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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Linda Roorda
    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.
     
  2. Linda Roorda

    My Advocate

    By Linda Roorda,

    We’ve all heard the old adage that there are two sides to every story, and a classic trial brings that point out vividly.  I’ve served on three juries in the past – one clearly guilty, one given a lesser settlement than pursued, and one clearly not guilty.  It’s an honor to be selected to sit with peers to carefully review and ponder the facts of the case as presented by the respective attorneys, and to be responsible for the right verdict.  Certainly, some have abused the trial-by-jury system and condemned truly innocent folks, but it has been more often than not an equitable and viable justice system.
    The legal teams for the defendant and the plaintiff each present salient points to be considered, arguing their case convincingly with evidence and witnesses.  Once the case has been handed over to the jury, it’s up to the 12 jurors of peers to discuss the evidence presented and determine guilt or innocence.  For the most part, at each trial, we jurors could tell early on where the truth lay.  We also brought along our own life experiences and knowledge which helped weigh the evidence from both sides.  In one trial, for example, the farming background I and another gentleman had made all the difference in helping others understand more fully the veracity of certain aspects which had been presented during the trial.
    But sometimes it seems that a trial with its accusations is like that voice in my head reminding me of how guilty I am.  It’s Satan pointing out all my sins… one after another, stacked high, like a mountain tall.  The right way to live is spelled out in the Ten Commandments, in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and scattered all throughout Scripture.  But, I’m also very aware that I cannot keep God’s commands and expectations to live a pure and holy life.  I have a serious debt which I can never repay.
    So, what am I to do?  Go to the Lord, admit my sins and failures, and accept God’s love and forgiveness, for nothing I could ever do will wash away my guilt.  My favorite verse since childhood has been – “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  (John 3:16 KJV)  
    Jesus took the punishment I deserved on that fateful day we call Good Friday.  He was whipped, mocked, and nailed to a cross… not for anything He had done.  He was sinless, faultless, perfect.  Yet, He did that for me.  He willingly took my place, giving His life to purchase my right to join Him in heaven forever.  His mercy and grace brings me to tears.  Someday I will stand before Almighty God, my judge, to give an account of my life, and I will have nothing to say in my defense… except that my advocate, Jesus, will be standing at my side, declaring me guiltless because He already paid for my sins… with His own life. 
    My Advocate
    Linda A. Roorda 
    With accusations I’m now confronted
    No plea have I but guilty as charged
    I hang my head to litany stark
    And with quiet shame my accuser I face.
     
    It once had seemed the world was my own
    I learned the games to lie and to cheat
    I did not care if others were hurt
    As long as my will and goals were achieved.
     
    But in the spiral of downward tumble
    I lost the vision I’d once beheld
    A purer focus, others before self
    Humble respect in tangled webs lost.
     
    And one by one as charges were read
    I clearly recalled the past with deep pain
    Regret now for words carelessly spoken
    How could I ever repair what I’d done?
     
    In my despair while under scrutiny
    My only hope was to beg for mercy
    That maybe some good done along the way
    Would balance the book, the ledger of sin.
     
    But, alas, I heard the judge declare
    Guilty as charged; no mercy be shown.
    Like rock upon rock my sins were stacked high
    As I stared upon the mountain of debt.
     
    Just then the doors were flung open wide
    And striding forth came a man in white robe
    Boldly he exclaimed, “This debt has been paid!”
    “I hung on the cross, and took all the shame.”
     
    Slowly I sank to my knees in awe.
    Who was this man who gave all for me?
    How could he give his life for my debt?
    For I can’t repay such a merciful gift.
     
    Reaching out gently he pulled me up straight
    And showed me his scars and nail-pierced hands
    He held out his arms in welcome embrace
    As he dried my tears and declared me free.
     
    I love you my child… I did this for you.
    I carried your shame upon my beaten back.
    I purchased your soul with life-giving blood
    That you might have life with mercy and grace.
     
