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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. 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.
    ~~
  2. 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
  3. Linda Roorda

    Safe In My Arms

    By Linda Roorda,

    I can’t swim.  Oh, I took lessons… learned to float and doggy paddle at the Clifton, NJ YMCA. And I loved playing in the water with my siblings and cousins at Green Pond, a lake in northwestern New Jersey where my aunt and uncle had a cottage.  Didn’t even mind being in water way over my head.  There, in the safe swimming section, we’d jump off the dock or have our dad toss us over his shoulder into the deep water.  I loved it!  But then… I almost drowned.
    I was either 10 or 11.  Our family had driven out to the lake for a day of fun.  And here I was laying across a ski board tethered by rope to my uncle’s boat.  I was either very brave or very foolish, but found myself being pulled across the water clinging to that board, enjoying the ride! 
    Until the boat took a fast turn… and the wake caught me off guard.  The board flipped over, hit me on the head, and I lost my grip.  Flailing furiously in the water, I tumbled over and over, struggling to hold my breath, trying to break the surface for air when I felt something under my feet… all in a matter of some very long seconds.  Planting my feet down, I stood up, and dared to open my eyes… shocked and absolutely relieved to find I was chest deep in water, standing on a very large rock or a ledge in the “middle” of the lower end of the large lake! 
    I was so sure I would drown while flailing around… instead I was safe!!  Trauma clicked in later.  I cannot float, nor can I swim. I sink. Don’t even try to teach me… Ed tried when we were dating, and he quickly found out my panic was very real when he let go of me in the deep end of the pool.  I still need to wear floaties to enjoy the water. 
    I’ve long realized I was held in the arms of God that day decades ago.  No one dreamed there would possibly be a rock or ledge with shallow water out there.  My father watched from the shore with his heart in his throat, afraid for my life.  But he never told me that until decades later.
    This incident reminds me of how we are loved and held safe in the arms of not only God, but the arms of our family.  As a helpless infant, we are tenderly held and kept safe in our parents’ arms.  As we grow up, their loving arms are still there… ready to protect us and guide us.  Then, all too soon we’re ready to leave the nest and fly off into the world on our own.  At some point between thinking we know it all and realizing we don’t, we bring the wisdom we’ve learned back to our aging parents, understanding what it was they tried to teach us as we now teach our children… and find we’ve come full circle.
    And therein I see the arms of God… holding and caring for us, teaching and guiding us… accepting us for who we are because He created us and knows who we are meant to be. 
    Safe In My Arms
    Linda A. Roorda
     From the very moment that you came to be
    You were held safe, safe in my arms
    A helpless babe, you looked up to me
    Your needs were met with love undivided.
     
    When you fell down and bruised your ego
    You came running to comforting arms
    You looked for me to answer concerns
    Questions of life with wisdom to gain.
     
    But as you grew you looked to yourself
    I wasn’t needed, not so much anymore
    You thought you held the keys to life’s goals
    As facing forward you met the world’s pace.
     
    And then one day you understood all
    The depths of love and sacrificial gifts
    Your arms reached out to hold me secure
    To share with me wisdom you had gained.
     
    Is it not true full circle we’ve come
    From infant small to adult mature
    And is it not true the life we have lived
    Is mirrored within God’s love for us all.
     
    For didn’t His arms hold tightly our life
    That when we fell He gently restored
    And when we stood alone on life’s stage
    We were held safe, safe in His arms.
    ~~
    Photo Credit: Dock at Lower Green Pond, NJ taken by Linda Roorda spring 1974.
    Murky image from old camera used specifically in recalling this event.
  4. 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 ~~
  5. Linda Roorda
    I love to see a beautiful rainbow at the end of a storm, don’t you?!  I’ve even seen the occasional double rainbow emerging as the sun begins to shine, leaving a lustrous shimmering sheen on everything wet.  Then there’s that elusive pot of gold we joke about finding at its end… wouldn’t we be rich!
    Rainbows have come to symbolize many things.  Since the early 1970s, the rainbow has represented the LGBT community with bright bold colors, used by gays as far back as the 19th century to identify themselves.  In some cultures, rainbows are a bad omen, a portent of evil, while on the flip side they’re said to bring good luck, especially double rainbows. 
    But spiritually and biblically, the rainbow represents God’s love and covenant to all of mankind that never again would He destroy the earth.  In that one-and-only 40-day flooding deluge of rain, only Noah and his family members survived in the ark he built because of their faith in the one true God… while the rest of the world mocked Noah and worshiped their false gods.  With representation in twos, male and female of every living creature, including mankind represented by Noah’s faithful family, that must have been one full and noisy ark!
    After the storm, Noah and his family saw a magnificent rainbow as they left the ark. “God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come:  I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.  Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind.  Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.  Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.”  So God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant I have established between me and all life on the earth.”  (Genesis 9:12-17 NIV)
    And what a blessing of love and hope God gave us as represented by that rainbow! We are showered with mercy and grace when we come to Him in faith, admit our sins, and ask for His forgiveness.  We all face the difficult trials of life, some more than others it seems.  As one of America’s favorite poets, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, once penned, “Into each life some rain must fall.” 
    “Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
    Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
    Thy fate is the common fate of all,
    Into each life some rain must fall,
    Some days must be dark and dreary.”
    Yet, just like the rainbow given as a sign to Noah after the flood, God has promised He will be with us, and never leave us… forever. (Matthew 28:20) 
    I’ve always been touched by the story of Israel’s Joseph, sold into slavery by his jealous brothers.  Taken to Egypt to become a slave, and though a faithful servant, he was falsely charged and imprisoned for many years.  Eventually released by Pharaoh for his ability to interpret the king’s dreams, he became second in command!  As a “prime minister,” Joseph led the nation through tremendous harvest successes followed by extreme drought and famine.  During the famine, his brothers sought assistance from the foreign nation, not knowing their younger brother was in control of grain disbursement.  When later identifying himself to his brothers, Joseph shared how God had blessed him through the difficulties, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.”  (Genesis 50:20)
    Though we all face our own share of difficulties, we have the hope that our gracious Lord will walk beside us, guide us, and see us through the storms.  As Joshua told the nation of Israel on going into the Promised Land, “Be strong and Courageous.  Do not fear… for the Lord your God goes with you.  He will not leave you or forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6) 
    Many generations later, the Apostle Paul wrote that he had asked God three times to remove the thorn with which he suffered.  Instead, God’s response was simply, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness…”  Paul was able to boast in his hardships because it was then he felt Christ strengthen him, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  (II Corinthians 12:7-10)
    Yet, all too often, like me, we often see only the bad in the difficult situation… initially at least.  When we raise our eyes to see how God walks through the storm with us, we see the good, the blessing, that comes as we look back in hindsight.  Paul reassured us by saying, “And we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”  (Romans 8:28)
    The beautiful rainbow arching across the sky after the storm is a beautiful reminder of God’s love for us, His gift of salvation, His promise to always be with us… no matter what! 
    The Rainbow’s End
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    The richest treasures at the rainbow’s end
    Reveal the blessings of abundant grace
    Joy from the heart to brighten your way
    Wrapped up in love and joy unending.
    ~
    Yet the pot of gold always out of reach
    Taunts our goals with pursuits of pleasure
    Tempting the heart to envy another
    To yearn for more that’s not ours to gain.
    ~
    But when we release our wants for more
    And humbly embrace to persevere
    We face the trials standing firm in faith
    As blessings pour out from our Father above.
    ~
    Such treasures rich we cannot fathom
    For in His plan all things work together
    That from a rough path we find His promise
    And see His face at the rainbow’s end.
    ~
  6. Linda Roorda
    Yesterday afternoon as I meandered around our yard, checking the gardens, transplanting new offspring, I see all is growing well.  The trees show leaf buds in various stages of growth, and perennial flowers and bushes are growing nicely with more daffodils this year than usual it seems!  The snow with bitter cold winds and temps in the high 20s a week ago left little lasting damage, even to the fragile bleeding hearts.
    I gaze in awe at the beauty of creation on full display all around us.  While contemplating, it becomes clear that this world and we within it are amazingly and uniquely created.  The sun rises in a brilliant display as its rays peak over the horizon, and later that same golden globe slowly disappears on the opposite horizon in a different, but no less dazzling display as the shadows deepen. 
    Then, as the velvet of night envelopes us, to gaze upward at a sky filled with twinkling diamonds while the moon reflects a small fraction of the sun’s radiance is simply heavenly.  But, to know there are more planets and solar systems beyond ours, with more galaxies and individual stars, each established within a specific order, is just too much for my simple mind to comprehend.
    I enjoyed hunting as a teen, with my Dad and on my own.  But, when I shot my first (and only) squirrel, I cried so hard I could barely see to find him on the ground when he fell out of the tree.  After I skinned him, my Mom cooked him up so deliciously.  I did not hunt after I married for the simple reason that my husband was not fond of game, and I don’t believe in mindlessly killing an animal.  But what I enjoyed even more than the hunt was to simply be outside in the fields and woods, even in the deep snow… which led me to share nature walks with our kids, hoping they’d enjoy all of nature in its quiet solitude as much as I do.  Except, I really wasn’t alone… 
    For there all around me were hills covered in various types of underbrush and trees from delicate ferns and flowered weeds to the tallest trees and evergreens.  On stepping inside the shadows of the woods on my cousin Howard’s farm in Nichols, there were deer as curious about me as I was of them.  And, no, I did not bring one home; I missed every time - learning years later from my brothers that they had figured out the old shotgun’s sights were not aligned correctly!  There was a fox trotting along casually, steering clear of that upright stranger invading its territory.  Rabbits were quietly darting and zipping along to hidden homes within the hedgerows, squirrels were chattering, and birds were singing their hearts out to share their joy of a new day. 
    I have enjoyed the seasonal view from my kitchen windows, especially as tom turkeys would strut and display their colorful feathers while the hens strolled and pecked and scratched around the field at the base of the hill behind us, or as an eagle perched on the branches of a dying maple along the creek’s edge.  When we farmed the property, I enjoyed watching the cows and calves go out to pasture, especially on their first spring outing as they ran and jumped with joie de vivre!  And, not long after we moved into our newly-built house in 1982, I saw a black bear lumbering away from the electric fence back to the sheltering protection of that forested hill. 
    I’ve watched the blue and green herons in the creek below us, and the ducks, geese and mergansers paddling around as they stopped for a swim on their migration route.  I’ve seen and heard thousands of snow geese many years ago when they landed in the harvested corn field across the road from us – what a joyous honking they made!  And, I’ve enjoyed the wide variety of birds within my own back yard along with seasonal migratory birds that stopped in for a bite to eat at my feeders, a drink of fresh water, and a brief rest. And then it’s another treat as newly-fledged nestlings are brought to the feeders.  It’s exciting to watch and listen to the youngsters as they wait for mom or dad to feed them, sometimes not too patiently!
    Farther beyond our town, I have waded into the cold waters of both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans – and watched the beauty of waves as they form and roll inward to break along the shore, lapping at the sand, retreating to whence they came – and appreciated and felt the power of those waves and their undertow, an even more dangerous force when whipped into a fury by stormy winds.  I discovered the fun in picking up the variety of shells poking out of the beach sand and admired their stunning colors and differences in shapes and designs.
    I have flown above the clouds, gazing down at the puffy layers of cotton strewn below.  But, mostly I’ve gazed upward from this terra firma to appreciate the many types of summer clouds scattered in a sky of purest blue with clouds that form shapes of animals and more, clouds that look like wispy mares’ tails, clouds of purest white with just a hint of gray, towering clouds with dark shades of gray and black in their underbellies warning of a storm about to break, clouds with rays of sun streaming outward from behind them and through them, clouds which form a solid sheet to shield the blue sky from view, clouds with a corrugated appearance, and clouds which form as jets leave their trails behind.
    I have stood in awe at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, and been amazed at the view beyond each twist and turn of the road as my daughter drove with me along for the ride, only to be in awe at an even more beautiful vista than the one from the turn before.  I have gazed upward in awe at the rocky sheers from the floor of a narrow canyon, the outer western extent of Arizona’s Grand Canyon.  I have admired alpine grassy meadows with mountain peaks jutting precipitously upward as they break the smooth, green, valley-like floor high up along the Continental Divide. 
    I have stood in awe and gazed at endless beauty from the ranger station atop the Glacier Mountains in Montana.  My daughter, Emily, and I had driven upward on the Going to the Sun Road from the valley floor below with its lake and streams and waterfalls amid the forested hills with unbelievable vistas opening anew at every turn of the road.  I saw a mountain goat resting on the bare rocks of a precipitous mountain ridge, so close I could have reached out the car’s window to touch him.  I have admired the high rocky peaks still beautifully snow covered in early August.  I gazed at a hill once covered by thick forest before a fire consumed its vegetation, but which now reveals vibrant new verdant undergrowth of plants, bushes and young trees, the promised renewal in a never-ending cycle of life and death and rebirth.  And, I stared in wonder at the Dakota “badlands,” the many colors of rocky slopes, and at the endless sea of flat prairie grassland and cropland. 
    I am awed by the development of life, whether it be that of our children or of plants and animals.  I am amazed at how life is formed from unseen cells as the tiniest and finest features develop into the minute intricacy of the nerves in our brain which serve every function of our body.  I am in awe of how delicately we are created, from eyes which see to brains which think in complexities.  I am amazed at our ability to view new life forming via the technology of sonograms.  I do not, even for a second, give credence to the postulation of evolution.  I do not believe that from some “big bang” our lives with our fine and complex unique inner structures slowly and gradually evolved over millions or billions of years, or that we then somehow broke off from some lost link into a new line descending from apes. 
    Instead, I stand amazed at our great God of the universe who created each of us to be the unique beings we are.  From the growth and development of those tiny cells as our life begins, to birth, toddlerhood, adolescence, and on into adulthood, He knows us intimately.  He’s numbered the hairs on our head, and is there to care for us at each step of our path.  “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.  When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:13-16)
    I am awed as I ponder each beautiful tiny snowflake.  The unique design within the structure of each and every single snowflake that has ever fluttered down from the sky is truly amazing.  Like our individual and unique DNA patterns, no two snowflakes are alike…ever… from the beginning of time and on into the future. 
    I stand amazed to watch earth’s transformation from winter’s dreariness into the beauty of spring as new life emerges.  I marvel at the progression of spring’s beauty rolling into summer’s bounty before sliding into the brilliant colors of fall, and then stand transfixed as winter’s first snowfall descends to blanket our earth in pure white.  Once again, I am in awe to realize there are no two leaves, flower buds, plants or trees alike… ever.  For they, too, are created unique in their design by their intricate and delicate cell structures.
    Quietly thinking, I am reminded of God’s questions after being confronted by the suffering Job.  Job was brought face to face with a God whose ways and wisdom are beyond our finite comprehension as reflected in His creation.  “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?  Tell Me, if you have understanding.  Who determined its measurements?  Surely you know!  Or who stretched the line upon it?  To what were its foundations fastened?  Or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?  (Job 38:4-7)
    And so, I stand in awe of a Creator who has designed and formed the vast universe, this earth and all its inhabitants, and so much more.  Sometimes I think He had an absolutely grand time creating this world with a wonderful sense of humor - for the variety of animals and plant life, their shapes and colors, each uniquely speaking of the vastness and limitless of His power, glory and love. And with all of this in mind, I bow my head in awe at how He created and knit us together in our mother’s womb, each with our individual uniqueness and idiosyncrasies, gifts and skills.  What an awesome God we serve!
     Creation’s Glory
    Linda A. Roorda
    I gaze around at nature’s splendor
    And cannot miss the beauty displayed
    From universe large to tiniest cell
    Designed with love that we might enjoy.
     
