Linda Roorda

Isn’t it so like us… we have it all and yet we want more. I know I’ve been guilty of that at times. The eyes of green, the envy of more... Even Adam and Eve fell victim to this desire with the temptation of luscious forbidden fruit. Sometimes we’re just not satisfied with what we already have… because we need just a little more to feel complete. Even the “rich and famous” will tell you that, if they’re honest. We want it all, and we want it now! The longing to have that little bit extra can be insatiable… we never feel fully satisfied… we just need a little something else, a little something more, thinking we’ll be happy then… Right? Wrong! That continuous search for pleasure, for things, for little trinkets is a dynamic within that keeps moving us forward… in search of bigger pleasures, and more and bigger things… like the phrase, “The one with the most toys wins!” We seem to think that if we find the best life has to offer, we’ll find that envied state of perpetual happiness. Then we will feel really good about ourselves. We’ll have “arrived” in society, and we’ll be admired and loved by everyone around us. But that is so not where life is truly at! That’s the treadmill of a never-ending rat race! So, where and how do we find true happiness, a true inner joy? Seeking more is not necessarily a bad concept in and of itself. Often, seeking more can push us forward to better ourselves with an education for a lifetime career, and as we seek to meet more of our family’s needs. The desire for more can even be the impetus to starting our own company, or meeting the needs of others with our ideas or inventions. For me, a love of writing and researching of my mom’s family ancestry led me to become a published genealogy author of three in-depth family research articles in the “New York Genealogy and Biographical Record.” Later, the desire to write more led to writing articles for our former “The Broader View” local weekly newspaper, and ultimately to writing two blogs online, including at the “Twin Tiers Living.” Just because it gives me pleasure to write… all non gratis. For it’s what and why we seek that makes the difference. If that which we seek is found only in material goods and the best of life’s pleasure, then we’re heading down the wrong path. But, if we seek to honor our Lord God in all we do, there we will find His blessings of peace and contentment... regardless of our circumstances. The Apostle Paul expressed it well in Philippians 4:11-13 “…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” Yet, I know that’s simply not always easy. It’s a tough lesson to learn at times. Be content, be satisfied with what you have. Be happy with the blessings God has given you… in your health, your family, your job, your home, and your personal possessions. Certainly, you have the right and ability to acquire and improve your situation, but don’t make these things your everything. Don’t hold onto them so very tightly. I remember hearing Chuck (Charles) Swindoll in a radio sermon use an example from my favorite evangelist, Corrie ten Boom. She made quite an impact on him, and me, about holding everything loosely in referring to his love of his children. As Chuck said, “Cupping her wrinkled hands in front of me, she passed on a statement of advice I'll never forget. I can still recall that strong Dutch accent: ‘Pastor Svendahl, you must learn to hold everyting loosely… everyting. Even your dear family. Why? Because da Fater may vish to take vun of tem back to Himself, und ven He does, it vill hurt you if He must pry your fingers loose.’ And then, having tightened her hands together while saying all that, she slowly opened them and smiled so kindly as she added, "Remember… hold everyting loosely… everyting.’” Our desire for all, for everything, can truly only be found in our Lord… in His gift of eternal salvation… His love, His forgiveness of our sins, and in His peace. Romans 3:23 makes it clear that we “…all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Yet, there is hope. As one of my favorite verses since childhood notes, “God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) And in seeking Him, we’ll find an overwhelming peace to know “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." (Romans 8:1) And in this we find our all as we rest in the peace of His blessings. Eden’s Couple Linda A. Roorda They had it all but still wanted more Though in the garden was all they would need. And yet intrigued they listened to greed His words seemed wise, they reasoned to self. Forbidden fruit is lush to the eye For yearnings within do cravings beget. As they control, resolve is forgot And self-serving wants are justified needs. But after the deed their conscience was pierced For now their God came seeking their time. While concealed from view afraid to come forth Their eyes were opened, and ashamed they hid. Yet their deeds He knew, and depths of their hearts. His chastening words showed Fatherly love. With discipline stern and promises pledged He sent them away to life cursed with toil. He vowed to redeem souls from destruction For One would be born to this world of woe. His Son the gift to take the world’s sin That righteous we’ll stand before His great throne. How can it be His love would compel Payment for sin by One who knew none? How can He love the me who I am When I’m no better than Eden’s couple? Yet with open arms like a Shepherd King He draws me near for He knows my heart. And with contrition I give Him my life As mercy and grace flow freely with love. ~~

There are so many people, past and present, who have made a difference for others by simply being who they were intended to be… each an individual who stands out in the crowd in their own way… and who have made a difference in my life and your life. I once took a photo of a single stalk of corn growing in a field of soybeans across the road from us and posted it to Facebook. It spoke silent volumes of being the one alone, not afraid to stand out and be different. (Since I can't find it, I shared this unique photo of field grass.) We have gifts, unique to each of us, enabling us to reach out to be there for others in as many different ways as there are people. And it’s what we do, or don’t do, with our gifts that makes a difference in this world. For, as the venerable Ben Franklin once wrote, "He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else." When our son was in Boy Scouts of America Troop #17, he learned the association’s motto has always been: “Do a good turn daily.” And I recall Dan sitting for his Eagle Scout “inquisition,” quizzed about all he’d learned and accomplished over the past several years of badge work, camping, and camaraderie with friends. The gentleman from Binghamton had a strong bold character while Dan has a quiet, easygoing, humble personality like his Dad. On being asked what he’d done that day as his good deed, my son was speechless. He had no idea what “good deed” he might have done. When they took a break, I shared with Dan that he naturally helped others out of the kindness of his heart, consistently every day and often without being asked, just like his Dad. But I also told him he had helped me that morning without my having to ask him to help with certain household chores. He doesn’t have to go looking for a good deed. It’s a gift that comes natural to Dan, without hesitation, and something he continued through college, carried forward in his employment, and still does freely for his wife and children, and others. Anyone blessed to know Dan knows his gentle loving heart. What a great motto - teaching young boys to do a good deed every day by serving others without hesitation! As the Bible puts it, we should “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than [ourselves]. Each of [us] should look not only to [our] own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-447) And in all of this, I am also reminded of what God said to Jeremiah: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” (Jeremiah 1:5) We certainly may not be called to be a prophet like Jeremiah, but the Lord has set each of us apart, given each of us special gifts, unique to who we are meant to be. Reminds me of reaching out to others in a welcoming manner whether working as a medical/radiology transcriptionist before retiring or now as a teacher/TA sub in our local schools. It’s a chance to give back… a time to assist others in understanding… a time to smile and encourage… a time to give praise for a job well done… a time to listen when someone needs an ear to hear where they’re at… a time to simply be there when they need someone on their side… like others have done for me. Individually, we may be only one, and we may feel insignificant at that, but we can accomplish so much for those around us… to meet their needs, to put a smile on their face, and joy in their heart. Be that one! I'm Only One Linda A. Roorda I'm only one, but a difference I make By touch of hand or the sound of voice Soothing the anxious, fearful and hopeless Blessing with peace the heart in distress. I’m only one, but a smile I bring A ray of sun to brighten your day A sprig of hope that glows eternal To cheer you on when all else seems lost. I'm only one, but humbly I seek To amend the wrong I've offended you by Forgiveness I ask from your heart to mine With grace and mercy to heal the rift caused. I'm only one, but peace I offer With arms that welcome to embrace your heart To show I care no matter the pain For only with love do we reflect grace. I'm only one, but courage I ask To tackle issues that trouble our days Seeking answers to life's woundings deep That healing may come to scars of our soul. I'm only one, but beauty I desire Not outward surface but heart's inner glow The balm of solace, depth of contentment Glitter of joy, and the calm of peace. I'm only one, but change I effect Bringing comfort to the hurting souls Sharing laughter, burdens to lighten With hands tightly clasped to feel love’s cadence. I’m only one, but wisdom I crave To humbly walk with You as my guide Sharing Your truth to brighten the path That leads us to Your embracing love. ~~ 06/08-11/16

It’s that time of year again! School is already in full swing in some states, while locally and elsewhere school begins during the week after Labor Day. And students are either glad to be back in class or longing for the final bell of the day to ring. Classes and the extended subjects are much different now than they were 200 years ago. Students often did not have a strictly set school year like today, but were excused to help with farm chores such as planting and harvesting crops. Like many great Founders of America who were self-taught, our ancestors were either self-taught, home tutored, private schooled, or had limited access to public school. Even then, a good foundation was laid in what they learned which enabled them to succeed well in their life’s profession or to pursue university studies. I have two school books for math and English (in photo above) used by ancestral families, published in 1852 and 1875, that show they definitely got a solid education! The school was considered the next most important building in a community after the home. It was the center of a small town where church, town meetings, community events and picnics were often held. The “Little House on the Prairie” books and TV series provides a good example of the one-room schoolhouse, the hub of the community. According to Jean Alve (Spencer Historian, Tioga County, NY) in “Sounds of Spencer” for February 24, 1993 (“Looking Back at the History of Spencer, A collection of newspaper articles, 1983-1997”, pub. by The Spencer Historical Society), the Huggtown School of North Spencer was one of the last local one-room schoolhouses. In use until 1935, John Cowell was the last teacher. Located next to North Spencer Baptist Church, the building was moved to private property on Cowell Road in 1981, and is now owned by The Spencer Historical Society. My attending two small Christian schools in East Palmyra, NY and Passaic, NJ for elementary grades was, in some ways, similar to the old-fashioned one-room school concept. Two or three grades were combined with up to 25-30 children per teacher. I well remember the stop-watch timed math tests, the spelling bees, and oral reading groups. We memorized math facts, learned to read phonetically, and were drilled with flash cards. My mother and her 11 siblings attended the one-room school in Carlisle, Schoharie County, NY from 1st through 5th grade before going to middle and high school in Cobleskill. In the 1930s and 1940s, a bus saved them from walking the mile or so to and from school. She recalled their attempt to walk home during a blizzard one winter, but the fierce wind-driven snow and cold drove them into the town’s only restaurant where they called their father. They took sandwiches to school, but once a week their teacher cooked them a hot meal. She can still recall her teachers’ names, with the only man teaching for a few months before being drafted into WW II. Her favorite subjects were social studies/history, with a 95 on her 8th-grade Regents! Still her favorite subject, it’s an interest she’s passed on to me. My mother’s father, born in 1887, went to that same one-room school building, graduating with an 8th grade education. A jack-of-all-trades, Leo Tillapaugh was not only a premier dairy farmer of registered Holsteins when that was not the norm, he was elected to the Cobleskill school board for 20 years until his passing, was town Justice of the Peace, Town Highway Superintendent for Carlisle, bookkeeper for the local creamery, and a highly-respected community leader. I wish I could have known him… In the typical one-room schoolhouse, up to eight grades were taught together. Just as for my mom, boys and girls entered through separate front doors and sat on opposite sides of the room, with the youngest children up front. Classes were usually held from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. with short morning and afternoon recesses. Schools were typically built within about a 2-mile walking radius for the students, though some came from longer distances and rode a horse or horse-drawn wagon. There was often a pasture to stake the horses in, and occasionally a shed in which to stable them. Lunch was carried in baskets or tin pails. The teacher called the students inside by ringing the bell. Classes typically began with the Lord’s Prayer, a Bible reading, and roll call before lessons. An outhouse/privy was located behind the school. Water from the well was often drunk from one bucket, each student using a common dipper to drink from. No wonder illnesses spread like wildfire among the children, and quarantines were necessary with suspension of classes at times. The teacher was equally a man as a woman, though most women did not teach after marriage. The teacher was well respected, meting out discipline as necessary. We have read or seen depictions of teachers who severely overstepped their bounds in disciplinary actions, but that was not the norm from my research. One of the most common punishments was a whipping with a switch/branch, which would leave red marks on contact. My mother said there was little disruption and unruliness in their classes; but, she chuckled to recall that, indeed, a few students were taken out to the back shed for discipline. Most teachers truly cared for and loved their students, being involved in their lives within the community outside the classroom. My mother said that was also true of their teachers, including one who enjoyed cross-country skiing with them on their farm. Students were given responsibilities according to their age. In the colder months, older children brought in coal or firewood for the stove set in the middle or back of the room. There was little to no thought of putting insulation in buildings back then, so those sitting nearest to the stove would be toasty warm while students farther away shivered. Younger students cleaned the blackboard/chalkboard and took erasers outside to clap them clean. I remember doing that as a child! It was so much fun to watch the puffs of chalk dust - the harder we clapped, the bigger the puffs! Chores by the teacher and students would include making sure the chimney was clean of soot to prevent smoke buildup or a chimney fire. The floor was swept every day, desks cleaned, blackboards and erasers cleaned, and the windows washed often for light as there was no electricity, only oil lamps or candles which would have given off a certain amount of smoke. I would imagine that, like now, not all children willingly did their assigned chores, and sometimes certain chores might be doled out as punishment for an infraction. The three R’s, reading, ‘riting and ‘rithmetic, are the necessities to the foundation of any good education. Teaching back then did not require the extensive education and degrees of today. What they needed most was a good knowledge of what was being taught, a love for the children, an ability to discipline fairly, and a commitment to teaching and helping each child learn. Much was taught by memorization, rote and drills. Flash cards and drills were popular. Children memorized math facts without the fancy terminology of today, which I think causes confusion. Nor did the elementary grades touch on the algebraic sets or equations that are used to teach now. Reading was taught by the phonics method with hornbooks (a primer with the alphabet and numbers for children) and spellers, and later the six popular graduated “Eclectic Readers” by William Holmes McGuffey. McGuffey readers were first published in 1836, teaching reading and values such as honesty, courage and good manners. These popular books were still used in the early 20th century. Eventually, sight word recognition came into vogue. http://www.thephonicspage.org/On Phonics/historyofreading.html I remain a strong proponent of phonics; it’s been the key to my success in medical transcription when meeting new terminology, and was key to helping my children learn to read. Spelling bees were often a popular way to end the school week. The student who could out spell everyone else was highly admired until the next week’s bee and new winner. Except, of course, when you carry the stigma of an infamous mistake! Having only moved to Clifton, NJ a week earlier, I was intrigued by a tractor trailer I saw with an orange S.O.X. printed on the side for South Orange Express. We happened to have a spelling bee that morning, my best subject! Seriously! My turn came and the teacher called out, “Socks.” Confidently facing the entire class, and without thinking, I heard myself say, “S-o-x.” Writing was not with lined paper and pencil familiar to our students. Instead, they used rock slates and scratched their answers with slate pencils. As they got older, pen and paper were used, usually with a quill pen made of a sharpened goose feather dipped into the inkwell on their desk. To prevent the ink from smudging, they would press special blotting paper down onto their writing to absorb the excess ink. What a lot of effort that must have taken, especially when compared to the ease of today’s technology! Desks might be planks with benches, or actual 1-2 person desks. Up front, the teacher might have a bench near her desk for students to “privately” recite their lessons. A blackboard, an alphabet sheet, a United States flag, and a clock were often decoratively displayed on the front wall. Many of us have seen the “famous” 8th grade test from 100-200 years ago making the email rounds that we adults supposedly couldn’t pass today. I agree; in reading through it, I can’t begin to answer the questions. However, if we had studied facts specifically for the test, I think we’d pass with flying colors. Well, except for anything above algebra and general science – those were not among my best subjects. As evidenced by research, our ancestors were very well educated with “just” a one-room schoolhouse 8th-grade education. After all, their education success led them to become the successful parents, community leaders, and businessmen and women they were as they brought our communities into the modern age.

