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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Linda Roorda

    I Am Not Alone

    By Linda Roorda,

    We awoke to a beautiful layer of pure white snow covering everything this morning!  It looks so peaceful outside, and I love the imagery a fresh snow evokes – especially knowing it won’t last long as spring’s warming temps will soon take over. It’s been a busy week here again, as well as by you I’m sure, so that scene outside evokes a welcome and calming respite from the hustle and bustle of life and all its stressors. And I simply wish each of you a fresh new start to another busy new week with many blessings!
    There are times we feel as though we’re all alone… especially as we face various difficulties in life.  We may not want to burden anyone else with our concerns and troubles thinking they have enough of their own.  Yet, even the best of friends may say, “I wish I had known what you’ve been going through.  Always know that I’m here for you to lean on.”  It’s simply what a friend does… being available, while allowing time and space without demanding time for themselves.
    As I thought about this poem and the various difficulties we all may face in life, memories came back of when our oldest daughter, Jennifer, spent her first month at Houghton College.  Poor girl!  She was so homesick, a bit shy, and feeling very alone.  I had embroidered her favorite Bible verse, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) within a floral design, framed it, and left the package on top of her pillow… but had also hidden a bag of her favorite candy underneath her pillow as I made up her bed – which became a favorite tradition for all three of our children.  Unfortunately, as much as the gifts meant to her, she cried even harder on finding those treasures… precious reminders of the family she missed so much. 
    She struggled to consider anything fun early on.  Overwhelmed by this new venture, she even struggled initially to make new friends.  We kept in touch with her every day for a week, then every other day for a bit; and, before the month was out, had backed off our contact to Sunday afternoons.  She had found the strength to step out, venture forth, and make new friends in her new environment.  She felt secure, loved, and no longer “alone.”  She knew we were there if she needed us, but she was also surrounded by new friends who supported each other very well.
    Throughout life though, we may think we’re all alone at times, but we never truly are.  We are cared for and loved by our family and friends; and, most of all, we are loved and cared for by our dear Lord.  He’s the one who ultimately provides even those who gather around us in support… just as we read and find comfort in His promise, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”  (Hebrews 13:5)
    Life is all about learning to live with new challenges and continuous change.  It can unnerve the best of us as we face life’s difficulties, upheavals and rough roads.  We long for comfort and guidance on our journey.  Yet, there are times we must go through those difficulties for our own growth rather than have them removed right away just because we prayed. 
    And often we find that it’s in the storms that a special blessing of comfort and protection comes our way from the Lord, and we personally learn He will not leave us all alone.  For, as Isaiah 41:13 so fittingly says, “I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”  What comfort! 
    So, not only are we never truly alone, but God takes our hand and walks with us to calm and reassure our anxious heart.  He provides family and friends who come alongside us in visible loving support!
    When our second daughter, Emily, left for Houghton College, I embroidered her favorite verse:  “I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”  (Psalm 121:1, 2)  Throughout the rest of the psalm, we find even more comfort for “He will not let your foot slip… The Lord watches over you… The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”  (Psalm 121: 3-8)
    When it was time for our son, Dan, to make his way to Houghton, his favorite verse was also embroidered and framed:  “Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.”  (Ephesians 6:10)
    As the Lord takes hold of our hand He encourages us to “Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified, because…the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6). 
    What peace and comfort in all these verses!  Know that you are not alone… ever!   
    I Am Not Alone
    Linda A. Roorda
     
    I am not alone when the storms rage fierce
    For You are here to comfort and bless
    And lest I forget Your love is boundless
    You said You’ll not leave, You’ll never forsake.
     
    I am not alone when all else has failed
    For in my need I humbly entreat
    From depths of pain I cry out to You
    Come near to me and remove fear’s grasp.
     
    I am not alone when fear envelopes
    In the darkest night when invading thoughts
    Challenge my soul with anxious frets
    It’s then You calm with comforting peace.
     
    I am not alone when I take the reins
    You walk alongside to guide me in truth
    Whenever I think I can handle life
    You gently remind whose child I am.
     
    I am not alone in the joy that whelms
    When raging seas no longer hold fears
    For within the storm Your voice reassures
    You’ll never leave, You’ll never forsake.
    ~~
    2015
  2. Linda Roorda

    Lady Wisdom

    By Linda Roorda,

    I’ll admit to enjoying the beauty of yesterday’s snowstorm, and our wind-driven “iced grass” and drift ridges over the deeper snow, while feeling sorry for a bluebird hunkered down with his feathers pluffed out as he braved the buffeting bitter-cold winds on the telephone wire… as it made travel for many difficult on the roads with many accidents.  Yet knowing that this snow won’t last long with the warming temps coming this week helps me deal with winter’s “last gasp” as the robins and blackbirds I’ve seen this past week will also be glad to have the snow melt away.  But the pristine purity of this fresh snow also reminded me of God’s righteousness and His wisdom… a resource we can seek no matter what we do, no matter the weather...
    Wisdom... that value within our heart and soul which helps guide our steps on this path called life.  An entity more precious than gold.  Lady Wisdom’s knowledge often comes from experience, by learning and gaining insight the hard way… you know, those mistakes that can either break or make us.  She brings a common sense, discernment, shrewdness… an innate understanding of what’s best.  But, this sound judgment can be lacking when we become distracted or enticed by what seems so right, yet, in reality, is so wrong when we heed the voice of Folly.
    One of my favorite life verses is “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV)  Wisdom is knowledge we apply to every-day life God’s way.  Yet, like I’ve said before, I often think I can take the reins and direct my own steps… only to realize that I erred, once again, and need to grasp His hand, allowing God to guide me as I learn from His infinite wisdom.
    With wisdom comes the ability to discern or judge right from wrong… to think and act appropriately, and to not become enmeshed in folly’s foibles.  As God searches the depth of our heart, His Spirit reaches out to us with a still small voice in our inner being. If we’ve embedded Lady Wisdom’s truth within our heart, we’ll know whose voice to trust and follow… while folly proceeds headlong toward a path of destruction.
    And, as we humbly follow Lady Wisdom’s righteous ways, a calm and peaceful tranquility will envelope our soul.  We’ll know we’ve chosen the right path when we’ve given time and consideration to acting in a way that would receive God’s blessing.  I love the book of Proverbs for the depth of wisdom gleaned as we “Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not ignore it.  Blessed is the man who listens to me… for whoever finds me finds life… but whoever fails to find me harms himself.” (Proverbs 8:33-36 NIV)
    Lady Wisdom… a personification of God’s attributes in the feminine form.  She is not meant to take His holy place, but rather to give a human side to God’s omniscience… for “the fear [awe, respect] of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” (Proverbs 9:10 NIV) 
    Lady Wisdom
    Linda A. Roorda
    Lady wisdom carries high her torch
    She lights the way with truth on her side.
    Her words bring strength to face life’s trials
    With comfort and peace when the winds blow fierce.
    ~
    Listen and heed her still small voice
    Words to the soul that lead and protect,
    For like a lantern which brightens the way
    So is Wisdom in guiding your life.
    ~
    When lured and tempted by desires for more
    Do not be swayed by enticements sweet.
    For trust is earned with truth and respect
    A higher calling than rebellious ways.
    ~
    Seek out the Lord whose hand will uphold
    Stand firm on His word within your heart.
    Learn at His feet, discerning the right
    His knowledge gain with treasured insight.
    ~
    Be wise in judgment, perceiving the darts
    Trust in the Lord with all your heart.
    Lean not upon your own understanding
    But acknowledge Him, the giver of Wisdom.
    ~~
     
  3. Linda Roorda

    The Mentor

    By Linda Roorda,

    Today, my thoughts turn back to thank God for the mentors in my life… and I’m sure you can think of those who’ve blessed your life with encouragements along your journey.  I’d love to hear your stories of how others gave encouraging words as you grew up, or even those who came alongside you as an adult with a helpful perspective.  As you remember those who cheered you on, become a mentor to someone who could use your encouraging words.  (I’ve included the URL below my poem for the podcast, "Balms for the Soul", where my friend, Carla, has included my blogs - if you’d like to listen.)
    What do teachers Josephine Rice of East Palmyra, NY, Clara Breeman of Clifton, NJ and Kathy Haire of Owego, NY have in common? 
    We’ve all been blessed with a mentor, and likely more than one.  They come alongside to encourage us, help us understand a difficult concept, and help to guide us in the right direction.  They have an innate ability to bring out the best in us… that hidden talent or gift we didn’t even know existed. 
    I’ve had my share of mentors beginning with an elementary teacher for 1st through 3rd grades, Josephine Rice.  A self-taught teacher at East Palmyra, NY’s Christian School, she was gifted.  And she knew how to bring out the best in her students!  I’ve always remembered her teaching skills, and ability to teach three grades of about 30+ students in the same room of a small private school.  Though I distinctly remember dreading her timed math tests as she held a stopwatch in her hand, I learned a lot under her!  She also taught the finer points of phonics, and I enjoyed the old “Dick and Jane” book series when learning to read. 
    Having learned to read phonetically with certain sight recognition words, that skill continued to be a life-long benefit, particularly in my medical transcription profession when confronting unfamiliar new words.  But, it was also the foundation used to help my oldest daughter, Jenn, when she struggled learning to read.  I made flashcards for her, just as I used in Mrs. Rice’s class.  Math was also taught by rote memorization, which paid off in foundational skills retained, though math has not been my strong point.
    My next mentor was my seventh-grade English teacher, Clara Breeman, at Christopher Columbus Junior High in Clifton, NJ.  A woman with the 1960s beehive hairdo, she was mocked for appearing to be quite elderly.  She was considered by my peers to be harsh and exacting, taking no guff from anyone, the last teacher you ever wanted to have.  And, I’ll never forget my fear when I learned I had her for both homeroom and English – a dreaded combination, according to the neighborhood kids.  But, I graduated high school knowing she had been one of the best! 
    From Miss Breeman, I learned life-long foundational skills for writing, which I taught to my children when they began writing essays.  I learned to love sentence diagraming, and excelled under her tutelage.  But, I also felt her love when a young man, sitting next to me, began to taunt and mock me with his well-known sarcastic tongue.  Miss Breeman let him know in no uncertain terms that that was unacceptable behavior and would not be tolerated.  She insisted he apologize, and then moved him to another seat.  A Christian woman in a public-school setting, she had no qualms about promoting the use of the biblical book of Psalms for its poetry, from which I and others did our book reports.
    Years later, Kathy Haire, my gym teacher as a senior in Owego Free Academy, was a mentor who used praise for her “Ladies” which brought out her students’ best.  Gifted in athletic ability, I never utilized my full potential.  At Passaic Christian School when I lived in Clifton, NJ, I had excelled in double-Dutch jump rope, basketball and tetherball, with a natural high jump to block and defeat my opponents, much to my shorter 6th grade boyfriend’s chagrin. 
    Back at Clifton, NJ’s Christopher Columbus Jr. High, I had been among the fastest runners in my class, jumping hurdles with ease and room to spare on the stadium track in gym, and played a great basketball game.  Later, gym class in Owego, NY showed skill in volleyball, serving a strong ball to the guys’ team, with a springing high jump to hit and spike that ball back down over the net to score.  Then as a senior, with praise from Kathy Haire, I again played great basketball in gym, and perfected a routine on the uneven bars in gymnastics despite my initial petrifying fear of those bars!  She believed in me and gave me confidence to succeed.  I now look back at all the years missed when I could have joined track and field, tennis, volleyball or basketball teams - and the ranks of my Tillapaugh relatives with their athletic abilities and college and state records.
    Additional mentors include John and Betty LaGeorge and Pastor Doug and Lori Brock.  Their loving friendship blessed us, though they’ve moved on from the community.  Coming alongside us as a family, they included our children in babysitting and extra activities involving church and the Christian school, and simply shared God’s love and wisdom with us as a family.
    And isn’t that what our God simply asks of us… that we bless others through the gifts and talents He’s blessed us with?  Mentors model and teach wisdom, showing us a better way, perhaps a way we never thought attainable.  Mentors live out their love for others, and shower those around them with evidence of their faith in action.  May we go and do the same. 
    The Mentor
    Linda A. Roorda
    Your kind loving words enveloped my heart
    And brought out the best hidden within.
    You found the key to unlock the source
    Releasing the gifts that I never knew.
    ~
    You let me fly on wings that were new
    Discovering self with talents and skills.
    Confidence builder, you who encouraged,
    Tapped into assets just waiting to bloom.
    ~
    For like a flower about to blossom
    Absorbing kind words which nourish like rain,
    So discerning hearts that desire the best,
    Treasure the wealth emerging like dawn.
    ~
    Your gentle praise and guiding wisdom
    Opened the doors to a world unknown.
    You led the way as practice perfected
    That which had worth from talent unadorned.
    ~
    Like silver and gold refined by furnace
    Is elegance true, a beauty within.
    Always the mentor seeks out the hidden
    And brings out the glow with encouraging love.
    ~~
    To listen to this blog on Podcast:  https://open.spotify.com/show/7Big193iLjkZ5kAus2h4lU
  4. Linda Roorda
    Though my poem and blog below were written over a year ago, it seems fitting for what we are all facing today in the war that Russia has brought to Ukraine, threatening to bring to other nations. Knowing that Ed’s and my niece, Rebecca and family, had been missionaries to Kyiv for several years in the past, with their dear friends among the entire nation now in harm’s way, we are, like everyone else, brought closer to the dire situation as we watch and hear the news updates… continuing our prayers for the entire nation of Ukraine, for their success in pushing back and defeating this evil and irrational enemy.
    There’s so much sadness around us… so many tragedies with loss of life to accidents, disease, natural disasters, wars and rumors of wars… so many murders of innocents, and abuse of innocence… so much canceling, injustice, poverty, and despair… and so much loss during this Covid-19 world-wide pandemic.
    We grieve and we mourn.  As the lives of so many are turned upside down and come to a screeching halt, life goes merrily on its way for others. Yet, while we share the heavy burdens in our hearts, and assist in any way we can to restore the broken, the demands of our busy lives simply move us forward through the unrelenting sands of time… in our protected havens, safe from disaster.
    Oh, that I would see through the eyes of the Lord to be a blessing and bring comfort to those around me!  “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” (I Corinthians 14:5)  Since we each have unique and individual abilities, we are able to reach out in our own special way… as we become God’s emissaries to a world in need. 
    Not all of us sense the call to go to the ends of the world to help the hurting.  Instead, there are many ways we can help our neighbors, locally and around the world… physically, emotionally, or financially.  We can each ask ourselves what can I do…  how can I help… as we respond to the gentle nudging in our heart from our loving God.
    Which reminds me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25:35-40:  “35 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
    37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
    40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” 
    Oh, That I Would See…
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Oh, that I would see the world through Your eyes
    This broken world with its tears and fears
    Tears for the pain unleashed by life…
    Yet tears of joy when love conquers all.
     