    Now all I ask is by faith you walk
    Bring to the world compassion and peace
    Carry my light to the corners dark
    Open your heart to love and forgive.
    ~~
  3. Linda Roorda
    Father’s Day… a time to remember the dads we treasure.  They’ve taught us well in the ways of life.  And I remember a lot about my dad.  In fact, it would be fair to say that I had put him on a pedestal while growing up… not a wise placement for anyone. But it seems he could do anything and everything, a jack-of-all-trades.  Though none of us can measure up all the time, there is One who is perfect… who forgives all our failings… our heavenly Father.
    There is so much my Dad, Ralph, taught me and my five siblings, including all about the love of Jesus.   As a small child on the farm, I would say, “Jesus is my best friend!”  But, for a time as a teen, I forgot my childhood friend until my Dad reminded me of those words I used to say as a little girl.  Oops! 
    I loved playing board games on Sunday afternoons with my Dad, especially Scrabble. I love the challenge of this game and tend to play aggressively, perhaps because I was in tough competition with my Dad.  Though I won only one game against him over those several years, it was a sweet victory knowing that I’d accomplished the win without his having given me an edge.
    He taught me honesty was the right way such that in 8th grade English class I chose to write an essay entitled “Honesty Is The Best Policy”, receiving an A.  Actually, I think I may have gotten writing and art abilities from him.  Although he was an exceptional storyteller, perfectly imitating voice and mannerisms of various comedians, I speak best through the written word.  He also had a gift for drawing with his talent for art passed on to me and my son.
    As we grew up, we loved hearing Dad tell family stories of his and our childhoods.  He had a gift for telling any story in a humorous way, and how I long to hear them all again.  I’d ask him to write them down for posterity, but he never did.  When he drove truck in the latter 1960s through the 1990s (and later huge tractors for an Iowan farmer), he’d come home with stories from the road.  He shared radio routines by Bill Cosby and southern Cajun comedians, recalling their stories and imitating accents perfectly!  That was way better entertainment than TV any day! 
    I recall a few stories of his time in the Army at Fort Greeley, Alaska (1956-1957), a foreign assignment before official statehood.  From 18 months to 2 years, I was too young to remember my six months at Delta Junction with my baby sister.  But, I do remember having heard how he, his best buddy Roland, and two other friends found a sunken rowboat.  As it lay not far below the surface of a lake, they pulled it up, cleaned it off, and took it out to fish.  It made for an interesting adventure to say the least – while they each took a turn fishing, the other three worked hard at bailing to keep the boat afloat! Now that’s dedicated fishermen! 
    Fort Greeley is also where he learned to drive big rigs.  With someone ill, he was asked to take over in the motor pool one night.  Proving he could handle backing up a trailer perfectly, the commanding officer asked where he’d learned to do that since everyone else struggled.  “Backing up a manure spreader, Sir!” was his dutiful reply.  They kept him in the motor pool, where he gained invaluable training for later driving 18-wheelers.
    He also was given a rare promotion because he took the time to thoroughly clean an office coffeepot, a skill learned from his Dutch immigrant mother who had taught him all aspects of housekeeping while growing up, like any good Dutch mother.  With a general visiting Fort Greeley, and the coffee-making task handed down to my Dad, he took pains to provide a clean urn for making fresh-brewed coffee… which greatly impressed the general.  When the general asked who made the coffee, the aide who was supposed to have made it “blamed” my Dad.  Instead of the feared reprimand for the typically bad-tasting coffee the office was known for, the general complimented my father on the best cup he’d ever tasted!  Turning to the senior officer, he told him to give my father a promotion!
    When we were younger, he always had time for us. I loved it when he took us fishing to Garret Mountain in Clifton, Lake Hopatcong and Upper Greenwood Lake. And, though I could never bring myself to touch those worms (still can’t!), let alone put them on a hook, and never did catch “the big one,” it was the quality time with our Dad that meant so much to us kids.  As a tomboy, I especially enjoyed working outside with my Dad whether it was in the barn learning to care for the animals, in the huge vegetable gardens, or traipsing the fields and woods hunting.  That love just naturally transferred to enjoying the time spent working alongside my husband out in the barn or in the yard, even growing my own gardens.
    As we grew older, we teens were often in our own little world yet I still adored my Dad.  He listened and gave sound advice.  I even recall the day he didn’t go to work, taking me instead for a drive to discuss a problem I was dealing with.  At times though, I wasn’t ready to listen to him because, as life moved on, his anger took control and he wasn’t always there for us as a family, causing division with his divorce by expecting full support.
    But I treasure our renewed relationship later in life.  With apologies for my own errors as a teen, I heard his sadness as I expressed how family dysfunction affected all of us, and he understood my saying I/we all had needed him more than he realized when he was on the road for 2-4 weeks at a time.  I appreciated his compliments on my writing for a local newspaper, my own blogs, publishing genealogy research in a national journal (The New York Genealogical & Biographical Record), and for how well I raised my family and took care of my Mom.  Honesty and forgiveness cleared the way for better relationships with love expressed to both my parents.  God truly takes our most difficult situations, working them for our good when we love Him, admit our errors, and make amends.
    My Dad’s careers changed from farming, to driving a grain truck delivering feed to dairy farmers (with top NY State Purina Feed salesman award for 1961 and 1962), to carpentry with his Dad, a general contractor in northeast New Jersey, to driving a tank truck locally and later OTR (over the road/cross country).  When we lived in Clifton, NJ, he drove chemical tankers locally in northeast Jersey, southern New England, and New York City.  What stories he brought home from his experiences!  I got to ride with him only twice and wish it could have been more.
    I was never so happy as when we moved back to New York in 1969!  Though I hated city life, I can now look back with fond memories of Clifton, NJ.  As we settled into “backyard farming,” he taught me how to care for our mare, War Bugg, a granddaughter of Man O’ War, a retired Western working ranch registered Quarter Horse.  One of his trucking buddies also worked the rodeo circuit and put War Bugg through her paces – she did a figure-eight so tight you’d’ve thought she’d fall over!  I helped Dad build her corral and box stall in the small barn, along with re-roofing and remodeling the old chicken coop for our flock.  And then came the heavy-duty barn chores of bringing hay down out of the mow, hauling 50-lb bags of grain, mucking out the pens, learning to groom War Bugg and pick up her feet to clean the soft undersides, devouring books on horses and their care, dreaming of being an equine vet.  I saw his deep concern when I stepped on a wasp’s nest in the haymow with 11 stings on my leg, and his gratefulness for my dousing him with a 5-gallon pail of water when a torch threatened to catch him on fire while trying to burn tent caterpillars.
    But I also learned the hard way that running War Bugg flat out up the road and back could have killed her.  I’d simply clicked my tongue and she took off like a rocket, so I let her run.  I was scolded hard, yet taught to walk her slowly, allowing her to have only small sips of warm water till she cooled down.  After riding her another time, I dismounted, tied her to the backyard light pole, ran into the house briefly; and on returning, realized she’d pulled on and broken her bridle, standing as if still tied with reins straight down.  And I realized she was Western trained to be “ground tied” and to take off at the click of the tongue, very responsive to touch, the absolute best horse!  I still miss her…
    Soon enough, I got married and began a new life with my new family, while my siblings and parents scattered themselves around the U.S.  Life changes, and we change with it. As a child, I teased my Dad when he turned 30 that he was old, and that when he’d turn 50 he’d be “over the hill!”  Well, Dad, guess what?  Your oldest daughter reached that milestone a ways back, and she’s still kickin’!  Giving him this writing in 2014 before he passed away April 17, 2015, his wedding anniversary with my Mom, he knew I felt blessed to have him as my Dad.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive the childhood fun of days long ago, but I treasure those memories that linger still... and I love you, Dad!
    May you each be blessed with very special memories of your Dad, too!  Happy Father’s Day! 
    I Remember A Dad
    Linda A. Roorda
    I remember a dad who took me fishin’
    And remember a dad who hooked my worms,
    Who took those hooks from fishy mouths,
    And showed me the country way of life.
    ~
    A family of six, two girls and four boys
    Fun and trouble we shared as we grew.
    From farms and fields to paved avenues,
    Walking and biking, exploring we went.
    ~
    I remember a time spent playing games,
    A dad who’d not cheat for us to win.
    Family and friends and holiday dinners,
    Lakes and farms and countryside drives.
    ~
    Weeds were the bane of childhood fun,
    So ‘tween the rows we ran and we played.
    But as I grew and matured in age,
    Weeding was therapy in gardens of mine.
    ~
    I remember a dad who thrived on farming
    Livestock and gardens, and teaching me how.
    I remember a dad who took me huntin’
    Scoutin’ the fields, always alert.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught us more
    For growing up we learn by example.
    I remember working alongside my dad
    Roofing a barn and building corrals.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose gifts were given
    In fairness to meet each child’s desire.
    I remember a dad whose wisdom we honor
    In memories of caring and love in small ways.
    ~
    I remember a dad who brought us laughter
    With Cajun and Cosby stories retold.
    For blessed with a gift of retelling tales
    Family and childhood events he recalled.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose time was given
    To help his children face life’s turmoils.
    Time spent together are memories treasured
    For things done best put family first.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught me more
    To treasure my faith in Jesus my friend.
    In looking to Him as Savior and Lord,
    Salvation by Grace, not earned by my deed.
    ~
    As I look back to days long ago,
    I remember the dad I knew so well.
    For I miss the dad who took me fishin’
    And remember the dad who taught me more.
    Listen to my recording of "I Remember A Dad" under my friend's podcast, Balms for the Soul.
  4. Linda Roorda

    The Adulteress

    By Linda Roorda,

    Forgiven!  Can you imagine how she must have felt?  So close to being condemned to death, now free to go… forgiven a heavy burden of sin… free to overcome her past… and free to share the love of her Savior with everyone she comes in contact with!
    “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery… ‘In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women.  Now what do you say?’  They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.  But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger.  When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ Again, he stooped down and wrote on the ground.  At this, those who heard began to go away, one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there…”  (John 8:3-9)
    We’ve all done something in our past we’d just as soon forget.  We may still feel the sting of shame.  I can think of many public figures who disgraced themselves including President Nixon, Lance Armstrong, Pete Rose, Bill Cosby, Ravi Zacharias, and now New York’s Gov. Andrew Cuomo.  But, how much better that they and we face our wrongs… our sins… head on.  Admit them and repent, ask for forgiveness, stop blaming others, walk away from wrongful behaviors, and feel the loving grace of our Lord.
    So, what about the men who brought the adulteress woman to court?  Well… they simply walked away and left her standing alone with Jesus.  I’ve always wondered if Jesus was writing a list of their sins in the sand.  If so, that would have made them more than a little uneasy.  They would have stood in amazement, and perhaps felt shame as their secret thoughts and sins were written in the sand, available for all to read.  How did this man know so much about them?
    They had brought this woman to condemn her for adultery, a sin punishable by stoning to death.  And yet, where was the man from the tryst?  Didn’t his sin matter to them, too?  Or, was he among her accusers, blaming her?  Rather than face the depth of hypocrisy in their own heart, each man turned and simply walked away.  They didn’t want others to learn the weight of their own brokenness.  But, as they silently walked away, no contrite heart or apology was expressed.  Did they not realize that God sees and knows the truth?
    What a mockery they made of justice… fingers pointing at another while being guilty themselves.  So typical of abusers who hide behind their mask of piety.  They were so focused on trying to get Jesus to incriminate himself with a response, they didn’t understand the depth of their own sin.  They walked away from seeing who Jesus truly was, and their own need of grace. 
    Both civic and religious leaders fail us then as now.  Leaders who call themselves gifted exude an arrogance with pride. (Proverbs 16:18)  Leaders who fail to hold themselves and others around them accountable lack integrity and humility.  Often, they can be classified narcissistic, being more than simply self-centered.  They feel entitled to praise or special treatment.  They lack empathy, are abusive, liars who do not take responsibility for their own behavior, take advantage of others, lash out at criticism or perceive they’re not getting the attention they deserve with a behind-the-scenes retaliation and perpetual blame shifting.  Underneath the egotistic façade, they are usually deeply insecure and use a faux cover to present themselves as more worthy than they really are.
    Yet, what a powerful picture of mercy and grace Jesus gave us all as He forgave the woman.  All she had to do was repent.  In doing so, leaving her old life behind to follow the Teacher, our Lord, she would gladly share with others what He had done for her.
    Because she now had a future!  A life to look forward to!  She’d lived her past under whispered labels.  She’d heard the mocking voices deep in her soul… stupid, worthless, trash, adulteress, prostitute.  Yes, she’d lived a life of ill repute.  But, the Teacher… He respected her!  So, what did He see in her?  He saw someone who’d been taken advantage of to benefit others… someone weighed down by a heart of sorrow and shame… someone willing to openly shoulder responsibility for all of her own wrongs.
    This Teacher, the man named Jesus… He saw what she could be when cleansed of her past.  He saw her broken heart longing to be made whole.  He stood her up tall so she could start anew.  Just like our Lord does for us.  He forgives the heart that repents, no matter the charge… that longs to make amends… that longs for a closeness with God.  He holds out His hands to draw us near… setting us back up on our feet as He guides our path with flawless wisdom…  Forgiven!
     