Early Friday morning, before heading to another of Ed’s appts, I stood on the deck with the sun on my face, gazing at the garden beyond this big beautiful tree that, 40 years ago, was about 8-10 feet tall at most. Even our daughter said when visiting in July that she couldn’t get over how big it had gotten! Then, hearing the drone of a plane engine in the bright blue sky overhead, until its sound slowly faded on its journey to far-away places … reminded me of my childhood, laying in the grass, staring at the clouds and listening to plane engines overhead, without a care in the world, especially about bugs and ticks in the grass, deciding what the huge puffy clouds looked like in comparison to my sister’s thoughts… and sometimes, what I’d give for more days like that childhood fun… quiet, unperturbed, no worries or cares, and no fears of an unknown future… We’ve spent 6 of 7 weekdays going to medical appointments since Ed came home from the hospital on the 3rd… with 3 out of 5 days next wk having appts. Tho Ed is utterly exhausted, we’re thankful he’s still here with us, as we’ve come close to losing him at least half a dozen times over the decades… thankful for my prior hospital medical transcription job where my boss allowed me to work 3am to 11am so I could take care of Ed and his appts in the afternoons over so many years in the past… thankful for the elderly dear friend who wanted to visit Ed this past week and who, on hearing I was sorry to tell him “no” for how exhausted Ed was from his extensive appt calendar, graciously apologized and said he’d leave us alone for a while till Ed felt better again. Unlike someone several years ago who could not understand that concept nor our needs. But for all who’ve cared enough to ask how Ed’s doing, tho I say “ok” and “stable”, he’s not ok. It’s really hard to explain. We thank you and are so grateful for your caring. Ed is improved from when he was hospitalized both times in July. That said, life is a daily struggle for him, for anyone with worsening severe congestive heart failure and multiple other health issues, knowing CHF has no cure. He’s had a few drug changes, eliminating some nasty side effects while replacement meds bring on new problems. It’s remembering to focus on God being here with us, even in the midst of what seems like never-ending difficulties in health or other challenges, wondering if our prayers are heard, while also knowing He does work all things for good to those who love Him… even when we feel so alone… because He has said He will never leave us nor forsake us. And sometimes I need a little reminder when life becomes overwhelming… I wrote the following article in 2016, accepted for publication in the Christian Reformed Church Disability Network Newsletter in 2017. Why do we have to deal with suffering? Why aren’t we miraculously healed when we pray for healing? Didn’t Jesus say, “Ask anything in my name and it shall be given you”? So, are we not healed due to a lack of faith or the right prayers? What Jesus did say was: "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7) He also said “… and I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." (John 14:13-14) John later wrote, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14) And therein lies the key – asking in God’s will. But that begs the question… what is God’s will? My husband, Ed, and I have traveled a long road with his disabilities and health issues. We’ve been told to pray and fast for healing, and trust that he will be healed. It sounds so easy, but healing has not come. We have been told it was our fault that he has not been healed because we did not pray right. Although I would never want to destroy a prayer of hope, the Bible does not teach that we can manipulate God into doing what we want just by saying the right words or having "enough" faith. With his long-term illnesses, disabilities, and unrelenting pain and dizziness, my husband and I have wondered what’s wrong with us that healing has passed him by. Intimations by well-meaning friends that healing is simply for the asking has devastating effects, including guilt. While the “well” person can walk away emotionally and physically intact, how do we handle the seemingly raw deal we’ve been dealt? Personally, I think it takes a deeper faith to move forward without obvious answers and healing. Just maybe there really is a purpose in our suffering. As we read in James, we are to “consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4). For “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial." (vs.12) Once upon a time I did not understand that concept and reacted poorly to adversity. Yet, even in that, I am not alone. Paralyzed from the neck down after a shallow dive soon after graduating from high school, I learned Joni Eareckson Tada initially reacted negatively when I read several of her books. She expected answers to prayers for miraculous healing. But healing never came. Disappointed, discouraged and despairing, she finally came to terms with accepting her disability. She has seen God work by changing her heart instead, and she praises God for the blessing her ministry has been in transforming the lives of others. Despite his multitudinous losses of family and personal property, Job did not sin in his quest for answers. Learning of his losses, he worshipped God saying, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21b) He did not blame or curse God. But, in questioning God, and hearing the Almighty’s queries of him, Job acknowledged an understanding of where he fit in the overall scheme of life. . . and that God was in control. And God eventually blessed him even more than before. I am impressed with Job’s humility as he learned to fully trust our loving, all-knowing and all-powerful God. In unbelievable circumstances that I can’t comprehend, others have struggled to regain normalcy after devastating losses, knowing their life will never be the same. I’m sure they wish their life stories were different. But God knows why life has its rough roads. He knows our story from start to finish. (Psalm 139:13-16) He hears our cries and pleadings. And, though God seems silent at times, I’m reassured by Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” As God draws us into a closer relationship with Him on a path we don’t like, Ed and I know that He will never leave us nor forsake us. (Hebrews 13:5b) We understand the redemptive quality which pain and difficulty can bring to our lives. As Philip Yancey put it so well, “We’re concerned with how things turn out; God is more concerned with how we turn out.” (“The Question That Never Goes Away – Why?”, p.105) Therein lie the keys to accepting and understanding life’s difficult situations. When there are no answers to pleas for healing, may you, too, feel the Lord’s loving arms gently holding you with a comfort and peace only He can give. May you feel His strength enable you to finish well the path He’s allowed you to walk. And, may you know His answer will yet be coming in His time…though maybe not until you stand face to face with Him. And may we each be found worthy at the end of our journey. Answers Linda A. Roorda Sometimes we have no healing for pain And answers to prayers seem elusive at best But in the silence the Lord whispers soft… I am still here; You are not alone. When the way gets rough, I will guide your steps When the path is steep, your hand I will hold When the night is long, at your side I’ll be When you can’t go on, I will carry you. Though sometimes My will is not what you want Plans I have made take time to work out Wending their way through trials you face With meaning found as your heart seeks mine. There’s much I long to share from My word Coming together with trust placed in Me Finding comfort in My arms of peace When to Me you give control of your path. Even though Faith is bright hope unseen It covers your soul, a protective shield And holds you tight when stormy winds blow To persevere when all else seems lost. For though sometimes answers seem fleeting Your heart is held still gently secure That you may know My mercy and grace Hold your best interests in loving scarred hands. ~~ 06/18/2016

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.

As many know, my husband was readmitted to the hospital Thursday. Overlapping congestive heart failure, diabetes, and kidney failure walk a fine line together. Not sure of the immediate future, as none of us do, we watch the world go merrily on its way as we grapple with life’s unknowns, frustrations and limitations, all the while knowing God is here with us and has a plan. His will may not be the plan we want, but as we go to Him, He gently wraps his arms around us, holding us up, giving us strength to face what is meant to be, with His love… I actually needed to be reminded of that and found this poem and blog I’d written in 2017, unpublished previously, so fitting for so many of us today… especially in the heartache of sudden losses like those who are suffering amidst Kentucky’s devastating flash flooding, as we collectively mourn with the families who lost loved ones and everything they owned. May you each be blessed and comforted today with our God’s great love within your own difficulties. Life can be so hard and painful, difficult and unfair. We may face debilitating fears of the unknown on hearing a difficult medical diagnosis. I remember the shock of hearing I had breast cancer. My mind shut down. I did not hear much of what else my doctor had to say. The fears of the unknown were very real, as were my tears. And I know many of you, my dear friends and readers, have faced similar situations. You may feel deep pain and grief in the loss of a loved one before their time… like the losses of our first two preborn infants - Heather at 6 months, believed to be twins who did not separate, followed by a second baby at 3-1/2 months, and then the loss of our daughter Jennifer at 25 years, a month after she graduated with her Master’s in school psychology, leaving behind her husband of 3 years. You may carry the heart wounds of betrayal and abuse, suffer the destruction of a family home or business, or the loss of everything around you in devastating natural disasters, and more. You know all too well your own trials… There is so much we don’t understand in this life. Yet, amidst all the pain and grief we endure, we can rise from the ashes of devastating losses to a joyous new beginning. For God is with us, even on those days when we feel abandoned and alone, like no one cares. Even then, He is there. He never leaves us. Perhaps He seems silent, but He is truly never far away. His arms are always open, ready to hold us, perhaps even to carry us for a while. But He never leaves us nor abandons us. We may not understand the why of our pain while walking the difficult road… but the Lord has His reasons for allowing us to take that journey. Perhaps this is what it takes to draw us back to His side, to understand His love, to know forgiveness with His lavish gift of mercy and grace through Jesus’ sacrifice, and to know His love and peace beyond understanding. In John 16:33, Jesus told his disciples, and us, that “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Yet even the strongest among us faces difficult days with doubts about so many things… and we contemplate… Joshua was told by God as he prepared the Israelites to enter the promised land: “6. Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their forefathers to give them… 9. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” They had lived for so many years and generations as slaves to the Egyptians and their brutality. Now, after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness under Moses, after facing many difficulties where God showed His loving hand in providing and caring for them, there was still fear of the unknown among the people. Again, hundreds of years later, the prophet Isaiah also shared God’s words with the Israelites, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10-13 NIV) Words we can also hold onto in our hearts in this every-day journey of life. One of my favorite verses is Peter’s words reminding us to “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (I Peter 5:7 NIV) And yet, I fall short in bringing ALL my cares and concerns to God, and I stand guilty of fretting and fearing. Again, Isaiah wrote down precious words God gave him to encourage us all during trials: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” (Isaiah 43:2 ESV) Finally, as the writer of Hebrews 13:5 reminds us, “Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’” Yes, I have to keep reminding myself of the words of God written well before our time. These verses show what great love our Lord has for us. He knows and understands the daily trials of life we face… the losses and pains we suffer… Though we may consider our losses to be ashes of our treasures, ultimately God will give us joy and peace through the difficulties we face when our hearts are secure in Him… as we hold onto Jesus’ nail-scarred hands and bask in His great love… for "[He will] provide for those who grieve...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes." (Isaiah 61:3) What rejoicing we share when blessed with His peace! Never will He leave us, never will He forsake us! Out of the Ashes Linda A. Roorda Out of the ashes comes a healing heart And from the shattered comes broken beauty A miracle born midst languishing hope Comes shining light that glows from within. Though all I can give is a heart of love The simplest of gifts with no strings attached I give it to you with hands held out As You lift me up to stand rejoicing. From heavenly throne to servant of all You humbly came to seek and to save Bringing compassion, discerning my heart You gazed on my soul to see the real me. If all my riches were piled up high They‘d account for naught when put through the fire But where I have stored the Light of the world Is where the treasures of my heart are held. For out of the ashes comes a heart at peace Broken and shattered in sorrow and shame But born anew by Your sacrifice Your love covers all with mercy and grace. ~~ 12/06-09/17

Nice you got pouring rain in your area! We got maybe a few little drops and that was it. Not even enough to wet the dust...