    Tears for injustice, unfairness in life
    Cries for lost souls in depths of despair
    Tears for the hurting as storms rip apart
    The ties that once knit loving hearts as one.
     
    Tears for the needy, the shamed and the shunned
    Cries for the lost walking streets of filth
    Tears for the lonely, peering out in fear
    And those without hope, whose tears no longer flow.
     
    Tears for the hungry, the bullied and abused
    Those dying alone who long for our touch,
    As those who offer selfless acts to assist
    Are those for whom there is greater reward.
     
    For within our hearts compassion yet stirs
    As we become His hands and feet
    To carry the love of the Servant of all
    And wipe away tears we see through His eyes.
    ~~
     
  5. Linda Roorda

    Ode To A Wayward Son

    By Linda Roorda,

    This morning, we’re thankful to say that for “right now”, Ed is feeling “maybe a little better” as he put it after we increased his night-time oxygen from 2L to 2-1/2 and then to 3L last night and he slept fitfully until his usual 2 am awakening from his usual intense pain.  He was in the ER again this week with multiple arrhythmias causing havoc with his heart, ultimately causing more fluid retention and congestion, worsening CHF symptoms, with virtually no further medication options.  Tomorrow his pacemaker will be reprogrammed to counter these other arrhythmias.
    We often build a rapport with folks such that they feel comfortable opening up to share their life story with us. We then see that our life experiences combined to give us a compassion and understanding for what they’re going through, and we can offer support and empathy. And, in that, I understand how God has been gracious in accepting me despite all my faults and failures. He loves us as we in turn bring love and comfort to others… our purpose!
    May you find a purpose and be blessed this week in all you do. 
    Remember the Byrds’ song from the 1960s?  “To everything turn, turn, turn. There is a season turn, turn, turn.  And a time to every purpose under heaven…”  I suspect it’s a perennial favorite, based on Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, NIV:
    “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
    a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
    a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”
    The Parable of the Prodigal or Lost Son makes quite an impact, leaving an indelible impression… for how great is the father’s love for his wayward son during "a time for everything".  And what a treasured image of our heavenly Father toward us!
    So often we think we can do life our way, on our own terms… with a time for everything we want… and for a while we may succeed quite well at it.  We can become so enamored with the world’s vision that we are “lost” to family and our parents’ “old-fashioned” ways… “lost” to godly values that seem so out of touch with today’s modern society at large.  There’s so much more fun to be found out there than to adhere to a stricter life, or so we think.
    But ultimately, the question needs to be asked… is that all there is to life?  The fun and the pleasure, the drinking and partying … at what and whose expense?
    Like the young man from Jesus’ story in Luke 15:11-31, when we’ve exhausted ourselves and stare face to face at where life has taken us, and realize that life truly has meaning and an ending on this earth, we begin to understand that there really is so much more to life than seeking our own will and our own way through this maze of seasons.  We don’t have to claw our way over others to get to the top. 
    God created us each unique.  All of our life’s experiences, the good and the bad, have been woven into a beautiful compilation… our life’s tapestry.  We have a purpose.  What we do actually does affect others.  We can influence and encourage those who are feeling defeated.  There really is a time for everything we go through, “a season for every activity”.  Learning through our experiences, we can then bring comfort, reassurance, and hope to others because we’ve “been there.”  (II Corinthians 1:4)  And eventually, in looking back over our tapestry, the important things begin to stand out… and we know how loved we are. 
    And if it’s that comforting to know how much our own earthly father loves us, despite our biggest and stupidest mistakes… as he welcomes us back home with unconditional love and forgiveness... then how much greater is the love that our heavenly Father shows through His best gift to us… the life of His Son given to cover our sins.  “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes on Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”  (John 3:16, NIV)
    And I’m not alone to stand overwhelmed at such a free gift as I take hold of my Lord’s nail-scarred hands and accept His love and forgiveness for my sins as He welcomes me home.
    Ode To A Wayward Son
    Linda A. Roorda
    Based on the Parable of the Prodigal Son
    Luke 15:11-31, NIV
    Two sons and their dad lived a life of ease
    A family of wealth and lords over much
    The world at their door to serve every need
    A life of luxury, no wants did they know.
     
    Said the son to his dad, Give me my share!
    On my own terms my life I will live.
    Entitled I am, this world to explore,
    At my fingertips are pleasures deserved.
     
    Inheritance split between the two sons
    Elder with more, yet faithful and content.
    The younger took leave with all that he owned
    Cares tossed aside with dreams in his eyes.
     
    City life beckoned, its thrills enticing
    All that glittered midst clinking of coins,
    The drinking of wine and debauchery’s flame,
    The finest was had that money could buy.
     
    New friends abound when money flows free
    Their love is fleeting, honesty unknown.
    And when all is gone with nothing else left
    To whom do you turn?  To whom do you flee?
     
    To feed my hunger any job will do
    Slopping the pigs the lowest of low
    Food in their trough mocks my drooling mouth
    The pigs eat better than I even now.
     
    How can this be?  What’s happened to me?
    Even Dad’s servants fare better than this!
    What have I done?  How far did I fall?
    I feel a deep pain and shame for my sins.
     
    Oh that I was home, admission to make
    For I have sinned against my dear Dad
    I now understand what I never saw
    How much he loved, how much he did care.
     
    Homeward I’m bound, my steps screaming loser
    Guilty am I for squandering my share
    If I could but work as a servant to him
    I will repay all I have taken.
     
    But what do I see as a distant blur
    Running like wind, my Father alone!
    With tears and kisses he welcomes me home
    While I confess all I’ve done wrong.
     
    Oh, son!  You are loved!  Forgiven of all!
    I prayed and hoped for this day to come.
    Return to your home, your family awaits,
    We’ll celebrate now for you have returned!
     
    The older brother with jealousy rife,
    Should we yet party for one who ran off?
    He squandered it all, every cent is gone!
    And still he’s welcomed and given a feast!
     
    Oh, my dear son!  Don’t you understand?
    Your brother was lost in sin and deep shame.
    He’s learned from his sin, confessed all to Me
    With arms open wide I forgive him all.
     
    How like our Lord who welcomes us home
    Always waiting, with mercy and grace
    He knows our weakness, yet forgives in love
    With arms open wide He gave all for us.
    ~~
  6. Linda Roorda

    Your Love...

    By Linda Roorda,

    On the day before Valentine’s Day, our thoughts are turning to special ways we can express love to our treasured family and friends.  This year, wanting to express that love in a unique way, Valentine’s cards that I’d made of red and white construction paper hearts were sent off to our five Grands, wondering why I’ve never thought to make cards for them before…  In saying “I love you” to those dear to us, we share our heart with them. And that reminds me of how much our God loves each and every one of us as He expresses love to us in so many ways - if we’re paying attention. Otherwise, we might miss even the simplest of blessings all around us, seeing His handiwork in nature, His generous caring expressed just when we need it the most in just the right way… and, of course, His greatest gift of love when our dear Lord and Savior died on that cross to pay the penalty of sin for each of us… Love is a many splendored gift in so many ways.  God bless you today and always! 
    ~~
    I love it when my husband wraps his arms around me.  Being a foot shorter and about one-third the size of my 6’ 7” big guy, when those strong arms envelope me, I feel loved, protected, and sheltered… But there’s so much more to his love than those big bear hugs! 
    It was his great sense of humor that attracted my attention in the first place.  His love also encompassed special looks from his only viable eye – his silent way of speaking volumes.  Now that he can no longer see, I miss the twinkle and winks, the loving gaze, and the many changes in visual tone that I took for granted all those years ago.  But his love also embodies a physical and emotional strength that I don’t have.  And, his love includes advice from an innate wisdom that I also don’t have… and, unfortunately, have not always heeded when I should have… only to realize later on how right he was. 
    In Ed’s love, I also see a kindness, a generosity, and a forgiveness with grace and mercy… all of which remind me of my Savior’s love.  For the love the Lord showers upon us… we who don’t meet His perfect Ten Commandment standards… is powerful.  His wisdom is beyond my full comprehension... and His ways are greater than mine.  “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord.”  (Isaiah 55:8 NIV)
    Like my husband, the Lord gives me a strength to persevere in whatever trial I face which helps to see me through… as He gently holds and guides me, even though I may fret and complain about the difficulty… until I realize the wisdom He’s imparting could not have been gained except on that rocky path.  Like I’ve read - “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. (James 1:5-8)
    Followed later by:  “Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” (James 3:13-18)
    Then, as I consider how Jesus gave His perfect life for me… for each of us… as He draws us to His side... as He forgives our stupidest mistakes, and our worst sins upon our confession, and loves us despite our myriad faults… I am utterly overwhelmed.  To feel the peace that our Lord gives amidst our most difficult struggles is reminiscent of my husband’s arms wrapped around me… for it’s as we understand the love which we share with another, especially as husband and wife, that we begin to comprehend how great God’s love is for each of us. 
    Your Love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Your love is like the moon’s brilliant glow
    Like the sun’s glory to brighten the gloom
    Like pillars grand is the strength within
    As ever gently you carry my heart.
     
    Your love is like a bird in flight
    Soaring to heights above the fray
    Floating freely upon the breeze
    Seeing clearly through wisdom’s sharp gaze.
     
    Your love is like warm rays of the sun
    That awaken the dawn to welcome my day
    Cheering my soul to bask in the truth
    From the Lord’s love, the light of the world.
     
    Your love is like a pillar of strength
    That holds me up as storms rage about
    To comfort my soul when fear envelopes
    So I may know great strength from within.
     
    Your love is like a breath of fresh air
    That clears the haze which clogs my view
    So I may see the depth of your heart
    With calming peace as we become one.
     
    Your love is like a rainbow’s hues
    After the rain and trials of life
    A promise made with showers of blessings
    And simple joys to brighten my day.
     