    Come sit with me and take it all in
    As just above trees light pierces the dark
    While breaking of dawn disperses the night
    And morning awakes, in bright vivid shades.
     
    How could the earth, the planets and sun
    Know where to ride their orbits precise?
    For if they move a fraction aside
    Chaos erupts, destruction ensues.
     
    Vast is the world and universe deep
    With fragile life and delicate cell
    Order precise, especially planned
    By One who knows all future and past.
     
    Majestic peaks their beauty display
    In granite sheer and towering summit
    Over valley floor with meadow calm
    And flowing rivers by trees standing tall.
     
    A cell divides, the journey begins
    Its code ordained, embedded within
    And as it grows unique in design
    Soon shall emerge, the miracle of life.
     
    A bud that grows will open in time
    From something plain to grandly transformed
    Dazzling beauty with colorful hues
    Each petal soft in splendor arrayed.
     
    Birds on the wing, a marvel of grace
    Delicate form yet strength beyond ken.
    They do not fret, no worry they keep
    For God doth hold the key to their ways.
     
    Fluttering leaves swaying in the breeze
    With tender veins and edges serrated
    Each leaf unique in color and shape
    Intricate plan, intention divine.
     
    Tiniest flakes among a zillion
    Descend arrayed with no two the same
    Delicate form, beauty artistic
    He alone framed their structured design.
     
    As daylight fades and night settles down
    In twinkling stars and moon rising bright
    Order displayed with balance supreme
    Your hands made all with forethought and plan.
     
    For Thou alone in glory arrayed
    The great I Am, forever Thou art
    ‘Twas Your pleasure this world to create
    As praises we bring to honor Your name.
    ~~
     
  7. Linda Roorda
    It’s been a rough month for both of us with my husband's ongoing health issues that never completely go away, extraneous related issues, so many medical appointments, house electrical and car problems, leaving us both feeling like we want to just run away… escaping it all to the proverbial vacation in the hills. I know you’ve been there, too.  But God… answered our needs with good friends who were glad to help, and a new medical internist team who really care.  And I found this poem and blog written during another difficult time in 2014 and 2015 that spoke to my heart, reminding me…
    We all have doubts and questions in our hearts.  We all have fears and worries and thoughts with which we wrestle.  But so did the best of men and women who were close to the heart of God – like Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Jacob, Joseph, David, Job, Esther, Mary, Peter, Paul, just to name a few… In fact, there’s a reason why I appreciate their life examples so much… it’s in the depth of their honesty.
    Perhaps we deal with wondering or wandering thoughts, difficult and painful questions, tears with pleas, and heart-felt longings.  Maybe, truth be told, we’re upset and just a little angry at God for not answering our prayers.  Maybe we wonder why our faith seems weak in the face of a host of trials while others float along in life with hardly a problem.  Maybe we feel we’re not worthy of His love and His grace, or maybe we think we don’t need His help... that we can manage on our own, or maybe we think He really can’t understand what we’re facing.
    Yet, we do know we truly can take all our problems to our Lord in prayer, though sometimes it seems like we just shouldn’t bother Him with all of life’s little seemingly insignificant issues.  Sometimes, our heart is so heavy we don’t even know how to put our thoughts into words in order to pray… 
    I’ve been there.  I’ve wrestled.  I’ve wondered, wandered and worried. Yet, Jesus understands.  He knows what we face.  He cares.  He’s been there.  He faced life head on with trials and temptations, with love from friends, but also with rejection, mocking and scorn.  And He knew to whom He could turn – His heavenly Father. 
    When I focus on what Jesus went through, how He suffered for each of us, then what have I to fear?  He knows… for He’s a friend like no other, just as the Apostle John wrote:  “Greater love has no one than this:  to lay down one's life for one's friends.  (John 15:13 NIV) 
    And being the Friend that He is, He welcomes our ponderings.  He exemplifies the bond of a friend who shares the burdens, doubts and fears of our heart.  He helps us understand the meaning within or behind life’s trials and wrestling thoughts.  He loves us deeply.  No matter what we’ve done or where we’ve been, or what questions keep us awake at night, we can go to Him.  He opens our eyes to His truth and words of wisdom when we come to Him in prayer.  And with a heart of love, He welcomes us into his arms of peace.  He truly cares about even the littlest things that we get so concerned about and fret over… for, as I Peter 5:7 reminds us, we are to “Cast all [our] anxiety on him because he cares for [us].”
    This poem came out of my own doubts, questions, fears and frets, and my tendency to take the reins amidst the struggles of life… when I should be giving all these things over to God and rest in His peace.  May you, too, find peace in knowing that, though we all go through these issues, our Lord has his arms and ears and heart open, waiting for us to come to Him with all our concerns.  Because He cares… 
    Thoughts That Wrestle
    Linda A. Roorda
    Within my heart are thoughts that wrestle…
    Where is my faith? On what do I stand?
    Help me now Lord to draw close to You
    Help me to grow rooted in Your truth.
     
    Why am I prone to wander away?
    Why do I hold ever tight the reins?
    Help me to know You guide me gently
    As I rely on Your restoring word.
     
    Your word is truth, reality to me
    A firm foundation to strengthen my soul,
    Lessons to heed when life falls apart
    Knowledge to earn by traveling this road.
     
    Should I utter my bitter complaints
    To underscore the trial I face,
    You offer hope when I’m in despair
    As all my cares I release to You.
     
    Despite my doubts You still rescue me
    You draw me close on hearing my cries,
    Your gentle words within my soul
    Give voice to reason, a wisdom to gain.
     
    You understand my human frailties
    Though I can’t fathom you lived in two worlds,
    Within your heart was sinless perfection
    But in this life temptation You faced.
     
    For You knew pain, rejection and jeers
    And You were tempted, in hunger and thirst,
    But better than we, You stared down the hand
    Of evil's grasp which held not Your will.
     
    You cried with loss, and needed to rest
    You shared a heart for those steeped in sin,
    Your words gave life to the seeking crowds
    As You fed their souls with unreserved love.
     
    The great I Am, the giver of life
    You bless all who come, whose hearts are seeking,
    That we might know, the one holy God
    The Word in flesh, the Light of the world.
     
    For this our faith in your death alone
    And resurrection from the tomb to life,
    Cannot be swayed by earthly passions
    When we take hold of your nail-pierced hands.
     
    Grace and mercy bestowed on my heart
    When faith is wrapped in your sacrifice
    The reason you came among us to live
    How great a gift I can never repay.
    ~~
  8. Linda Roorda

    Listen To Me

    By Linda Roorda,

    I thought you might enjoy this look back in time to lessons learned while raising animals on our backyard farm. 
    Can you hear wisdom’s call in the depth of your soul?  It’s that still small voice that we often hear, but don’t always heed.  And I’m guilty, too.  I so want to do things my way… but need to heed the reminder that my way is not always the best option.
    I’ve shared before about the animals under my care as I grew up.  After moving to Lounsberry, NY in my mid-teens, we acquired a little over three dozen baby chicks in the mail... extras in case some didn’t survive the trip.  The tiny fluffy chicks were raised briefly under a lamp in a big box in the kitchen corner.  When they were big enough, we put them out in the ca.1930s chicken coop that I’d helped my dad renovate.  And then, from an auction, my dad obtained six adult Muscovy ducks for our menagerie.  My father had raised chickens, ducks and geese under his mother’s tutelage while growing up, while my mother helped her family care for at least 3000 chickens, and knew the importance of having a guard goose – which my youngest brother Ted named Honk!  My Dad had even been a delegate to Boston on a 4-H chicken judging contest!  With my parents’ love of farming, it was only natural that would be part of the legacy passed on to me.
    So, imagine my excitement one day to discover a broody duck setting on eggs. After the first four hatched and were ready to face the world, Mama Duck took her little ones out for a stroll in the fenced-in chicken yard.  Coming home from school, I saw a little straggler left behind, trying to hatch itself.  Not knowing any better, I decided to help what I considered to be a poor little duckling abandoned by its Mama.  After breaking off pieces of the shell to create a wider opening, the little fella slipped out of the shell and lay quietly in the nest.  Sadly, he did not survive… simply because I had taken matters into my own hands and helped him hatch.  Unbeknownst to me at the time was the fact that chicks need to do the work of hatching on their own. 
    There is a natural process that tells the chick when it’s time to escape its shell confinement, notably elevated carbon dioxide.  When this reaches a certain level inside the shell, the chick begins to flex its tiny muscles.  But before it begins to hatch, which can take up to or just over 24 hours, the chick absorbs the yolk and blood vessels inside the shell into its own body.  This will provide nourishment for a few days after the hatching.  Next, pipping begins with the tiny chick using its “egg” or “beak” tooth to make a tiny crack or hole through the membrane and shell so that vital oxygen can enter.  Gradually, it cracks the shell all the way around the large end of the egg.  Then, the little chick stretches until it throws off the protection of the shell and emerges, wet and floppy.  The chick should be left alone to dry as its feathers fluff to keep it naturally warm.  Soon enough it will be up and walking, under Mama’s tender care.
    By feeling sorry for the little duckling left behind as its Mama and siblings went out for a stroll, I took matters into my own hands.  “I did it my way,” to quote Frank Sinatra’s famous song.  By assisting this tiny duckling to hatch, I did not allow it to go through the natural process established by our Creator.  And, sadly, I caused the demise of my littlest duckling.
    From that painful lesson years ago, I realized doing life “my way” is not always the best option.  There’s a better way.  Unfortunately, I haven’t always sought the better way.  But if I learned anything, it’s that seeking wisdom is a life-long learning process.  We definitely don’t know it all in our youth… we need experience to gain knowledge to travel wisely through life.  And experience comes in realizing that we make mistakes because we don’t know everything… and, with humility, seeking advice from others.  Perhaps someone else studied the subject at hand, trained under a worthy teacher, and learned skills which we don’t have.  If only I’d asked my father how to care for my ducklings, I would not have rushed headlong into taking matters in my own hands.  But he was an over-the-road trucker at that time, and not instantly available.
    By giving up “our way” as we seek wisdom from our heavenly Father through His word, we gain knowledge to live life under His guiding hand… a knowledge and love we can then share with others.  “Instruct a wise man and he will be wiser still; teach a righteous man and he will add to his learning.  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.”  (Proverbs 9:9-10) 
    Listen To Me
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Where is my heart?  Where is my focus?
    Where are my thoughts and my attention?
    In idols that grab, my vision distort
    Or is it heaven with treasures of gold?
     