    The Adulteress
    By Linda A. Roorda
     
    I met him today, the greatest Teacher!
    My life was a mess, but He picked me up.
    He gave me hope... He gave me vision.
    He freed my soul from sin’s dark snare.
     
    Dragging to court they brought me up front,
    My accusers smug turning to the crowd.
    With taunting words they scoffed and accused
    Revealing my life, my sin and my shame.
     
    How could I have reached such fallen depths?
    He told me he cared.  I believed his lies.
    His words were glib with flattery smooth
    But now I was caught, ensnared in a trap.
     
    Stating that stoning was punishment fit
    They asked the Teacher his thoughts on the law.
    Instead He stooped and commenced to write
    Words hid from others, known only to them.
     
    Yet, as they questioned, He continued to write.
    On standing tall, He peered in their eyes.
    “If any one of you lives without sin,
    Let him be the one who casts the first stone.”
     
    Slowly the elders and then the younger
    Quietly fled until only two,
    The Teacher and I, we alone stood still.
    From silence He spoke, my soul deeply touched…
     
    “Woman, where are they?  Have any condemned?”
    Glancing around, “No one,” said I.
    “Then neither do I.  I condemn you not.
    Go, and leave your sin.  Forgiven are you.”
    ~~
    08/05/17
  5. Linda Roorda
    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.
    ~~
  6. Linda Roorda

    You Lead Me On

    By Linda Roorda,

    As each year draws to a close, we tend to be a bit nostalgic, looking back to remember where the prior year has taken us.  This past year of 2020 marked the emergence of new problems we’d never dealt with before… a contagious world-wide pandemic called Covid-19, perhaps akin to the Spanish flu problems of a century ago.  
    Along the way, businesses were burned and destroyed by demonstrations and riots.  Cancel culture decided who and what we can remember.  Small businesses were shuttered for good after devastating losses from governmental lock-downs to prevent disease spread, while larger stores remained open.  We were afraid to venture out for work, school, and necessary staples; but, when we did, we wore masks and sanitized everything we could to help control virus spread.  Too many lives were lost, while many more of our loved ones did survive the coronavirus.  And, a new normal was born.
    We despaired.  We became depressed.  Yet, despite all the negatives we lived through, we have hope as we face an uncertain future.  We have our family and friends, and the love we share will see us through many a change.  But we also have our Lord at our side, ready to take our hand and walk with us across the threshold of a new year and into the unknown.
    It was a simple photo of a wooden fence taken by my friend, Fran Van Staalduinen.  But it said so much.  The remaining section of an old weathered wood fence stood without a gate, enveloped by a dense hedgerow of lush green bushes and vines.  Nearby stood a tree in full leaf as I imagined ample branches out of view reaching upward and outward, overshadowing all to provide cooling shade.  Sunlight managed to penetrate the thick canopy of leaves, spreading out a dappled glow at the foot of the tree.  And through the aperture left by the open gate, my gaze was drawn to a matted path as it wound its way into a bright sunny field of rich grasses growing wild and free… beckoning us to venture out into the unknown. 
    Fran’s photo taken in 2015 instantly drew me in – I loved it at first sight!  And it’s literally worth a thousand words.  Immediately, I felt that the tree resembled the family patriarch with an overarching reach, covering his children and their children and their children (you get the idea) with his love… rather like our God and His love!  And, then I saw the open gate as indicative of life… for life is like an open path set before us.  We can either sit back, be afraid to take hold of life’s possibilities and stay safe, sheltered by the familiar… or, we can move forward through the open gate as we find our way out into the world, often by trial and error among life’s vicarious ups and downs. 
    These thoughts fittingly reminded me of the song by David Gates (of the 1970s rock group, Bread), “If a picture paints a thousand words…”  Derived from an axiom we’re all familiar with, “A picture is worth a thousand words,” that phrase aptly fits Fran’s photo.  American in origin, the phrase became popular in the early 20th century with its initial use attributed to Arthur Brisbane (editor of the Syracuse Advertising Men’s Club).  In March 1911, he instructed fellow newspapermen to “Use a picture.  It’s worth a thousand words.”
    As I continued to contemplate Fran’s photo and the imagery the scene created, I realized that we most often gain wisdom along our journey of life when we travel the unknown and difficult paths.  Yet, we can also simply take that first step forward in faith knowing that, no matter what lies ahead, there is Someone, our Lord, who will guide our steps along the way.
    Which, in turn, brought to mind a few of my favorite Scripture verses: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105) as we “Trust in the Lord with all [our] heart and lean not on [our] own understanding.  In all [our] ways acknowledge Him and He will direct [our] paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)  
    For “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.  But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.  He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.  Whatever he does prospers.”  (Psalm 1:1-3)
    Especially as we begin a new year, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace so you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)
    What fitting reassurance we find as we look to our Lord to guide and lead us through the open gate of life!
    A very Happy and Blessed New Year to each of you! 
    You Lead Me On
    Linda A. Roorda
    You lead me on through an open gate
    To a world beyond that beckons my heart
    Where sunlit vistas and dappled shadows
    Reveal rich treasures along life’s journey.
     
    You lead me on over paths unknown
    To guide my steps as I learn from You
    You light my way that once seemed dark
    As joy I find with You at my side.
     
    You lead me on and guide my voice
    For only when I seek Your heart
    Is wisdom gained to handle life
    When darts assail and cares weigh me down.
     
    You lead me on so I may know
    That even though my feet may stumble
    You care enough to pick me back up
    As loving grace and mercy set free.
     
    You lead me on to praise your name
    Within the turmoil and waves of despair
    For it’s often then I know You carry
    My reeling heart through pain and loss.
     
    You lead me on that I may learn
    The lessons found in trials faced
    For wisdom gained first walks the path
    From troubled storm to the heart at peace.
     