    Your love is like arms holding me close
    Enfolding me in the depths of your heart
    Strength they exude with tenderness mild
    Tucked in your embrace with comforting peace.
    ~~
  7. Linda Roorda

    Your Voice I Hear

    By Linda Roorda,

    What our thoughts focus on tends to tell us where our heart resides.  We may focus on our loved ones, our hobbies, fun and games with friends, climbing the corporate ladder, earning a vast estate, and collecting things… reminding me of the popular saying, “The one with the most toys wins.”
    Don’t get me wrong.  These are not, in and of themselves, inherently wrong.  Instead, it’s the how and why behind that which we focus on.  I’m no different than anyone else.  I like my “things” – especially my collection of reproduction Delft, particularly the tiles hung in my kitchen which remind me of our Dutch heritage.  My grandfather had remodeled their kitchen, putting Delft tiles into the wall design, something I had always admired.
    But these things mean nothing to my spiritual and eternal well being. Instead, it’s who I heed in my heart, whose word I focus on to direct my life.  And I willingly admit, it’s not always easy to stay focused… for this life calls in all its many splendored ways.  So I especially appreciate my favorite Psalm 139:1-18, 23-24 (NIV):  “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand - when I awake, I am still with you… 23 Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting with you.”
    Years ago on the farm, a gate was accidentally left open.  Late that evening, Ed’s dad got a phone call.  Cows were in the fields of another farmer about a mile or so up the main road, and the caller was trying to determine to whom they belonged.  Ed and his dad went up to see if they were their cows, and, sure enough, they were.  But they were scattered all over!  The neighbors wondered how in the world they’d gather the whole herd and get them back to our farm.  “No problem,’ said Ed’s dad.  He simply started clapping his hands and began walking up the road.  And to the stunned amazement of the neighbors and other farmers, every one of those cows calmly and peacefully gathered behind their leader and followed him home… back to the safety of their own pasture. 
    For you see, those cows had been trained since they were little calves to come to the clapping – it meant food and a clean stall in the barn. As they grew older and became part of the milking herd, they continued to respond to their master’s call… for clapping still meant food and a clean stall in the barn at milking time!
    And isn’t this how we respond to our master, our shepherd… our Lord?  If our heart has been trained to listen to His words of wisdom, we will respond and heed His call.  When we find ourselves in time of need, we’ll seek Him and follow His leading along His path.  As Jesus said in John 10:14:  “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…”
    God knows my every thought, He establishes my path and guides my way when I wander off, calling me back to His side.  What peace and comfort are found in His words.  And may it always be His voice that I hear and pay attention to.
    Your Voice I Hear
    Linda A. Roorda 
    On You above my thoughts do focus
    You see my heart and the depths thereof,
    The secrets hidden away from the world
    For You know the thoughts that reside within.
     
    Yet I freely admit I wander away
    What You expect is beyond my grasp.
    Though I stumble, and now and then fall
    You pick me up to try once again.
     
    As Your tender voice calls gently to me
    In the midst of life and trials of pain,
    What shall I fear though my frets alarm
    When your face I seek and You are my guide.
     
    May I ever hear Your voice in my ear
    But more important may I heed the nudge
    Of a still small voice down deep in my heart
    A voice whose wisdom guides my every step.
     
    It’s a voice that brings singing to my soul
    With a joy that fills my heart with peace.
    For I cannot fail to see You around
    You’re always there to hear my heart’s song.
     
    How great is Your love that You’d call me near
    Close to Your side from out of this world,
    A world of cares, a world of troubles
    Gently enfolding, Your love touches me.
     
    For You called my name before time began
    You cared for me with a tender joy.
    You carried my heart gently in Your hands
    And stretched out Your arms to wrap me in peace.
     
    You gave away Love, the depth of Your heart
    To make my heart sing with joy each new day.
    You lift up my soul and fill me with praise
    As Your love for me encompasses all.
    ~~ 2015 ~~
    Photo taken by my friend's husband, Hugh Van Staalduinen, 
    of churches where I grew up in East Palmyra, NY.
     
  8. Linda Roorda
    We recently watched a news clip from January 10, 2022 showing a young woman driving up to a large dumpster, opening the rear door of her car, grabbing a black bag, flinging it into the dumpster, and driving away. Six hours later, passersby rummaging through the trash heard what sounded like a kitten crying. I cried as I watched a woman tenderly cuddle and caress an infant after finding the newborn boy inside that bag, while her friend called 911. My heart goes out to the teen mom, 18 years old, reportedly afraid and unsure of what to do, claiming she didn't know she was pregnant. Reading that she and her boyfriend had broken up last summer, I was also saddened that the baby's father had had no say in the future life of his child when she threw their baby into the trash. I also hope she gets some good counseling. 
    Yet, every state has safe haven laws providing a drop-off at police and fire departments, even at hospitals. Not considered abandonment of an infant up to each state’s specified age limit, safe havens will place the infant in protective custody for foster care or adoption. When teaching sex ed to our teens, perhaps it’s time we tell them about safe havens and that there are many options where someone can turn to for help, not just for an abortion, and not to throw their baby away like garbage. 
    I have also read and heard stories about survivors of attempted abortion left to die by abortion clinic personnel – infanticide is the appropriate term. Thankfully, compassion stirred the hearts of staff who sought medical care for these infants who were later adopted and loved, some of whom were born with defects due to the abortion procedure, some going on to become outspoken pro-life advocates for the value of every human life.  As one abortion survivor, Melissa Ohden, stated, “Something’s wrong when women’s empowerment is based on ending another human being’s life.”
    On February 25, 2019, the U.S. Senate failed to pass the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act by a vote of 53-44. It would have protected infants born alive following an abortion attempt. Independent journalist, Thor Benson, tweeted that “there is no such thing as an abortion survivor.” What a false narrative he promoted!
    Among a number of abortion survivors is Gianna Jessen, “born during a saline abortion” per her birth certificate with resultant cerebral palsy, a powerful pro-life speaker.  On August 22, 2013, Gianna shared her emotional journey with an Australian government audience, “We are in a battle for life and death. Which side are you on?… If abortion is just about women’s rights, then what am I? … What arrogance… that the stronger should dominate the weaker, and determine who should live or die. You cannot make your own heart beat. It is the mercy of God that sustains you, even when you hate Him… I am weaker than most of you, but this is my sermon. What a small price to pay to be able to blaze through the world as I do and offer hope. God is in control and He has a way of making the most miserable thing beautiful…”  
    With today being “Sanctity of Human Life” Sunday, I believe that extends to far more than the pro-life movement.  To me, it’s not a political issue, but one that affects our moral fiber because all life is sacred.  The intrinsic value we place on life determines how we treat others around us.  Though I realize there are differing opinions on abortion, this is a story dear to my heart. An edited and condensed version of this reflection and poem was first published at Do Justice, a section of the Office of Social Justice website for the Christian Reformed Church.
    With the 49th anniversary of January 1973’s Roe v. Wade abortion decision, I share the story of a young mother-to-be.  She already had two healthy children, but this pregnancy made her very ill, vomiting frequently, steadily worsening.  Struggling to carry this new life, her doctor sought a “medically necessary” abortion.  Three doctors needed to sign documentation indicating her life was in jeopardy if the pregnancy continued.  But, no third physician would add his name. 
    A Cesarean section was performed at 7 months’ gestation or risk losing both mother and baby.  To everyone's surprise, twin boys were born!  After surgery, the mom nearly died from the effects of toxemia (i.e. pre-eclampsia), the result of high blood pressure and the demands on her body by two babies.
    With much prayer and great medical care, she pulled through.  But, the largest twin at 5 lbs, born with an enlarged heart, died at two days of age, while the smaller twin at 3-1/2 lbs spent a month in an incubator.  This tiny preemie survived, albeit with health problems and very limited vision in only one viable eye. 
    How do I know?  The smaller twin is my husband, Edward.  We praise God that no third physician was willing to sign for an abortion which would have killed these boys before they were given a chance at life.
    By 1951, major medical centers knew that high levels of oxygen in incubators led to infant retinal damage and blindness.  But, physicians at the small hospital in Goshen, NY’s farming community were not yet aware in 1952.  As a toddler, Ed was seen by a specialist in Boston who gave him his first glasses.  Later, at about age 5, with stronger lenses, gazing out the car window he shouted, “I see them!”  Though blurry, kids sledding down a hill was something he’d never seen before.  Telling this story never failed to bring tears to his mother’s eyes.  Ed also recalls that was when he first saw outdoor Christmas light decorations.
    Taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City when age 8 or 10, his parents learned he was among about 2000 children seen in their clinic, one of only seven children with some remnants of vision.  The optic nerve to his right eye was destroyed, while his left eye had limited vision, 20/200 with ultimate correction. 
    As Ed grew up, he was determined to do nearly everything everyone else could.  Totally blind since 1998, we consider it a blessing he had limited sight for as long as he did.  The renowned musician, Stevie Wonder, has the same condition causing his blindness.  First identified in 1941, it wasn’t until 1951 that retrolental fibroplasia was proven to be caused by high-concentration oxygen in the incubator contributing to abnormal blood vessel growth which damaged the retina.  Now termed retinopathy of prematurity, it still affects a small percentage of very premature infants. 
    At about 18-21 days, the pre-born infant’s heart begins beating.  By 12 weeks, she is about 2 inches long, fully formed and recognizably human, able to feel pain.  By 14-16 weeks, being fully formed, fingers and toes have fingerprints and nails, he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, may suck a thumb, and sleeps regularly.  At full-term, 39-40 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. Your infant is not just a blob of cells and tissue, but a very real baby.
    Since Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973 allowing legal abortions in America, the numbers have reached an approximate 58.6 or 59.1 million by 2016 (depending on source).  While some data is voluntarily reported, I read other American states have not provided details in years, along with untold uncounted abortions.  
    For anyone who has aborted their baby for whatever reason, I pray she finds peace.  But, my prayer is also that each precious life be allowed to reach his or her full potential and purpose, regardless of disability.  Yet, I realize there are women in situations for whom an abortion may truly be necessary.  Such personal decisions must be difficult and painful. 
    I’ve often thought that if we care so much for those in the animal and plant world, protecting and preserving so many species from decimation, how much more precious is each and every human life?  How can we destroy human life through abortion simply because the pregnancy doesn’t fit our plans, may be the result of abuse or rape, or the pre-born child is “defective” and may be a “burden” to society?  Do we justify abortion because some parents can’t afford a baby, are unprepared to care for their children, might abuse them or kill them?  Difficult scenarios; but, even in our imperfect world, there is help including viable alternatives like adoption.  As abortion survivors will tell you, they are very thankful to be alive, even children born to rape victims… simply because their mother cared enough to give them the gift of life.
    My cousin, Randy, with an intellectual disability, grew up a kind and loving young man thanks to the love of his widowed mother, Marjorie.  Despite his disabilities, he had a strong faith in his Lord, and knew everything there was to know about his favorite baseball team and its players! 
    My step-sister’s son, Cory, was born with DeGeorge syndrome due to a missing part of chromosome 22.   Like many with disabilities, Cory had an infectious joy for life and an unconditional love for everyone he met, thanks to his mother, Janet.
    Anyone who has miscarried an unborn child understands the pain of loss. I miscarried our first little girl, Heather, at six months, apparently twins who didn’t separate, and 11 months later miscarried another little one at 3-1/2 months.
    Despite our own disabilities, some greater than others, we are each created unique and have a special place in this world for touching the lives of others.  Life is sacred, and each pre-born child is a treasured gift from God just waiting for us to open our arms and heart to their precious life. 
    As David wrote in Psalm 139:13-16:  “…you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” 
    What If…
    Linda A. Roorda
    What if…
    There was no God?
    Would we know how to love
    Or, would ego rule our lives?
    Would we each decide
    What laws to live by
    Changing like the wind
    As our wants wrest control?
     
    Would we violate
    The sanctity of life
    Simply because
    Life would not matter
    Except for the worth
    We each determine
    How best we can serve
    Our selfish ambition?
     
    And yet, what if…
    Each life among us
    Was somehow meant
    To open the eyes
    Of our heart and soul
    To a higher purpose
    To show the value
    Inherent within
    No matter the wrapping?
     
    And what if…
    We move toward each other
    And then extend
    Our outstretched hands?
    Would that not show
    Great caring and love
    From within the depths
    Of a heart overflowing?
     
    For is that not like
    The hands of One
    Extended outward
    Nailed upon a beam
    To show us how
    We too should love
    And sacrifice self
    Our gift to each other?
     