    Listen to Me and consider blessings
    Focus upon the door of your heart.
    Who has the key to enter therein
    To whom give credence, to whom pay homage?
     
    Hear wisdom’s voice as she calls your name
    Heed her message with a joyful heart.
    Welcome her words that direct your path
    And dwell in peace by her guiding light.
     
    Fear the Lord humbly with reverence and awe
    Become the wiser as knowledge is gained
    With confidence seek His will in your life
    And choose the One who will guide in truth.
     
    For the scales of justice weigh out every deed
    To plumb the depth of my heart and soul
    Balanced by truth from Your word alone
    Will my life show my pride or Your love?
    ~~
    PHOTO CREDIT: My photo taken of my Muscovy ducks 1971.
  9. 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?
  10. Linda Roorda

    Respect

    By Linda Roorda,

    Oh, that we lived in a perfect world! … but we don’t.  Not everything goes our way, but our response can make a difference.  So, why am I hesitant to express my opinion?  There's a place for respectful disagreements, including of each other's faith, or lack thereof as espoused a few years back by Joy Behar of “The View” and those who admire her. They mocked former Vice President Mike Pence for his Christian faith and talking to Jesus, even calling a “mental illness” his listening to Jesus’ voice.  I, too, have heard the "voice" of God... sometimes loud and clear as if someone stood next to me uttering the words, other times nothing more than a gentle nudge in my soul. 
    But, in re: school and public mass shootings, Ed and I have long felt there's something eating away at society, like a cancer.  It’s doubtful if stricter gun laws will make a big difference in overall statistics of violence, since criminals always manage to get them.  Though we do believe some laws strengthened may be more of a deterrent than others, it’s interesting that cities with the toughest gun laws haven’t curbed their gun violence.  But you know, my Dad's guns were freely available to me and my brothers as teens, after training in respectful use, and we never considered using them wrongly. 
    As crime rates increase, we see an obvious lack of respect for the value of another human being… with an increase in bullying and rage issues, taunting, mocking and killing of our law enforcement officers. 
    We can argue gun crime stats, but I don't believe access to guns by teens or any criminal is our main issue.  We have seen over time that any manner of weapon can be used besides guns - knives, a heavy object to bludgeon the victim, vehicles, even a rock by Cain to kill his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage.  Even in states or cities with the strictest gun control laws, crime rates have risen a good deal lately.
    Many at-risk youths have not learned how to appropriately redirect their losses, upsets or rage other than to lash out at those around them - especially when adults use violence to release their own anger.  There seems to be a lack of discipline – some kids know what they can get away with and readily test the limits.  And, sometimes, kids lack appropriate role models as we adults can also give inappropriate signals.  Too often we, as a society, have given our youth too much, causing an "entitlement" syndrome where no effort is put forth to earn what one desires to gain.
    We witness or become the target of bullying, verbal attacks, abuse and harassment in many forms.  Amidst the violence, angry rhetoric, and sexual harassment and misconduct in our society, something seems to be missing.  What happened to the respect we once showed each other?  Showing courtesy, consideration and honor to others fits together under that one term – respect.  Displaying an attitude of humility with respect shows the depth of our own character and integrity.  Yet, it seems that mocking or hateful vitriol is the language preferred from many directions.  Like you, I find it appalling. 
    Anger against sin and abuse is not wrong, but righteous, an emotional response which God gave us. When anger stems from a heart with sinful intention, therein lies the abuse and lack of respect.  And it should make us stop and think.  
    Perhaps, instead of taking a knee to the American flag and finding fault with America, those with ability, financial or otherwise, could help the underprivileged within current charities or create new ones.  Perhaps, simply from their own heart of love, instead of violence and destruction to have their demands met, they could become a mentor to show the disadvantaged a better way.  I grew up without much of what my peers had.  I’ve been mocked and ridiculed.  But I also grew up with parents who cared and who disciplined.  I grew up with kids of all races, including black friends and those of international heritage, and they and their parents did all they could to accomplish their goals with respect and gratitude to the community.
    Where has morality gone?  Why are certain “politically correct” attitudes condoned while those who disagree are held in disdain?  With the push to set God aside as irrelevant in our lives, to live as if we are unaccountable to anyone and anything, I think we have also brushed moral ethics and values aside.  After all, if we do not believe we’re created in the image of God, but simply exist because a few cosmic molecules exploded with a bang, then of what value is another person’s life.  I find it ironic that huge fines are levied for killing animals, yet our unborn children are aborted/killed because they might be defective or an inconvenience. 
    Is a conscience or a moral obligation obsolete?  Do we do whatever seems right to us alone?  Without moral absolutes and the ensuing guilt regarding what is or is not considered sinful behavior, then we don’t have to hold ourselves accountable to God and His word.  Still, how often don’t those who hold to a belief in God tend to live by certain moral standards that have their very foundation in Holy Scripture.
    With so many accusations of sexual misconduct/harassment among public officials coming to light, has this pattern of behavior become prolific because of Bill Clinton’s ability to “get away with it” during his past presidency?  I remember someone saying to me then that it was no big deal, “Everyone does it!”  Oh really?  Does everyone lie to cover up the truth, or only abusers?  What’s lacking in one’s character to cause such rampant abuse?  The predator or abuser knows how to shame his victims into silence.  Silent no more, many are speaking out more readily, calling attention to the abuse and harassment suffered quietly for too long.  The victims are trying to bring accountability into the picture for restitution and a better way to live responsibly.  Yet, too often victims are still silenced and looked upon as the problem.
    We feel free to disparage and mock the opposition of our dearly-held beliefs, yet we’re appalled if our own perspectives are attacked.  Once upon a time, we honored each other… despite our differences.  Once upon a time, we agreed to disagree.  We were able to debate and argue our points in a respectful manner, but now it seems that mocking, hate-filled rhetoric, and even violence is “de rigueur.”  Why? 
    I’ve pondered the societal denigration which brought about the November 2008 Black Friday shopping stampede.  The epitome of greed fed that mad rush, pushing and shoving throughout the crowd, just to satisfy selfish desires… for Christmas gifts no less… resulting in the trampling death of a Wal-Mart employee.  I remember hearing this story on the news then, and being saddened and appalled that such a tragedy could have even happened.
    But, isn’t it greed and selfishness which results in any crime, whether it be robbery or murder?  We’re jealous.  We dislike.  And we allow minor slights to fester.  We have our rights, hold grudges, and can’t forgive.  Someone has what we want so we take it to satisfy our pleasure, or destroy the one who owns it.  How unutterably sad that society has stooped to this level, even to condemning those who bring attention to abuses they’ve dealt with.  Yet, there’s nothing new under the sun, as Solomon once said. (Ecclesiastes 1:9)  Even Adam and Eve’s son Cain killed his brother, Abel, out of jealousy that festered and grew into a murderous hatred.  (Genesis 4:4-12)
    These thoughts reminded me of the vitriol espoused by and against various public officials, particularly during election time.  There’s a hatred and cancellation of the opposition, those holding and expressing conservative and/or Christian biblical values.  Whether by, or against, the president of our nation or any of our local officials, including law enforcement officers, such words seem to be the norm lately.  With hatred and anger fueled perhaps by abusive rhetoric, and a loathing of that with which we disagree, passions are fed and all manner of evil erupts from the human heart… rather than allowing the opposition time to express their opinion.
    In the Summer of 2017, many thought it was “the right thing to do” by taking down statues erected in memory of our nation’s historical past.  We cannot rewrite history by destroying that with which we disagree, and instead are setting a dangerous precedent.  In removing what is considered a negative, perhaps we miss the opportunity to learn from past mistakes… personal and collective, national and international.  Perhaps there are teachable moments that would draw our divergent beliefs together in common ground.  In the slippery progression to remove more and more references to our historical past, what’s next?  Think long and hard of the consequences… because it just might be us next… me and you…for our beliefs.
    A contrast to such rhetoric and violence can be found in Jesus’ teachings that we call The Beatitudes, especially one simple phrase we all know as the Golden Rule.  “So, in everything, do to others what you would have them to do you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV)  As the physician Luke expressed in his gospel (17:3), “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.”  What better way to show Christ’s love to our neighbor or enemy than by lending a helping hand with courtesy and forgiveness… while respecting our differences.
    When an expert in the old Jewish law asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”  (Matthew 22:36-39 NIV) With such love, we “encourage one another and build each other up”. (I Thessalonians 5:11) 
    Wow!  What a depth of perfect wisdom we find in Jesus’ words!  In taking them to heart, there’d be no more abuse, petty fights or squabbles among us, or even great wars.  We’d be so in tune to each other’s needs that our selfish ego and desires would vanish.  All out of a simple respect for each other and their needs.  May God bless each of us as we practice that kind of true humility.  
    Respect
    Linda A. Roorda
    It seems we’ve mislaid respect and value.
    We want what we want, and deserve it now!
    We’ll step on your toes, fight and destroy
    Not caring to pause and treasure your worth.
    ~
    Entitled am I, my wants come first
    I rush and push, and trample on through.
    How dare you think that I could be wrong
    I have my rights!  Get out of my way!
    ~
    Oh, to our shame, what have we done…
    We once shared love but now foster hate,
    We once treasured folks for who they are
    And valued their rights as much as our own.
    ~
    Common courtesy, we salute your ways
     With manners polite and outstretched arms
    Welcoming others with civility’s mores
    Regarding humility as our tone of grace.
    ~
    With deference and honor we highly esteem
    Others before self with gratitude’s praise
    Rendering tribute where homage is due
    Tactful and kind, we respect you for you.
    ~~
  11. Linda Roorda
    Treasures – we all have them… they’re what our hearts hold dear.  Treasures are often found within the important things of life – our family, friends, hobbies, and even little trinkets. Yet, what value do we give them?  Are they all encompassing, devouring our time and energy… or are they like gifts in the backdrop of a life rich and full from serving others?
    One of my favorite verses from childhood has been, “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.”  (Matthew 6:20-21)  In all honesty, though, I have not always looked at life from that perspective.  But God never fails to bring something to mind which helps us remember His great and awesome treasure.
    I have many treasures, things I hold dear.  One special treasure is a small collection of Delftware.  Since both my husband and I are second-generation Americans of Dutch immigrants, I want to preserve our heritage.  Though patriotic American, I also value the Dutch as my most prominent ancestry.  My dad was full Dutch, while my mom is a mixture of many German/Swiss Palatines, a few Scots-Irish, English and French, and many early-17th century New Netherlands’ Dutch.  
    Yet, as much as I treasure my family and its heritage, this is not where my greatest treasure is found.  Instead, I have learned to “seek…first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness...”  (Matthew 6:33)  Storing up treasures through the gift of Christ’s love and sacrifice leaves me to understand everything else is simply an accumulation of stuff.  I can’t take any of it with me when I pass away from this earth. 
    By trusting, believing in, and accepting Jesus’ death and resurrection, we affirm His assertion to all the world that “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.”  (John 14:6)   Nor can we escape the simple truth that, as Jesus told his followers, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  (Matthew 6:21, Luke 12:34)  That treasure I can take with me!  And may we always hold the greatest treasure this world has ever known close to our heart.
    Heaven’s Treasures
    Linda A. Roorda
     Treasures are in the heart’s secret things
    The special thoughts, the riches valued
    But whence the source a difference makes
    For what the heart seeks, there lies its treasure.
     