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. ~~

It seems we often want our way regardless of how anyone else feels. That old “give-and-take” attitude I remember growing up with seems to be lacking... all too evident among those who mock and bully others, even within today’s world of politics… where a war of words continues to erupt, and others are canceled. It seems like absolute truth and moral or ethical standards have become a negative, a cause for ridicule… while relativism, or determining our own truth as we want it to be, is more often revered. Authors like Laura Ingalls Wilder and Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens have become suspect, apparently not worth our reading in today’s political correctness. They, like so many others, wrote about the way life was as they experienced it while walking upon this earth, something we can learn from. The Wilder Award in literature has been renamed the Children’s Literature Legacy Award because Wilder used words of a different era, inappropriate for today. We were appalled at censorship, banning and burning of books many years ago, yet even now we walk a fine line of what is appropriate. We disallow our children to read of life in other times when words or language we now recognize as inappropriate was used. Even the Holy Bible is often not acceptable because it might offend. Yet, as discerning parents, we did not allow our children to read a few specific books in high school. We discussed why they were inappropriate reading material with both our children and school personnel. We were told by the principal that, because we calmly explained our objections, the school graciously saw our valid points and gave alternative reading material. In Jenn’s case, after giving one particular oral book report, a few classmates told her they wished they’d read that book instead of the original proffered book. A true story, it showed a quality of character in the challenges a young man faced as an Olympian runner diagnosed with cancer. Unable to compete, he turned to helping inner city under-privileged kids. The book read by the rest of the class, however, was filled with gratuitous sex, filthy language, and mocking of parental/family values – found when I simply opened the book at random junctures. Actually, the teacher told his students to seek their parents’ permission to read that book! And, apparently, if other students actually showed it to their parents, we were the only ones who said “no way!” Even the school board was shocked to learn what that book held. It was pulled from the school’s required reading list, and the teacher actually complimented us on our strong stance, saying he learned a lot from us. There truly is a time for discernment of right and wrong when done with respect. My poem here began to flow with news of the violence and tearing down of our nation’s historical monuments in the summer of 2017 and since. Removing such historical memorials does not erase or change history… except for the younger generations who never learn its truths. There are lessons learned in those memories earned. We’ve come so far. We’ve grown in understanding and acceptance. Isn’t that cause for celebration rather than condemnation? Our differences can be teachable moments. That’s what Freedom of Speech is all about… with a chance to show love and respect even in our disagreement, revealing true tolerance, not denigrating or canceling someone just because you don’t like their stance. Tolerance, by definition, is an ability to be fair, to accept a viewpoint which is different, and to bear with another in realizing that the opposition also has rights… without approving wrong by our silence, or going into full rage when disagreeing with the alternative view. Perhaps we remember that society’s Golden Rule (which promotes tolerance, when you think about it), actually comes from the words of Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the law…” (Matthew 7:12a) Yet, tolerance is not a license to do anything we want at will. A moral society adheres to absolute truths of right and wrong, or it breaks down without this solid foundation… as we now see with a preferential treatment of criminals being put back out on the street where they are free to commit crimes again, by not holding them truly responsible and accountable for their criminal acts. We should certainly be cognizant and tolerant of others’ opinions or beliefs, respecting our differences… but, that does not mean we have to tolerate rude or foul language, or abusive, bullying, or violent and criminal behavior. Tolerance is not freedom to persist in traveling down a wrong path. There are consequences for everything we do... and there is a time and place for speaking out respectfully against inappropriate words or actions. So where did tolerance go? Too often, it seems tolerance is relegated to that which accepts and promotes a particular politically-correct agenda to the exclusion and canceling of the opposing view and person… regarding differing perspectives as not having validity to be respected. What happened to our ability to show respect through appropriate discussion? What happened to Freedom of Speech? Why the hate-filled, foul-worded, disrespectful language? Why violence with riots and destruction, or angry rhetoric to disallow conservative or religious speakers, even on college campuses? What is there to be afraid of… that others might actually have valid points of truth, different from your own perspective and agenda? Fear of a differing opinion by engaging in anger and wrath toward that with which one disagrees serves no viable purpose. We have heard mobs calling for their rights or else violence will ensue… while proclaiming how tolerant and justified they are. Seems to me that violence as a coercive bully tactic is anything but tolerance. Perhaps it would be wise to observe that true tolerance… the courtesy to listen, even agreeing to disagree in appropriate discourse… comes by respecting another’s viewpoint, their freedom of speech, without the backlash of vitriolic speech and/or destructive violence. When morality steps up and extends a hand in true respect, we’re living out the ancient Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17). Given by God to Moses for the Jewish nation during its exodus from centuries of Egyptian slavery, these words still serve us well as a moral foundation for life even in today’s modern society. Doing our best to live out Jesus’ words in what we call the Golden Rule, we show great love and respect for others… “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV) – just as we wish to be treated. With this love, and acceptance of those with whom we disagree, we embody Christ’s love, for “love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.” (I Corinthians 13:6 NIV) Tolerance Linda A. Roorda ~ Could I but live a life that was safe I wouldn’t question the wrongs encountered. I would not wrestle with problems I face Or troubles inherent with consequent strife. ~ For if I the bad from this life expunged I’d then have left the best for display. My life would exist by my design For my benefit and pleasure alone. ~ Remove the memories and mask the failures Fashion the remains to what I deem fit. Let visible be selfish ambition My life according to myself and me. ~ I have no tolerance for views but mine My way is right and suspect is yours. I demand my way and fight you I will If only to prove entitled am I. ~ Yet what I now see is your hand held out Bearing a gift, tolerance by name. You’ve come to my aid and lift me up To help me stand with dignity tall. ~ There’s a price, you see, for this freedom shared It’s a cost in red that flowed for us all. And it grants relief from oppression’s fist That your words and mine comingle in peace. ~~

I have to admit… it sure would be nice to win the big lottery! Life would be so much easier with all that money, wouldn’t it? ‘Course, ya gotta play to win! And since I don’t play, there’s no chance I’ll ever go home a millionaire… ah well, it was a fun thought while it lasted! But watching the newly “rich and famous” with their instant money, I also wonder how happy many of them really are. They seem to have it all… from gorgeous clothes to the most beautiful mansions. But, on the flip side, do they ever ask if that’s all there is to life? When you open the door to peek in on their private lives, how often don’t we find them less than the seemingly perfect and shining example we think they are? Don’t get me wrong, some know how to handle their wealth with an envied wisdom. On the other hand, too many blow through their new wealth by not having the inner strength to handle what comes their way… while many of those who have truly earned their way up the ladder of success and wealth usually seem to know the secret to handling their situation wisely. And I can’t help but wonder, do any of them ask if that’s all there is to life… for I have a suspicion that many “rich and famous” have an ache, a pain, deep in their heart... a void needing to be filled. Too often, the news contains stories of their drug addiction, wild parties and debauchery… only to leave us quietly asking the words of the hit song written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller in the 1960s, and made famous by Peggy Lee, “Is that all there is?” As Pastor Greg Laurie wrote in “Lennon, Dylan, Alice, & Jesus, “Contrary to popular belief, adversity is not the greatest test of character; overnight success is.” Because that’s not all there is to life... Money is not the answer to all our troubles, and the “rich and famous” will tell you that if they’re honest. Unfortunately, some learn the hard way there’s truth in the old biblical saying that “…the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.” (I Timothy 6:10) With this thought, I was reminded of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, believed by many scholars to have been penned by the wisest man who ever lived, King Solomon: “Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income…” (Eccl.5:10) Later, Solomon reflects that “When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other…” (Eccl.7:14) Note that it’s the “love” of money that can taint a life. For, with the blessing of wealth, can also come the ability to give… a giving to bless others out of love. Though we may look upon the “rich and famous” as enjoying the epitome of happiness, we often see those in front of us who struggle from day to day, barely getting by, as the ones who exude true joy. There are those who live a life of unending pain, emotional and/or physical, yet they share a heart of empathy. There are those with hurts so deep no one knows the true depth of their hidden pain, but they have love to spare. And, there are those who cover their pain with a shield of protective bullying, alcohol and drugs, while others cover their pain with the smile of brave endurance. And we wonder about the difference. As much as we might wish it so, a life of riches, free of pain and sorrow, was never promised to any of us. By learning to accept our trials, we grow through perseverance into wisdom, understanding, and joy… like the wisdom found in Hebrews 13:5 – “Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be satisfied with what you have. God has said, ‘I will never leave you; I will never forsake you.’” And, in understanding those words, we realize that “…the testing of [our] faith develops perseverance.” (James 1:2-3) But, oh how hard the journey can be at times! In all honesty, life’s difficulties mature us into wisdom as we experience pain, loss, and discomfort… over time, not overnight… if we let them. It’s not by longing for the world’s many riches, but by being content in our life’s situation that we find happiness. Unlike Job’s friends who castigated him for his supposed sins having been the cause of his great suffering, it is in the depth of our struggles that we often learn who our true friends are. And, we also find out where our real strength lies… in God. For it’s as we learn to walk with God at our side during life’s ups and downs that we find ourselves trusting all the more the One who knows the purpose and reason behind our trials. Then, as we come to understand why He allows us to travel the darkened road, we gain insight into issues hidden within our own life, and acquire an empathy to feel for, and share with, those who might be traveling a similar bumpy road. Be a blessing to others through your difficulty! And praise God for the blessings He’s given you along your difficult road! Behind the Door Linda A. Roorda Behind the door of our curtained lives Lies the dark ache of a hurting soul So often hidden as though behind walls Feeling as if the world doesn’t care. The life of pain has many faces Some openly brave, some hidden and sad But all are covers for truth in the depths Which we conceal behind words and smiles. Yet there are those seemingly untouched Who exude the ease of life without pain All sun and fun, or so it would seem But what have they learned of perseverance. Do not envy what appears so grand Since hidden lessons don’t emerge from glam Many are they who follow such dreams Only to find silken paths want more. For in trials deep do our hearts learn truth By laying open the heart, mind and soul Riches are found as depths are plumbed Knowing persistence leads to wisdom’s gold. ~~