    You lead me on to songs of joy
    As morning dawns with light of day
    Hope in the truth, cleansing for the soul
    And faith in Your love to guide my way home.
  7. Linda Roorda
    To whom do I owe allegiance?  In whom do I put my trust?  To whom do I give credence?  Important words to contemplate for each of us in this world of conflict and hypocrisy.  Because, when we are individually or collectively silenced or canceled for our beliefs or opinions, for the sake of those who consider themselves to be “in the know” about any and all subjects, we, as a society, have ceased to listen and to understand.  We have lost our empathy, compassion and love, the ability to agree to disagree, but most of all we’ve lost true tolerance, loyalty and respect… allegiance.
    I’ve said it many times before… we are each created differently.  Our kids often heard that phrase from us as we rejected comparisons and envy around us.  We are each unique, to be respected and loved for who we are… even in our infirmities.  Just as every snowflake, every leaf, and every creature in the world of nature is different yet similar, even imperfect, so are we.  Not just physically and outwardly, but also emotionally in our thinking and reacting.  We each have different life experiences that contribute to making us who we are today, and why we think the way we do. 
    Have we not read or heard of the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? (Matthew 7:12, Luke 6:31)  In other words, haven’t we been told to put ourselves in someone else’s “shoes” to understand their life and perspective?  In so doing, we understand just a little better what their life is like, enabling us to show empathy, compassion, true tolerance, and loving kindness. And that exemplifies Jesus’ words in Mark 12:29-31: “the most important is this: …Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this:  Love your neighbor as yourself.”
    With trust placed in our God, He keeps us from stumbling.  He gives us the ability to love and respect those with whom we disagree.  But when we take our eyes off Him and His wisdom and we stumble, He is right there to help pick us up to start over again.  He welcomes us back, just like the little lost lamb He sought and brought back from danger.  For all that our great God does for each of us, I, we, owe Him our thanks, our praise, and our adoration… our allegiance. 
    To Whom Allegiance…
    Of Christ and His love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Suppose my voice were threatened to silence
    By those opposing my faith in Almighty.
    To whom allegiance, the question I’d face
    Would I still speak or in fear acquiesce?
     
    Some think it’s fair to believe at will
    Whatever goes, whatever seems right,
    To each his own, a designer faith
    That which best fits their values perceived.
     
    I’d hope my faith through testing and trial
    Would stand ever firm in the Lord of my soul.
    For the great I Am with mercy and grace
    Will gently guide when His face I seek.
     
    His wisdom my source for dealing with life,
    Yet often my search still draws me away.
    Why do I think my knowledge is best,
    And why do I fight His hands on the reins?
     
    Time and again He’s proven to me
    He truly knows best, His way unequaled.
    He pulls me up short to rein in my will
    With reassurance as He directs my steps.
     
    My voice will then share the Truth it has known
    A comforting Peace in the storms of life
    A gentle holding in the palm of His hand
    A vision of Light ever guiding my path.
    ~~
  8. Linda Roorda
    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
     
  9. Linda Roorda
    Anniversaries…I like to think of them as brackets that hold our special memories marking the ever-flowing years.  October 26th is our wedding anniversary, and goodness, but how the years have flown!  There’s a lot of life lived within those years, a lot of water under that bridge… years that took a young bride and a little older and wiser groom through many stages of growth… years that saw carefree and happy days, but also years which saw many losses and changes that left their marks.  Truth is, some days were harder than we ever could have imagined possible when we first became a team and dreamed of living together happily ever after. 
    For me and Ed it has been learning to listen to each other (sometimes to what isn’t being verbalized), to make time to work out hard life issues, to accept each other, faults and all, to apologize and forgive, and to choose to love and remain committed to the vows we took on our wedding day. 
    Whether we faced the happy days of easy love, the normal day-to-day mundane aspects of life, the difficult challenges with Ed no longer being able to farm with his dad as he lost the last vestiges of vision, the acceptance of a new way of life while he spent six months learning new skills at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA, the joy and excitement our children brought into our lives by just being who they are, love for the spouses they married and the Grandchildren they blessed us with, staring at unbelievable sorrow and pain when our oldest daughter unexpectedly passed away at age 25, or the changes which multiple difficult health issues and disabilities have brought us, there is One who has walked beside us every step of the way…
    In fact, like the poem, “Footsteps In The Sand,” I know the Lord has carried us during those times when we were utterly overwhelmed by life.  And, praise God, we have overcome what life has tossed our way, and our bonds have become stronger than when we first began our married journey 47 years ago! 
    Once There Was A Time
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Once there was a time
    I gazed into your eyes serene
    And there beheld the depths of your soul
    With all the love entwined in your heart…
    I miss the twinkle and the wink
    I miss the many tones of your gaze
    For your eyes spoke tender volumes
    Of adoration and undying love.
     
    Once there was a time
    Of holding hands on carefree walks
    Cherishing how you protected and led
    And lifted me gently over the fence…
    You shared your music, humor and wisdom
    As we walked and talked, laughed and pondered
    Sweet dreams and plans for our life ahead
    O’er paths unknown but bright with love.
     
    Once there was a time
    I breathed in deep the ambience
    Of fresh-baled hay and farming life
    And snuggled close, safe in your arms…
    I loved it best to work with you
    A shadow beside your every move
    Watching with pride my farmer’s hands
    Caring for cattle and crops and fields.
     
    Once there was a time
    Three precious babes arrived
    To bring us joy and share our love
    As we watched them grow and learn at our side…
    Then changes came, sudden and unbidden
    For life doesn’t always go as we plan
    You lost your vision, you lost your dream,
    We lost ourselves to a new way of life.
     
    Once there was a time
    Of joyous blessings and bittersweet days
    When dreams took root and on wings did fly
    From a nest that emptied all too soon…
    Then just as surely as rejoicing came
    The agony of death descended dark
    Yet hidden deep within the walls
    Lay healing and peace only God could give.
     
    Once there was a time
    We watched each other struggle
    Overwhelmed by cares and concerns of life
    From darkened doors to windows of light…
    For sometimes wisdom can best be learned
    By facing trials of hardship and pain
    In Faith, Hope and Love we persevere
    As we walk a path covered by prayer.
     
    Once there was a time
    When life seemed just an empty slate
    Waiting to be filled and made complete
    O’er paths now trod and bright with love…
    Yet in gazing back upon our days
    Never did we walk alone
    For gently guiding and lighting our way
    Were the grace-filled loving hands of our Lord
     
    ~~
  10. Linda Roorda
    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.
    ~
  11. Linda Roorda