    What do I value above all the rest?
    What would I give for my heart to follow?
    What is the worth of a sacrifice
    Among life’s stuff that draws me away?
     
    Is it my self, an ego to fulfill,
    Or is the choice of eternal value?
    Do I hold tight trinkets of this world,
    Or release them all for greater reward?
     
    Within this life are choices to make
    Whom shall I follow, to whom give my heart?
    To that which I seek will loyalty go
    Whether in pleasure or by wisdom’s light.
     
    For what my heart seeks there is my treasure
    Hidden in depths of awe-filled wonder
    As I gaze upon heaven’s great glory
    The shining home where faith has been placed.
    ~~
     
  12. Linda Roorda
    Your Family Tree #2
    Growing up knowing that my dad was a first-generation American born to 1920s Dutch immigrants, I’ve always been partial to all things Dutch.  Then, researching my mom’s ancestors, and discovering the several nationalities in her lineage along with many New Netherlands’ Dutch and their part in building America, has been even more of a treasure. 
     So, why is genealogy so important to us?  Put another way, why is history important?  To quote David McCullough in the Reader’s Digest, December 2002, author of John Adams and 1776:  “The best way to know where the country is going is to know where we've been…But why bother about history anyway? …that's done with, junk for the trash heap.  Why history?  Because it shows us how to behave.  [It] teaches and reinforces what we believe in, what we stand for.  History is about life – human nature, the human condition and all its trials and failings and noblest achievements… Everything we have, all our good institutions, our laws, our music, art and poetry, our freedoms, everything is because somebody went before us and did the hard work... faced the storms, made the sacrifices, kept the faith…  If we deny our children that enjoyment [of historical story telling]… then we’re cheating them out of a full life.”  
     We cannot walk in our ancestors’ shoes; we can only imagine the way their life was from recorded history.  And, though their life seems from a simpler time, it was much more difficult, even harsh, in so many ways.  We can also look back with knowledge gained from their experiences, both good and bad.  With stoic determination, our ancestors left families and homes behind to sail across an ocean with hopes of building a better life in a new country, tame the wilderness, and push back the western frontier.  Typically, they never again saw the “old country” or family left behind.  How easy it is for us just to hop in the car for a visit to relatives, or take a flight to faraway places!  We have no idea what hardships our ancestors truly faced.
     As you research, consider the reasons your ancestors left behind all they knew.  This will give you a better appreciation for the people and their times.  We know the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth in 1620 seeking religious freedom.  In 1609, sailing for the Netherlands, Henry Hudson explored the Atlantic coastline and river which bears his name, looking for the Northwest Passage.  Soon after, the Dutch built their vast empire, establishing a presence in New Amsterdam and New Netherlands that helped create New York what it is today, especially the city and eastern half of the state.  But, few realize it was the Dutch influence on our early legal and governmental systems, the city’s early design, free trade, individual rights, religious liberty, and language that made New Amsterdam a world hub well before the 1664 British takeover and renaming it New York City.
     A must read is the excellent book in my personal library by Russell Shorto, “The Island at the Center of the World”, to understand the influence and legacy of that little Dutch colony.  The idea of a district attorney or public prosecutor began as the Dutch Schout (Scout).  A home’s front stoep/stoop or step often held hearings to settle neighborhood disputes.  Baas/boss is Dutch, koekjes/cookies are Dutch, and even our Santa Claus evolved from the Dutch Sint Nicklaas.  New York City’s Bowery district was part of Pieter Stuyvesant’s bouwerij, aka farm, cared for by my ancestor, Pieter Claesz/Claesen Wijkoff (Wyckoff).  Pieter sailed October 8, 1636 from Texel, Netherlands as a teen to work on the Rensselaerswyck plantation.  Owned by Dutch financier, Kiliaen van Rensselaer, it was located where the city stands today.  Pieter’s house, now the Wyckoff House Museum at Clarendon Road, Brooklyn, built c.1652, displays a collection of early Dutch artifacts reflecting New Amsterdam’s history.
    Guns at New Amsterdam Fort formed the battery on Manhattan, today’s Battery Park.  Wall Street was de wal, a row of palisades erected to protect the burgeoning town against Indian raids.  Brooklyn was Breuckelen or broken land; Harlem was Nieuw Haarlem named for the city in the province of Friesland; Flushing was Vlissingen.  Albany, founded by early Dutch, is the oldest continuous settlement in the original 13 colonies.  The Hudson valley region up through the Mohawk River and Schenectady was settled by early Dutch before other nationalities arrived to claim their place in history.  Throughout the entire New Netherlands region, my maternal Dutch, German, Swiss, French, English, and Scots ancestors settled and established their presence extensively in and among Native Americans from the 1630s.
    Searching for your ancestors will help show when, where and how your family fits into America’s history.  We are a nation built by immigrants of various ethnic backgrounds seeking a better way of life.  Essentially, there were four major waves of immigrants to our American shores over the last several centuries.  Colonial immigration, begun in the early 17th century, peaked just before the Revolutionary War broke out in 1775.  The second wave began in the 1820s, lasting until the depression of the 1870s.  The greatest influx of immigrants came in the third wave from the 1880s through the early 1920s (with my and my husband’s Dutch immigrants arriving in the early to mid-1920s), while the fourth, and continuing, wave is said to have begun about 1965.
    Our ancestors immigrated for religious, economic and political reasons.  They sought to enjoy our government-protected freedoms, to escape wars and famines and diseases, to own land, and to seek employment opportunities to provide a better way of life for their families.  Ultimately, we were melded together to form a blend of cultures and ethnicities which have become uniquely American.
    Our next segment will begin to look at specifics on how and where to search for your elusive ancestors.  
  13. 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
  14. 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.
    ~~
  15. Linda Roorda
    The tapestry of life… a montage of all that once was to all we’ve become and soon will be, all which occupies our life and dreams, and all which defines who we are in the depth of our heart. 
    Wouldn’t it be neat to see a tapestry of scenes from your life… like the movie we see in our mind’s eye as we reflect back over the years? And from all those experiences in which we learned and grew emotionally and spiritually, what a journey it would tell!
    I’d like to think my tapestry would show a woman who has grown wiser over the years… for I am well aware of my youthful immaturity and inherent failings.  But, woven throughout would also be the golden threads of friends, mentors and teachers who came alongside and taught me with loving encouragement.
    Having made small embroideries, larger crewel embroidered scenes, counted cross-stitch projects, and many quilts over the years, the fronts display their beauty.  The back, however, can be a different story.  Hidden from view are threads that meander in a wayward fashion to the next section, or even hide mistakes – rather like my life!  But I also believe that the ups and downs and errors of life which those threads represent have all happened for a reason.  As one of my favorite authors, Corrie ten Boom, once wrote, “Although the threads of my life have often seemed knotted, I know, by faith, that on the other side of the embroidery… there is a Crown."  (Corrie ten Boom, 1974. “Tramp for the Lord: The Story that Begins Where The Hiding Place Ends”, p.12, CLC Publications)
    It’s so reassuring to know that our life experiences have an intended meaning and purpose… that we might gain a wisdom we could not have learned otherwise.  Nothing can beat the exciting happy times we all enjoy!  But, it’s especially in understanding the depths of pain and sadness through losses suffered or mistakes made that we grow wiser as God guides us through our difficulties. How often we find that from those life experiences the Lord positions us to come alongside someone else who might be struggling and in need of an emotional lift.  For we, too, have tucked away memories of treasured friends who traveled beside us when we were in need.  Though we may not think of it that way, they are, indeed, the gems of our life… just as we are for others. And thank you for being a gem in my life!
    With these thoughts, I was reminded 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)  Through our patchwork experiences, we bring our worship of “praise…to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”  (II Corinthians 1:3-4, NIV) 
    What a cherished thought to know that whatever we go through, God will work it out for our good, our benefit, when our trust is placed in Him.  From the blessings He gives to the difficulties He allows to come our way, may we grow in wisdom and, in turn, be used by our Lord to bless others as life’s gems! 
    Life’s tapestry… that which God has woven as His masterpiece of our life… a testimony to those around us… a visual reminder of how great His love is for each one of us, tarnished and faded though we may be.  We really do have a purpose in this world… in living for and serving our Lord and others with joy in our heart!
    Life’s Tapestry Gems
    Linda A. Roorda
    Woven within the tapestry of life
    Are threads of gold among the diverse.
    These colorful scenes, a journey of years
    Depict a life in memories treasured.
    ~
    Memories like dreams elusive and wary
    Some haunting echoes, some images clear
    Some melancholy, some bursting with joy
    Of all which dwells within my soul.
    ~
    This soul You knew from before my birth
    For You’ve called me Yours since time began.
    You wove the threads in skillful pattern
    Of who I was to who I am now.
    ~
    For I am unique, a special design
    The only version which You created.
    And all of my life with its joys and tears
    Helped weave the me who I have become.
    ~
    These memories dear like gentle footprints
    Bring quiet joy within my heart
    To recall a world of growing wiser
    With scenes that flood the gates of my soul.
    ~
    As memories transport through all that once was
    And draw me in to contemplate
    Emotions run strong and images lie deep
    From another time and another place.
    ~
    Memories thus treasured and savored anew
    Serve their purpose in visions tempered
    By value and worth from sadness and joy
    To understand life as it now presents.
    ~~
    Refining the love within my heart
    Of those who walk among the threads
    In vivid hues of brightly lit scenes
    To bring a warmth and smile in my heart.
    ~
    For the King of Light has woven my life
    In mosaic rich and design unique
    Of a life well lived through blessing and trial
    In treasured scenes on tapestry rare.
    ~
    Thus memories and dreams, threads of a lifetime
    Have woven the fabric of this my life
    While you, my friends and dearest loved ones
    Are interwoven as tapestry gems.
    ~~
    2014
     