Today, I’m posting something a little different on Poetic Devotions. So many of us are thankful for the blessings we, as a nation and as a people, have received since our nation was founded. And today, I’d like to celebrate those who gave their support to the founding of our great nation. In knowing a little about some of my maternal family’s ancestors who took part in the American Revolution, it helps put a personal perspective to the many individuals who gave of themselves that we and so many others might enjoy the freedoms we’ve been blessed with. Are we individually or collectively as a nation perfect? Of course not! But we learn and grow from past mistakes, not from erasing them from history, praising God for all He has blessed us with. Enjoy your celebrations of our nation’s founding with your friends and family!! It’s a fact that we Americans love our 4th of July celebrations! We especially enjoy family gatherings and picnics, and big parades with lots of floats and marching bands. We look forward to fireworks with their beautiful colors and designs exploding in the night sky. We decorate our homes with flags and bunting. We salute, or respectfully place our hand over our heart, as our nation’s flag is carried past us by military veterans in parades. And we readily recall the two important founding documents of our nation: 1. Preamble to the Declaration of Independence: “…We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness…” 2. Preamble to the U.S. Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America…” What precious meaning these words have held as we take time to gaze backward to their origins, something I never tire learning about. So, why is history important to us? To quote David McCullough in "Why History?" in the December 2002 Reader's Digest, author of the books, John Adams and 1776: “Who are we, we Americans? How did we get where we are? What is our story and what can it teach us? Our story is our history, and if ever we should be taking steps to see that we have the best prepared, most aware citizens ever, that time is now. Yet the truth is that we are raising a generation that is to an alarming degree historically illiterate… While the popular cultures races loudly on, the American past is slipping away. We are losing our story, forgetting who we are and what it's taken to come this far.” “The best way to know where the country is going is to know where we've been…But why bother about history anyway? …That's done with, junk for the trash heap. Why history? Because it shows us how to behave. [It] teaches and reinforces what we believe in, what we stand for. History is about life – human nature, the human condition and all its trials and failings and noblest achievements… Everything we have, all our good institutions, our laws, our music, art and poetry, our freedoms, everything is because somebody went before us and did the hard work... faced the storms, made the sacrifices, kept the faith… If we deny our children that enjoyment [of historical story telling]… then we’re cheating them out of a full life.” As I contemplated our nation’s celebrations, I thought about the effort and sacrifice it took from many to give us the freedoms we so often take for granted. I am so thankful for all we have in America which many around the world do not enjoy. But I also wondered if perhaps we have forgotten all that took place a long time ago, and if this day has simply become a traditional fun holiday. The United States of America came to be with God’s hand working a miracle behind the scenes, and within the hearts of men and women who were very involved in its forming by putting their lives, legacy and financial support behind the movement for independence. Though no nation or government has been perfect as far back as the beginning of time, the early days of our young nation’s beginnings provide perspective for today’s America, this bastion of freedom. So, it’s fitting that we ponder what part our ancestors played in the making of our great America some 246 years ago. And, I might add, one of the best parts of researching my ancestors was the great lasting friendships I’d made with other descendants. Several of my ancestors served in the Revolutionary War in various capacities, some of whom I researched more extensively than others. Originally, I did not plan to bring them into my article. But then it occurred to me that it would be appropriate. Knowledge of personal service and sacrifice often provides us with a greater understanding of the historical era and what our collective ancestors experienced. While researching my ancestry over 20 years ago, I purchased Revolutionary War pension application files of several ancestors who had served. For those whose government files I did not purchase, their data was obtained from Schoharie County Historical Society, various Revolutionary War books, CDs, and documents proving their service. Hoping that my family research might provide us a closer glimpse of the war for independence through their experiences, I share their legacy. 1) Frantz/Francis Becraft/Beacraft, bp. 06/12/1761, Claverack, Columbia Co., NY - Private, 3rd Comp., 3rd Regiment, 1st Rensselaerswyck Battalion, Albany County New York Militia, on muster roll from Berne in 1782, 1790 census at Berne. In an 1839 affidavit, Francis Becraft of Berne stated that he “served as a Private in a company commanded by Capt. Adam Dietz in the County of Albany...” Frantz/Francis married Catherine Dietz (sister of said Capt. Adam Dietz), my g-g-g-g-grandparents. In researching my ancestors, I discovered an apparent familial tie to the notorious Tory Becraft/Beacraft. This man felt no remorse in aligning himself with Joseph Brant’s Indians to capture, kill and scalp Patriots throughout Schoharie County, known to have brutally killed and scalped a young boy in the Vrooman family who managed to escape the house after his family had been murdered. After the war ended, Becraft/Beacraft had the audacity to return from Canada to Schoharie County where he was immediately captured by ten men. In meting out a punishment of 50 lashes by whip, the men supposedly reminded him of his infamous acts against the community, his former neighbors. Roscoe notes that death did not linger for him after the final lash, and his ashes were buried on the spot. Of the ten men who swore themselves to secrecy, apparently only five are known. (History of Schoharie County, William E. Roscoe, pub. D. Mason & Comp., 1882, pp.250-251.) However, in "Families (to 1825) of Herkimer, Montgomery, & Schoharie, N.Y.," a genealogical source on many early families by William V. H. Barker, it is noted that the Tory Becraft/Beacraft was Benjamin, born about 1759, brother of my ancestor noted above, Frantz/Francis Becraft. If this is accurate and they are indeed brothers, they were both sons of Willem/William and Mareitje (Bond) Becraft. Another source, “The Life of Joseph Brant – Thayendanegea…” notes Becraft survived his whipping and left the area (pg. 64), just as other undocumented sources indicate he survived and returned to Canada to live with his family. So, I am uncertain as to whether Tory [Benjamin] Becraft actually died from his whippings or survived and left the area. 2) Johannes/John Berlet/Berlett/Barlet, b. 05/08/1748, Schoharie, Schoharie Co., NY – Private, Tryon County Militia, 3rd Reg’t, Mohawk District. He married Maria Gardinier, b. about 1751; their daughter Eva/Eveline Barlett married Martin Tillapaugh, b. 1778, my g-g-g-grandparents. 3) Johann Hendrich/John Henry Dietz, bp 05/10/1722, Nordhofen, Vielbach, Germany – served in Lt. John Veeder’s Company, Rensselaerswyck, later under Capt. Sternberger’s Company at Schoharie. He married Maria Elisabetha Ecker, bp. 1725; their daughter Catherine Dietz, b. 1761, married Frantz/Francis Beacraft above, my g-g-g-g-grandparents. As per my research article on Chemung County’s Newtown Battle, the Indian/Loyalist raids and massacres also touched my ancestral families in New York. In Beaverdam (now Berne), New York near the Switzkill River on September 1, 1781, the Johannes Dietz family was attacked. Johannes’ son, Capt. William Dietz was captured and forced to watch his elderly parents, wife, four young children and a Scottish maid be killed and scalped. (see “Old Hellebergh,” Arthur B. Gregg, The Altamont Enterprise Publishers, Altamont, N.Y., 1936, p. 24; signed by Gregg, in Roorda’s collection from her father.) Capt. William Dietz’s father, Johannes, was an older brother of my ancestor noted above, Johann Hendrich/John Henry Dietz. 4) Johan Dietrich Dallenbach/John Richard Dillenbach, b. 1733 per cemetery records, Stone Arabia, NY; father Jorg Martin Dallenbach born Lauperswil, Bern, Switzerland (emigrated with 1710 German Palatines with mother and first wife). John Richard Dillenbach married Maria Mynard; their son Martinus took name of Martin Tillapaugh (my lineage), married Eva/Eveline Barlett as above. Dillenbach reported for duty March 20, 1757 when Sir William Johnson called local militia out to protect Fort William Henry on Lake George for the British. The Seven Years’ War, or the French and Indian War, began in 1754 and ended with the European peace treaties of 1763 during which year Dillenbach again reported to defend Herkimer with the Palatine District Regiment. James Fennimore Cooper wrote The Last of the Mohicans about the siege of Fort William Henry. Roughly 2300 colonial troops were protecting the British fort when the French arrived with about 8000 troops in August 1763 and heavily bombarded the fort. With additional supporting troops not found to be on their way, the garrison was forced to surrender. The men were to be protected as they retreated by generous treaty terms. However, as the Indians entered the fort, they plundered, looted, scalped and killed about 200 colonials, many of them too sick to leave. In desecrating graves of those who had died before the siege, the Indians exposed themselves to smallpox, taking the germs back to their homes. The French destroyed the fort before returning to Canada. Fort William Henry was reconstructed in the 1950s. Visiting this fort in 1972 with the Lounsberry Methodist Church youth group, I was unaware at the time that my Dallenbach/Tillapaugh ancestor had walked that ground, having been involved in the siege and survived. 5) Timothy Hutton, b.11/24/1746, New York City, married 2nd) Elizabeth Deline b.1760. Their son George b.1787 married Sarah Wyckoff b.1793 (descendant of Pieter Claessen Wyckoff who cared for Pieter Stuyvesant’s bouwery/farm, today’s bowery district of New York City, with his Wyckoff House Museum on Clarendon Road, Brooklyn, NY still standing), my g-g-g-grandparents. Timothy served as Ensign in Philip Schuyler’s Regiment of Albany County Militia, at defeat of Gen. Burgoyne in Saratoga October 17, 1777; appointed Lieutenant in New York Levies under Col. Marinus Willett; defended Schoharie County from burnings and killings by British, Loyalists and Indians. This Timothy is not to be confused with a nephew of same name and rank, b. 1764, which many have done, including an erroneous columnar grave marker in Carlisle, NY. Sorting their military service out was part of my extensive thesis and documentation in researching and publishing two lengthy articles on the origins and descendants of this Hutton family in the New York Genealogical & Biographical Record in 2004-2005. My Timothy’s nephew William Hutton served extensively in the Revolutionary War throughout New York City, Long Island, and the Hudson Valley. My Timothy’s nephew Christopher Hutton of Troy, NY served as Ensign, promoted to Lieutenant, member of the elite Society of the Cincinnati. My Timothy’s nephew, Timothy Hutton b.1764, served as Lieutenant in New York Levies under Col. Willett, enlisting 1780 at age 16 in the Albany militia. My Timothy’s nephews, Isaac and George (brothers of Christopher and the younger Timothy, all sons of George Hutton, the older brother of my ancestor Timothy Hutton), were well-known influential silversmiths during the Federal period in the late 18th/early 19th centuries in Albany. Hutton silver has been on display at museums in Albany, New York. 6) Johannes Leenderse (John Leonardson), b.06/18/63, Fonda, Montgomery Co., NY - enlisted as private in 1779 at age 16, Tryon County Militia, 3rd Reg’t; Corporal in 1781; served on many expeditions in the Mohawk Valley and at forts; joined Col. Willett’s company on march to Johnstown October 1781 in successful battle against enemy who had burned and killed throughout Mohawk Valley; re-enlisted 1782. Married Sarah Putman b.1773. Their son Aaron Leonardson b.1796 married 3rd) Lana Gross, parents of Mary Eliza Leonardson b. about 1732 who married William Henry Ottman, my g-g-grandparents. 7) John Caldwell McNeill, b. 1755, Londonderry, Rockingham Co., NH - at Bunker Hill (actually Breed’s Hill) on Charlestown June 17, 1775 per purchased military pension file. As Sergeant under Col. Timothy Bedel of the New Hampshire Line, John bought beef to pasture and butcher as needed for the troops. Bedel’s regiment joined “Corp.1, Co. 1, New York Reg’t” on mission to Canada against British; McNeill taken captive with cousins and friends at The Cedars near Montreal, an island in the St. Lawrence; soldiers were stripped of clothing, belongings and food, and released in cartel negotiated by Gen. Benedict Arnold before becoming a traitor. John served at and discharged at Saratoga, NY. He married cousin Hannah Caldwell b.1762; removed to Carlisle, Schoharie County, New York ca. 1794; their son Jesse McNeill m. Elizabeth Ostrom, my g-g-g-grandparents. (Neighbor was Thomas Machin who built the Great Chain across the Hudson River to keep the British ships from sailing north. A granddaughter of McNeill married a Machin grandson, removing to the Midwest.) 8 ) George Richtmyer, bp 04/23/1738, Albany Co., NY – Captain from 1775 through end of war in 15th Reg’t of Albany Militia, defending Cobleskill and Middleburg, Schoharie Co., NY. Married Anna Hommel; their son Henrich/Henry married Maria Beacraft (see above), my g-g-g-grandparents. 9) Hendrick/Henry Vonck/Vunck, b. 03/06/1757, Freehold, Monmouth Co., NJ - served as private and Corporal in New Jersey and New York City; carried papers for American Gen. Charles Lee; joined units marching to same area of Canada as John C. McNeill; on return became ill with smallpox with others at Lake George when news of the Declaration of Independence was made; honorably discharged; called to serve again at Sandy Hook, NJ; captured by the British at Sandy Hook, taken to a prison ship, then to the [Livingston] stone sugar house in Manhattan, then another prison ship, the Good___ (writing illegible on the early 1800s pension document, possibly Good Hope). After “one year and one month” as prisoner, he was exchanged and released. “Having suffered while a prisoner great privations and disease and in poor clothing and severely unwholesome provisions many prisoners died in consequence of their treatment.” (Per 1832 affidavit of military service for pension.) Conditions suffered as a prisoner left Henry in poor health the rest of his life; removing later to Montgomery County, NY. He married Chestinah Hagaman; their daughter Jane Vunck married James Dingman, my g-g-g-grandparents. From 1776 to 1783 the British made use of decommissioned ships (incapable of going to sea) as floating prisons. At least 16 rotting hulks were moored in Wallabout Bay, the inner harbor along the northwest shore of Brooklyn, now part of the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Among the ships were the Good Hope, Whitby, The Prince of Wales, Falmouth, Scorpion, Stromboli, Hunter, and the most infamous HMS Jersey, nicknamed Hell by the men. Over 10,000 men, perhaps at least 11,500, died on these ships due to the deliberate deplorable conditions. Men were crammed below decks with no windows for lighting or fresh air. There was a lack of food and clothing, with vermin and insects running rampant, and a lack of other humane efforts to aid the ill, all leading to the death of thousands. Prisoners died virtually every day, reportedly as many as fifteen a day. Some were not found right away, their bodies not disposed of until days later. Often, those who died were sewn into their blankets (if they had one) to await pick up by cart the next morning. Many were buried in shallow graves along the shore (unearthed during major storms) or were simply tossed overboard, later washing ashore. With development of Walloon Bay area over the last two centuries has come the discovery of their bones and parts of ships. To commemorate these soldiers’ lives and what they gave in the fight for independence, the Prison Ship Martyrs’ Monument was built. Located in Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn, it was dedicated on April 6, 1808 with improvements made to it several times since. At least another 5-6000 men died in the sugar houses, bringing the total who died as prisoners to more than 17,500 in the sugar houses and ships, more than double the battlefield losses. Sugar houses were buildings meant to store sugar and molasses. Affidavits by my ancestor, Henry Vunck, and friends note he was held for a few months in the “stone sugar house.” This could only mean the Livingston Sugar House, a six-story stone building built in 1754 by the Livingston family on Crown (now Liberty) Street in Manhattan. Demolished in 1846, buildings No. 34 and 36 are now on the site. A second sugar house, the Rhinelander, a five-story brick warehouse, was built in 1763 at Rose (now William) Street and Duane Street. This building was eventually replaced and is now the headquarters of the New York City Police Department. A third, Van Cortlandt’s sugar house, was built about 1755 by the early Dutch family of this name at the northwest corner of the Trinity Church in Manhattan. It was demolished in 1852. 10) Hans Georg Jacob Dubendorffer (George Jacob Diefendorf), b. 01/23/1729, Basserstorff, Switzerland – a Loyalist during Rev War, he left Mohawk Valley for Philadelphia and New York City, returned to a daughter’s home in Canajoharie, NY after the war rather than remove to Canada. A patriotic son disowned his father, taking his middle name (his mother’s maiden name) as his new surname, removing to Virginia. George Jacob married Catharine Hendree; their son Jacob Diefendorf married Susanna Hess, my g-g-g-g-grandparents. On February 3, 1783, the British government acknowledged the independence of the American colonies. The next day, they formally agreed to halt all military operations. A preliminary peace treaty was ratified in April, and Canada offered free land that summer to Loyalists who sought a new life. Still, the British military maintained a presence in Manhattan. When Britain signed the Treaty of Paris September 3, 1783 to end the war, the hated Redcoats finally and slowly began to abandon their New York City stronghold. Next would begin the task of establishing the government and president of this new nation, the United States of America. George Washington rode into Manhattan on November 25, 1783 with his officers and troops, eight horses abreast. At the same time Washington’s parade began, British soldiers and ships were setting sail for their homeland across the Pond. Flags were joyfully waved, church bells rang in celebration, and cannons were fired in honor of those who had fought and for those who had lost their lives, all for the independence of this fledgling nation. The war had definitely taken its toll; but, on this day, great joy was felt in every heart for what had been accomplished. And that is why we continue to celebrate our 4th of July heritage in style – as we remember and commemorate those who gave so much that we might enjoy so much. And, I trust we will never forget what their efforts wrought for us in America! Read my full research article by clicking below at: Celebrating Independence Day! - Homespun Ancestors - Twin Tiers Living:

The dawning of each new day brings another opportunity… to make things right… to help someone in need… to express love for your dear ones and all those you meet. Each morning is a new beginning! Each morning brings a blank slate for the new day ahead. It’s up to you to decide how you’ll respect it. What will your attitude be? Will you bring a thankful heart, a joyful heart, a bright and cheerful attitude to all those around you? Or, will you grumble and complain, and find fault with every little thing that just happens to annoy you? It’s entirely up to you! Before your feet hit the floor, contemplate what might lie ahead and think about who you want to be as you greet the new day. With a positive attitude, not a victim mindset, meet whatever challenge comes your way. Remember, it’s a blank slate and it’s up to you to fill it with good. Give a gift to everyone around you. Slow down and savor the gift of time spent with your loved ones. Let them know how much they mean to you. Enjoy a few precious moments in the gift of time among friends. Smile at everyone you meet; let it be a simple way to show that someone cares about them. That’s my favorite gift to the world! As Mother Teresa once said, “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” Yesterday is history. You say you made a mistake? Pick yourself up, confess it, apologize for it, and move forward in forgiveness… for that’s no more than our Lord asks of us to be forgiven by Him. But, remember that tomorrow is not promised to any of us either. Don’t borrow trouble for the future by fretting about what you don’t know. Live in today, and trust the Lord for the day ahead – no matter what you might face. For, as Psalm 118:24 reminds us, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Rejoice and be glad! Let God’s gift of a new morning become your gift of love to everyone around you! Each Morning New Linda A. Roorda Each morning new is your love for me A thankful heart I give in return For who am I without you beside As we share this path, and our dreams for life. I see great love from within your heart As your tender gaze recalls that which was And as your arms envelope me tight All of my soul embraces your gift. This gift of self, a precious treasure Is a glowing light to brighten our walk For on this path a vision we share As we follow in His guiding steps. Yet our pathway long with steps that falter Is often littered with stones and boulders But in the trials your love carries me Over and above all that threatens loss. Nothing we do will change mercy’s grace For He promised us a love that’s secure And no matter what we ever confront True love awaits within open arms. So is it not true each day brings bright hope As hand in hand the future we face Finding within a calming peace For each morning new is your love for me.

Thank you so much, Ann...

The old red barn stood tall on an open flat, alone against the gray sky, testament to a long life. It had weathered countless storms, looking just a bit worn… another great photo by my friend Kathy’s husband, Hugh Van Staalduinen. And once again, the picture painted a thousand words that raced through my thoughts. As we celebrate Father’s Day today, and my husband’s 70th birthday this coming Saturday, that barn seemed to be the perfect illustration of Ed’s character over the years. In fact, the day I saw the photo, and wrote this poem in a couple hours five years ago, I was waiting to bring him home from yet another hospitalization. Stalwart and steadfast, he’s remained standing no matter what life has sent his way… a true gentle giant. And like that barn, he’s faced many storms head on, never bending or collapsing as the winds attempted to shake his foundation. He’s remained firm with his faith in the Lord, resting secure in God’s provision and love, a pillar of strength for all of our family. Yet, it hasn’t been easy. There have been some serious storms that sent waves crashing against him… and against us as a couple. Despite some plain old-fashioned trials, dashed hopes causing great disappointments, the loss of a daughter, and his losses of sight, physical strength and ability, he’s overcome those trials with an inner strength and peace that comes from his faith in the Lord. And now, facing a continued ebbing of strength and ability with the progression of permanent muscle damage caused by statin/cholesterol drugs, and worsening congestive heart failure, we’ve begun discussing what we should do when he can no longer function and get around on his own. In all honesty, we don’t know what our options will be in the not-so-distant future. We’re facing new frontiers. Still, through each difficulty, his and our faith has grown stronger, for we’ve learned “[We] can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens [us]” (Philippians 4:13) As I’ve said many times before, James 1:2-4 puts it so well, even though we don’t want to welcome another difficult challenge. “Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, 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, lacking nothing.” Being “strong in the Lord and in His mighty power” (Ephesians 6:10-13) is the foundation on which we survive great storms and come out standing. (Proverbs 10:25) … Just like that barn in Hugh’s photo. If we have a good foundation on the solid rock (Godly wisdom), weathered by time (experience), the structure (our character) will stand tall… and prove stalwart and unwavering. The Stalwart Linda A. Roorda Stalwart and stoic through the test of time Facing the world to weather life’s storms Meeting head on whatever befalls Humbly proclaiming, steadfast I stand. ~ Bringing together nature’s harmony Weathered and worn, reliably true Dependably there to meet others’ needs Asking for nothing but structural care. ~ Like the pioneers who settled this land And carved their place from wilderness wild, Weathered by nature midst elements raw They kept life sheltered from all threats and harm. ~ Without proper care, wood planks become warped Foundations fail without wisdom’s base. Oh, can’t you see! The meaning is clear! How like old barns are patriarchs wise. ~ Learning through hardship true wisdom is gained Taking a stand for what matters most, Sometimes enduring alone in the crowd Serene and secure midst turmoil and storm. ~ God bless the stalwart, unwavering friend Who braves the path no matter the storm. Of foe unafraid, on wisdom standing Steadfast and loyal with comforting peace. ~~

June is a month to celebrate not only Father’s Day, but National Children’s Day on the second Sunday. Children are such a rich blessing … a gift from God, a miracle of life! Each one is uniquely endowed with a personality and set of talents established by their Creator. What parent doesn’t perceive soon after each child is born how different he or she is from a sibling? Their unique and individual beauty shines through as we lovingly help guide them in following the path of their God-given gifts. I’m reminded of the verse: “Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6 KJV) There are different interpretations of Solomon’s wise words; but, for me, it means to work with (to train) each child according to their unique inclinations, tendencies, and abilities. Our three children were clearly different. Raised as best we could the same, their unique personalities, likes and dislikes, tendencies, etc. began emerging fairly soon after arriving. And encouraging their differences helped direct their lives in the way they should go… It did not take long to see who enjoyed being in the barn with their Dad at chore time, and who wasn’t fond of the barn and its smells. One daughter, like her Mom, loved to be in the barn; the other daughter tolerated it, but preferred not to be there. But, our son took to the barn like a duck to water. You couldn’t keep him away, quite like his Dad… and Mom! Likewise, when our daughters were given toy tractors, they really weren’t interested. Just give me a doll, please! Yet, when our son came along, he naturally took to pushing the tractors and trucks around as soon as he was physically capable, along with making “Vroom! Vroom!” sounds. No one ever taught him to do that! He was very happy to acquire a full assortment of tractors and farm equipment to operate his own farm with a big barn built by his maternal great-grandfather. And now our grandchildren enjoy playing with the barn, animals and equipment. Given a homemade Cabbage Patch type boy doll for Christmas one year, I had to chuckle to see our toddler son as he flopped it around to change the clothes, or as he carried it head down, and would gently correct him - while our daughters were so tender and gentle with their dolls right from the start. But, trust me, that was not indicative of how tender and gentle our son has been in caring for his own son and daughter! It is equally a pleasure to watch our daughter as she cares for her three sons. Beyond the days of childhood though, to watch them shine with their unique personalities and gifts, has been so rewarding! To even be blessed with children has also given many rewards to us as parents. There was a time, after two miscarriages, when I feared we would never have children. And my heart goes out to those who have also lost children, like the loss of our oldest daughter at 25 years, or have not been able to have the family they desire. Being blessed with our three precious little ones, it was a joy to watch them mature into the wonderful adults they have become, as they married, and now bless us with grandchildren. The roles have come full circle. We who were once infants ourselves have grown up, matured, raised our own families, matured some more as we grew with our children’s experiences, and now get to relax and enjoy our precious “Grands” while our children repeat the age-old process. I also once feared the empty nest years. How would I ever manage without my children around? After our oldest daughter had gone to college, her siblings spent a weekend visiting her. When they came home, I had to admit to Jenn that I actually enjoyed having some time to pursue my own interests. I said, “Ya know… I think I could get used to having an empty nest…” And Jenn just smiled that knowing smile of hers. But, oh, the joys of having watched them fledge to successful lives of their own! My husband and I have acquired a renewed time for ourselves, time to cherish each other again beyond the busy activities of children in the house. I delved into hobbies I had once pursued but put on the back burner to raise my family, reclaiming talents God blessed me with. It all reminds me of our first experience watching bluebird nestlings as they fledged years ago. Little Bird just couldn’t get enough lift under his wings and landed in the grass while his siblings flew up to our roof. Mama called to encourage him, fed him, and stayed with him. Having to leave for church, we returned a few hours later to find they were both gone. I will always believe Little Bird learned to fly despite my husband’s teasing that the cat got him! Several years ago, I finally found time to write and illustrate this into a story for my grandchildren. And that’s what it’s all about – lessons in a never-ending circle of life. So now we’ve been blessed with a renewed sense of purpose, a new role as Gramps and Grammy to our five young Grands… to be there for them as they grow up... to help them as they strive to reach their full potential… as they become the blessings to others God intends for them to be. The Blessing of Children Linda A. Roorda Each child’s a blessing, a gift from above A precious bundle to love and to hold. The wonder of life with joy unfolding Like a blooming rose which opens to sun. Tiny perfection created by God Pure love at first sight, new life to behold Dependent for care, nurturing cuddles, Looking for parents to guide and protect. From infant in arms to busy teen years Each day awakens with much to be learned. Deep roots must be grown, foundation to build With dreams given wings in learning to fly. Yet one day soon the time will have come The nest will empty, the house will be still. But this is not all, life holds so much more For blessings of God do not have an end. When nestlings have fledged, relationships change Each busy seeking new roles to fulfill, New needs to be met, new missions to serve Each having purpose, established within. And as the years flow more changes ensue Grandchildren arrive with outpouring of love, New meaning to life, usefulness restored The empty nester has purpose renewed. ~

Idols - we all have them... we just may not realize it. Idols are anything or anyone which takes precedence over our relationship with God. And yes, I have them, too. We tend to see the obvious idols in the "things" we clutch closely... especially that which we enjoy doing or collecting - like our hobbies, collectable antiques, our "toys,” and even people. They fill a void within us and give us an emotional high… for a while. None of these are evil in and of themselves, but it’s where and how we put the emphasis on them that makes the difference. An idol can also be to whom or where we run when we’re dealing with a problem, rather than turning first to our Lord in prayer. How often don't we fret and worry, feel sorry for ourselves, and take our pain or loss to nurture it and feed it with a selfish pity party. Once again, I've been there and stand guilty. Coddling our idols is also an easy trap to fall into. We want what we deserve, and we deserve the best! Or so we think… But that philosophy is misguided, for there is only One who deserves our best. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:30-31 NIV) And I admit I am not able to unequivocally meet these godly expectations. After writing this poem in 2015, and editing it, I re-read it in its entirety … and nearly burst into tears… for many reasons. First, because the words touched my heart deeply for their depth of truth. I firmly believe God gives me the words, and each poem is a moving emotional experience while writing, though some more so than others. And second, I wondered why the words for a happy, joyful, praise-filled poem wasn’t coming to mind. Why did the words that flowed from my brain and out through my fingers once again contemplate our sin? As I verbalized these thoughts to my husband, Ed, he said, “But your poem is the story of our lives. We are sinners, and God does take us from rags to glory. And that really is something to be writing praises about!” It’s often felt or said that Christians talk too much about sin. Yet, knowing that the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 3:23 that we “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”, it is then we begin to understand that acknowledging we really do sin in so many ways is key. For in that understanding, it’s also reassuring to know that when we go to God and “…confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9). What a blessing to trust in a faithful Lord who isn’t offended by our wayward feet. He simply loves us deeply while drawing us back to Himself… no matter our sins, our tattered rags… as He washes us clean! From Rags to Glory Linda A. Roorda When someday I stand before You, my Lord What will You see of my earthly life? Will You see rags, the tatters of sin Or will I be cleansed, washed pure by the Lamb? Yet for a while we proudly proclaim My will! My way! The cry of our hearts. We live a life in defense of self To gain the best this world can offer. A sense of pleasure in idols we make To soothe our hurts and meet our desires. But what we crave in comforts and perks Cannot appease the soul’s deepest need. Then what will fill this void in my soul? What could ever control all my steps? Could it be true that Your word speaks clear To guide and direct feet that stray from You? Help me to leave the past behind, Help me to walk with You at my side. Guide all my thoughts, my words and my deeds Create in me a heart of pure love. For there is nothing I could ever do That Your greatest gift won’t cover with peace As long as humbly I seek you in faith And with contrition gain mercy and grace. As You draw me near with welcoming arms To embrace Your child with a love divine I see the filth of sin’s tattered rags Fall gently away for a gleaming white robe. ~~

