble ourselves, He accepts our confession and guides us on our path forward… so that our words, our thoughts, and our actions will bless others and bring honor to Him. Because, when the words and meditations of our heart contemplate praise and thanksgiving, we bless someone who might be hurting… sharing joy and laughter together from the depths of our heart… even shedding tears for a friend’s loss or difficulty… simply letting them know how much we care. For “…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything is worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” (Philippians 4:8 NASB) Often, we have no idea how our words and actions affect others now or in the future. But, as we endeavor to speak and meditate on what is worthy and acceptable to our Lord and Redeemer, we will be a blessing to those around us. Meditations of My Heart Linda A. Roorda The years have shown me to value Your love A love that seems deeper than when I was young. But sometimes the trials that life brings to bear Cause my heart to tire with weakness exposed. ~ It doesn’t matter who I am now From where I’ve been You accept me still Your arms open wide with an eternal love As I say thank You for blessing my soul. ~ Thank you for guiding my life on this path Thank you for saving my soul from sin’s wrath. Thank you for words which praise your great name Though I am prone to wander away. ~ Thank you for calling me gently back home Back to your side with mercy and grace. Thank you for blessing my soul with your peace With praises to sing for loving me so. ~ For Lord you hold me in the palm of your hand Sovereign and loving, protecting and guiding. Yet what can I give to the One with all? Showers of love to those all around. ~ As I press onward to a higher goal Walking Your path to follow Your lead With praise and honor for You, my Lord In all that I do and all that I say. ~ And “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart Be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord, My strength and my redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14) Artwork photo attached sketched by Linda A. Roorda 1986.