  16. Linda Roorda

    The Master Tailor

    By Linda Roorda,

    I trust you had a blessed Christmas with your family, or even celebrating from a distance but still keeping in touch! It always brings joy to hear from our kids and Grands : )  I also started sewing a new recliner quilt for Ed (photo attached) – the center panel and fabrics from three different friends, yet they mesh so well as if purchased together! But, I made a mistake in sewing. Had to rip it out and redo a side panel. Isn't that how God takes the pieces of our life and fits them all together perfectly?! And that got me thinking about this old blog, The Master Tailor.  Enjoy!  Sent with much love and hugs, Linda
    I love to sew!  And to think it all started in 7th grade Home Ec sewing class in Clifton, NJ.  Making a simple A-line skirt and a beach wrap (displayed on the wall by the teacher) were the humble beginnings of better things to come. 
    With my mom too busy caring for a new baby brother to teach me more, my dad’s mother took me under her wings.  A former professional seamstress, Grammy helped me sew a western shirt, not an easy project with those angled points, and taught me well to use the seam ripper.  I learned to rip out my mistakes, start over, and make it right!  After all, in making life mistakes, it’s how we accept correction or change that makes all the difference.  So, when I tried to make a quilt on my own, totally wrong, my Grammy taught me the correct way.  She gifted me with several fabrics as I made a cardboard template to cut out 6-inch squares.  Laying the fabric squares out on the living room floor, I set them in a pattern, sewed up the long strips, and then sewed each long strip side by side.  With that success, Grammy then gifted me with fabric every Christmas over several years for yet more skirts and dresses. 
    After my family moved to Lounsberry, NY in 1969, I bought a c.1900 treadle machine that my auctioneer cousin, Howard, was selling for only $3.  My dad oiled it, fixed the tension, got a new leather belt for the wheels, and my sewing obsession took off.   More skirts, suits and dresses were made on that treadle machine to carry me through high school, including my prom gown and wedding gown. 
    Turning 20 on my first birthday after we married, my husband bought me a new Singer electric sewing machine!  And oh, if it could talk, the miles of thread and fabric it has sewn in clothes for myself, shirts for my husband, clothes for my children, and tiny clothes for their dolls.  And, now, using this same sewing machine, I’ve been making quilts in log cabin and prairie window designs, along with simple and more-detailed table runners.  And how I wish my dear Grammy could see them for she taught me well!
    Have you known that feeling of contentment as you worked to create something of value for yourself or others?  Have you known what it feels like to be so engrossed in a project that you lose all sense of time?  Have you known the frustration of having to take the time to rip out a seam, or correct something that just wasn’t right?  And, because you did so, you then felt the satisfaction of seeing your finished project in all its beauty?  Maybe that’s how God views us when we recognize His hand guiding us through life’s ups and downs.  David said it so well, “If the Lord delights in a man’s ways, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.”  (Psalm 37:23-24)
    This poem was written in a reflective moment, remembering that various mistakes, hardships, and testing over the years have helped define character and create who we are deep in our soul.  At times, I’ve not paid sufficient attention to my sewing, made mistakes, and had to employ that seam ripper.  I’ve also realized what a life lesson that holds… because admitting I’ve made an error is the first step to correcting it, and then learning from it.  I may not want to face the trials which might be coming in the future; but, in looking back, neither can I imagine life without the hardships we have worked through.  They refine our life and shape us for the better… just like the seam ripper’s cutting edge.
    And I also can’t help but realize that the Lord knows what He’s doing as He works His will through those trials which He allows each of us to face.  “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him...” (Romans 8:28, NIV)  For through these difficulties, He shapes and molds us into the unique and special person He means for us to be.
    The Master Tailor
    Linda A. Roorda
    As the seamstress sits and begins to sew
    Her loving care goes into each stitch
    And correlation stirs within her thoughts
    Of the Creator’s design deep in her soul.
     
    In her mind’s eye she sees it take shape
    From simple concept to finished result
    And beams with joy, her dream made complete
    As she holds with pride her creation dear.
     
    But what the world just cannot see
    Are errors which loomed about to destroy
    For outward beauty can never reveal
    The seam ripper’s hand in disciplined cuts.
     
    When I beheld what the seamstress had wrought
    I could not miss the significant key
    Of one who deftly shaped my own soul
    From even before my life came to be.
     
    The Master Tailor gazed into the future
    And pondered the me who I should be.
    He planned and designed each path for my good
    As He cut and sewed the fabric of me.
     
    He carefully stitched and eased the seams
    And reigned in penchants of wayward threads,
    But now and then along the way
    The seam ripper’s edge He gently employed.
     
    For don’t you see without the hardships
    Life’s burdens and pain cannot reflect
    The greater good down deep in my heart
    As seam ripper cuts shape my will to His.
     
    On a journey I am, a work in progress
    For someday when my time has come
    He’ll gaze upon His workmanship
    And see exactly who He planned me to be.
    ~~
    2013 
     
  17. Linda Roorda
    Despite all the work to get ready, I really enjoyed being part of our Spencer-Van Etten Farmers Market yesterday, with a surprise video made (by a friend of my high school friend!) which introduced each of us vendors, shared to my Facebook page. It was great to meet friends I haven’t seen or talked to in a good while! One of our vendors introduced herself, saying she remembered me and my sister from high school in Owego, and graduated with my sister! Amazing! But what deeply touched my heart was when a precious young lady and I shared smiles and greetings as she told her grandfather she knew me from school! As a sub this spring, I’d always worn a mask; yet as a pre-K student, she recognized me without a mask! It reminded me that we truly can make a difference in the world…
    Laughter is good for the soul, they say.  It can lift us up when we’ve had a down day, when nothing seems to be going right… hearty laughter, giggles over the silliest of things, and laughter that brings tears of joy to our eyes… it’s all like a song of love in our soul.
    So often I see my husband’s love and care for me like that of our Lord’s above.  In praising and thanking God, the One who sustains me and you day by day, I felt a song of love rising within my soul.  In every way, every day, He is there… even when I fail to see Him or thank Him. Unfortunately, sometimes, I take my Lord for granted… just like I do with my husband and others at times.
    Yet, in the depths of His loving care, you and I are not taken for granted by our gracious Lord.  If He so cares for the birds that fly around us, providing their next meal and the means by which they make a nest and raise their little ones… then surely He will care for you and me with His great love.  And, if He also cares for the beautiful wild flowers of the field and the hybridized delicate and hardy flowers of our cultivated gardens, surely He will also provide for all of our needs in the way He knows best!
    “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
    “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”  (Matthew 6:25-34  NIV)
    Today’s poem and theme come from one of my favorite section of verses since childhood. Our God cares so much for us - when life runs along smoothly and even in the most difficult of times when we struggle. Sometimes we forget their source and take our blessings for granted… but may the beauty and blessing of this new day remind us how greatly we are loved. And may you find joy and laughter in the simplest of things today! God bless you!   
    Your Love is a Song
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Your love is a song bringing joy to my heart
    For all I need, Lord, is found in you,
    And carried on wings to Your throne above
    Are prayers of praise from my grateful soul.
     
    Your love is a song that gives me reason
    With You at my side my life has purpose,
    You assuage my fears and calm worried brow
    And lighten the load of burdens and cares.
     
    Your love is a song in the morning dews
    For all You do to meet daily needs
    That I would know how great is Your care
    In giving me strength to face each new day.
     
    Your love is a song within the trials
    When my heart cries out in deepest despair
    Your answering voice calms my weary soul
    As Your gentle hand brings comfort and peace.
     
    Your love is a song in laughter’s therapy
    From giggles and grins to snuggles and hugs
    You care for me like birds of the field
    With a gentle hand as you hold my heart.
     
    Your love is a song that frees my soul
    With mercy and grace to cover each day
    Your welcoming arms delight in Your child
    And guide my steps along wisdom’s path.
    ~~
  18. Linda Roorda
    As we noted earlier, most of the early conductors on the Underground Railroad were Quakers, but their early numbers steadily grew to include Methodists, Presbyterians and many other denominations, anyone interested in helping free the slaves.  Both preachers and abolitionists spoke publicly despite threats against them as they made inroads into the hearts of Americans.  William Lloyd Garrison was one such man who influenced untold thousands of people with his abolition work, as did others who shared his sentiments.  Obviously, their stand was unpopular as the news media proclaimed them "fanatics, amalgamists, disorganizers, disturbers of the peace, and dangerous enemies of the country."  Riots during convention meetings and attempted murder of abolitionists were not uncommon.
    But there were also black men who reached the forefront in speaking against the cruelty of slavery.  One of them was a former slave himself, Frederick Bailey.  At age 18 in 1838, Bailey left behind his common-law wife, Anna, escaping from Baltimore to freedom in Philadelphia and then to New York City, two of the most important northern freedom cities.  Meeting with men who could assist him, help was obtained for Anna to travel north where they were reunited and married.  Encouraged to change his name, he became Frederick Johnson.  
    Bound for Newport, Rhode Island, he presented a letter of introduction to Nathan Johnson, a prominent black man who would next assist the couple.  Noting that Johnson was a very common surname among blacks in New Bedford, Massachusetts where they were to settle, Bailey again changed his name – to that of Frederick Douglass, destined to become one of “the most famous African American of his generation.”  Ultimately settling in Rochester, NY, Douglass started a newspaper, supported women’s rights, and became a much-sought speaker on the abolitionists’ circuit throughout America, also having the ear and admiration of President Abraham Lincoln.  To honor his legacy, on February 14, 2021 it was revealed that the Rochester International Airport has been renamed Frederick Douglass Greater Rochester International Airport.

    Sadly, freedom for blacks in the north was still often less than what white society enjoyed.  Josiah Henson escaped the bonds of slavery with his family, removing to Canada where they could truly be free in every sense of the word as Canada refused to surrender former slaves to the United States.  Henson was a born leader, a man who knew how to manage his affairs while assisting others.  Struggling to survive in a strange land, Henson worked hard and ultimately owned land in Colchester, Canada, observing what it required for black communities to prosper.  He, too, became a conductor on the Underground Railroad, assisting many slaves northward to freedom.  His life’s example was used by Harriet Beecher Stowe as “Uncle Tom” in the book which propelled her to fame and which did so much more to push the abolitionist movement forward.
    Another slave, a brave young mother, left her husband and children behind in the dark of night, carrying her young infant tightly in her arms.  It was the winter of 1838, and she left knowing that a slave trader was trying to buy her or her infant separately.  Though fearful of dying in the cold, or breaking through the Ohio River ice and drowning, she knew she had to try.  Along with her infant, she carried a flat board.  As she crossed the river, she repeatedly broke through.  Pushing her baby up onto the ice, she climbed out with the use of the plank.  Slowly she crept across the ice by pushing the baby ahead of her and using the board to move herself along, pulling herself up on it when she fell through the ice.  Finally, reaching the northern shore, she collapsed, freezing cold and utterly spent, but on the free side of the river. 
    What she did not know was that a slave hunter had been watching her, and she was about to be captured.  As he approached her, the man’s heart inexplicably softened when he heard her baby’s soft cry.  Instead of capturing her for reward money, and returning her to meet certain punishment at the hands of her master, he unexpectedly told her, “Woman, you have won your freedom.”  What compassion!
    On bringing her to the village, he pointed out a farmhouse in the distance, a haven of safety and rest, a home on the Underground Railroad.  Assisted by the Rankin family in fleeing onward into the arms of freedom, she became the inspiration for Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Eliza.”  Her treacherous crossing over the ice-covered Ohio River became “the most famous rendering of a fugitive’s escape ever written.”  
    Written in the Victorian era, and considered a romanticized version of actual events, Stowe’s 1852 novel, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or Life Among the Lowly,” accomplished a tremendous feat.  It not only brought respect to the abolitionists and their moral outrage at slavery, but it shed favorable light on the secret operatives of the Underground Railroad.  On the other hand, it greatly angered those in the pro-slavery camp.  Stowe’s very popular book prompted President Lincoln to remark when greeting her at the White House that she was “the little lady who wrote the book that made this great war.”  
    Knowledge of Stowe’s story left Harriet Tubman unimpressed.  Refusing to go with friends to see a play in Philadelphia based on “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Tubman stated, “I haint got no heart to go and see the sufferings of my people played out on de stage.  I’ve seen de real ting, and I don’t want to see it on no stage or in no teater.” 
    Despite her husband’s threat to report her should she ever escape, Tubman (born ca.1821) left him behind in 1849.  She quietly fled during the middle of the night to the home of a white woman who had previously proffered help should she desire it.  From Dorchester County in eastern Maryland, she both walked alone and was taken 90 miles north into Pennsylvania with the kind assistance of many along the way.  She crossed into the land of freedom as the sun rose, remembering always that “I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person now I was free.  There was such a glory over everything, the sun came like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in heaven.” 
    Though of short physical stature, Tubman was a woman capable of hard physical labor, proud to swing an axe like a man, preferring outdoor work over women’s housework.  Having known much hardship as a slave, having been lent out in early childhood, having been whipped and beaten repeatedly, and having had her skull bashed in by a thrown keg meant for a fleeing man, Tubman knew how to survive.  And, ultimately, she gained great success on the stage of life in assisting her people to their freedom. 