    Once Upon A Day

    By Linda Roorda,

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

    Faith

    By Linda Roorda,

    Recently, I was mocked for my faith and belief in God by a reader of my online blog.  Attributing to God the special ways my prayers were answered to overcome a fear of going alone through major airports, I met folks who became helpful friends on my flights to and from visiting family.  This woman was aghast, proclaiming God had nothing to do with it. She added that her comments were “unlikely to sway anyone who has been indoctrinated into a belief system.”  Rather, her purpose was to “lay bare the myth of religion” as Christianity has been “incredibly destructive.”  Proudly, she stated how “green” she was, yet bragged about travelling to 90 countries, logging millions of miles, and that God had nothing to do with her flights because “God does not exist.” 
    Without God, we trust in ourself - that’s called pride. How sad!  For as King David wrote in Psalm 14:1, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”  I chose not to respond, but to pray for her instead, while two supporters/administrators made it clear to her that her comments were very inappropriate. As a meme I once saw noted:
    “An umbrella cannot stop the rain, but it allows us to stand in the rain.
    Faith in God may not remove our trials, but it gives us strength to overcome them.”
    Faith… it’s intangible.  You can’t see it.  You can’t feel it.  And it’s hard to define.  But it’s there… deep in the heart. Faith is a trust, a belief, a confidence knowing that something positive will happen based on past experiences, while hope is optimistically looking to the future.  Even though we may not see the evidence of our faith and hope for a long time, we can agree that biblically speaking, “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1 NIV) “For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7) 
    We put faith in a lot of things – like people, money, real estate, our job, military power, that the water we drink and use will always be there, even our electric until it suddenly goes off.  We put faith in our best friends, in our dear loved ones, and hope that they will come through for us. We have faith our car will start… especially on those bitter cold mornings! We often don’t know or understand how something works; it just does – so we say we have faith that it will work.
    We have faith knowing that at the end of a long, dark and dreary winter, we will see spring’s beauty unfold.  The cells of life are within each seed whether human, animal, or plant as created by God and established within its own kind.  And as we watch the flower or leaf bud begin to swell, and then open, we see the evidence, the proof, of our faith and hope in this new life that’s about to burst forth.
    Yet the opposite of faith is pride in self, while the opposite of hope is uncertainty, anxiety, despair… with uncertainty being sure of one thing – nothing.  And how often don’t things and people let us down?  Thus, we should “be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let [our] requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [our] hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).  We have faith, hope, and trust in our God to guide and assist us when we look to Him, seeking to follow in His steps, His path, His will.  So, what exactly is at the heart of this kind of faith? 
    True faith must be put into practice… for though faith is unseen in our heart, it becomes an action on our part when we actually place our trust in the Lord.  And, I’m ashamed to say, I have failed at times.  Yet, faith is essential in relating to God.  Faith helps us realize that no matter what happens to us, good or bad, God is working in the situation for His will, His purpose.  And Ed and I have seen our God working through many difficult situations and losses of health, jobs, and life, using what we’ve learned to come alongside and assist someone else on their difficult journey. 
    We can’t see God and can’t feel Him next to us.  But, in fact, it is even He who opens our heart and gives us the faith to come to Him seeking forgiveness and salvation.  “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:8-10 NIV)  And it’s within that faith as we build our trust and confidence with belief and hope that we learn how much our heart wants to please and praise our God.
    Still, at times I have failed to understand the effort to trust that I must put forth in the equation of faith.  At times I have questioned what I sense the Lord is telling me to do versus what my heart wants. At times I have pushed the limits of self will, wresting control of the reins instead of resting in His hands, His will.  But as I’ve learned to trust Him more, to obey His Word, to have faith in His greater purpose for my life, I find peace.  Yet, how hard the lesson can be at times!  Still, God is faithful, even when I am not, so I can have confidence that “…he who began a good work in you [and me] will carry it on to completion...” (Philippians 1:6 NIV)
    Thus, faith is trusting that God will work through me in whatever situation I face.  He wants me to simply trust Him… like a child trusts their parents… to have faith and confidence in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, and in Him alone… that He will take me through a difficult situation, and bring me to the other side with new understanding from the journey. Out of this depth of trust comes the proof of our faith in God as we see the fruits of the spirit emerge in our actions and love toward others.  This will then bring glory and honor back to our great God and His precious gift of love as we continue drawing closer to Him through prayer and study of His Words of wisdom.  And therein lies our growth… the fruit of our faith.
    So what’s at the heart of faith?  An obedience to trust and live out what God expects of me by showing I have confidence in Him and His word. “For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)  Faith is trusting the Lord will provide and care for me even when I don’t see immediate answers to prayer, knowing “…that in all things [He] works for the good of those who love Him… (Romans 8:28a NIV)
    Simply put, faith is resting in the arms of God, allowing Him to work His will through me… like putting my hand in the Lord’s hand and saying, “Where you lead, I will follow.” (based on Luke 9:57)
    Faith
    Linda A. Roorda
    My faith is more than just mere words
    More than the eye could ever see
    For underneath the surface stirring
    Believes the heart with hope evermore.
     
    A hope within the depths of my soul
    Focused upon what cannot be seen
    There in the quiet and solitude calm
    Lies sweet the dream someday to fulfill.
     
    Choosing always to patiently rest
    Under Your wings to calmly abide
    Eagerly awaiting the break of dawn
    A gentle semblance of faith held secure.
     
    Your promises firm ring evermore true
    For when I put my trust in Your hands
    And then release the reins to my life
    You guide my steps from within Your will.
     
    And yet faith hopes in what can’t be seen
    Always expecting the best to emerge
    For faith is more than just simple dreams
    It’s holding on to trust in the truth.
     
    For truths in Your Word which cling to my soul
    Will give me hope and confidence clear
    When all seems lost and fears wander dark
    Faith holds forever its promises bright.
    ~
  13. Linda Roorda
    It’s another beautiful sunshine day, with cooler temps down from the mid-90s, thankfully.  Still no rain in our area, as we pray for that blessing.  Yesterday was a successful day at our Spencer-Van Etten community farmers market season opener, and a great time to see friends and meet new folks as we chatted about various topics.
    This week as a sub also went very well, with special hugs from students, helping students stay focused on the classwork in front of them. And that reminded me of this previously unpublished poem and reflection written several years ago. We all struggle to stay focused at times, not just our young ones. But there are also benefits to those wandering thoughts… as ideas for good will pop into our thoughts. And maybe that’s how great inventions happen!  God really can use those wanderings to benefit us and others!
    With these few wandering thoughts and ideas, I hope you have a blessed Sunday and a great week ahead, because...  
    We can all get distracted when we focus on something other than the intended.  Our thoughts wander and stray, and we have to rein them in, retrieve them, and regain our focus.  In fact, as I sat here thinking about writing this reflection a few years back, I recalled a cartoon I’d seen decades ago.  As Garfield’s creator, Jim Davis, put it, “I have a fear of letting my mind wander.  I’m afraid it might not come back.”  How true, how true!  Yet, on the flip side, we may learn or discover something new and of benefit in those wandering thoughts and ideas!
    And I chuckle because I cut that out of the paper back then (and have since lost it)… it’s exactly how I felt!  Truth be told, it was on my mind as an example to use as I sat down to write… but then my mind wandered, and I looked out the window at the cold wintry scene… thinking about spring, and gardens, and planting… and, for the life of me, could not recall the above quote when I brought my focus back to the computer.  So, I told Ed I’d forgotten the quote I’d planned to use about letting my mind wander and asked if he had any idea what I’d been thinking of.  Dear man that he was, he knew the exact quote I’d wanted to use! Ed knew me so well!
    I also thought about an old hymn that’s been one of my favorites since childhood – “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” written by Robert Robinson at about age 22 in 1757.  “Come Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise… Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the throne of God; He, to rescue me from danger, bought me with His precious blood… Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love; here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above.”
    It’s a common malady…  We all tend to get distracted by what’s going on around us.  And we may find ourselves beset with wandering thoughts and/or wandering feet.  We may even stray from the narrow path and away from our Lord at times. But, with His loving mercy and grace, He faithfully and gently draws us back to His side… back to His word which guides our steps, our thoughts, and our words. 
    With those thoughts bringing me back into focus, I’ll rest in Him and the comforting peace of His word.
     
    In Him I’ll Rest
    Linda A. Roorda
    Oh Lord you know I long to follow
    Your guiding words on this path of life,
    Yet still I stray in my thoughts and words
    Away from truth to follow desires.
     
    What is the draw?  Why do I wander?
    What do I seek?  Is it my will or Yours?
    Help me, I pray, to give up my wants
    That which I hold too tightly in fear.
     
    A fear that grips my heart in its clutch
    From being in charge to loss of control,
    Trying to make this destiny mine
    Grasping tightly the threads of my life.
     
    But what I’ve learned by following self
    Is that I’ve missed the greater blessing
    Of true peace found on giving control
    To the One above who created me.
     
    For He established the me I would be
    And created all for His glory and praise.
    He knew before time the steps I would take
    And how He’d draw my heart to seek His.
     
    My life is not my own to command
    I owe my worth to One far greater
    Giving Him reign o’er all I hold dear
    Bringing praises to His name alone.
     