    Because… what if…
    There is a God
    Who really cares
    And Who truly loves
    Each for who we are?
    For His life was a gift
    That we would know
    Just how we should love.
    ~~
    Photo of young Ed doing his favorite thing - listening to music, knowing exactly which record was which by memorizing the logo/name on each record!
  9. Linda Roorda

    Be Still and Know

    By Linda Roorda,

    Well, we’re all hunkered down, preparing for the “big snow” tonight into tomorrow, with some to get more and some less depending on the temps and initial sleet/freezing rain. I gotta say, I’ve always loved a big snowstorm… just not the aftermath cleanup. And I also don’t have to drive 20 miles to work in it anymore!  But the coming snow reminded me of this previously unpublished poem and reflection written several years ago. Within this peaceful blanketing of snow lies the image to me of stillness before God, and contemplation of His goodness, grace and mercy, and blessings to each of us. And my prayer is that you are blessed in pausing to contemplate just a bit on the love of God toward each of us on this path called life.
    With a big snowstorm predicted for later today, we know it can be mesmerizing to watch the snow fall.  As you gaze out at those huge white flakes floating down, perhaps your eyes track one flake from high up until it settles on top of another, each one gradually adding to the depth.  And then you stand transfixed at the shower of multitudinous beautiful and one-of-a-kind flakes fluttering down… gently, softly, quietly…  It’s such a beautiful, peaceful scene, isn’t it?
    Contemplating the peace and quiet of a gentle snowfall reminds me of a Scripture verse I love, “Be still, and know that I am God...”  (Psalm 46:10 NIV)  In the stillness, we can see His majesty in creation all around us – in people and in nature.  We can hear His still small voice speaking to our heart.  In the stillness, we can consider how He would want us to handle a certain situation.  And, as we take time to ponder, we begin to see how various aspects of life fit together to help us understand the overall picture. 
    Be still… and know that God has it all under control.  He loves each of us deeply and has our best interests at heart… even when we go through the storm and upheaval of some great difficulty.  Just like Jesus’ disciples.
    After Jesus had taught the crowds in His “Sermon on the Mount,” He and the disciples went out in a boat on the Sea of Galilee to get away from the boisterous crowds looking for more.  Suddenly, a storm came up, rocking their boat as waves washed over the sides, almost flooding them out.  Even after having heard Jesus preach all day about faith and trusting God, His disciples promptly began to fret and worry in the midst of the storm… so like us, aren’t they?!  On waking the sleeping Jesus, they asked, “Don’t you care if we drown?”  Jesus simply got up and said, “Quiet!  Be still!”  The winds backed off and the big waves shrank right down to gentle calm ripples.  Wouldn’t you have liked to have been there?  Just like that, there was peace from His simple command!  (Luke 4:35-41 NIV)
    Undoubtedly, it’s a challenge for us to “be still…”  I know it’s hard for me to make quiet time to contemplate God’s goodness toward me… toward us.  Life is so busy, so hectic, filled with so many demands on our time and energy.  We need time to be still… time to stop and reflect… time to pause amidst the rush… time to get away from the challenges… time to just be still and listen to what God has to say within our heart… and time to quiet the fear and anxiety which so often grips our heart.
    I know I need to take time to be still… to read His word and pray… to ask for His guidance and wisdom amidst all that I face in this busy hectic world.
    Be still… enjoy the peace and quiet… know that He is God… and let Him be your refuge.   
    Be Still and Know
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Be still and know that He is my God.
    He is my rock, my firm foundation.
    Upon His word I stand secure
    Trusting the wisdom found only in Him.
     
    Be still and rest in mercy and grace.
    For humble Love from heaven above
    Dwelt among us to seek and to save
    Whose blood was shed for me on the cross.
     
    Be still and know He embodies Love
    He bought my soul with His precious gift
    That I’d find hope in His selfless act
    As He redeems with mercy and grace.
     
    Be still and pause to contemplate thanks
    With grateful heart as blessings abound
    Knowing their source is heavenly love
    As God above graciously bestows.
     
    Be still my soul within life’s tempests
    For He is my refuge, a shelter indeed
    He calms the storms, I rest in His arms
    To find His peace envelopes my heart.
     
    Be still and gaze with reverence and awe
    On One whose sovereign grandeur is revealed
    Bring joyful songs of worship and praise
    For He is God and He alone reigns.
     
    Be still and hear serenity’s voice
    Within my heart, throughout creation
    For in His will others we shall serve
    That we might honor and glorify Him.
     
    Be still and know our God is faithful
    He changes not though fickle we be
    His truth remains profound and secure
    That we may humbly His wisdom reflect.
    ~~
  10. Linda Roorda

    Have I?

    By Linda Roorda,

    There’s a question that’s been at the back of my mind over the years… and it’s a question we’ll all come to terms with some day.  “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”  (Matthew 16:26)
    While considering that question, I was reminded of another set of verses:  “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  Matt. 6:19-22
    And I asked myself… have I gained worldly assets, worldly wisdom, and stored up treasures for myself which praise my own deeds, or have I used my gifts to meet the needs of others?  God has blessed each one of us with special unique gifts and talents.  Have I used my talents to benefit others, or have I simply set them aside because I’m too busy to reach out to others around me?
    Which thoughts all brought me to a parable Jesus told as recorded by His disciple Matthew.  Before the master went on a long journey, he handed out talents (money) to three of his servants.  To the first, the master gave five, the second servant was given two, while the third received only one talent.  The first two put their money to work, presumably in sound investments.  The third was afraid of his tough master, and decided to hide his gift by burying it.  (Matthew 24:14-30)
    When the master returned from his long trip, he learned the first servant had doubled his money to a tidy sum of ten talents.  The second servant had done equally as good by doubling their master’s money.  Both were blessed by the master who told each of them, “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.  Come and share your master’s happiness!”  (Matt. 24:21)
    But the third servant, who did not even put his master’s money into the bank to earn interest, hid it by digging a hole in the back yard to bury the gift.  Needless to say, the master was not pleased with this servant, calling him wicked and lazy, and throwing him outside into the darkness.  (Matt. 24:26-30)  That seems so harsh and so unforgiving!  And I didn’t really understand why!
    As I continued to think about this parable as a whole, I realized that our master (our parents, our spouse, our boss at work, but especially our Lord above) is looking for us to use the gifts and talents we’ve been blessed with to benefit those around us.  Only then can we shine the light of God’s love outward through our deeds and into the world around us.  It proves that if we can be trusted in small things, we are worthy of being rewarded with a promotion to care for even greater things. 
    At the same time, this parable shows that if we’re lazy and don’t prove worthy of our master’s entrusting us with even an insignificant task, he then has no obligation to us in turn.  By doing nothing, we show we don’t care, that we’re lazy at heart, and are of absolutely no value or benefit to anyone around us, especially the master… our employer, our spouse and family, or our Lord above. 
    And then my thoughts went a little further to ponder which servant I want to be.  What have I done with the talents the Lord has so graciously given?  Have I blessed those around me with the same love the Lord has shown me?  And how can I share these blessings with others in the coming new year?  Wishing each of you, my readers, a wonderfully Blessed and Happy New Year!
    Have I?
    Linda A. Roorda
    Have I gained the world to ask at what cost?
    With whom lies my heart, to whom goes honor?
    Is it my self, an ego to serve,
    Or is it with Christ, humble Son of God?
    ~
    Have I offered my heart in service,
    And have I given to care for the poor?
    Have I shown love while holding the heart
    Of someone in need who cannot repay?
    ~
    Have I yet walked the downtrodden path?
    Have I then gazed through eyes uncovered
    To see the pain within hurting souls
    Who plod along, unnoticed, alone?
    ~
    Have I given that others will gain?
    Have I let go that which I’ve clutched tight?
    Have I traded these worldly riches
    For washing of feet and cleansing of stains?
    ~
    Have I felt tugs of heartstrings with tears
    An empathy deep to carry burdens?
    And have my prayers helped release cares
    To the One who holds our soul in His hands?
    ~
    Have I stored treasures upon this earth
    That destroy the soul like bitter deceit?
    Or have I gained a wealth eternal
    With love’s pure gift from our gracious Lord?
    ~
    How precious then is this love unearned
    That the One who served should redeem my soul.
    He lay down His life that I may arise
    To bring Him all praise, glory and honor.
    ~
    Have I then served wherever I am?
    And have I shown grace with humble wisdom
    That others may see Your love shining bright
    From within my heart to the depth of their soul?
    ~~
  11. Linda Roorda

    Fences

    By Linda Roorda,

    A fence… just a simple snow fence… part of it standing as straight and tall as the day it was put up, while other sections lean askance or lay surrendered to the elements. 
    Sometimes we see things that trigger thoughts and emotions.  And that’s what happened when I saw this photo taken and posted by our good friend, Hugh Van Staalduinen.  His wife, Kathy, and I have been friends since childhood; together, we’ve been family friends ever since our respective dating years.  
    Hugh, a retired truck driver, has built a reputation with his hobby of taking beautiful bird and butterfly photos.  He finds Sodus Point a favorite spot for taking photos of not only birds, hawks and eagles, but of the lighthouse and gorgeous sunsets over the lake.  But, every now and then he ventures beyond the aesthetic… and his photo of a simple snow fence on the beach at Sodus Point, NY caught my eye.  It spoke volumes to me, and a poem was born. 
    The Sodus area holds a special place with my earliest memories.  When I was about 3 to 4 years old, my dad worked for the Wychmere Dairy Farm.  I remember a trip to a Lake Ontario beach near Sodus then, and I can still visualize a ship on the horizon as I floated in my inner tube.  Years later, on a drive to Chimney Bluffs near Sodus Point, Hugh drove us down the exact same woodsy lane to the exact same spot on the beach which has been in my memories since childhood!  Then, as a teen, I climbed a section of Chimney Bluffs with steep spires of earth in constant change from effects of the weather.
    But, in Hugh’s simple photo of a snow fence stretching along the beach, we see strong upright sections still connected to those which are leaning or have fallen down… as though the sections are connected by helping hands reaching out, an apt reflection of life.  For me, this fence evoked images of how we often become support for others to lean upon… the stronger supporting the weaker… be it the younger assisting the elderly, the parents helping their children, or the healthy aiding the sick. 
    In James 1:19-27, with admonishment to “be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry…[and] to look after orphans and widows in their distress…” my mind saw the arms of love reaching out like those of the snow fence.  With our loving acts of listening, kindness, respect and gentleness, we come to the aid of those in need. 
    By showing this love in many ways, we meet others where they’re at…and shower them with true Christianity in action.  To sit silently by and do nothing is to stifle God’s love.  But, by abiding in His word and in His love, we are led to help those who simply need a shoulder to lean on, or a hand to lift them up after a devastating blow has laid them low.
    Oh, the images that come to mind in the simplest of scenes!  Just a simple snow fence... with some sections standing straight and tall, some leaning, and some fallen down, covered by snow and ice… an image that speaks volumes if we but listen with our heart.
    Fences by Linda A. Roorda
    As I gazed upon a fence with slats
    Meant to protect and divert a storm,
    Significance seen in sections displayed
    Some standing tall, some twisted askew.
     
    We build our fences for reasons many
    Some to protect and some to lean on/for décor,
    Some as evidence of hearts hid from view
    For a fence speaks well what words cannot say.
     
    This image evoked by words unspoken
    Is strength within that others may lean.
    Blessed with a vigor which few can maintain
    The stalwarts shelter when the weary falter.
     
    Yet there are times when a fence is built
    As a wall of sorts to block out life’s stress,
    Some meant to hide, some shielding from harm
    Both meant to offer a refuge from pain.
     
    So fences we build across life’s terrain
    Uniting with strength to carry burdens,
    Supporting others in facing the storms
    With hands held out like friends intertwined.
    ~~
     
  12. Linda Roorda

    To Be Mary...