    With an unassuming yet authoritative air about her, Tubman had the ability to pass virtually unnoticed through the towns of Southern slaveholders, hiding her identity, “stealing” away numerous slaves on the road to freedom.  But that is not to say she didn’t face difficulties in helping slaves escape their bondage.  It was not an easy venture for any free black, even with proper papers, to maneuver around in slave territory without being apprehended.  Known to live in constant dependency on God during those times, Tubman is quoted as saying simply, “I tell de Lawd what I needs, an’ he provides.” 
    When she brought out her brothers and some of their friends from Maryland, they stayed briefly in her parents’ barn where her father fed them.  Hesitant to see their mother for fear emotions would give them away (Tubman had not seen her mother in several years), they left quietly, walking along muddy roads in the rains, circuitously through the woods to get around towns, eventually arriving at the homes of northern abolitionists.  They arrived in Philadelphia and were given aid by her friend, William Still, of the Vigilance Committee.  Still put Tubman and her fugitives on a train to New York City where Sydney Howard Gay gave assistance, putting them on another train to Albany, then Rochester, and finally taking a boat across Lake Ontario to St. Catharines, Canada.  Canada – where so many fugitive slaves endeavored to establish a life in true freedom, often becoming wealthy in owning their own land and businesses.  
    William Still, a free black and secretary for the Philadelphia Vigilance Committee, kept meticulous records of fugitive slaves and their conductors.  Still published a book in 1872, “The Underground Railroad,” from his extensive trove of information on the fugitives and their experiences.  In turn, Still was in contact with men in New York City who, like Sydney Howard Gay, also kept detailed records of the fugitives they assisted.  The extant records left by such men are among the limited but solid evidentiary proof of those who traveled the elusive and secretive Underground Railroad.  Messages between offices or stops were disguised as to the real purpose, known only to those involved on the “railroad.”  One such example reported by a visiting abolitionist was Still’s telegram to Gay of “‘six parcels’ coming by the train.  And before I left the office, the ‘parcels’ came in, each on two legs.”  
    Tubman was called “Moses” by her people, “General” by John Brown of Harper’s Ferry fame, and “Captain” by Sydney Howard Gay in New York City when he documented those whom she brought north to his office.  Her bold courage and ability to successfully travel unnoticed among the “enemy” was reportedly unparalleled among “conductors” on the “railroad.”
    By the time the Civil War began, Tubman had traveled 13 times into the South since she escaped bondage in 1849.  She is believed to have brought out at least 70 fugitives, among them her siblings and parents, possibly indirectly assisting an additional 50 in leaving on their own.  Supposedly, over 300 slaves were brought north on 19 trips by Tubman as claimed by her first biographer, Sarah Bradford; but these figures are believed to be greatly inflated based on contemporary study of now-known extant records.  
    With the advent of civil war, Tubman became restless, feeling the need to do more for her people.  She became a nurse, cook and spy for the Union in South Carolina, becoming “the first woman in American history to lead a detachment of troops in battle.”  
    The abolitionist issues in Stowe’s book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” also brought legitimacy to the women’s rights’ movement which sprang to life in the 1840s and 1850s.  Men who championed their tenets nationally included Horace Mann, Rev. Harry Ward Beecher, Frederick Douglass, William Lloyd Garrison, and Gerrit Smith (the cousin of Elizabeth Cady).  Women whose beliefs embodied not only the values of abolition but women’s rights included Lucretia Mott, Sarah and Angelina Grimke, Abby Kelley Foster, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Elizabeth Oaks Smith, Paulina Wright Davis, Lucy Stone, Antoinette Brown, Susan B. Anthony, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, and Esther (McQuigg, Slack) Morris who grew up on our former farmland, supporting abolition as a young woman while operating her own business in Owego, NY, later becoming the first woman Justice of the Peace in 1870’s Wyoming Territory.  These are just a few of the many whose belief in equality for the blacks seemed to naturally extend into rights for women who were unable to legally own property or to vote.  
    Yet, even the cause of women’s rights created division within the nation just as the abolitionists’ work had done.  For troubled times were about to become even more turbulent.  During the 1850s, issues arose about the need for increased funding in the work of the abolitionists and the Underground Railroad. Funds were sorely needed to meet needs of slaves who fled northward to freedom, and to assist them once they were free.  Disputes also erupted as to whether enough was being done to rid the nation of slavery as a whole.  And dissension even arose amongst the white and black abolitionists during this period.  
    Blacks felt the whites were not doing “enough to combat racial prejudice,” while the whites “were appalled by the controversy.”  Many white abolitionists felt they had willingly placed their lives, their family, and their property on the line to follow their heart’s leading to assist the slaves, asking nothing or little in return.  To be vilified for not doing enough to help the plight of the black man was abhorrent to them.
    Before elections in the fall of 1860, debate upon debate was held as the option of state secession was also discussed.  Southern newspapers began warning that if Lincoln were elected president, they expected the Fugitive Slave Act would not be followed, and the Charleston “Mercury” opined in October that “the underground railroad would operate ‘over-ground.’”   
    Then, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disgust of others, Abraham Lincoln was elected president on November 6, 1860.  Though Lincoln intended to hold the country together as one nation, he would not end slavery nor was he inclined to end the Fugitive Slave Law.  He did, however, wish to amend the law so that no free black could ever be forced into slavery.  
    With feelings running high, Southern states began to secede from the Union after South Carolina was the first to leave on December 20th.  Together, they formed the new Confederate States of America.  Shortly thereafter, federal troops arrived at Fort Sumter in the bay outside Charleston, S.C. to defend federal property.  With ongoing dispute between the Union and the Confederacy over ownership of Ft. Sumter, President Lincoln faced a dilemma in how to respond.  After Lincoln ordered aid sent to the federal troops at Ft. Sumter, the Confederate Army opened fire on the fort early in the morning of April 12, 1861.  And thus began the American Civil War… 
    After so many sacrifices were made to escape the bonds of slavery, and with the nation’s first civil war, clarity was ultimately expressed when President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863.  Freeing all slaves (except in Maryland and Kentucky which had not seceded), his proclamation essentially proved that the work of the Underground Railroad was done.  The abolitionists had accomplished what they’d set out to do.  They had gained freedom for all enslaved African Americans, the fulfillment of dreams for thousands upon thousands when their work began inauspiciously so many decades ago. 
    At President Lincoln’s second inaugural address on March 4, 1865, he stated, “…These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest.  All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war.  To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war… It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged… With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan – to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.”  
    Afterward, Lincoln asked Frederick Douglass what he thought of his speech.  Douglass replied, “Mr. Lincoln, that was a sacred effort.”   (“Absence of Malice,” Adapted from “Lincoln’s Greatest Speech:  The Second Inaugural,” by Ronald C. White, Jr., Smithsonian, April 2002, p.119)  Ultimately, all former slaves received their full legal freedom with passage of the Fifteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution in April 1870.  They could now appreciate their hard-won liberty; and yet, they continued to struggle for their rights over the next century, culminating with the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s.  And even now, many continue to feel a prejudice.
    Harriet Tubman, former slave, a free and fearless woman, died March 10, 1913 in her new hometown of Auburn, New York.  She was essentially the last survivor of an unprecedented era, famed conductor on the Underground Railroad, having lived her life to help others attain the very freedom she had gained.
    Fittingly, the town of Auburn erected a monument to the auspicious career of this amazing woman.  “In memory of Harriet Tubman.  Born a slave in Maryland about 1821.  Died in Auburn, N.Y., March 10th, 1821.  Called the Moses of her People, During the Civil War.  With rare courage she led over three hundred negroes up from slavery to freedom, and rendered invaluable service as nurse and spy.  With implicit trust in God she braved every danger and overcame every obstacle.  Withal she possessed extraordinary foresight and judgment so that she truthfully said “On my underground railroad I nebber run my train off de track an’ I nebber los’ a passenger.”  [As noted above, the figure of 300 blacks is considered an exaggeration by 20th century researchers.  lar]
    NEXT WEEK:  Part IV, conclusion.
  19. Linda Roorda