I’ve read books or stories from virtually every war in which men and women of our nation, including my immediate family, relatives and ancestors, have been involved. Their sacrifices have deeply touched my heart as I live a life of freedom, a blessing either limited or unknown to so many elsewhere in this world. Yet, both of our families have not known a loss of life in war during this past century. A few years ago, friends of ours shared some treasured family papers with me before the reign of Covid-19 when friends could freely visit. Several boxes of treasures were given to this friend by a relative, mementoes she never knew her mother had kept. They included old photographs and newspaper clippings. What especially touched her heart were family photos and letters, especially from one of her brothers who had died in World War II. Her mother had saved numerous clippings of the war from a local Binghamton newspaper. Here were reports of a war’s ups and downs, of the efforts of battle-worn troops, of men who paid the ultimate sacrifice, and of soldiers who returned home safely. Also included were touching news reports by Ernie Pyle, a reporter embedded with troops in the European theater and later in the South Pacific. Pyle was a beloved reporter in the U.S. and abroad. He had a way with words, evoking an empathy from his readers for the servicemen he wrote about. A reporter who opened his readers’ eyes, he put a personal touch to the effects of war, and to the emotions of hard-won battles for freedom’s sake. I remember him well… no, I did not grow up during the war, but had purchased and read his book, “Brave Men,” as a teen. Perusing my friend’s papers, I knew I had to take Pyle’s book down off my bookshelf and refresh my memory. Continuing to read through the newspaper clippings, thoughts and emotions swirled around and the poem below began taking shape. I have always been grateful to those men and women who have joined the military to protect our freedoms and to gain the same for the oppressed around the world. But to think about each one who has ever gone off to war, to remember them as their family knew and loved them so well… is to contemplate the little child who ran into the loving arms of parents with boundless energy, full of love and joy… the playing and learning he or she did under their wise and watchful eyes… the teen coming to terms with adolescent struggles… the young adult who emerged from military basic training with a new sense of purpose… the seasoned soldier whose loyalty to his or her unit proved a perseverance, endurance and bravery they never knew they had… and the final tribute paid to one who gave his or her all that others might live… is to contemplate the heart and soul of each one who left behind a sweetheart or spouse, beloved parents and siblings, and even children… the one forever remembered for a life interrupted, of the greatest sacrifice made, and of the legacy now carried in the heart and soul of those who have grieved their loss. As we celebrate Memorial Day tomorrow, may this simple poem evoke in you a heart of thanks for all who have served and not returned home safely, paying the ultimate sacrifice in any war. Without a willingness to put their lives on the line for the sake of freedom, we would not be enjoying our “…land of the brave and home of the free.” Heroes of Yesterday Linda A. Roorda Where tyranny reigns evil’s at the helm As the young and free who know only peace With faces brave must enter the fray In the fight for rights we take for granted. ~ Responsibility trains boys into men With troop cohesion, a unit’s tight bond To honor and hold each life in their care For freedom’s defense and the rights of all. ~ Orders to battle and the hell of war The call to arms which tests the mettle For within each heart lies the chance to prove The value of truth to fail or succeed. ~ From red alert to general quarters Emotions run deep in calm before strife Of imminent fight and future yearnings Always thinking, “If I get through…alive…”* ~ The sounds of war above stealth and fear The zing of bullets and bombs that explode Challenges met, overcome with courage Proving capable the common valor. ~ Back home they reflect, living fear and dread Loved ones waiting for word from afar A card or letter received with relief Until the knock comes when time stands still. ~ The letters home that ceased too soon As horrors of war burn deep in the soul Who’ll be the judge at the end of combat What the heart ponders to serve and protect… ~ To gain advantage with success for peace To hold these truths that all may live free To lift the spirit and rebuild from loss As we remember peace has a cost. ~~ *”Brave Men,” Ernie Pyle, Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1944, p.5

Spent some time yesterday with a friend at our mutual friend's "TNT Greenhouse" in Bradford, NY. Brought home flowers for a large pot to set on our front steps and to fill a hanging basket on the back deck. I’ve also watched Mama Robin build a nest in an empty birdfeeder on our deck, now setting on 3 little blue eggs, with hummingbirds and orioles returning to their respective feeders. And, tho my Juneberry bush, daffodils and tulips are done blooming, the lilacs began blooming this week as trees have fully opened their leaves to the sun … reminding us once again … it’s spring! Enjoy the beauty of God’s creation all around you! Ahhh, spring! My favorite season! And hasn’t it been looking beautiful outside? I love to see the signs of new life emerging slowly, almost imperceptibly, after earth’s long wintry sleep. To smell the fresh earthy aroma that follows a gentle spring rain is so refreshing, to see the grass almost immediately turning from shades of crisp tan and brown and dingy green to rich verdant greens, and to watch the daintiest leaf or flower bud begin to emerge… these all bring joy to my heart. With a bright sun’s nourishing warmth, those leaf buds soon swell and burst open, bringing many more shades of green to life. Then, as flowers burst open to brighten the landscape, it’s as though all of creation rejoices with an endless bounty of color. “For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2:11-12) I’ve often thought about the joy and pleasure it must have given our God as He created every aspect of this world, every plant and creature… each uniquely designed! After His work of creating separate aspects of this world each day of the week, “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31 NIV) Wouldn’t it have been wonderful to have been a witness as this marvelous creation came to be? I’ve also imagined that the first week of creation was spring with vivid colors bursting forth in blooms from every kind of plant and flower imaginable! An amazing palette of color! When God created man and woman in His image to tend and care for the beautiful Garden of Eden, ultimately to be caretakers of the new world at large… they were each uniquely created and loved by God… just as we are in our own time. And to know that all this beauty was created for our pleasure, to treasure and nourish… what an awesome responsibility and beautiful gift we were given! Enjoy the beauty of spring in all its glory as it bursts forth anew to revive and color our every-day world with exhilarating joy! Colors of Spring Linda A. Roorda From brilliant yellow of forsythia arched To burgundy red on trees standing tall The colors of spring emerge in great beauty To brighten our days from winter’s dark sleep. From shades of chartreuse as leaf buds burst forth To pink and white flowers in cloud-like halos Hovering on branches in glowing full bloom Swaying above carpets of undulating green. From rich azure sky with puffs of white-gray To pale blue horizon at forested hills With sun-streaked rays like fingers of God To lengthening shadows as light slowly fades. From velvet black night as moon rises full To glittering diamonds twinkling bright Up over hills on their path through the sky Gliding above trees with limbs reaching out. From earth’s colorful palette awakening clear To the crisp and bold and shades of pastels Shimmering and dancing to brighten our day Created by God, our pleasure to behold. ~~

So I went and read the rest of the above news article, and three of her stories including "Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut" - hilarious!! Great sense of humor...!

Today, I’d like to share something close to my heart. Tourette Syndrome Awareness Month is May 15 to June 15, with the annual Tourette Syndrome Awareness Day on June 12, 2022. Tourette Syndrome was named for a French neurologist, Dr. Georges Gilles de la Tourette, the first to describe children and adults with specific tic movements in 1884, publishing his study about this syndrome in 1885. I’ve had Tourette’s since age 10-11, starting within a year after my family moved from farms in upstate New York to city life in Clifton, New Jersey… the city where I was born and my dad grew up, and where his family lived. It was an extremely emotional, disruptive time in my life to leave behind my close friends and the country life I loved. I’ve always believed it was that stress which precipitated my tics, but now understand there is a genetic component, though I have no idea who had it in an older generation. Most of my life I’ve been embarrassed and ashamed to admit I have Tourette’s. Nor did my parents know what to do about it. I was initially mocked, and quickly learned to hide or camouflage the tics with movements that wouldn’t be recognized as readily. I am constantly “on alert”. Though I can generally successfully “hide” the tics, or so I think, they have to have an out and are worse when I’m away from the public eye. I’ve called the tics my “habit”, but never had a diagnosis until reading a letter in either Dear Abby or Ann Landers’ column in my early-20s. Diagnosing myself from the description in that letter and response by the columnist, I felt such a relief to give my affliction a name! Still, I only shared this information with my husband and closest family. Though embarrassed and ashamed to see myself with tic movements in a family video, I have not let Tourette’s control my life or employment. I was afraid of passing it on to my children, but I wanted and was blessed with a family. I’m aware of the tics, and am able to control them - only somewhat. But, I’m also thankful they are considered “simple” tics. Just as I’ve been ashamed of my movements, so my husband was ashamed of being legally blind growing up. He couldn’t see the school blackboard with his limited vision, even sitting in the front row, and would not ask for the help he needed. Kids don’t want to be different from their peers. When they have a noticeable difference, they are too often teased or mocked like my husband was, and become ashamed of who they are… with too often devastating effects, like suicide. It’s up to us as adults, and even children, to be aware of the issues that others around us are dealing with. If we provide support, acceptance and encouragement, we will each see ourselves for who we truly are - uniquely created in the image of God. Last year, subbing with 5th graders, I was surprised one day to be asked by a student if I had Tourette’s. Seeing no point in denying the obvious to those sweet innocent eyes, I replied, “Yes, I do. But how do you know about Tourette’s?” As kids do, they apparently talked amongst themselves and others began asking me questions. This led to their teacher setting aside time for me to share what I knew about living with Tourette’s and answering their many questions. It was an informative session, endearing these students to me for their kindness and lack of mocking or belittling – they simply accepted me for who I am, just as I accept each of them. Tourette Syndrome is one type of tic disorder, meeting certain medical criteria of involuntary, repetitive movements and vocalizations, lasting for specific lengths of time. My “simple” tics include, but are not limited to, sudden brief, repetitive movements of certain muscle groups like hard eye blinking or scrunching (the first symptom for most, including myself), facial, mouth, and head movements, shoulder shrugging, arm, hand and finger movements, head and shoulder jerking, leg and foot movements, throat clearing, repeating words or phrases verbally (or in my mind), and more. I have an arthritic bony prominence of my collarbone from decades-long shoulder shrugs, and thoracic spine pain/arthritis from prior movements. The tics wax and wane, change muscle groups at whim, and become much worse under stress. Though the tics have never gone away, they often subside, albeit briefly, when I’m fully absorbed in something like singing, sleeping or designing paintings. Totally absorbed while playing intently with my toddler son years ago, my step-mother commented that my tics had totally stopped during that brief window of time. That was the first time I realized there really were times when “my habit” stopped! Tourette Syndrome is a neurodevelopmental disorder with typical onset in childhood or adolescence. Chemical imbalances in the brain, environmental factors, or genetics are considered causative factors. There is no cure, but there are some treatment options. About 30 years ago, I was officially diagnosed by a neurologist and prescribed medication. Unfortunately, even at the smallest dose, and taking half a pill, the dopey side effect for me was worse than dealing with the tics, so I declined further medication. I do not have “complex” tics which include distinct patterns with multiple muscles and movements, hopping and twirling, head banging, and more. Vocal tics can include sniffing, throat clearing, shouting, saying words or phrases, and repeating what was heard. Though swearing and unacceptable language are found in a small percentage of Tourette cases, the media often describes coprolalia as a more common symptom. My heart goes out to those with this more severe and disruptive range of tics, some of whom may qualify for disability benefits. Many with Tourette’s also have other diagnoses including obsessive-compulsive disorder, hyperactivity (undiagnosed in me!), attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and learning disabilities. Guidepost magazine once featured contemporary Christian music singer, Jamie Grace, sharing her diagnosis of Tourette’s. Reading the article about her, I burst into tears just to know that someone else has it and has overcome it, too. I always felt so alone, never knowing anyone else with Tourette’s until I opened up about it a few years ago on Facebook. Looking at this from God’s perspective, I find it comforting to know He sees me for who I am, Tourette’s and all. He has a greater purpose for our lives as we bring honor and glory to Him in all that we do, even with our limitations. More often than not, as we go through the trials of life, that’s when we learn how to trust and rely on the Lord the best. For He uses us and our difficult circumstances to reach others who may be dealing with similar issues, bringing love and comfort to them in a way that’s as unique as we each are gifted individually. To learn more about Tourette Syndrome and how to handle the emotional and physical challenges, go to their website: https://tourette.org/ Read shared personal stories at: Home | Mytourette