    By Linda Roorda,

    As we approach Christmas and remember “the reason for the season”, I think back to the time when this poem and reflection were written nearly 10 years ago. Thinking about Mary, I wondered what she thought of all the simple, special and amazing events. As a Jew, waiting for the Messiah, she must have been awed and humbled to know she was especially chosen by God to bear the “Son of the Most High,” (Luke 1:31), the “Son of God.” (Luke 1:35) Even as the angel explained, and Mary accepted God’s will on her life, did she truly understand the significance of the life she would give birth to?  And out of my ponderings, came these words. 
    The precious little baby whose birth we again celebrate grew up with a purpose.  I’ve wondered what it would have been like to have watched His life unfold.  We have the advantage of looking backward with Scripture in hand.  Mary would have known the old Jewish prophecies from the past which looked to a future Messiah.  And I wonder what her life was like as she watched her little boy grow into manhood.
    But first, what did Mary think when told by an angel that she had found favor with God... that she would conceive and give birth to a son…before she was even married?  What would everyone in town think of her?!  After all, it was a punishable offense to be pregnant before marriage; she could be stoned to death!  What did she think on hearing this angel say that her son’s kingdom would never end?  (Luke 1:26-38)  Yet, Mary willingly gave of her life, telling the angel, “I am the Lord’s servant.  May it be as you have said.”  (Luke 1:38)  Later, she sang a beautiful tribute of praise to God, which we call The Magnificat:   “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant...”  (Luke 1:46-48) 
    And in Matthew 1:18-25, we learn that after Mary informed Joseph she was pregnant, he decided to divorce her quietly and to not make a public spectacle of her.  He loved her that much.  But an angel appeared to him in a dream and told him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, and to name her son Jesus, “because he will save his people from their sins.” 
    Still, it must have been hard for both Joseph and Mary to deal with the community at large as all their neighbors knew of her pregnancy before their actual marriage had taken place.  What courage and faith it must have taken on their parts to follow God so explicitly while others may very well have talked behind their backs.  May I be granted even a fraction of that kind of faith to follow my Lord.
    Can you imagine what Mary thought when shepherds sought them out to see their son in the stable… because the angels had told them they would find Him there.  And what did she think later when three wise men from the east showed up at their home… bearing gifts for her child… gifts fit for a king?  Luke 2:19 tells us she kept these things in her heart and pondered all that had taken place. What did Mary really think about as she watched her son grow up? 
    What were her thoughts during a time she and Joseph couldn’t find Jesus?  When Passover celebrations concluded in Jerusalem, the family began walking back home.  After a bit of time had passed, they realized their oldest son wasn’t with them.  Oh no!  Where could He be?  I can just imagine the fear in their hearts as they casually and then frantically searched among the crowd.  Not finding their son anywhere, they turned back towards the city with heavy hearts.  He had to be around somewhere… but, where?  He couldn’t just disappear! 
    Eventually, they found him – teaching in the synagogue.  And here these men, the Rabbis, the leaders of the synagogue, sat in rapt attention listening to all that this young lad, their son, had to say!  My word!  He was only 12 years old!  I’m sure they must have been just a little perturbed at his having caused them so much concern.  When they told him to come home, he replied, “Don’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?”  Hmmm… they must have thought that was quite an odd reply.  His dad, Joseph, was a carpenter, not a rabbi.  Did his parents realize Jesus meant his heavenly Father’s business? 
    This was just the beginning of Jesus’ unusual life and ministry.  What he did, how he grew up, where he studied… these are all unknown to us, but not to his mother.  Dear Mary must have watched with pride as her little boy, now a grown man, had quite a following.  People eagerly came to hear him and came to be healed, with many healed miraculously.  Nothing like this had ever happened before!  And though there were people who were not pleased with her son’s ministry, still, the majority seemed to listen closely to every word he said. 
    What were her thoughts as she watched her son’s special life unfold while she raised her other children?  What did she think about when her first-born son was despised and rejected, and then crucified like a common criminal? The anguish she must have suffered as tears flowed down her face. And what were her thoughts on learning her son had risen from the grave, just as He had said!  Did she realize then that He truly was God… that He was the promised Messiah to save us from our sins… and that her son was her Savior, too?  And did she understand that this was why He was born?  I’m sure she must have recalled His words, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life”! (John 3:16)  For this is why Jesus, her precious baby boy, was born.  This is why we celebrate Christmas!  Oh, the joy of it all!
    To Be Mary…
    Linda A. Roorda
    What was it like to be Mary…
    A betrothed young woman
    Not yet married but promised,
    As she carried the stigma
    Of unplanned pregnancy.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To wonder at this baby boy
    Foretold by visiting angel,
    To love the Lord, her God
    And follow His will without question.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    Giving birth to her child
    In a stable among animals,
    And to gaze in wonder
    On the life of her precious son, Jesus.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To find her son teaching
    Scholars trained and wiser than He,
    To wonder and ponder
    At His knowledge beyond their ken.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To follow crowds of people
    Who looked for healing and comfort,
    Observing her son’s miracles
    With His divine words of wisdom.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To watch her son teach and minister
    As He was loved yet despised,
    Revered yet rejected,
    Fully God and yet fully man.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To watch her son be crucified
    As He paid for our sin with His life,
    But then to see Him risen,
    Our lives redeemed for eternity!
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To know her Son was born for this
    To think He’d save the world
    But not in the way she’d hoped
    For His life was given that others might live. 
    May you be richly blessed as you ponder the life of this precious babe in this season of joy!
    Merry Christmas!
    ~~
     
  13. Linda Roorda

    Seeking You

    By Linda Roorda,

    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 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. Like this past week... Ed was in the hospital a few days for worsening congestive heart failure causing increased 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, tho it’s still sore. Ed is “ok” but continues to struggle with his ADLs, i.e. activities of daily living, as exercise-induced shortness of breath and weakness take over… as does frustration and learning to accept more limitations with his many diagnoses.  But God… is still here, still guiding us each step of the way. And with all that’s happened lately, I needed to re-read and remember these words taken from my larger essay written in 2014.  Listening to our favorite older Newsboys CDs which Ed played this morning, I heard the phrase “…’cause every time a teardrop falls, it's kicking up dust in our world of pain, let’s get drenched under God’s good rain, caught in a deluge of mercies… caught in a landslide of love.”  Because nothing separates us from the love of God even when we deal with the difficulties of life… and I needed to be reminded of that, too.   
    This may not seem like a Christmas type message, but without the birth of our Savior, who would we seek?  My prayer is that God will use these words taken from my larger speech to bless your heart. God bless you today and always.
    I’m the oldest of six children, blessed to be born into a Christian family, albeit a somewhat dysfunctional and fractured family, with my parents divorcing 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 and 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, and He has given 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 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 have 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 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 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 defect 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 (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 CHF, COPD on chronic asthma, diabetes; and so much more I'm not going to list… And now, retired, I’ve been blessed with a sub position in our local public schools, hoping to make a difference in the lives of 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 may be 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.
    ~~
  14. Linda Roorda

    Tis The Season!

    By Linda Roorda,

    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 bookstores 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 opened gifts on Christmas Eve as they had Christmas morning worship service too, 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 become 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 girl or boy 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!
  15. Linda Roorda

    The Eyes of a Child

    By Linda Roorda,

    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 various angles and tints of the life that’s come my way.  This poem came to me a few weeks before this particular evening news segment which prompted the following blog several years ago. We all have much to learn in being a living example of Christ’s love for us… He, who came to this earth as a newborn babe, to experience life through the eyes of humanity, and who, while being fully God, came with a purpose to redeem us from our sinful selves.  And every once in a while, we are vividly reminded of the unselfish core of child-like faith and vision.  God bless you as we remember “the reason for the season”.  
    I think that we, as adults, have forgotten 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. 
    As adults though, 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… exiting 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.
    But, 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 at 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, pointing out the cameraman a short distance away, and then asked the homeless man to explain what he had just done with his $100 bill. 
    I was impressed and teary-eyed to see 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…
    Wishing each of you, my readers, a Merry and Blessed Christmas!! 
    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 whom 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.
    ~~
     
  16. Linda Roorda

    Blessings

    By Linda Roorda,

    I suspect we’re all beginning to think about Thanksgiving, planning guests and menus…time to spend with family, fun and games… yet knowing we each have so much to be thankful for… every new day. But, if you’re anything like me, some of those blessings tend to be taken for granted… some things are just such an “every-day” part of our life, we forget to stand in awe of how special they really are. Being in contact with those less fortunate than we are, my heart goes out to them while seeking God’s guidance on how best to meet those needs. God gives us these opportunities to share from the bounty He’s provided us.  And may you be richly blessed this Thanksgiving in so many ways! 
    Blessings... those gifts given with no expectation of payback.  They arrive unexpectedly from many sources… from our dear family and friends, from strangers we pass on our daily path, from a special moment in time, and all from our God above.  Blessings convey love from the sender.  They invoke inspiration as we face nature’s finest moments of grandeur.  Given by our Creator God, blessings take our breath away as we pause in awe.
    Blessings come in the simple form of a thankful heart when we’ve given to meet someone else’s need without expecting a reward…
    Blessings come within the deep sense of pleasure for that special little something done as a random anonymous act of kindness and generosity to cheer another soul on their journey of life… 
    Blessings come specific to each person… for we are each created unique.  My blessings are different from yours, and yours are different from those who you know.  When we truly stop to think about it, we realize that all of life is a blessing.  I remember the old hymn from my childhood, “Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your blessings, see what God hath done…”  But, in reality, I cannot even begin to count all my blessings nor to comprehend their great number.  And that’s the key – understanding that all of life, from this entire world and universe down to our little life in and of itself, is a blessing in every way imaginable from our great and awesome God!
    Blessings come with prayer and a thankful heart as we receive them from God.  He, as creator of this universe and each of us within it, owes us nothing.  Yet, He loved us so much, despite our disobedient ungrateful hearts, that “[He] shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) We owe Him everything… every ounce of praise from our thankful heart… for from Him, we have life, even the air we breathe, and so much more which we take for granted every day… and from Him, we have our precious gift of eternal salvation that nothing can destroy.
    And when we see our life and the world around us that way, we truly see our blessings with a grateful heart… ready to offer praise with thanksgiving to God for such awesome gifts in even the simplest of treasures.  May you be blessed, today and always!!
    Blessings
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Like dawn awaking to a gentle rain
    Are blessings showered upon our lives
    From seemingly small to greatest of all
    They are the simple, and yet not trivial.
     
    We take a breath with no thought to the gift
    Each second, each minute of every new day
    Yet it’s a blessing we take for granted
    With nary a thought as to the Giver.
     
    From dawn to dusk the sun bathes our world
    As our eyes behold the beauty around us
    With its warming glow is our life enhanced
    While we think naught from whence it came.
     
    A whispered word of gentle praise
    And loving concern expressed with feeling
    Abilities shared with ease of talent
    These, too, are blessings which touch deep the soul.
     
    An act of kindness, random or thoughtful
    Given from the heart is but a reflection,
    An image of grace like that received
    And bestowed in mercy by our Lord above.
     
    Love from the heart, in tenderest form
    Treasures each life we meet on our path,
    To bless another aside from our wants
    Enriches us both as God leads our way.
    ~
     
  17. Linda Roorda
    To whom do I owe allegiance?  In whom do I put my trust?  To whom do I give credence?  Important words to contemplate for each of us in this world of conflict and hypocrisy.  Because, when we are individually or collectively silenced or canceled for our beliefs or opinions, for the sake of those who consider themselves to be “in the know” about any and all subjects, we, as a society, have ceased to listen and to understand.  We have lost our empathy, compassion and love, the ability to agree to disagree, but most of all we’ve lost true tolerance, loyalty and respect… allegiance.
    I’ve said it many times before… we are each created differently.  Our kids often heard that phrase from us as we rejected comparisons and envy around us.  We are each unique, to be respected and loved for who we are… even in our infirmities.  Just as every snowflake, every leaf, and every creature in the world of nature is different yet similar, even imperfect, so are we.  Not just physically and outwardly, but also emotionally in our thinking and reacting.  We each have different life experiences that contribute to making us who we are today, and why we think the way we do. 
    Have we not read or heard of the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? (Matthew 7:12, Luke 6:31)  In other words, haven’t we been told to put ourselves in someone else’s “shoes” to understand their life and perspective?  In so doing, we understand just a little better what their life is like, enabling us to show empathy, compassion, true tolerance, and loving kindness. And that exemplifies Jesus’ words in Mark 12:29-31: “the most important is this: …Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this:  Love your neighbor as yourself.”
    With trust placed in our God, He keeps us from stumbling.  He gives us the ability to love and respect those with whom we disagree.  But when we take our eyes off Him and His wisdom and we stumble, He is right there to help pick us up to start over again.  He welcomes us back, just like the little lost lamb He sought and brought back from danger.  For all that our great God does for each of us, I, we, owe Him our thanks, our praise, and our adoration… our allegiance. 
    To Whom Allegiance…
    Of Christ and His love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Suppose my voice were threatened to silence
    By those opposing my faith in Almighty.
    To whom allegiance, the question I’d face
    Would I still speak or in fear acquiesce?
     
    Some think it’s fair to believe at will
    Whatever goes, whatever seems right,
    To each his own, a designer faith
    That which best fits their values perceived.
     
    I’d hope my faith through testing and trial
    Would stand ever firm in the Lord of my soul.
    For the great I Am with mercy and grace
    Will gently guide when His face I seek.
     
    His wisdom my source for dealing with life,
    Yet often my search still draws me away.
    Why do I think my knowledge is best,
    And why do I fight His hands on the reins?
     
    Time and again He’s proven to me
    He truly knows best, His way unequaled.
    He pulls me up short to rein in my will
    With reassurance as He directs my steps.
     