    Respect

    By Linda Roorda,

    Taking notice of some issues lately, decided this blog from the past bears repeating today.
    Oh, that we lived in a perfect world! … but we don’t. Not everything goes our way, but our response can make a difference. So, why am I hesitant to express my opinion? There's a place for respectful disagreements, including of each other's faith, or lack thereof as espoused a few years back by Joy Behar of “The View” and those who admire her. They mocked former Vice President Mike Pence for his Christian faith and talking to Jesus, even calling a “mental illness” his listening to Jesus’ voice. I, too, have heard the "voice" of God... sometimes loud and clear as if someone were next to me uttering the words, other times nothing more than a gentle nudge in my soul. Prayer is a powerful communication.
    But, in re: school and public mass shootings, Ed and I have long felt there's something eating away at society, like a cancer. A shooting near a school happened in Binghamton this past week. It’s doubtful if stricter gun laws will make a big difference in overall statistics of violence, since criminals always manage to get them. Though we do believe some laws strengthened may be more of a deterrent than others, it’s interesting that cities with the toughest gun laws have not curbed their gun violence. But you know, my Dad's guns were freely available to me and my brothers as teens, after training in appropriate use and cleaning, and we never considered using them wrongly.
    As crime rates increase, we see an obvious lack of respect for the value of another human being… with an increase in bullying and rage issues, taunting, mocking, and blatant killing of our law enforcement officers. We can argue gun crime stats, but I don't believe access to guns by teens or any criminal is our main issue. We have seen over time that any manner of weapon can be used besides guns - knives, a heavy object to bludgeon the victim, vehicles, even a rock by Cain to kill his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage in earliest biblical times. Even in states and cities with the strictest gun control laws, crime rates have risen considerably recently, especially when “catch and release”/so-called bail reform allows criminals to walk with great leniency… including repeat offenders. There are no real consequences for bad behavior.
    Many at-risk youths have not learned how to appropriately redirect their losses, upsets or rages other than to lash out at those around them - especially when adults use violence to release their own anger. There seems to be a lack of discipline – some kids know what they can get away with and readily test the limits. And, sometimes, kids lack appropriate role models as we adults can also be poor models.
    We witness or become the target of bullying, verbal attacks, abuse and harassment in many forms. Amidst the violence, angry rhetoric, and sexual harassment and misconduct in our society, something seems to be missing. What happened to the respect we once showed each other? Showing courtesy, consideration and honor to others fits together under that one term – respect. Displaying an attitude of humility with respect shows the depth of our own character and integrity. Yet, it seems that mocking or hateful vitriol is the language preferred from many directions. Like you, I find it appalling.
    Anger against sin and abuse is not wrong, but a righteous emotional response which God gave us. When anger stems from a heart with sinful intention, therein lies the abuse and lack of respect. And it should make us stop and think.
    Perhaps, instead of taking a knee to the American flag and finding fault with America, those with ability, financial or otherwise, could help the underprivileged within current charities or create new ones. Perhaps, simply from their own heart of love, instead of violence and destruction to have their demands met, they could become a mentor to show the disadvantaged a better way. I grew up without much of what my peers had. I earned my way in life. I’ve been mocked and ridiculed. But also grew up with parents who cared enough to discipline. I grew up with kids of all races, including black friends and those of international heritage, and they and their parents did all they could to accomplish their goals with respect and gratitude within the community.
    Where has morality gone? Why are certain “politically correct” attitudes condoned while those who disagree are held in disdain? With the push to set God aside as irrelevant in our lives, to live as if we are unaccountable to anyone or anything, I think we have also brushed moral ethics and values aside. After all, if we do not believe we’re created in the image of God, but simply exist because a few cosmic molecules exploded with a bang, then of what value is another person’s life. I find it ironic that huge fines are levied for killing animals, yet our unborn children are aborted/killed because they might be defective or an inconvenience.
    Is a conscience or a moral obligation obsolete? Do we do whatever seems right to us alone? Without moral absolutes and the ensuing guilt regarding what is or is not considered sinful behavior, we don’t have to hold ourselves accountable to God and His word. Still, how often don’t those who hold to a belief in God tend to live by certain moral standards that have their very foundation in Holy Scripture.
    With so many accusations of sexual misconduct/harassment among public officials coming to light, has this pattern of behavior become prolific because of Bill Clinton’s ability to “get away with it” during his past presidency? I remember someone saying to me then that it was no big deal, “Everyone does it!” Oh really? Does everyone lie to cover up the truth, or only abusers? What’s lacking in one’s character to cause such rampant abuse? The predator or abuser knows how to shame his victims into silence. Silent no more, many are speaking out more readily, calling attention to the abuse and harassment suffered quietly for too long. The victims are trying to bring accountability into the picture for restitution and a better way to live responsibly. Yet, too often victims are still silenced and looked upon as the problem.
    We feel free to disparage and mock the opposition of our dearly-held beliefs, yet we’re appalled if our own perspectives are attacked. Once upon a time, we honored each other… despite our differences. Once upon a time, we agreed to disagree. We were able to debate and argue our points in a respectful manner, but now it seems that mocking, hate-filled rhetoric, and even violence is “de rigueur.” Why?
    I’ve pondered the societal denigration which brought about the November 2008 Black Friday shopping stampede. The epitome of greed fed that mad rush, pushing and shoving throughout the crowd, just to satisfy selfish desires… for Christmas gifts no less… resulting in the trampling death of a Wal-Mart employee. I remember hearing this story on the news then, saddened and appalled that such a tragedy could have even happened.
    But, isn’t it greed and selfishness which results in any crime, whether it be robbery or murder? We’re jealous. We dislike. And we allow minor slights to fester. We have our rights, hold grudges, and can’t forgive. Someone has what we want so we take it to satisfy our pleasure, or destroy the one who owns it. How unutterably sad that society has stooped to this level, even to condemning those who bring attention to abuses they’ve dealt with. Yet, there’s nothing new under the sun, as Solomon once said. (Ecclesiastes 1:9) Even Adam and Eve’s son Cain killed his brother, Abel, out of jealousy that festered and grew into a murderous hatred. (Genesis 4:4-12)
    These thoughts reminded me of the vitriol espoused by and against various public officials, particularly during election time. There’s a hatred and cancellation of the opposition, those holding and expressing conservative and/or Christian biblical values. Whether by, or against, the president of our nation or any of our local officials, including law enforcement officers, such words seem to be the norm lately. With hatred and anger fueled perhaps by abusive rhetoric, and a loathing of that with which we disagree, passions are fed and all manner of evil erupts from the human heart… rather than allowing the opposition time to express their opinion.
    In the Summer of 2017, many thought it was “the right thing to do” by taking down statues erected in memory of our nation’s historical past. We cannot rewrite history by destroying that with which we disagree, and instead are setting a dangerous precedent. In removing what is considered a negative, perhaps we miss the opportunity to learn from past mistakes… personal and collective, national and international. Perhaps there are teachable moments that would draw our divergent beliefs together in common ground. In the slippery progression to remove more and more references to our historical past, what’s next? Think long and hard of the consequences… because it just might be us next… me and you…for our beliefs.
    A contrast to such rhetoric and violence can be found in Jesus’ teachings that we call The Beatitudes, especially one simple phrase we all know as the Golden Rule. “So, in everything, do to others what you would have them to do you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV) As the physician Luke expressed in his gospel (17:3), “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.” What better way to show Christ’s love to our neighbor or enemy than by lending a helping hand with courtesy and forgiveness… while respecting our differences.
    When an expert in the old Jewish law asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-39 NIV) With such love, we “encourage one another and build each other up”. (I Thessalonians 5:11)
    Wow! What a depth of perfect wisdom we find in Jesus’ words! In taking them to heart, there’d be no more abuse, petty fights or squabbles among us, or even great wars. We’d be so in tune to each other’s needs that our selfish ego and desires would vanish. All out of a simple respect for each other and their needs. May God bless each of us as we practice that kind of true humility.
    Respect
    Linda A. Roorda
    It seems we’ve mislaid respect and value.
    We want what we want, and deserve it now!
    We’ll step on your toes, fight and destroy
    Not caring to pause and treasure your worth.
    ~
    Entitled am I, my wants come first.
    I rush and push, and trample on through.
    How dare you think that I could be wrong
    I have my rights! Get out of my way!
    ~
    Oh, to our shame, what have we done…
    We once shared love but now foster hate.
    We once treasured folks for who they are
    And valued their rights as much as our own.
    ~
    Common courtesy, we salute your ways
    With manners polite and outstretched arms
    Welcoming others with civility’s mores
    Regarding humility as our tone of grace.
    ~
    With deference and honor we highly esteem
    Others before self with gratitude’s praise
    Rendering tribute where homage is due
    Tactful and kind, we respect you for you.
    ~~
  20. 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.
  21. Linda Roorda
    As we travel life’s path, we all manage to lose a few things… like special trinkets, and perhaps a few friends from another time and another place as life moves on.  We even lose our patience a few more times than we care to admit.  Though losing something special can be painful, it’s different from giving it away… releasing that treasure on our own is a whole other story, a gift of love.  In this season of graduations, my thoughts began to travel in the direction of releasing our treasured youth with love.
    Letting go of what we hold dear can be difficult, perhaps even bittersweet, yet the release can leave us with a warm glow in our heart.  It’s a process that takes time.  As Corrie ten Boom, one of my favorite authors and evangelists, once said, “I have learned to hold all things loosely, so God will not have to pry them out of my hands.”  Like a mother hen, we lovingly protect and keep our little ones safe, and try to impart some of our hard-earned wisdom over time before letting them take off on their own.  After all, we truly want the best for them! 
    But, as our little ones grow up, they mature with a wisdom found only by taking some of life’s most difficult steps.  Learning to walk, falling down is a frequent occurrence as they learn how to get back up and try again.  Then, as they continue to grow and mature, they also benefit by failing a few times, learning how to pick themselves up to try again.  At times, though, I was over protective of my children, a hover-mother, not wanting them to face some of the difficulties I did… not my best parenting idea.  I loved my children and wanted to be involved in every aspect of their little lives, encouraging them to be all they could be.
    We all know parenting has its challenges, and every so often I’d say, “It’s hard to raise a mother!”  Raising our children was a joint learning venture, especially since they managed to arrive without an individual instruction manual in hand.  But, now we have the pleasure of watching our children raise their children.  And hearing their stories holds extra special meaning.  Like when our daughter, Emily, was trying to put her middle son down for a nap.  He had every excuse in the book as he fussed around.  Finally, she let him know how frustrated she was getting with him.  Patting her arm, 3-year-old Sam gently said, “It’s ok, Mom.  You’ll get used to it!”  And Em had to tuck her face into his blanket so he wouldn’t see her laughing.  There’s more wisdom in those words than little Sam could have ever known!  For out of the mouths of babes comes wisdom sweet.
    Should we hold too tightly to our children and their childhood, we may not allow them the freedom they need to grow with life’s changes.  They may not become the well-adjusted mature adults they are meant to be.  And, if we fail to help them discipline their own actions, they won’t know the rewards of self-control.  Each child is a unique individual, a most precious gift from God to be treasured and loved as we guide them in starting their journey of life. 
    My friend, Mimi, once shared a quote from her stitchery with me – “There are two lasting gifts we can give to our children – one is roots, the other is wings.”  How true!  May we love our children enough to provide them with the deep roots of a sturdy foundation, laughing and crying alongside them, while giving them wings and freedom to fly out into the great big world on their own.  And may we learn the gift of releasing with love… allowing us all to see the beauty deep within their heart. 
    Releasing With Love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Along life’s journey we lose a few things
    Like fancy trinkets and friends of the heart
    Even some time, and patience, too
    All that holds meaning through our hands will slip.
    ~
    Losing possessions with meaning attached
    Shows how futile to retain our grip
    As respected wisdom gives true perspective
    That where grace abounds we hold but loosely.
    ~
    When losing our self for a greater good
    We follow a path of godly wisdom
    And in giving thought to what holds our heart
    Is found the key essential to life.
    ~
    For the years of youth build up to the time
    When wisdom is gained and freedom earned,
    We’ve gently led and helped them to know
    It’s time to fly on wings of their own.
    ~
    By clutching firmly life’s fleeting passage
    We cannot grasp the beauty within
    For in the act of releasing with love
    We’ll come to treasure each moment’s sweet gift.
    ~~
     
  22. 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?
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda
    It feels so good to feel good again!  As some of my friends know, my blog absence last weekend was due to being bedridden with covid, despite vaccines.  And I’m very thankful to say that tho he continues to deal with daily CHF/congestion/edema struggles, Ed did not get covid… at least not yet.  In fact, we celebrated our anniversary with Sayre/Athens, PA’s Greater Valley EMS giving Ed an IV to help relieve fluid retention. It’s a service thru a government grant to help keep patients from going to the ER or being hospitalized, definitely a beneficial program.
    We are also very thankful to be celebrating 48 years together… a lot of memories have passed thru those years… with our biggest Thank You going to God for always being there, providing the foundation and support on which we have leaned.  
    Anniversaries come and go – with some more special than others. Like bookends, anniversaries hold between them the memories of our lives... of a special deep love, of change and growth, of difficult and painful times, and of joyous days. 
    October 26 marked our 48th anniversary.  In years past, I remembered our anniversary with special poems to celebrate where life had taken us all these years.  This poem, written in 2014, is a more contemplative poem that essentially wrote itself, words pouring out faster than my fingers could type.  The decades have seen a lot of love expressed, and a lot of change within ourselves and our family.  And though the years have witnessed much sadness, the Lord has also blessed us with abundant joy and peace.
    As part of our vows 48 years ago, Edward promised me his deepest love, unselfish devotion and tenderest care.  He promised to direct our lives into a path of faith and hope in Christ as a faithful husband, no matter what lay ahead.  Expressing deepest joy, I came into a new life with him as my husband, loving him, learning from him, and seeking to please him.  As God had prepared me for him, I vowed to strengthen, comfort and encourage him, no matter what lay ahead.  Though imperfect, we’ve sure tried!
    True love cannot remain the same or it will become stagnant, for without growth it ceases to exist.  Yet, how often don’t we find that love grows best facing the difficulties of life… those hard times which can either draw two hearts closer or tear them asunder.  Love must be nurtured and fed, given room to grow… to expand horizons… in order to complement and care for each other.  As my poem attempts to portray, love is much more than dreams… much more than a starry-eyed adoration.  It’s so much more than this. 
    True love is all about teamwork that strengthens the bond.  True love is a choice to remain committed to vows made before God on a joyous and happy wedding day… because the tough times will come.  We’ve been there.  We’ve seen days we thought would never end… when it just might have been easier to give up and walk away.  For those tough times will attempt to tear apart bonds once considered unbreakable… offering an easy way out to a seemingly better life… for little tears can either become permanent scars that irritate, or become scars which heal the inner soul to bring wisdom and understanding with a deeper love.  
    True love is also about making sacrifices… thinking more highly of our spouse than ourself… carrying the one who stumbles or becomes ill long term… opening up with total and complete honesty to each other… extending forgiveness and grace with arms open wide… for true love grows stronger as the foundation is strengthened.  “For neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.”  (I Cor.3:7 NIV)  
    Which reminds me of the great biblical love chapter: “Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres… And now these three remain:  faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  (I Cor.13:4-7, 13 NIV)
    And I believe true love is a love which draws its strength from the Lord above.  He is the nourishment that love’s growth feeds upon… for “…whatever is true, whatever is noble [honorable], whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things… and the peace of God will be with you.”  (Phil.4:8-9 NIV)
    He is the One who walks beside us every day.  In fact, like the poem, “Footsteps in The Sand,” I know the Lord has carried us during those times when we felt utterly overwhelmed by life.  But, praise God, He has helped us overcome what life has tossed our way, and our bonds have become stronger than when we first began our marriage journey 48 years ago! 
    Much More Than Dreams
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Do not wonder we’ve reached this milestone!
    You keep my heart alive and new
    For do you know how much I care
    How much I love you even still?
     
    Yesterday was an easy path.
    It seemed that life was starry dreams,
    An open book with pages to fill,
    Our love alone would cover all.
     
    But hidden deep in years of days
    Between the glowing adoration
    And learning who we would become
    Came heavy cares to weigh us down.
     
    Do not think I’d no longer love.
    Do not think I’d walk away
    To find another fleeting dream
    Just because our life got tough.
     
    Is not love much more than this…
    The starry eyes and glory dreams,
    Romantic notions in the air...
    To keep us on a journey long?
     
    Commitments made are meant to be kept
    Intentions deep with respect and honor
    To carry the one who slips and falls
    For love grows deep with wisdom’s grace.
     
    I love you more than long ago
    For it’s a trust borne out of life
    As hand in hand this road we’ve walked
    To bring a strength to ties that twine.
     