The tomboy that I was growing up, especially in my teens, working and learning beside my Dad, prepared me for later becoming a farmer’s wife. After all, the love of farming is in the blood of both my parents! Yet we women fill so many different roles. Not all of us are wives and mothers. Some of us remain single. Some of us are meant to pursue life-time careers. Some of us work to support our family, when we would prefer to be at home raising our children. Often, our likes and dislikes, and even careers, change throughout our lifetime. Typically, we women are great multi-taskers, but I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad! We come from different walks in life, and we’re very different from each other in feelings, perspectives, and opinions. I’ve had several “big sister” or “surrogate mothers” in my lifetime who added a special dimension to my maturing and learning - my Dad’s mother, Grammy, with whom I wrote letters virtually every week for decades from my teens on, there to help raise me as an infant and toddler, and then there with an ear and advice as I raised my own children; my cousin Howard’s wife, Carol, like a big sister to me and whose four children my sister and I babysat for during their weekend auctions in our teens, and with whom I continue to keep in touch as we share our hearts; and his brother Robert’s wife, Virginia, who was briefly my hunting partner in my teens, who also taught me how to cook certain meals when I lived with their family while working in Ithaca several months before my marriage to Ed, learning to make homemade spaghetti sauce and a down-home delicious goulash, both a favorite on our own supper menu. I remember my Mom for many things… as I grew up, she was a traditional housewife, taking care of the home and growing a large garden. She continued her mother’s example by canning and freezing the produce every summer except the years we lived in Clifton, NJ. When we butchered chickens, Dad put them on the chopping block, we sisters were the “dunk-and-pluck” crew, while Mom knew how to properly dress them for the freezer, showing us one hen’s set of graduated eggs sans shells from large to very small! She was quiet and reserved, did not share much, if anything, about herself or her family as I grew up, but she had a strong faith in God. She loved the country/farm life, as I do. And she knew how to cook up the squirrel I shot, or all game and fish my Dad brought home, very deliciously! A few things she shared included making fully homemade custard ice cream (no pre-made mix, as we kids clamored for a turn at hand cranking), bottling homemade root beer, and heating up the best hot cocoa with real cocoa powder, sugar and milk on the stove. She also made a Dutch barley soup with buttermilk and brown sugar that I loved, as well as the most delicious cream puffs in the world using our duck eggs. She could sew, but it was not her favorite. She taught me to iron our clothes and Dad’s handkerchiefs before permanent press fabrics hit the market. I loved her homemade bread and made some a few times after I was married, but it was more work than I really liked. As a kid, I savored her delicious toasted Velveeta cheese sandwiches with her homemade dill pickle slices tucked between slices of her homemade bread – long before Vlasic ever thought of selling bottled dill pickle slices for that very purpose! My sister and I did a lot of the bean and pea picking, snapping and shelling. Though we tossed some of those veggies as youngsters when we were tired of our chore, freshly picked and cooked peas remain my favorite. I loved visiting the farm my Mom grew up on, and later in life enjoyed hearing her tell stories of her younger days. She shared some of her wisdom, but typical of teens, I wasn’t always listening or accepting. I did not hear much of her childhood until I began researching and documenting her family’s genealogy decades after I got married. I treasure the time I drove her around her home town of Carlisle, NY, as she shared and pointed out places connected to her life, and wrote down her childhood stories. But, sadly, I have very few photos of her. My only desire had been to be a stay-at-home mother like my Mom, but circumstances beyond our control put me back into the workforce when my children were very young. Each of my secretarial jobs (beginning part time as a high school senior in an Owego law office), built the foundation and skills for the next job, preparing me for my final medical transcription career before retiring and changing direction once more - subbing for teachers and their TAs, jobs I love, “being there” for the students. But whether it’s being a mother or having a career, that’s not where all our satisfaction is found. It does our heart good to “be there” for someone else, whether to provide emotional support, bring a meal to a shut-in, or lend aid in other ways to someone in need… sometimes even if only to give an ear and a shoulder for their hurts. And that doesn’t begin to describe the love felt by the recipients of our gifts of love and time. But, doing good for others is not where we derive all our satisfaction either. For several years, a popular women’s Bible study has been the “Proverbs 31 Woman.” I like this passage of Scripture in Proverbs 31:10-31 (NIV), written by Israel’s King Solomon who had achieved fame as the wisest man in the world. It speaks about a wife of noble character, and what she does to bring blessing to her husband and children, her family. She works to care and provide for the needs of her household. She buys and sells property and goods for a profit. She respects her husband and brings him good in all she does, whether at home, among her friends, or in the city at large. She speaks with a wise heart. She does not sit around in idleness; instead, she demonstrates strength and dignity in all situations. As I ponder this passage, I feel like it shows that I clearly don’t measure up. For I know all too well my own failings. Yet, there’s no reason why I cannot pursue change within. So, I shall seek that quiet time to study, meditate, pray, and listen to what the Lord has to say within my heart. It’s the Lord’s approval I seek… to guide my steps, to change my course, to cover me with forgiveness, peace and contentment, and to find satisfaction in doing what He expects of me even when it’s not the easiest path, nor the one I would choose. May you be blessed - whether or not you are called Mom - for all the love you share, and for all the time and effort you put into being there for those around you… Happy Mother’s Day! I Am A Woman Linda A. Roorda I am a woman. I am a mother. I’m a little girl, deep in my heart. I am emotions, raw and revealing. I am deep strength when life overwhelms. ~ I’ve carried love within my heart For family dear, and friends held close, For husband wise, light of my world And children young, growing their dreams. ~ I see the needs to be fulfilled. I reach to you, a life to touch. I shed a tear, and hold your hand To ease your pain, and bring a smile. ~ In quiet time, I seek Your will, Lord. A time to renew, to calm my fears, To savor sweet dreams, my hopes and plans As You care for me, and meet all my needs. ~ I fail at times to walk the path Yet You, oh Lord, are at my side. You pick me up each time I fall To gently remind, Your child I am. ~ I’ve harbored pain of losses that wound. I’ve weathered storms, battered and scarred. My weary soul with peace You fill, That I may praise and bless Your name. ~ I hear Your voice and will in Your Word, For wisdom I’ve gained upon this road Will lead me on to comfort and love Others in need with You at my side. Photo taken by my Dad of Mom, my sister and me in our one-room cabin in Delta Junction, Alaska while my Dad completed his Army service foreign assignment (before Alaskan statehood).

Early April is typically the start of fishing season. And as a kid, I loved to go fishing with my Dad… not so much for how to catch “the big one” as simply spending time with my Dad. When I was about age 7 or 8, he had me, my sister and brother practice casting our lines with a lead weight (instead of a hook) into a 5-gallon bucket. Can’t say I hit the mark very often! I also remember fishing in the Erie Canal just west of Palmyra, New York. One time we even watched a boat being raised in the lock while we stood on the concrete edging… petrified I’d fall in and drown! After moving back to New Jersey near my Dad’s family, we fished in the large pond at Clifton’s Garret Mountain, Lake Hopatcong, and Upper Greenwood Lake in northern Jersey all where he’d fished as a youngster with his father. I never could bear to touch those squiggly worms, or put them on the hook, though my sister didn’t seem to mind so I left that nasty deed to her or Dad. I only managed to catch little fish, so was never even able to brag about catching “the big one!” And I could never manage to touch their slimy scaly bodies either! Ugh!!! Dad filleted them, and Mom cooked them up so scrumptiously! But there’s another aspect of fishing we don’t often think about. I remember a song we sang as kids in East Palmyra Christian School, enjoying the hand motions that went along it: “I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men. I will make you fishers of men, if you follow Me...” The words to this children’s song are taken directly from Jesus’ words to Peter and Andrew, two brothers who were fishing on the Sea of Galilee: “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19 NIV) Jesus called twelve men as His disciples, men from various backgrounds – Peter and Andrew (brothers, fishermen), John and James (brothers, fishermen), Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew (tax collector, a despised occupation), James, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, Judas Iscariot (who later betrayed Jesus and then hung himself), Matthias (who replaced Judas), and Paul whom Jesus met on the road to Damascus. (Acts 9:1-22) Paul, a tentmaker, previously known as Saul, was a Jew who zealously killed many Christians before his conversion, thinking he was stopping the spread of heresy. Answering the call of God on that road, Paul became an Apostle, a fisher of men, and helped spread the Gospel far and wide, writing 13 New Testament books (or 14 books if he authored Hebrews). Jesus had taught the initial twelve for three years, giving the example of His holy life and words for them to follow. It was His mission to teach them the foundations of His love and truth, knowing that He would later send them out to reach others in His name… with His words and example for us to follow today. It makes us think a little deeper as we compare fishing gear and their function to that of fishing for the hearts of our friends. Letting others know Christ’s gift of love and forgiveness is our calling. For, in pondering Jesus’ words, we are reminded to fulfill Christ’s words in Matthew 28:19 to “…go and make disciples of all nations…,” and this poem began to take shape in my thoughts. Going Fishing Linda A. Roorda Walking along with pole in hand The peace of nature to soothe the soul With time to think and ponder life’s ways To ease the tension from busy schedules. With rod and reel slung over shoulder Whistling a tune that lifts the soul Down narrow path to water’s edge Dappled shadows splay out from the sun. Finding a spot along the shore To sit a spell and cast out my line The wiggling worms, bait for the fish On hooks to lure and tempt the big one. Standing on shore I cast out my line And patiently wait, watching the dobber Thinking of life, my family and friends Thoughts to ponder, and wisdom to gain. Did not our Lord say, “Come follow me, And I will make you fishers of men.” Allegory set in their working days From fishing nets to fishing for souls. The pole holds gear like Bibles the Word It’s the main support as Scripture to life Fishing depends on strength of the rod As life relies on God’s truth to lead. A reel is the heart which sends out the line Reaching others with love for their soul Extending a hand to draw from afar To carry their load, burdens to lighten. The line holds the lure of gospel truth Our faith walk shared, testament to grace With mercy gentle we lead them to Christ Who transforms hearts, redeems by His love. With hook we set the love of Jesus His death took our sin, from One who knew none For by his gift He purchased our souls That in His life salvation we find. A creel we need to hold new believers A welcoming church to warmly receive, To teach and guide for growth and change That they may know new life in the Lord. How like fishing is seeking lost souls To draw them close with love from our heart To help them see God’s truth from His word. So pick up your pole, let God make the catch! ~~ Photo Credit: My Mom took this on her old camera of me, my sister and Dad going fishing on a cold spring morning 1965, Lake Hopatcong, NJ