    My voice will then share the Truth it has known
    A comforting Peace in the storms of life
    A gentle holding in the palm of His hand
    A vision of Light ever guiding my path.
    ~~
  18. Linda Roorda

    Heroes of Yesterday

    By Linda Roorda,

    I’ve read books or stories from virtually every war in which men and women of our nation, including my immediate family, relatives and ancestors, have been involved.  Their sacrifices have deeply touched my heart as I live a life of freedom, a blessing either limited or unknown to so many elsewhere in this world.  Yet, our families have not known a loss of life in war during this past century.
    A few years ago, friends of ours shared some treasured family papers with me before the reign of Covid-19 when friends could freely visit.  Several boxes of treasures were given to this friend by a relative, mementoes she never knew her mother had kept.  They included old photographs and newspaper clippings.  What especially touched her heart were family photos and letters, especially from one of her brothers who had died in World War II.
    Her mother had saved numerous clippings of the war from a local Binghamton newspaper.  Here were reports of a war’s ups and downs, of the efforts of battle-worn troops, of men who paid the ultimate sacrifice, and of soldiers who returned home safely.  Also included were touching news reports by Ernie Pyle, a reporter embedded with troops in the European theater and later in the South Pacific. 

    Pyle was a beloved reporter in the U.S. and abroad.  He had a way with words, evoking an empathy from his readers for the servicemen he wrote about.  A reporter who opened his readers’ eyes, he put a personal touch to the effects of war, and to the emotions of hard-won battles for freedom’s sake.  I remember him well… no, I did not grow up during the war, but had purchased and read his book, “Brave Men,” as a teen.  Perusing through my friend’s papers, I knew I had to take Pyle’s book down off my bookshelf and refresh my memory. 
    As I continued to read through my friend's papers, thoughts and emotions swirled around and the poem below began taking shape.  I have always been grateful to those men and women who have joined the military to protect our freedoms and to gain the same for the oppressed around the world.  But to think about each one who has ever gone off to war, to remember them as their family knew and loved them so well… is to contemplate the little child who ran into the loving arms of parents with boundless energy, full of love and joy… the playing and learning he or she did under their wise and watchful eyes… the teen coming to terms with adolescent struggles… the young adult who emerged from military basic training with a new sense of purpose… the seasoned soldier whose loyalty to his or her unit proved a perseverance and bravery they never thought they had… and the final tribute paid to one who gave his or her all that others might live… is to contemplate the heart and soul of each one who left behind a sweetheart or spouse, beloved parents and siblings, and even children… the one forever remembered for a life interrupted, of the great sacrifice made, and of the legacy now carried in the heart and soul of those who have grieved their loss.
    As we celebrate Veterans’ Day today, may this simple poem evoke in you a heart of thanks for all who have served and returned home safely, or who paid the ultimate sacrifice in any war.  Without a willingness to put their lives on the line for the sake of freedom, we would not be enjoying our “…land of the brave and home of the free.” 
    Thank you to each of you who has served in the military, and thank you to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice with their life.
    Heroes of Yesterday
    Linda A. Roorda
    Where tyranny reigns evil’s at the helm
    As the young and free who know only peace
    With faces brave must enter the fray
    In the fight for rights we take for granted.
    ~
    Responsibility trains boys into men
    With troop cohesion, a unit’s tight bond
    To honor and hold each life in their care
    For freedom’s defense and the rights of all.
    ~
    Orders to battle and the hell of war
    The call to arms which tests the mettle
    For within each heart lies the chance to prove
    The value of truth to fail or succeed.
    ~
    From red alert to general quarters
    Emotions run deep in calm before strife
    Of imminent fight and future yearnings
    Always thinking, “If I get through…alive…”*
    ~
    The sounds of war above stealth and fear
    The zing of bullets and bombs that explode
    Challenges met, overcome with courage
    Proving capable the common valor.
    ~
    Back home they reflect, living fear and dread
    Loved ones waiting for word from afar
    A card or letter received with relief
    Until the knock comes when time stands still.
    ~
    The letters home that ceased too soon
    As horrors of war burn deep in the soul
    Who’ll be the judge at the end of combat
    What the heart ponders to serve and protect…
    ~
    To gain advantage with success for peace
    To hold these truths that all may live free
    To lift the spirit and rebuild from loss
    As we remember peace has a cost.
    ~~
    *”Brave Men,” Ernie Pyle, Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1944, p.5
  19. Linda Roorda
    As summer’s warmth gives way to the cooler days of fall, our thoughts turn to cold-weather projects, and that of storing food for the coming winter.  Without that process, our ancestors would be hard pressed to get through the bitter cold months, unless, of course, you could afford to purchase all your food supplies at the local general store. 
    Once upon a time, most families cultivated large vegetable gardens and raised a barnyard menagerie to put food by for the coming winter – a vital necessity.  How they accomplished it without our modern water-bath and pressure canners, and freezers, that we and our mother’s generation have used amazes me. 
    In early 2003, I was concluding my empty-nest project, researching and writing an extensive manuscript which documented every family line of my mother’s parents back to the early 17th century settlers of New Netherlands.  And that was using only the pathetically slow dial-up internet for online research!  In asking for input from relatives on their memories of our grandparents, my aunt, Shirley (Tillapaugh) Van Duesen, shared how much she enjoyed working alongside her dad.  Her ties to her father don’t surprise me.  While growing up, I enjoyed time spent working with my dad, too, and that naturally evolved into enjoying time spent working with my husband on the farm and around our property.
    But, I found it especially interesting that, of all things my aunt chose to write about, she told me about fall butchering time on the farm.  And I’m so glad she did because, in many ways, what she wrote about is a lost skill.  Oh sure, we still have butcher shops in some rural communities, but gone are the days of farm and backyard butchering where neighbors helped each other with these chores.
    With permission granted by my cousin, Doug, to share his mother’s words, Aunt Shirley wrote, “What I remember the most was hog butchering time which was sometime in November.  It was a community project, usually two or three days.  Everyone who had pigs to butcher helped in the process, and they were hung in my father’s garage to cool overnight or until they were ready to be cut up.  Each one took their own [pig] home to process from that point on.  I always enjoyed helping cut ours up – to cut and skin the rind (or hide) off the fat, cut fat off the meat, grind and render it down into lard for cooking, cut meat into roasts, pork chops, tenderloin, and grind other remaining meat and scraps for sausage.  My father always cut and shaped the hams, then put them in large tubs with a salt brine to cure for several weeks.  Then he would take them out and smoke them in the smokehouse.  He would do the same with the sausage after grinding and stuffing it into the casings, and then shape that into links.  The hams were then put into large brown bags and hung in the cellar, and used as needed – and the same for the sausage.”
    Her description gives us a great overall picture of the process.  Further details on the butchering process can be found in the online Backwoods Home Magazine, Issue No. 23 from September/October 1993, with an appropriate article, “Slaughtering and Butchering,” by Dynah Geissal.  I enjoyed this very informative article in which Geissal gives excellent directions for the homesteader in butchering a variety of home-grown animals raised specifically for the freezer.  She describes how to cut the meat into appropriate sections, with photos to provide guiding details.  She even includes recipes for sausage, scrapple and other delicious fare.  
    Raised on a dairy farm, my husband was present twice when his father and uncles butchered cows on the farm.  Like my aunt wrote, Ed agreed that the best time to butcher is in the fall, typically November, because it’s cold enough to hang the carcass to avoid spoilage.  When cows were shipped to the butcher shop, he also said it was important to keep the animal as calm as possible before slaughter.  This helped keep the meat from becoming tough and unsavory. 
    On a smaller scale in backyard processing, my sister and I were the official assistants when it was time to dispatch designated unproductive chickens or specific meat birds to the freezer.  My father was in charge of swinging the axe on the chopping block.  And for those who have only heard the expression about someone running around like a chicken with their head cut off – let me assure you, it’s accurate!  After filling a 5-gallon bucket with boiling water, we sisters were given the honor of dunking and plucking.  With twine around their feet, we hung the scalded chickens from a nail in a barn beam and plucked those feathers clean off as best we could. 
    My mother was in charge of dressing the hens back in the kitchen.  Dressing is the more delicate term to describe the process of gutting and cleaning the bird.  I still vividly recall my mother showing us shell-less eggs from inside one of the hens – in descending sizes from the current large to tiny!  I was utterly fascinated!  I should perhaps mention at this point that once upon a time I had thoughts of becoming a veterinarian.  As science and math were not among my strong points, that dream soon fell by the wayside.
    We also raised pigs, three at a time.  And now I must confess that I had a tremendous fear of our cute little piglets simply from their noise and stench!  So, I refused to care for them, thus putting my younger brothers in charge of the feeding and cleaning of little piglets that grew into large hogs – really a good responsibility for my energetic brothers!  My dad knew when they’d reached sufficient poundage and sent them off to the butcher shop to become delicious pork in the freezer for us and our city relatives. 
    Our mare (granddaughter of the famous race horse, Man O' War), chickens, ducks and one goose (appropriately named “Honk” by my toddler brother) were my charges with the Muscovy ducks providing entertainment.  Digging a hole in the fenced-in chicken run, we sank a square galvanized tub for their bathing delight, and they regularly enjoyed “swim” time.  
    Only one duck decided to set on about a dozen eggs.  Four hatched properly and soon waddled behind their Mama to explore the great outdoors.  Feeling sorry for the fifth duckling who was late emerging from its shell, this writer took it upon herself to assist the poor little thing.  Unbeknownst to her at the time (she forgot to study), fowl do not need, nor do they desire, our assistance to hatch from their shell.  They have a “tooth” on their beak which assists them quite well; but, they also must do their own hatching in order to survive.  So, you guessed it – this little duckling did not live long once it had been helped out of its shell. 
    Then, a few days later, this caretaker came home from school and eagerly went out to care for her critters only to sadly discover one little duckling had drowned in the 2-inch-deep water dish in their pen.  That left three cute and fuzzy ducklings to follow the adults as they grew like weeds.  And, though a bit more greasy than chicken, they were absolutely delicious when my mother roasted them! (Yes, that was their intended purpose.)
    During the years that I stayed home to raise our children while my husband farmed with his dad, I grew a large garden every summer, canning and freezing a year’s worth of vegetables and fruit.  It sure helped save on grocery bills.  It was only natural I delved into this venture since my parents raised a large garden every year for as long as I can remember, as did both sets of grandparents.  But, as children, when we were sent out to weed our garden, my sister and I opted instead to run and play between the rows!  Truth be told, we even tossed some of the green beans under the lilac bushes when we decided we were tired of the chore of snapping them.  However, when they were my own gardens with food to be put up for the coming winter, I thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of the process.
    But, as mentioned above, I’ve often wondered how our ancestors put their veggies up.  They didn’t have the benefit of a freezer, nor could they efficiently use water-bath jar canning let alone the fine tunings of a high-pressure cooker/canner like I had available. 

    So, in looking for books to study this subject, I recalled my bookshelf held my mother’s, “Putting Food By – The No.1 book about all the safe ways to preserve food.”  It’s a very useful book for beginners as it discusses all the prerequisites to canning and freezing vegetables and meats, including explanations of the old-fashioned methods our ancestors used to put up their food.
    Another excellent resource obtained through Spencer’s interlibrary loan system was “The Little House Cookbook, Frontier Foods from Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Classic Stories” by Barbara M. Walker.  What a genuine treasure this book is as Ms. Walker expands on Wilder’s descriptions of the foods they ate by explaining how their food was prepared with innumerable appropriate recipes.
    A classic from the 19th century, Housekeeper and Healthkeeper (available only online and not through interlibrary loan) by Catherine E. Beecher (sister of Harriet Beecher Stowe) discusses virtually every conceivable household dilemma for the housewife of the late 19th century.  Beecher’s own foreword is written to “My Dear Friends, - This volume embraces…many valuable portions of my other works on Domestic Economy…  It is designed to be a complete encyclopedia of all that relates to a woman’s duties as housekeeper, wife, mother, and nurse.”  Beecher includes five hundred recipes of which I perused a few.  She is completely thorough in all of her explanations to assist the housewife who often entered her new profession without foundational training.  I was impressed by Beecher’s ability to address every possible home situation from cooking and putting food by, to cleaning and caring for the sick family.   
    In our ancestors’ time a few hundred years ago, even through the end of the 19th century, most rural families had a milch (milk) cow or two.  Not only was the family’s delicious milk and cream supplied by their very own favorite pet cow, but Bossy’s milk also provided them the ability to make butter, cheese and ice cream.  Things just didn’t get any better than that!  And, extras could be sold or bartered for other necessities not readily available or too expensive at the general mercantile.
    Without electricity, one either had an ice house to keep foods cold, a storage area in the cellar, or a springhouse.  Root cellars were a popular place to store vegetables below the frost line.  Attics were often used to store food during the winter including hams, pumpkins, squashes, onions, and dried vegetables.  Perhaps the home had a storage shed just outside the back door.  Here, the family could conveniently store meat in a “natural freezer” during the winter months (though I’ve wondered about wild critters enjoying the free cache), along with stacked firewood, other supplies, and kettleware. 