    Then in Him I’ll rest in comforting peace
    And patiently wait His answer to prayers
    As He envelopes my soul with His love
    And shines His light to glow from my heart.
    ~~
    07/17/15
     
  14. Linda Roorda
    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.
  15. Linda Roorda
    During the season of Lent, we tend to reflect a little more intently on Christ's mission and sacrifice for us.  Since He gave so much in giving His life to redeem us, it seems we could easily give up even a little for Him. Though the traditional idea of giving up something for Lent has not been something I have done, my friend and distant cousin, Carolyn, got me thinking more deeply about the season of Lent.
    A few years ago, as Carolyn read her “Catholic Weekly” magazine with its daily devotionals, she shared with me a Lenten focus on the Roman Catholic perspective of the “seven deadly sins.”  These sins can lead us away from God… away from that close relationship we long for.  Unfortunately, I/we often exhibit the pride of self, a greed as we exclude others to serve ourselves first, jealousy in coveting that which is not ours, wrath or inappropriate anger, sloth or laziness when we could and should do something constructive, lust of a sinful nature, and gluttony or self-indulgence in so many ways.  Yet, we know that each one of these sins is absolutely forgiven on confession and repentance to God; and, under His tender mercy and grace, our heart is renewed as we follow in His footsteps.
    In synchrony with the above, we also recall that Solomon wrote in Proverbs 6:16-19, “there are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”
    Some also say there is an unpardonable sin, the blasphemy against God and His Holy Spirit.  As Jesus was performing miracles and driving out demons, the religious leaders’ unpardonable sin was in claiming Jesus’ power came from the devil rather than acknowledging He had the power because He truly was the Son of God. (Mark 3:28-30, Matthew 12:31-32)
    If we turn away from the Spirit’s convicting promptings that what we’ve done is wrong, we may harden our heart, turn our back on God and not repent, willfully continuing in sin.  Yet, upon conviction of our sin, confession and repentance, we can be assured of God’s welcoming arms and loving forgiveness… for nothing can separate us from the overwhelming love of God.  (Romans 8:34-39)  May I always be convicted of my sins, confess them, and ask for forgiveness from God and those I’ve offended.
    As I continued to ponder the above Lenten theme mentioned by Carolyn, and the variety of themes from many churches for spiritual renewal each year, my own failings came to mind.  Sadly, it can be said that I/we betray our Lord’s love in so many ways because we are far from perfect.  Yet, as a reminder of Christ’s love for us, and living within us, there are familiar virtues we can strive for.  As the Holy Spirit leads, guides and helps us live out our faith, we exude “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)  These fruits evidence the Holy Spirit’s work within us, as God transforms us to be more like His Son. (II Corinthians 3:18)  Because He loved us first (I John 4:19), even in our sinfulness, we can live a grateful life of holiness, bringing honor and glory and praise to God for all that He has done… because to this we were created. (Revelation 4:11)
    We can demonstrate our love for God and those around us with our faith or reliance, hope or trust, and charity or love as shown in I Corinthians 13, the “love chapter”.  We can share this joy and peace in living out our faith in God by showing such loving kindness in our interactions with others.  With courage and wisdom from the Lord we can face those difficult painful trials.  Just as God has granted mercy and grace to us, we can show the same to others, forgiving them as we’ve been forgiven, acting with moderation and self-control, with honesty and integrity in our dealings.  Against these virtues there would be no complaint as we respect others, bring glory to God, and become a beacon to point others to Christ… not only during Lent, but always.
    Though our Lord was mocked and betrayed as He walked this earth, may we never forget the depth of all He suffered in His great love for us despite knowing our wayward ways.  For it’s only thru Jesus’ shed blood that we have forgiveness and reconciliation with God.  As I prepare myself spiritually this Lenten season to focus more intently on Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, Carolyn’s words echo the thoughts of my heart when she wrote that “these are the things we could all reflect on during the 40 days before Holy Easter, and maybe change our hearts and minds to reflect more of Christ’s love.” 
    From Betrayal to Beacon
    Linda A. Roorda
    There is One who felt the heavy hand
    The slap to the face, the mocking abuse
    The glib excuses, lies begetting lies
    Betrayal by friends, abandoned in need.
    ~
    For there was a man who took this and more
    A man who never responded in wrath,
    The Son of God, who sought us in love
    Who lay down His life that we might live.
    ~
    The Light of this world, a rejected man
    Scorned by His own and scoffed by scholars.
    Still there were those who pondered His words
    Words that were new and words that gave hope.
    ~
    Bless those who misuse, pray for their soul
    Just as our Lord, the servant of all,
    Dwelt here in peace and drew us to His side
    To offer us hope with redemption’s gift.
    ~
    Be that beacon to a world needing hope
    Bring peace and comfort with welcoming arms.
    Offer your love to the soul in pain
    Become a servant to meet the needs.
    ~~
    Initially published on The Network,
    the website of the Christian Reformed Church of North America
    2017
     
  16. Linda Roorda

    Hope...

    By Linda Roorda,

    “You have cancer.”  Among the scariest words we can hear.  I was in shock.  My mind was racing.  Tears began to trickle down my cheeks.  I was both numb and yet devastated emotionally.  It caught me totally off guard.  Me?  Cancer?  I could not think clearly.  My heart was pounding.  I was in panic mode.  This cannot be happening!  I have so much to do to take care of my husband.  I don’t have time for this interruption in my life!
    October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Diagnosed in 2014, I remain cancer free. Because a grieving process is normal when diagnosed, I share my story annually in the hope it helps encourage even one woman to make sure she does her own self breast exams and schedules a mammogram, preventing or finding breast cancer early for a good outcome.  And, if facing her own diagnosis, may she know there is a lot of support available. I am so thankful for the support of my cancer team nurse, and surgeon who, on seeing me in the pre-op area for Ed’s surgery two weeks before my own surgery, simply put his arm around my shoulder briefly to offer that silent voice of compassion. 
    My story was also shared in the past on the Christian Reformed Church Network website, and my cousin’s wife Carol submitted it to the Bradford Co., PA “Daily Review” who published it in October 2021 – all to remind others how important those exams are, because…
    I had actually intended to cancel my mammogram.  There was too much on my plate and I simply didn’t want to take the time to go for this exam in my already hectic schedule.  But, my husband (God bless him!) told me to take care of myself for once, and go get that mammogram.  Dutifully, and now thankfully, I listened to him.
    I could not have my husband with me when I was given the results of my biopsy - he was home with his own health issues, particularly severe constant dizziness when upright, along with extensive muscle and joint pain, recovering from life-threatening pancreatitis, multitudinous medical appointments, treatments, even surgery sandwiched between my biopsies and surgery, and he had not been able to work for several months.  Being blind, he cannot drive me to and from my appointments.  He can’t be with me to give his emotional support at my appointments, or even be with me at my surgeries.  He can’t be there to help ask questions, or simply put his strong arm of support around me… until I get home and share my fears with him.  And he’s been so good to me, so loving and supportive, sharing his Godly wisdom to help calm and soothe my anxious thoughts.  God blessed me with the best husband I could possibly have!
    But, I’m afraid.  I don’t know what lies ahead.  Will I get more cancer?  How will I take care of my husband and everything else if I’m incapacitated?  I don’t want to deal with all that I’m being forced to deal with.  I want to be left alone.  I want to be a little girl again without any cares or troubles.  But that’s not reality.  Reality means I will seek answers. 
    And so, as a medical/radiology transcriptionist, I research my diagnosis.  I read the literature from my surgeon’s office, and devour the words which reputable online medical centers or cancer associations have posted to discuss the disease and the best treatment options available.  Objectively, I understand what they’re talking about… I know what the words mean. But, deep down inside, I don’t want to digest it.  I’m overwhelmed.  I want to push it all away.  It’s become too personal.
    Yet, I have decisions to make.  Decisions I never thought I’d be making.  I’m more comfortable being on the typing end of the diagnostic language, feeling sorry for “my” patients.  Knowing that others have gone through this diagnosis and treatment before, and survived, is both helpful and unhelpful… mostly because each diagnosis and the dealing and healing is personal.  No one else can go through, or feel, exactly what you do.
    I talk with my husband’s aunt who faced her own cancer diagnosis several years ago.  She made her decisions, and did what needed to be done.  I like her attitude.  She is a true woman of faith, an inspiration to me as she looks to our Lord for his guidance every step of the way.
    And gradually, after making panicked decisions, then rethinking and picking each option apart, I come to a decision I can live with.  A decision my family and closest friends support me in.  And I’m okay… being reassured to know my cancer has been caught at an early stage.  For there are others I’ve known with a cancer diagnosis and prognosis worse than mine – those who have recovered after surgery and treatments and done well, those who have been through extensive treatments only to relapse, and those who have lost their lives from such a devastating disease…  And my heart goes out to every cancer patient and their families for all they have gone through.
    This poem was written in three sections at three different times after my diagnosis.  I was amazed at how the words seemed to flow with only minor adjustments.  But then, I shouldn’t be amazed at a God who has held my whole life in His hands.  And I praise the God who blesses me with the words and thoughts to write.
    And, while contemplating it all, this favorite verse of my late daughter, Jennifer, came to mind.  “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  (Philippians 4:13)  I had embroidered it in a floral design to hang on the wall when she went to Houghton College, also making embroideries for my other two children, Emily and Dan, with their favorite verses. 
    I also found reassurance in “…know[ing] that in all things God works for the good of those who love him...”  (Romans 8:28)  While reading around this verse, I see, “…hope that is seen is no hope at all.  Who hopes for what he already has?  But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.  In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us…in accordance with God’s will.”  (Romans 8:24-27)
    Even as I face my diagnosis head on, not knowing what to do or if I’m making the right decisions, God is there.  He answers my heart’s prayers, which I initially didn’t even know how to express other than “Help me, God!”  Then, as I read Romans 15:13, these comforting words enter my soul with more meaning than ever before, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 
    Along this journey, I even found laughter… in, of all places, the book “Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Cancer Book, 101 Stories of Courage, Support and Love.” [pp.156-158] It was the kind of hearty laughter that brought tears to my eyes… a rolling-on-the-floor kind of laughter!  It may have been stifled for a while, but laughter is still within me.  And soon, smiles will once again reflect the joy deep in my heart!
    So, I’m at peace.  I find comfort in knowing God knew this obstacle on my journey before I even came to be.  He knew I would struggle, but He also knew how He would continue to draw me to His side, providing loving, caring family and friends to support me who gladly filled in for Ed by being at my side in the hospital, and bringing meals to us.  To know the extent of love, caring thoughts and prayers from family, friends and neighbors in our community is overwhelming. 
    As I’ve grappled with life’s changes, I know the Lord has had to carry me at times, but He has also led me through the maze as I’ve slowly learned to accept and deal with what He has allowed to come my way.  And I renew my hope in Him as He leads me forward.
    HOPE
    Linda A. Roorda
    When dark is the way and fear gathers ‘round
    When the road seems long with twists and turns
    The unexpected now comes into view
    Quite unprepared, my course it alters.
     