    Was there a time I could not see
    Beyond your heart with all its love
    To tenderly hold you in my soul…
    For is not love much more than dreams?
    ~~
  24. 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!
    ~~
     
  25. Linda Roorda
    Remember the halcyon days of youth, with hours upon hours of making your own fun?! Where’d they all go? Sit back, close your eyes, and let your mind transport you back to another time, another place, long ago… or maybe not so long ago for some of you!
    I wish I could remember life in a 12x20 foot cabin at Delta Junction, Alaska.  Our mom took me and my baby sister to join our dad for his last seven months at the Army’s Fort Greeley – a foreign assignment, prior to Alaska statehood.  We flew out of New York City with several stops enroute to Seattle.  The plane for the last leg needed engine repairs, catching fire after leaving Seattle, but we finally landed safely in Fairbanks.  I do have a few photos, including of buffalo out behind the cabin and the day my dad bundled me up for a photo in the dog sled at -30! 
    When Army service ended, dad wanted to homestead, but mom was not keen on the idea, so back to the states we went.  They enjoyed the beauty of the Al-Can Highway through Canada on the drive back to Seattle and a train trip east, and the scary cliffs without benefit of guardrails, especially when the car’s steering wheel briefly locked up, again, as my mom struggled to turn the wheel… thankfully, just in time!
    Being 15 months apart, my sister and I were inseparable, inevitably together, dressed “alike” when our Grammy V. got to sewing or knitting for us.  The only dress I didn’t like was the white crinkly organdy with an itchy crinoline slip – the memory still gives me shivers!
    But, we knew how to have real childhood fun, especially on the farms!  We grew up without a television until our dad brought one home after we moved to Clifton, NJ in the mid 1960s.
    My earliest memories begin at about age 3 in Sodus, NY when my dad worked for Wychmere dairy and apple orchards… and we took trips to the beach at Chimney Bluffs on Lake Ontario.  I remember my grandparents arriving with special gifts… my favorite Dolly, clothes sewn and knit by my grandmother, and a table made by my grandfather.
    Next favorite memories were on the Breemes farm in Marion where my dad farmed and our first brother, Charlie, was born.  I remember the house, barn and land so clearly.  Stopping there a few years ago, I was given a tour by Mr. Breemes’s now-elderly son who graciously showed me inside the barn, both upper and lower sections, though the old milkhouse is gone.  Oh, the memories that came flooding back!  It was a New England bank barn, i.e. built into a bank with the upper level even with the road, with all the old beams, grain bin and haymow still intact.
    I’m not ashamed to admit that tears began to flow as I recalled standing on a bale of hay, moving an old teakettle along on the narrow ledge of wall just below the road-side windows.  I milked “my cows” while dad milked his real ones.  We girls were warned sufficiently for a healthy fear of the bull at the end of the barn by the door and kept our distance from him. 
    I even got to drive the tractor when the manure spreader broke.  My dad set me up on the old Minnie-Mo (Minneapolis-Moline) as I took the huge wheel in my hands.  I was to steer it straight ahead while he forked out the manure.  Right!  As we slowly crept along, every time the wheel turned, I let it… until we headed for a tree… at which time my dad jumped off and stopped the tractor just in time to avoid a big wreck – though he has said I was never even close to crashing.  But, I can still see it all so vividly!
    And how well I remember the morning we opened the garage door at the side of the house. We girls stood at the top of the steps, face to face with two giant golden-brown Belgian draft horses!  When Charlie was born, my dad milked alone while we “twins” roamed around looking for our next adventure.  We found it all right – in the back barnyard… throwing rocks into muck puddles… until little Carol fell in still holding her rock, pulling me in as I tried to get her out.  Oh pooh!  Our dad had to stop chores and take us girls in for a bath, filthy stinking dirty from head to toe… but we washed up nicely!
    Another time we were waiting to cross the road to the barn with dad.  A car drove by just as one of our kittens shot out in front of us and met his demise.  The kind gentleman stopped, and walked over to apologize.  Instead of bursting into tears, my dad said I replied, “First Geppetto!  Now Mickey!  That’s the way it goes, right Dad?!”  As dad told the story, the poor man walked back to his car shaking his head.
    After my dad had an extended illness, we left the farm for Clifton, NJ where his parents lived. There we spent my kindergarten year, next moving back to Marion, NY. Gerald DeVries helped us move, my Dad having known him and his wife Joann in Sussex, NJ where he’d worked as a dairy herdsman after high school graduation in Clifton.
    In Sussex, my Dad had been herdsman for Walter Titsworth after he graduated high school.  It was Walter’s elderly spinster daughters we loved to visit in our early teens.  Walter was a direct descendant of Willem Abrahamse Tietsoort who, with his family, had survived the 1690 Schenectady, NY massacre by Indians.  Removing to what is now Sussex/Port Jervis area of NJ, Tietsoort purchased thousands of acres from the Indians and built a new home.  Interestingly, in researching my mom’s genealogy several years ago, I learned she was related to Willem Tietsoort!  If only we’d known that years ago!
    Living upstairs in the DeVries house, my sister and I meandered the farm and pastures with Betty and Fran, helped them ready the milking machines a few times, watched their dad blow silage into the silo (with the old tractor and belt that ran from the tractor to the blower, heeding their dad’s warning to stay clear in case the belt flew off the flywheel), and shared many good times together.
    Moving to Musshafen’s tenant farm half a mile up the road, we found more to explore.  My dad drove a feed truck, delivering Purina feed to local farmers, being awarded top N.Y. State Purina Feed Salesman for ’61 and ’62, winning a trip to the Thousand Islands with mom!
    We traipsed all over the fields and through the woods, never minding the heifers and dry cows in the field, and walked fearlessly up the road to visit Fran and Betty.  I saw my first Baltimore Oriole nest in a bush alongside the fence line of their father’s field.  Nearby neighbors had a beautiful home filled with beautiful antiques; their large bed of snapdragons fascinated me so much they remain one of my favorite flowers, and her custard pudding was out-of-this-world delicious!
    Our chores included dust mopping the floor, so I pushed my sister around on top of the mop and in the baby carriage we’d found in the big house.  We had a steer and a flock of chickens to care for, and I remember trips to the butcher in Marion, Pembroke’s, with a gleaming white board fence around the pasture where he kept animals waiting to be butchered. 
    We sisters ran and played between the rows of vegetables rather than weed. We shelled peas and snapped beans – dumping some under the lilac bushes when we’d had all we could take of that chore! We grew pollywogs in a jar, returning them to the creek when they showed signs of becoming frogs.  We fried eggs on the hot road – after all, we’d heard that it was so hot you could, so we had to try! And, didn’t understand why they stayed raw…  We licked cow salt! We practiced with our new fishing poles, casting the lead weight toward a bucket – though my aim wasn’t too accurate!  We lay on our backs, gazing at puffy clouds.  We shared everything, including chickenpox and mumps (and later the two-week measles in NJ), even with our new baby brother, Mark. 
    We had a steer we named Elmer (after Elmer’s Glue!) and a flock of chickens to care for, and I remember trips to the butcher in Marion, Pembroke’s, with a gleaming white board fence around the pasture where he kept animals waiting to be butchered. 
    I also remember we sisters, about 7 and 8 years old, chased brother Charlie as he pulled a length of chain.  Wanting him to stop so we could catch up to him, we stepped on the chain.  Charlie stopped all right… abruptly… and down he went with his chin hitting the concrete step, cutting it open with blood all over.  He needed sutures, and we got another scolding for that one.  I’m so sorry, dear brother!
    I remember a small private plane landing in a field across the road from our house.  Never fond of naps and loving the outdoors even then, I played outside while everyone else napped on a Sunday afternoon.  I stood in awe to see a plane come down in the hayfield, saw the pilot checking something out, and watched as he taxied and took off again.  What a sight!  But then, my napping family thought I made it all up…
    One evening we asked to sleep out in the yard under the stars. Setting out blankets and pillows, we turned in early – this was special and exciting!  And saw a shooting star for the first time.  But, in the middle of the night, we got scared. No longer having fun, cold and damp, we quietly crept back into the house to sleep on the couch.
    Next, as tenants on the Bouman farm, we joined Ruth and Annette for a new foursome of fun and games.  We traipsed around their farm, over the fields and through the woods.  Once, I narrowly missed being run down by an angry mother for coming too close to her newborn calf, sliding under the barbed wire fence with barely seconds to spare as her hugeness charged after me! 
    We sled down the barnyard hill and built snow forts in a hayfield.  We played in the upper level of the bank barn, sliding down the pile of oats in the bin.  We ran around the haymow - until I tripped, catching my foot on baling twine.  Pitching over the edge, I fell to the floor below, landing with my head not more than a foot away from an upturned pitchfork, sustaining quite a concussion. Living here, their sister Grace taught me to ride a bike, falling and scraping my knees a few times.
    Without ice skates, we tried roller skating on the pond, only once, but that was enough to know it was not our best idea!  We played Red light/Green light, Mother May I, Hide and Seek, Telephone - we all sat in a circle, whispering the message to the next person… only to find out how different it was at the end from how it started! We often walked to town where our Christian school and church meant everything to us, as did the time spent playing at the homes of so many other friends.
    And then… on February 3, 1965, we moved back to city life in Clifton, NJ near my dad’s parents and his siblings’ families once again.  How I missed my classmates and friends in East Palmyra.  I cried for weeks.  Though moving on in life, I never really got over that loss, retaining special friendships from both home towns and renewing a few more since.  
    But, in the city once again, my sister and I made new friends and new fun, walking and biking everywhere with bikes our grandfather repaired for us.  Our dad took us on day trips around northern Jersey, to train yards, shipping docks, and into New York City. My sister and I made frequent trips to the public library as we were both avid readers, played in Weasel Brook Park, the park at Racies Pond, and Nash Park along the Passaic River, never fearing for our safety.  She and I were also responsible for the family’s laundry every week at the laundromat, enjoying our reward – money for yummy treats!  And we acquired a third brother, Andy.
    In the summers of 1967 and 1968, Dad took us camping at his cousin Howard’s farm in Nichols, NY, setting up camp in the pasture with horses.  Let me tell you, dinners cooked all day in a Dutch oven over coals in a ground pit were the most delicious ever!  Loving the country, farm fresh air, and absolutely everything about horses, I was on cloud nine!  The next summer, I was the happiest girl alive to move back to New York… the tiny hamlet of Lounsberry just east of Nichols.  On August 18, 1969, we drove out of Jersey on Rt. 17 through zillions of congregating hippies… the one and only incomparable Woodstock!  Except, I led such a sheltered life I had no idea at the time we were eye witnesses to part of an historical event! 
    Back in the country, we found all new learning experiences as I helped Dad remodel and reroof the chicken coop, and build a stall and pasture fence for beautiful War Bugg, a granddaughter of the famous race horse, Man O’ War.  And, a fourth brother, Ted, joined our ranks.
    I treasure my childhood - a time of innocence, a time of making our own simple fun, a time of learning… something I think many of today’s children miss out on as they play with the latest computerized gadgets and phones… or they’re overbooked in sports and extracurricular programs all year ‘round. 
    My sister and I, lacking the current “in” toys, were out and about with little adult supervision – definitely not something available to current generations.  And I think that’s a shame… for the lessons we learned were priceless and invaluable… pieces of which you will find scattered throughout my poetry and blogs.  Oh, the halcyon days and blessings of youthful innocence! 
    Halcyon Days of Youth
    Linda A. Roorda 
    The halcyon days of adventures past
    Of dreams and schemes and youthful machines
    Unsupervised fun, roaming freely safe
    Absorbing life with innocent ease.
     
    Where did they vanish, those carefree days?
    Though ever near in faded mem’ries
    The stirring heart can recall at will
    All that once was from time without cares.
     
    There was no fear to childhood games
    With all of outdoors the playground of choice
    No worries or frets to grip the young heart
    Trust was paramount and your word was gold.
     
    Could we have known that the games we played
    Would form the basis of adulthood mores
    For lessons learned in the days of youth
    Were meant to achieve maturity’s morn.
     
    Values thus learned bring a depth to wisdom
    They form foundations to live a life well
    They penetrate deep the essence of our soul
    That should steps falter deep roots will hold firm.
     
    For where leans the mind so is the treasure
    Youthful innocence in the child at play,
    Where imagination takes hold of the heart
    To grasp youth’s best on the journey of life.
    ~
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