    Then again, many homes had a large pantry just off the kitchen.  I remember well my Grandma Tillapaugh’s huge pantry with shelves on all sides and a door to the cellar, which I never did get to explore.  It was in this pantry that she kept her big tin of large scrumptious molasses cookies that we could help ourselves to when she gave approval.  Try as I might, I was never able to duplicate her delicious cookies though!
    My mother shared with me that their cellar held crates of apples and potatoes and other root vegetables. Not a root cellar per se`, my mom said that what was stored in crates kept quite well through the winter.  She also recalls her mother did use both pressure and waterbath canners for fruits and vegetables, along with canning pickled tongue and other meats at butchering time.  As my Aunt Shirley wrote about butchering time, their meat was put into a salt brine and stored in large wooden barrels or the old pottery crocks.  This process meant keeping the meat well covered by brine, held below the surface by a heavy weight.  Smoking was another great way to cure and preserve the meat to prevent spoilage and bacteria growth during storage over the long winter. 
    Brine, made of sugar, salt, saltpeter or sodium nitrate, and mixed with water, covered and cured meats placed in large crocks.  After the curing time of up to two months, the meat was typically smoked and then hung in the attic or cellar.  Or, you could fry the meat, place it in a crock, covering it with a layer of lard, then a layer of meat covered by lard until the crock was full.  The homemaker had only to dig out the amount of meat needed for a meal and reheat it.  These ever-handy crocks preserved other foods such as butter, pickles, sauerkraut, and even vegetables.  Apple cider was fermented to make hard cider, often a staple on the old farms.  Lard or paraffin was used to seal a crock’s contents, keeping out contaminants causing spoilage.  Read “The Many Uses of Pottery Crocks” by Jeannine Roediger (09/18/11).
    Before modern conveniences came along, root vegetables were typically stored in the cellar, or root cellar – especially potatoes, turnips, onions, beets, cabbages, carrots and even apples.  Areas that are cool, dark and dry help keep vegetables from sprouting, and slow any spoilage that might begin.  It was also a wise idea to store apples, potatoes and cabbages apart from each other and other produce so their odors/flavors did not spoil each other.  It was also a must to keep an eye on everything for early signs of spoilage.  Vegetables and certain fruits being stored could be wrapped individually in paper, or kept in baskets covered in sand, soil or dry leaves. 
    Reading the requirements in “Putting Food By,” we need to know a lot about the root cellar process that, on the surface, seems like such a simple idea – but it’s really not.  There are specific temperature and dryness or moisture requirements for the various vegetables and fruits to prevent mold and spoilage.
    I recall that in the early 1980s, I had an abundance of good-sized green tomatoes.  After picking them, we lay them out on the basement floor on newspaper to ripen, storing the greenest in a bushel basket with each one wrapped in newspaper.  They kept for a good while out in the garage where it was cold but not freezing.
    Another popular method was to dry fruits and vegetables, often simply by drying them in the sun.  Meat dried in this manner is called jerky.  If the home had a cookstove, drying could be accomplished on trays in the oven, or the vegetables and fruit could simply be put on strings and hung to dry in a warm area of the room.  The warm attic space near the chimney was another good place to dry food, using protection from dust and bugs.  Reconstitution by adding sufficient water for stewing was all it took to use these otherwise scarce foods during the cold and barren winter months.  Though they often lost some of the original flavor, dried veggies and fruits must have been a welcome addition to their diet during the cold winter months.  In the latter half of the 19th century, special driers with built-in furnaces became available on the market for home use in drying various fruits and vegetables.
    When thinking about the types of food eaten by our ancestors on the frontier, we need to remember that their salty and fatty dishes were necessary for their diet considering their involvement in extensive physical labor.  And to this any modern farmer can attest as their own hard work all day in the barn or fields contributes to a rather hearty appetite – I do remember how much Ed ate without gaining weight!
    Farmers and homesteaders had not only the typical farm chores to attend to in the hot summer and bitter cold winter, but they would hunt to supplement their meat supply, and put in a garden to reap the harvest of both vegetables and fruits.  If the homesteader did not have a ready supply of fruit on their own bushes and trees, searching the nearby forest often gave them a bounty of seasonal fruits and berries.  Yet, even in that venture, there was the ever-present danger of wild animals, especially bear.  The homesteaders’ hearty appetites and wide variety of unprocessed food allowed for a healthy diet which did not require today’s supplemental vitamins.
    My mother shared her memory years ago of pouring maple syrup (or cooked molasses and brown sugar) over snow which Laura Ingalls and her siblings did to make a delicious candy.  (Not recommended nowadays with the pollutants in our snow.)  As a teen, I remember making ice cream the old-fashioned way with a hand-turned crank – nothing tasted better when it was ready!  And my sister and I attempted to make divinity, once – it wasn’t perfect, but it was delicious!  Now, a favorite of mine is to make cashew brittle – the key being a candy thermometer which neither my sister and I nor Laura Ingalls’ family had available years ago.
    It required a lot of work on the part of every family member to hunt, raise and grow the family’s food, and then to put it up for the coming winter, year after year.  If they didn’t carefully follow the steps to properly preserve their food, a good deal of spoilage could and would occur due to various elements or critters.  And, at the time of which we write, the early 19th century, canning was not yet an available option for our homesteader.  Actually, the glass Mason canning jar with rubber ring and wire clasp was not available until 1858.  But then, of course, if you could afford it, you could simplify life and buy quality foods at the grocery or butcher shop in town to maintain a well-balanced diet throughout the unproductive winter months. 
    All things considered, we really do have an easier way of life.  But, what satisfaction our ancestors must have felt in putting by their own food!  I sure did when canning and freezing the produce of our gardens years ago.
  20. Linda Roorda

    Worthy

    By Linda Roorda,

    What is our worth, our value?  How do we even measure such an entity?  Have we been so downtrodden that we feel like a failure… like we’re unworthy of the love of others?  Or do we hold our head up knowing we have inherent worth among the rest?
    Feeling unworthy is not new to any of us.  We’ve all been there at times throughout our life.  Haven’t we at one time or another made a simple mistake, yet were left feeling so ashamed we just wanted to disappear?  I have.  Frequently belittled in the past by a sibling and peers, those with a bravado making up for their own insecurities, I’ve felt defeated and worthless, without importance or value.
    After my family moved from farm life near East Palmyra, NY to city life in Clifton, NJ in February 1965, I struggled to accept this new way of life.  I hated the move and city life with every fiber of my being.  At age 10, I’d essentially lost all my good friends and the value of who I was… or so I thought.  I had to start over in a new city and a new school, trying to make new friends.
    Initially, this small school did not represent the love that I had been used to.  Here, at a city Christian school, I initially knew only two people – my younger cousin, Susan, and our minister’s daughter, Kristin.  Amazingly, her father had previously been our pastor in East Palmyra, and Kristin and my sister and I were already good friends – we used to visit each other’s home for play dates.  So, on the very first day of school, Kristin brought me and my sister inside to take us to the office.  Instead, we were met in the hall by the principal who yelled at us for being inside, insisting we go back outside until the bell rang. I felt so belittled, worthless, like I’d done something terribly wrong, all because the principal did not listen to us, nor recognize and understand that we were trying to tell her we were new students.
    At that time, I was smart, looked up to by peers.  However, there came a day that spring when I made a mistake so blatant that I was shamed.  Waiting for the school bus at the top of our block, I saw a truck pass by with S.O.X. written in very large letters on the side – and South Orange Express written beneath.  That’s an interesting name, I thought.  I’ll have to look for that truck again!
    That morning in school we had a surprise spelling bee – something I excelled in.  I read extensively already in fourth grade, being allowed three books for the week from the school library while everyone else could only take two.  As the spelling bee progressed, I was given the word “socks.”  Of course, I knew that simple word.  Yet, what proceeded to come forth out of my mouth was “s-o-x.”  And, then I was laughed at… 
    Oh, my goodness!  What had I just done!  I knew how to spell socks!  But that trucking company’s name had become embedded in my brain that morning, and, without thinking, that’s what I blurted out!  I was so utterly ashamed that I went back to my desk fighting tears, refusing to show outwardly my devastated emotions.  I felt absolutely worthless…  
    On reading this story, my husband encouragingly said, “Hey! There are two baseball teams, the Red Sox and the White Sox.  You weren’t so far off after all!”
    Acceptance by peers is not where my value and worth truly comes from.  Too often, we put stock in how others perceive us, even as adults… and in what they consider to be of value – like intelligence, good looks, possessions, and how much fun we are.  Instead, those things are all part of worldly superficial values.
    My family could not afford the latest new toys, nor the current fashion in clothes.  I often wore and appreciated hand-me-down clothes… especially appreciating clothing gifts from my grandparents, or fabric to sew clothes for myself once I learned how. But the simplicity taught me to value what I did have, and to consider others no less worthy than myself.  I do not look down on someone else, and developed empathy toward others in their struggles.  Remembering that when I meet someone new, or see someone who’s been hurt by mocking and shaming, I know how it feels as it had once been me.  Reaching out to others shows they are worthy, too!
    Though we may doubt our worth, God does not.  He knows our value.  After all, He created us and designed our individuality.  There are no two of us alike.  In this way, we each bring our uniqueness to benefit the world.  Unfortunately, our inherent value, our worth, has been undermined... by sin.  Yet, God loves us so much that He sent His beloved and only son, Jesus, to take the punishment for our wayward ways, our sin… to die in our place.  And with that gracious gift we realize, “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”  (I John 3:1)  God knows our worth!  He values and loves each one of us for who we are!
    Though we may think we’re not worthy, we truly do have value… for we are totally and unconditionally loved by our awesome God… we are worthy!!
    Worthy
    Linda A. Roorda 
    I am not worthy to be called Your child
    I’ve willfully gone about my own way
    I threw caution away with the wind
    Thinking alone this world I could handle.
     
    But here I am down on my knees
    Knowing I’ve failed time after time
    How can You care and how can You love
    Someone like me still bucking the reins.
     
    You gently seek and call out to me
    Drawing me close, my wrongs now to see
    Had I listened to Your voice all along
    I would not feel the shame I do now.
     
    Yet as I reach for Your loving arms
    Hear my heart’s cry acknowledge my sin
    Knowing Your grace now covers my soul
    As once again, mercy washes clean.
     
    I give You my all as I surrender now
    And give You the fears that grip at my soul
    What will I gain by taking the reins
    When Your guiding hands hold gently my heart.
     
    For You hold me up and prove I’m worthy
    You lead me on to stand on Your words
    It’s then I feel Your arms surround me
    As Your love pours out its comforting peace.
    ~~ April 2015 ~~
  21. Linda Roorda