    The vista ahead fraught with fear and stress.
    How can this be? Can’t happen to me!
    How do I deal with changes to come?
    My plate is too full.  I can’t handle more!
     
    Why, Lord? I ask. I don’t understand!
    As I plunge into the depths of despair.
    I’m at a loss.  Why this obstacle?
    Why me?  But then… Why should it not be?
     
    Some days I’m numb.  Some days I just cry.
    With a loss of hope, and a heavy heart
    Many life changes I don’t want to face
    A grief ensues, a mourning what was.
     
    As sadness descends and stress consumes
    I want to cry.  I want to scream out.
    I haven’t the time.  I just cannot deal.
    Difficult questions now haunt all my thoughts.
     
    When darkness of night seems far too long
    And no answers come to pleading prayers
    Hold me tight Lord, in Your arms of peace
    That without fear a new day I may face.
     
    So I withdraw to an inner retreat
    My haven safe away from the pain
    A place where I rest to gather my fears
    Handing them over, releasing my frets.
     
    For there on the side just waiting for me
    With arms open wide He hears my deep sighs
    The cries of my heart, the fears locked inside
    Taking my burdens and guiding my steps.
     
    Who but you, Lord?  Who else but you?
    Who cares enough to count every tear?
    Who feels the pain, the fear and anguish
    That steals the joy from within my heart?
     
    Hope like a beacon peeks brightly through tears
    With a peace that calms my troubled seas
    Always at my side with a whisper soft
    Drawing me near and holding me close.
     
    Though I’ve felt lost while clinging to faith
    You’re always here embracing with love
    Returning my joy to face each new dawn
    Giving me hope in the peace of Your Light.
    ~~
  17. Linda Roorda
    Today, I’m sharing something close to my heart.  I’ve shared this before, but it bears repeating because I am not alone.  Tourette Syndrome Awareness Month is May 15 to June 15, with the annual Tourette Syndrome Awareness Day on June 7, 2023.  Tourette Syndrome was named for a French neurologist, Dr. Georges Gilles de la Tourette.  He was 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.  It was an extremely emotional, disruptive time in my life to leave behind my close friends and the country life I loved… and preferred.
    Always believing it was that stress which precipitated my tics, I now understand there is often a genetic component, though I have no idea who may have had it in any older generation.  Most of my life I was embarrassed and ashamed to admit I had 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 as readily obvious.  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 or under stress.
    I’ve called the tics “my habit”, but never had a diagnosis until reading a letter in a Dear Abby or Ann Landers column in my early 20s.  Self-diagnosing from the apt 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 also 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… but only somewhat.  And I’m also thankful they are considered “simple” tics. 
    Just as I’ve been ashamed of my movements, so my late husband was ashamed of being legally blind growing up.  (He read and approved this when I initially wrote it.)  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… sometimes with 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 see ourselves for who we truly are - uniquely created in the image of God, and very loved.
    While subbing one day, I was surprised by a young student who kindly asked, “Do you have 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?”  She’d watched a show.  As kids often do, they talked amongst themselves and others began asking me questions.  This led to their teacher setting aside time so I could share what I knew about living with Tourette’s.  I answered their many questions with several adding they knew someone with Tourette’s, too!  It was an informative session, endearing these students to me for their kindness and understanding.  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.  Tics wax and wane, change muscle groups at whim, and become 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 35 years ago, I was officially diagnosed by a neurologist and prescribed medication.  Unfortunately, taking just half a pill of the smallest dose, the dopey side effect for me was much 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 (possibly 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, but has not let it stop her from living a full life, 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.  Often, as we go through the trials of life, that’s when we learn how to trust and rely on the Lord the best.  In overcoming our own problems, God 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 is as unique as we are each 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.org
  18. Linda Roorda
    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 
  19. Linda Roorda