44 years ago today, a precious little girl named Jennifer Arleen was welcomed into our arms. I praise God that we were blessed to have her in our lives for 25 years… just as she blessed others around her. She was Miss Spencer 1993, Spencer-Van Etten Valedictorian 1996, graduating from Houghton College in 2000 with degrees in elementary education and psychology, earning her master’s as a school psychologist from Alfred University in 2003. She was good, gifted actually, in this field. Even in high school, friends sought her out for advice. We loved our three kids and tried to do a lot together – like going for walks, playing board games or outdoor games, watching our son’s baseball games as a family, stacking firewood together, eating supper together with time to talk about our day, and listening to classic rock and Christian contemporary music. But life is short. All too quickly our kids grow up and move on in life, leaving us to wonder where all those busy years went. Now I understand why older relatives would say to me as a child, “Don't wish to grow up so fast. You’ll get there soon enough.” They were right… time sneaks by all too quickly… and Jenn passed away on June 30, 2003 after an unexpected collapse two days earlier. When words cannot begin to speak… a mother's heart never forgets. How blessed we've been, and how blessed we are, with God's gift of our children, each especially precious and dear. It's a time to remember, not in sadness of heart, but joy for the blessing, of a life once lived, a gift of memories, a legacy of peace. I grieved, and grieved hard for a life well lived and well loved. But that time has passed, and I now celebrate the joy of remembering a beautiful life and all who were touched by her life and love. I miss Jenn, but praise God for the memories of her life well lived and love freely given as we take forward with us the joy from a precious gift. Jennifer was our firstborn, an answer to prayer after two miscarriages. She was born at 3:03 on Monday morning, April 24, 1978. And, I always remembered it snowed about two inches that morning, after having been in the 80s the week before! As excited as I was that we had our precious little one, I remember thinking after we brought Jennifer home – now what do I do? I had a baby to care for, and even though I’d shared the care of four younger brothers, and babysat every other day with my sister all thru high school for 4 kids next door, and for many others as a teen, this was different – this was my own baby, 24 hours a day! I carried her into our trailer and snuggled her into her bassinette, a precious little bundle. Like all new mothers, I learned day by day as she grew up. Jennifer took her time learning to talk. Maybe, being the first and only child for a while, her Mom knew just what she wanted so she really didn’t have to speak much. One night, looking out the window of the backroom door waiting for Ed to come home from the barn, I purposely did not pick Jenny up to see what she would do. Very clearly she said, “Pick…me…up.” Her first sentence! So, of course I picked her up! As she grew older, Jenny loved being by her Daddy in the barn, riding in the grain cart, “helping” to feed the cows and mixing up the calf replacer milk formula with her Daddy. And then along came Emily. Ed had knee surgery in late October 1980 for torn cartilage from squatting under the cows and tractors on the farm. The day after he came home, we went back to the hospital as he hobbled around on crutches. Emily had decided she was ready to arrive nine days early on Sunday, November 2nd. That was typical of Emily, ready to face the world and eager for the next adventure. Another beautiful little girl, with a lot of pretty black hair, though she’s definitely blonde now. Jenny was given a twin bed before Emily was born, which made her feel like a big girl! She loved her baby sister Emily dearly, and I think fancied she was “her” baby. She often climbed into the crib to sleep with Emily overnight. We now had two busy, growing toddlers to care for, good little girls who loved to play together and make their own fun. We built our house in the summer of 1982 while expecting Dan, and moved in on August 18th. Though active throughout the summer with the usual gardening, canning and freezing vegetables and fruit, the move took much more out of me than expected, and I was utterly exhausted. The girls loved all the steps in the house, and often played with their dolls or had a tea party there! The free space in the basement provided room to ride their tricycles around. In preparation for the new baby, Emi was moved from the crib into the bottom of a bunkbed – she was a big girl now! And Jennifer and Emily became big sisters to their brother, Daniel, on October 28th. Nearly two years later, our county Pennysaver held an art contest for the annual community brochure. It was to include something specific to Tioga County with a $50 prize. I entered the contest with the hope that, if I won, I could buy a swing set that I longed to give my children. God knew my heart’s desire and, amazingly, I won! I had not had time to refine my collage sketches of Tioga County life, but my kids got their first swing set! We enjoyed playing games, taking walks in the back fields or on the hill, played badminton, volleyball, card games, and board games; and, in the winter, snow forts and life-sized snowmen were made, with sledding down the slope behind our property. We invented a few games of our own – like floor hockey in the kitchen while waiting for supper to cook. We used a small ball and attempted to kick it with bare feet past the other person to score. The kids also played bowling in the hall by setting up empty 2-liter soda bottles, using a tennis ball or similar-sized ball to roll down the hall, knocking over as many bottles as possible. I sewed a lot when they were younger, making clothes for the kids, Ed and myself – shirts, pants, dresses, nightgowns, bathrobes, and even doll clothes. I loved playing with my little ones, even on my hands and knees on the floor or outside on the ground. Saturday evening was always homemade pizza night since we got married. The kids loved it, and as a teen Jenn made tapioca pudding with layered blueberries for dessert - a delicious way to top off dinner! She loved to fuss over meals and make delicious treats, a natural at cooking like her Daddy’s Mom. Jenn also had a favorite joke, “Hollow Statue,” which she told with a terrific “old European” accent. One day, a very wealthy businessman decided to build a new home with the finest materials money could buy. As he discussed the house with the contractor, he told the man what he wanted. “Over here, I want a curved staircase, made of the best wood with fancy railings. Here, I want a beautiful fireplace, made with the finest marble you can find. And, over here, I want a ‘hollow statue.’” “Not a problem; we can do all of this,” said the contractor. “But, there’s one thing I don’t understand. You want a ‘hollow statue?’” “Oh yes; I want the very best ‘hollow statue.’” “Ok, that’s what we’ll do.” Not able to be around during the construction, the owner told the contractor that no expense should be spared for the best items. When the mansion was finally completed, the contractor showed the owner all of the fine details. “Oh, this is beautiful! It’s just what I wanted. It’s perfect! I like it very much!” exclaimed the owner. “But, wait… what’s this?” The contractor replied, “Why, that’s what you asked for – a hollow statue.” “No, no, no. That’s not what I want. You know – ‘Rrrring! Rrrring! Hollow! Statue?” I loved to hear her tell this story with an “old-world” accent and her graceful, feminine hand gestures. As we look back with 20/20 hindsight, we tend think of our loved ones who have left us as virtually perfect. I find myself doing that with Jenn, but I know she had her faults too. It was said by their band teacher that Jenn was a special person who was kind, loving, thoughtful and sweet. She was a quiet person, who never said a bad word about anyone. Jenn truly had a sweet, gentle spirit. She cared about others and gave of herself in helping them. She always had time to listen to her friends or family, to listen to those who sought her advice, or to those who just needed an ear. But… As a child, Jenn liked to take chocolate chips to her room, hiding them in her desk drawer. One time, this concept went too far. Their dad was at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Massachusetts, and I was grocery shopping with all three kids. As I turned around, Jenn was slowly taking her hands out of her pocket with an odd look on her face. I knew…I just knew what had happened. Sure enough, she’d slipped a candy bar into her pocket. I made her put it back, telling her that the store manager had literally just walked past us. If he had seen her, he would have charged her with shoplifting, I said. And, people who do that get sent to jail. Maybe that was harsh to tell an 11-year-old, but this was going to be stopped. On the way home, I even drove past the county jail. I’m sure the message was received, and Jenn never attempted to steal anything again. Our children – each a unique individual, a most precious gift from God to be treasured and loved as we guide them on their journey through life. My late friend and distant cousin, Mimi, shared a quote from her stitchery – “There are two lasting gifts we can give to our children – one is roots, the other is wings.” May we love our children enough to provide them with the deep roots of a sturdy foundation, and yet love them enough to discipline them, giving them wings and freedom to fly out into the great big world on their own. Song of the Soul For Jenn Linda A. Roorda Music expresses the song of the soul, From out the depth of pain and despair, To upward heights of love and joy… When words cannot express, music brings forth its lilting song to comfort and soothe with healing touch… Remember with me a tender time colored by loss and deepest grief yet filled with hope and contented peace… A peace beyond all understanding, in the flight Home of a precious soul to glory and joy beyond compare…

Easter is always a special time of year. It reminds us that warmer weather is arriving after the long winter’s cold, and spring is beginning to show its colors! It’s a time of renewal as new plant life exemplifies rebirth by poking through the covering of a late snow, leaf buds begin to swell and emerge from their long winter’s sleep, and early flowers showcase their gorgeous colorful blooms. It’s a special time for children as they have fun decorating eggs, enjoy the search for hidden eggs to fill their baskets, and savor scrumptious chocolate treats and marshmallow peeps. I also remember a time, way too many years ago, when it was fashionable to buy a new spring dress and white bonnet for Easter service at church. When the Covid pandemic kept many of us from attending church, I drew Easter chalk art on our sidewalk to celebrate the joy of Resurrection Day. And I also admire the Polish/Ukrainian Pysanky a friend makes – gorgeous delicate painted artwork on eggs. But, there’s so much more to the meaning of Easter. Each year we are reminded again of all that took place about 2000 years ago. That precious little baby whose birth we celebrated just a few short months ago grew up with a purpose. As my husband’s niece, Rebecca, once said, “That God would become a man and understand our struggles on earth just blows my mind. [That’s] true humble love.” Yet, in contemplating God’s love, I sometimes find it hard to think of such unconditional love for me... After all, what about that little thing I did? Was it really wrong? Maybe I can just excuse it away. Will my family, my friends, or even God, forgive me for certain errors I’ve made? I know He has, as have friends to whom I’ve apologized over the years. How could God still love me when my temper flares… again…? What does He see in me? I can never measure up… Well, actually, none of us can. We all sin and fall short of the glory of God… “for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 3:23) So, why would God care so much for me… for each of us? Because of one man, Jesus… That one man, perfect in all he did or said, willingly took my unworthiness, my shame, my heavy load of sin, and endured the penalty of the cross, just for my soul, is overwhelming. I cannot repay such a debt! Wait… I don’t have to? My debt is paid in full? Because Jesus gave His life that I might live, all I have to do is believe and accept His free gift? Jesus really loves us that much? Yes! That’s the grace and mercy of God’s love… it does not define and cancel us for our failures, but rather shows that we are each created unique by God, worthy of His love and forgiveness, redeemed through Christ from a life of sin. (Colossians 2:13-14) Now that’s unconditional love… as He blesses us with His wisdom, courage, compassion and peace. I am reminded of Johnny Hart’s “B.C.” cartoon column. He was a good friend of my husband’s Uncle Mart and Aunt Tilly and their family in Ninevah, NY, members of the same Presbyterian Church where Hart also taught Sunday School. How succinctly Hart put the thoughts of this holy week into perspective in his comic strip: “I hate the term, Good Friday.” “Why?” “My Lord was hanged on a tree that day.” “If you were going to be hanged on that day and he volunteered to take your place, how would you feel?” “Good.” “Have a nice day!” [Johnny Hart in B.C., 04/09/03] Which brings to mind a similar thought-provoking cartoon I had also saved years ago from “The Wizard of ID”, a joint venture written by Johnny Hart and Brant Parker, illustrated by Parker: Friar: “Happy Good Friday Sire!” To which the king grumbles: “What’s so good about it?” The friar replies: “It took an act of God, but they finally found somebody willing to die for you.” ...with the king left standing there speechless. [Copyright Creators Syndicate Inc.] But, after the brutality and agony of Jesus’ crucifixion and death, His friends are devastated. All their hopes and expectations for Jesus as the earthly king of the Jewish nation appear to be dashed. Yet, envision with me the beauty of an early morning sunrise. Birds are beginning to sing as the sun’s first rays appear. The dew has settled gently on the flowers in the garden as they open their buds to the sun’s warmth. According to Mark 16:1-5, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome quietly arrive at the tomb just after sunrise on the first day of the week. They carry spices with them to anoint their beloved friend and teacher, Jesus, who had died a horribly painful death on a cross… only to see in astonishment that the great stone has been rolled away from the entrance. Upon entering, they see the tomb is empty. Already sad, now they are also afraid. Suddenly, two men stand before them in brilliant light. Knowing their fear, an angel speaks gently to reassure them. “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples…” (Matthew 28:5-6) Trembling and bewildered, the women run from the tomb. Despite their confusion and fear they run to tell the disciples. Peter and John arrive after hearing Mary Magdalene’s report, look into the empty tomb, and also see only the burial cloths which lay neatly in place. (John 20:3-8) They wondered and believed. As the others return to their homes, Mary Magdalene stays at the empty tomb, crying, missing her Lord. As a man she presumed to be the gardener speaks to her, she asks where he put him. On hearing the man speak her name, “Mary,” she recognizes him as her dear friend, Jesus, and calls out, “Rabboni!” (Teacher). After their conversation, Mary hurries to share the good news with the disciples that she “has seen the Lord!” (John 20:10-18) Jesus truly is alive! And to think that with a simple child-like faith in Jesus who willingly gave His life for me… for each of us… He will live in our hearts now and for eternity. As John 3:16 reminds us, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish but have everlasting life.” What pain there is to realize that I fall short of His tender love every day. But what joy in humbling myself to recognize and confess my sins, and to ask for forgiveness for the errors of my ways from those around me and from my Lord, and then to feel the forgiveness… as the Lord’s love and peace with mercy and grace surround my soul. That’s what Easter is all about… God’s great love! Hallelujah!! Christ is risen!! What a Savior!! Besides… I love you! Linda A. Roorda Who am I? My soul doth ask. What am I worth? And to whom? I see only failure as I take the reins And do not give my Lord the lead. ~ How can you love the me who I am When all I see are my struggles? Yet, Lord, You do love even me In ways that I cannot comprehend. ~ To sight unseen You guide my path Ever at my side, gently calling. And as you wrap loving arms around You cover my soul with tender mercies. ~ For You opened wide Your arms on a cross Giving Your life that I might live, And in return You ask for my love With all my heart, my soul and my mind. ~ But you didn’t stay within that tomb For on day three You rose from the dead. Seen by many, in the hearts of more, Eternity waits Your Gift of Love. ~ Where once I felt the crashing waves That overwhelm and burden my soul, Now peace and joy have filled my heart With love to share for those on my path. ~ Your presence surrounds me with Your peace As You offer grace to light my way, And then I hear You whisper soft Besides… I love you! ~ A Happy and Blessed Easter to all! ~~

Agreed! and that's why I'll do a pick-up-trash day when I'm able to take walks up my road for a bit, limited with worsening sciatica. The littering is just unreal - not only along the edge of the golf course, but also along and into the farmers' crop fields here and elsewhere. Folks don't know about cows getting what's called "hardware" - when they ingest metal or maybe plastic, it gets caught in their throat or one of four stomachs, can't be processed, aggravates and causes them to "go off feed". They can't eat or drink, lose weight, and end up being shipped to market. We lost several good cows because of that very problem when my husband farmed with his Dad... even tho we picked up trash along the roadside then too, some gets missed and gets into the silage. Roadside trash is a dirty blight on the eye, but a nasty problem for farm animals.