    Tug Salute

    By Linda Roorda,

    In the autumnal season of life, as we age and retire out of the workforce, some of us may begin to feel unwanted and useless.  We’ve done our job, and certainly did our best… we put heart and soul into our family and career.  But now that we’re a few years removed from a busy active life, and no longer able to do what we once could, maybe some of us feel like we’ve been “put out to pasture” and left to watch time slowly tick away.
    I hope you’re enjoying a great autumn season as the leaves turn colors, the geese form their entourages and fly south, colder weather requires jackets, and tinges of wood smoke make the outdoor air aromatic reminding me of what pioneer days must have been like. We still have not had a frost but expect it later this coming week.  Like life, a lot of changes happen in this season of fall as we prepare for winter just around the corner, reminding me I need to prepare for the inevitable and get those snow tires put on.  And so, we prepare for our latter season of life… and enjoy this time of change. Admittedly, though, I am not a big fan of change… like arthritis creeping in, realizing I need to buy a magnifying glass to read the fine print… but I roll with it, accept the changes, and move forward… 
    These thoughts came to mind on seeing some photos several years ago, like those at this tug graveyard, taken by Will Van Dorp, aka Tugster, another friend from childhood days.  As Will documents and blogs about the daily traffic of his aptly-named watery “Sixth Boro” surrounding New York City and its environs, we see tugs hard at work towing and pushing barges or assisting an array of ships.  Once upon a time, newly minted, they slid off the ways into the water, freshly christened with a shining glow, eager to face whatever responsibility or danger came their way. Tugs of various shapes and sizes actively plied the waters for many decades, sometimes sold to be rebuilt, repurposed and renamed to fit a new owner’s need.  But, it saddens us when these workhorses of watery roads are abandoned in a lonely inlet graveyard to slowly rot away.  They deserve a more fitting tribute for their hard-earned rest.
    Sort of like us… who begin to feel more like the months of autumn as the effects of aging take their toll… despite our thinking we’re a few decades younger and that we can still handle what we used to do with ease!  Maybe we had only one job, one career, or maybe we embraced multiple careers in our lifetime.  Maybe we lived through an era in history with a personal perspective that today’s youth just don’t understand.
    Be willing to share your life stories… the blessings, the fun and laughter, and the tears in tough times.  What was learned through your experiences may help someone else understand how to face their own difficulty.  With the end of life coming to us all eventually, be it boat or person, we can still make the most of our time that’s left.
    We don’t need to retire to the proverbial rocker in the corner… at least not yet anyway!  We can be repurposed in retirement to benefit others.  We can volunteer our time in any number of ways within our local community.  In so doing, we can bring a smile, a sense of joy and love to someone who truly can’t get out and about as they once did. 
    Listen to the stories, memories of the heart.  Help a friend share their life’s history.  Perhaps you can be the catalyst to writing down their memoirs.  Create the opportunity for such remembrances to be passed on to their children, grandchildren and great-grands, even to others beyond their immediate family. 
    Every one of us has a story to tell… our place in history to share.  Like us, those old tugboats are deserving of recognition for what was accomplished during life’s journey with a fitting salute and tribute. 
    Tug Salute
    Linda A. Roorda
    They ply the waters, these boats called tugs
    Each bow riding high with a stern slung low
    A workhorse they say for river or sea
    Vital to traffic of watery lanes.
    ~
    Now gaunt and faded like lifeless fossils
    Left to corrode alone with their mem’ries,
    Who can recall the day of christening
    When futures shone bright as colorful hulls.
    ~
    Riding waves high to rescue the dying
    Pushing and tugging behemoths of the deep
    Gently nudging, tucking in a berth
    Or pushing deep scows hauling upriver freight.
    ~
    No matter the calm, never minding the storm
    They’ve a job to do without laud or praise
    Handling with ease by a captain’s trained eye
    Who knows safe channels like the back o’ the hand.
    ~
    But came the day they were put to rest
    No hands at the helm, their days were numbered
    Silently rocking as waves tick off time
    Lapping relentless to a tune not their own.
    ~
    Haunting images mere remnants of honor
    Come close and listen, if you dare tread near
    Listen to whispers of tales long ago
    As we salute you, the pride of the harbor.
    ~~
    PHOTO CREDIT:  Will Van Dorp, "Tugster".
  22. Linda Roorda
    Anniversaries…I like to think of them as brackets that hold our special memories marking the ever-flowing years.  October 26th is our wedding anniversary, and goodness, but how the years have flown!  There’s a lot of life lived within those years, a lot of water under that bridge… years that took a young bride and a little older and wiser groom through many stages of growth… years that saw carefree and happy days, but also years which saw many losses and changes that left their marks.  Truth is, some days were harder than we ever could have imagined possible when we first became a team and dreamed of living together happily ever after. 
    For me and Ed it has been learning to listen to each other (sometimes to what isn’t being verbalized), to make time to work out hard life issues, to accept each other, faults and all, to apologize and forgive, and to choose to love and remain committed to the vows we took on our wedding day. 
    Whether we faced the happy days of easy love, the normal day-to-day mundane aspects of life, the difficult challenges with Ed no longer being able to farm with his dad as he lost the last vestiges of vision, the acceptance of a new way of life while he spent six months learning new skills at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA, the joy and excitement our children brought into our lives by just being who they are, love for the spouses they married and the Grandchildren they blessed us with, staring at unbelievable sorrow and pain when our oldest daughter unexpectedly passed away at age 25, or the changes which multiple difficult health issues and disabilities have brought us, there is One who has walked beside us every step of the way…
    In fact, like the poem, “Footsteps In The Sand,” I know the Lord has carried us during those times when we were utterly overwhelmed by life.  And, praise God, we have overcome what life has tossed our way, and our bonds have become stronger than when we first began our married journey 47 years ago! 
    Once There Was A Time
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Once there was a time
    I gazed into your eyes serene
    And there beheld the depths of your soul
    With all the love entwined in your heart…
    I miss the twinkle and the wink
    I miss the many tones of your gaze
    For your eyes spoke tender volumes
    Of adoration and undying love.
     
    Once there was a time
    Of holding hands on carefree walks
    Cherishing how you protected and led
    And lifted me gently over the fence…
    You shared your music, humor and wisdom
    As we walked and talked, laughed and pondered
    Sweet dreams and plans for our life ahead
    O’er paths unknown but bright with love.
     
    Once there was a time
    I breathed in deep the ambience
    Of fresh-baled hay and farming life
    And snuggled close, safe in your arms…
    I loved it best to work with you
    A shadow beside your every move
    Watching with pride my farmer’s hands
    Caring for cattle and crops and fields.
     
    Once there was a time
    Three precious babes arrived
    To bring us joy and share our love
    As we watched them grow and learn at our side…
    Then changes came, sudden and unbidden
    For life doesn’t always go as we plan
    You lost your vision, you lost your dream,
    We lost ourselves to a new way of life.
     
    Once there was a time
    Of joyous blessings and bittersweet days
    When dreams took root and on wings did fly
    From a nest that emptied all too soon…
    Then just as surely as rejoicing came
    The agony of death descended dark
    Yet hidden deep within the walls
    Lay healing and peace only God could give.
     
    Once there was a time
    We watched each other struggle
    Overwhelmed by cares and concerns of life
    From darkened doors to windows of light…
    For sometimes wisdom can best be learned
    By facing trials of hardship and pain
    In Faith, Hope and Love we persevere
    As we walk a path covered by prayer.
     
    Once there was a time
    When life seemed just an empty slate
    Waiting to be filled and made complete
    O’er paths now trod and bright with love…
    Yet in gazing back upon our days
    Never did we walk alone
    For gently guiding and lighting our way
    Were the grace-filled loving hands of our Lord
     
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda

    October Whispers

    By Linda Roorda,

    I puttered around the kitchen yesterday, an early October morning, baking Ed’s favorite chocolate chip cookies and my hearty squash.  Every now and then I glanced out the windows.  I love the scenery of our backyard… the gardens, bushes and trees… all planted by us once upon a golden time.  And the creek, fields and hills beyond, all formerly part of Ed’s family’s farm, now filled with cart paths and well-kept green grass circles that swallow up dimpled golf balls… with a few that manage to find their way into our yard by some awesome force behind them! But, instead of a summery sun, I glanced out to see a dreary day…
    I know many of my friends say fall is their favorite season.  And rightly so, I suppose – for the cooling temps are welcome relief from summer’s intense heat and humidity, and the typical brilliant leaf colors reflect different types of trees framed against the backdrop of a bright crisp azure blue sky with puffy clouds which all make for a gorgeous display of nature’s beauty.  But this year, without a hard frost yet, our leaves are rather dull, devoid of those bright colors. 
    I do enjoy the aromas of baked spiced apple and pumpkin pies, the odor of wood smoke wafting on the air (at times Ed can able to tell just what wood is being burned), familiar barn smells carried by a gentle breeze down the valley with a hint of well-cured silage, along with enjoying colorful fall flower arrangements, and the countrified pumpkin and gourd displays with corn stalks and hay bales some folks set up by their front door.
    But, truth be told, I find autumn to be the harbinger of a gray cold world with dying leaves that bequeath us with stark-naked tree limbs.  Yet, when studied, those limbs have a distinctive roughened beauty all their own etched against the sky of any shade.  And, though there are gray drizzly skies, and cold, damp days that chill to the bone… they do have a plus side with lots of delicious homemade baked goods, stews, soups and chili with cornbread!
    I much prefer spring and its promised return of new life and summer’s golden rays.  So, as this poem began to form several years ago, I tried to focus on the whispered secrets of fall – in its colorful beauty pointing to winter’s pristine white splendor, and the resurgence of life in the future that can only be hinted at now.
    October Whispers
    Linda A. Roorda
    The lonely parade
    of falling colors
    a silent drizzle
    and cocooning fog
    consuming
    dampening
    turn thoughts inward
    melancholy
    bereaved
    for the joy of summer
    basking
    in bright warmth
    now shrouded
    by hazy sheen
    forcing hearts to gaze
    ahead
    and to leave
    the past to fall
    behind
    etched in time
    yet even now
    renewed
    in visions of white
    and whispers soft
    of secrets hidden
    for the way it is
    and soon shall become.
    ~~
    Photo taken by author in 2019.
  24. Linda Roorda
    Change… whether visible on the exterior or inside and unseen, it can be a hard adjustment to make.  I don’t like change.  Those who know me, know that aspect of me well.  Change has not always been kind to me.  But, once I wrap my brain around it, understand and accept said change, I roll with it and move forward.  Because, as I’ve grown older, and wiser with the years, I’ve learned change is inescapable… of value for the lessons it teaches… and have learned not to fear it.  Perhaps some of you welcome change… and I admire you for that!  So, what is it about change we don’t like? 
    Nature exhibits obvious and dramatic changes right before our eyes.  From winter’s dazzling white to its not-so-white coverings of stark-bare limbs of trees reaching out and the dirty-white snow on roadsides… to spring bursting forth with new life in its many-colored splendor as birds bring joyful song to our lives… to the warmth and long-term blooms and verdant green of long summer days… to the casting off of autumn’s multi-colored leaves and darkening skies signaling the portent of dark and dreary days ahead… these are changes we clearly see and can identify with.  We understand these changes, even welcome them, as we accept the inevitable in the forward march of time.
    We visibly change, too.  From the moment we’re born, we continually change... as we grow and mature from infancy on through adulthood and elderhood.  We never stop changing as we age, and our appearance gives credence to this process which is as old as time itself.
    But what we don’t see are the changes beneath the surface.  In nature, it’s the life substance within a plant that moves it forward with growth to change through the seasons.  For us, change is evident in our learning processes, our maturation.  Just raising a child provides ample evidence of virtually daily change and growth - physically, emotionally and spiritually.
    Our physical change and growth are obvious.  From helpless newborn to the excitement of childhood growth, learning to do things “myself,” to the physical growth and aging process propelling each of us forward into young adulthood and on through the decades as we become “senior citizens,” change never stops.  We know it, we see it, and we feel it.
    Emotional change, though, is less obvious, yet still evident in our behavior and reactions as we mature from childish ways and selfish ambition.  “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became [an adult], I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face…and now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  (I Corinthians 13:11-13NIV)
    Emotional maturity develops as we process our wins and losses in life… as we learn to share, to understand and appreciate each other, to show empathy for someone else’s situation, to feel pain and loss, to feel and share joy, peace, and more.  All these emotions are developed inside, invisible within our thought processes, but are evidenced in our maturing reactions.
    And then there is spiritual change in our faith.  This, too, is an unseen process of growth and maturation... a change that is often and especially brought about by life’s trials.  “Consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all…”  (James 1:2-5 N IV)
    As we grow in our spiritual faith journey, becoming more like Christ, we are constantly learning and understanding, changing our hearts and minds from within.  We learn to accept change instead of grumbling and complaining… learn to understand and grow by going through the difficulties rather than simply trying to escape and get out from under the trial.  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
    For it’s often that trial with its pain and tears which brings about learning and understanding - a process of growth... as we gracefully accept true change and joy brought about by the difficult and painful journey. And it’s only in that painful journey that we grow under God’s wisdom… as we become either embittered and hardened, or more gentle and kind... an invisible change within our heart, yet visible in our attitude and behavior. 
    Changes Without and Within
    Linda A. Roorda 
    The birds have hushed their lilting songs
    Bright colored flowers have faded away
    The trees have turned to brilliant hues
    And the sky with clouds is gathering dark.
     
    A silence of sorts ensues with the change
    Though here and there a bird can be heard
    But ever still grows the ambience
    Of nature’s peace midst colors of fall.
     
    Yet what we see belies the fact
    That underneath the surface calm
    Lies greater change than evidence shows
    A turmoil within to stir transition.
     
    For what can’t be seen is the moving force
    Behind the progress to destiny’s goal.
    So let the heart of every soul
    Heed wisdom’s call, accepting its purpose.
     
    This heart of change is all you ask
    That humbly I come as You draw me near
    To be still and know that You’re in control
    As you define Your place in my life.
     
    Inevitable change without and within
    As time moves forward on its forever path.
    Then what of our heart when the depth is exposed,
    Are we bitter in change… or more gentle and kind?
  25. Linda Roorda

    Hope

    By Linda Roorda,

    “You have breast 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 in the hope it helps someone else.  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 plan to publish it this month – all to remind others how important exams for cancer are for both women and men, 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 even 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, and has 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 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 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 since 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 One 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 into 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 down 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, and provide loving, caring family and friends to support me.  And to know the extent of caring thoughts and prayers from family, friends and neighbors in my 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.
    ~~
    May/June 2014
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