    A Vessel of Worth

    By Linda Roorda,

    I love to sing, always have, since I was a kidlet.  In my childhood, it was the old Hymns of Faith whether in Christian elementary school, church, choirs, in the backseat of the car singing with my sister as our family went for a drive, or as she and I sang an occasional duet in church.  As a teen, I sang along with old country/western and then rock songs of the early ‘70s on 99.1, the WAAL.  Yet, I’ve always enjoyed the old hymns, simply for the truth of the words and the joy of singing, though I also appreciate the upbeat contemporary praise and worship songs on Family Life Network, 88.5-FM.  As I age, I still love to sing though my voice is not always as crisp and clear, nor even as loud as it once was.  With pulmonary sarcoidosis, I just don’t have the volume or depth of air in my lungs anymore.
    As a retired member/leader of a church Praise Team, it was a humbling honor to select music for the worship service - hymns, country gospel songs, or contemporary praise songs.  Each week we brought a different set of songs, usually chosen in an attempt to mesh with the Scripture readings.  Our hearts were touched when we chose music not knowing the Scriptures to be read and the songs fit perfectly, knowing God worked through us!  Occasionally, we felt moved to change a song, or for some reason we unexpectedly needed “Plan B” with a different option.  Time after time, we saw what could be looked at as a failure of our plans but which instead was intended by God for His purpose… to touch someone’s heart in a way we could not have foreseen.
    For there’s something about singing that lifts the heart up… from utter despair… from a difficult day… from the trials and wounds of life… from pains and losses in life that scar… like a cleansing of the soul, bringing a renewed sense of worth.  God takes our brokenness and makes something of beauty from it.  If only those who complain about musical choices could understand that perspective, what a joyful difference it would make!
    Because singing also lifts the heart up in praise to God for all the goodness He’s blessed us with… for His taking us through those difficult times to better days… for His working through our wounds and scars to refine us and use us for His purpose, for His glory… so that, with praise and joy for all He has done for us, we might then touch another life along the way.
    After I wrote the poem below, its message reminded me of the old hymn, “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” by Adelaide A. Pollard (1902), put to music by George C. Stebbins.  This worshipful song has been a favorite since my childhood.  “Have Thine own way, Lord!  Have Thine own way!  Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.  Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting yielded and still.”
    And the Scriptures from which both the above hymn and my poem’s messages are drawn reflect the Master Potter’s work in us: “So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands, so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.” (Jeremiah 18:3-4 NIV)  Another prophet felt the same way as he praised our heavenly Father by writing, “Oh Lord, you are our Father.  We are the clay, you are the potter; we are the work of your hand.” (Isaiah 64:8 NIV)
    Our life is a continual process of growth and refinement through the years.  As we stay focused on our God and His love, He refines our rough edges… our failures, mistakes, and sins… and works through them to bring out our best, just like the Potter, almost without our realizing it… 
    Then, one day, we take a look back.  As we ponder the path we’ve been on, we realize how our Lord took us through difficult times to clear away the pain of wounds… to draw us closer to Him… to cleanse us from our sin… to refine and change our attitudes from within… to renew our life’s direction… and to bring joy to our heart… as we become a vessel of worth, more like Christ.  And that’s something worth singing about! 
    A Vessel of Worth
    Linda A. Roorda 
    I’m like a clay pot, a plain earthen vessel
    Scarred and fragile, bruised and broken.
    What can I offer in this condition?
    What is my value, and what am I worth?
     
    So I watched the Potter as he took raw clay
    Gray bland in color, an undefined block.
    Throwing the clay with fingers easing
    All the rough edges, the lump he refined.
     
    Faster he pedaled, wheel turning smooth
    Humming a tune, his hands deftly worked.
    His vision emerged through design taking shape
    While gently he scraped imperfections aside.
     
    Yet there in the clay for all to see clear
    Lay fissures and cracks now being exposed.
    Some faults ran deep, others lay shallow
    All marred perfection, casting doubt as to worth.
     
    Swiftly he worked to shape and refine
    As beauty beneath was slowly brought forth.
    Heat up the furnace! the potter exclaimed.
    It’s only through fire refinement is made.
     
    Purging the defects, molding and shaping
    Tempering through fire, perfection to find.
    For hidden from view in mind’s eye alone
    Lay His creation, a vessel of worth.
     
    As I stood aside observing the skill
    Which molded and shaped a plain lump of clay,
    I thought of the One who had created me
    A vessel of value, made worthy by Him.
    ~~
    2014
  20. Linda Roorda

    Lord, Take My Hand

    By Linda Roorda,

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

    Seasons of Change

    By Linda Roorda,

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

    Tolerance...

    By Linda Roorda,

    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.
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda
    What a beautiful sunny morning for Mother's Day!  Within the busyness of life of working full time in both raising a family and earning an income through a career, finding relaxation through resting or enjoying a special hobby, may you be richly blessed in all you do that is dear to your heart.  Wishing each mother a very special Happy Mother’s Day! 
    How to explain a mother’s love…  It’s all encompassing… She believes the best, encourages, supports, and nudges her young ones forward from infancy as they grow up to become who they’re meant to be.
    As a mother holds her tiny newborn in her arms, she feels an intense and special tender love.  From deep within her heart, this new love emerges as each little one is born… for every child is created unique by God… an individual with a distinct character and personality… unlike any other in the world. 
    Children are also not born with a set of instructions in one hand as they enter the world… sometimes unfortunately!  But, with biblical Godly wisdom, a mother, a parent, also grows within… to become wiser as her children mature.  It’s a process involving her learning and understanding while her children move through their own maturation processes.  She holds her hands out to pick her young ones up when they fall… while at the same time she tries to let them fail so they can learn from their mistakes… often called tough love.  We want so much to keep them from feeling pain, loss and disappointment.  And I’ve been guilty of being a helicopter mom… I didn’t want them to face some of the pains I did while growing up.  But, that’s not the best option.
    A mother also realizes she has not always been wise and successful at every turn of the way.  She makes mistakes too.  At times I needed to apologize for my own misunderstandings and mistakes, being willing to learn from the experience with my children, and to move forward a bit wiser. 
    Discipline, responsibility, accountability, honesty and respect are necessary for a child’s growth, taught and modeled by parents. One form of discipline I incorporated from Ed’s Aunt Ethel with our three children was to have them all sit on the sofa holding hands together when they had been arguing.  Unbeknownst to me, as soon as my back was turned, they stuffed their hands down between the sofa cushions – so they wouldn’t have to touch their sibling.  As soon as Mom reappeared, they held hands again.  When I could see they were treating each other well again, I sent them off to play.  As adults, they shared with me what they used to do.  I laughed and said, “But it worked!  It got you talking and working together, even if you were conspiring against me to unhold your hands!” 
    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.  While their dad was at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Massachusetts, I took the kids grocery shopping with me.  Turning around one time, Jenn slowly took 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, I said, he would have charged her with shoplifting.  And people who do that go 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 and pointed out the county jail. 
    When we visited their dad at his Aunt Ethel and Uncle Harry’s home in Massachusetts a few weeks later, I shared my concern with Uncle Harry.  The next day, he took us all to the Boston Aquarium. We saw the Old North Church, like an ant, tucked down amongst tall “skyscrapers.”  Then he took us to see “Old Ironsides,” the famous ship from the War of 1812. It was impressive to walk on a piece of early American history!  We thought it was especially neat to see a sailor in an 1812-era uniform on deck, talking on a modern telephone!  On the way home, Uncle Harry drove us past a prison with its high barbed-wire fences, telling us it was for teenage delinquents. I’m sure the message was received. Jenn never attempted to steal anything again. True love, and guiding our children through the maze of learning appropriate behavior, does not leave them to blindly follow their own selfish desires.
    After our daughter, Jennifer, passed away at age 25, I wrote my memories of the growing-up years of Jenn, Em and Dan in a book, “Watch Them” for family and friends.  In one chapter I wrote, “Our children – each a unique individual, a most precious gift from God to be treasured and loved as we guide them in their journey through life.  My late friend, Mimi, shared a special quote from her stitchery:  ‘There are two lasting gifts we can give 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.”
    To me, that is what a mother’s love is all about. And I love each of my kids and grands so very much!  God bless you all, and Happy Mother’s Day! 
    A Mother’s Love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    A mother’s love
    From the first smile of joy
    For the precious bundle held in her arms
    To the pride in her heart
    As to the future her child is given.
     
    A mother’s love
    With hugs, tears and kisses
    That heal life’s bruises
    As arms enfold her child tight
    A place that no one else can fill.
     
    A mother’s love
    From deep within her tender heart
    A love that forever hopes the best
    A love that believes in guiding the will
    And a love that never ever lets go.
     
    A mother’s love
    Is kept in gentle memories
    From her tender sweet smiles
    To the depths of her heart
    Forever a love held precious and dear.
    ~~
  24. Linda Roorda

    Thanksgiving

    By Linda Roorda,

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

    Would I?

    By Linda Roorda,

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