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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Linda Roorda

    Maybe...

    By Linda Roorda,

    This is a previously unpublished poem and reflection that I wrote in June 2016. It was written at a time Ed was feeling disheartened by the constant, never-ending difficulties and health issues he faced.  He read it back then, and appreciated these words intended to lift him up.  And if you are facing a difficult season of life, may God bless you through these words, and comfort you with His peace. 
    ~~
    I suspect there are a number of good folks, especially the elderly and the disabled, who may feel as though no one needs them anymore.  They’ve given their life to working and helping others, and now their body has begun to fail them, leaving them to think they’re worthless… maybe even feeling as though they’re a burden to family and friends… or simply feeling down or depressed about their life’s turn of events.  And perhaps this malady affects more of our friends and loved ones than we care to think it does.
    Stop!  You are not worthless!  You have so much value to share with others around you!  If we’re honest, we all struggle at times with whether we’re really needed, or even appreciated for what we do.  I know there were times my husband, Ed, felt discouraged with his disabilities, like he wasn’t a valuable part of our marriage or family team.  But I reassured him how much I really needed him.  I needed his sense of humor, his strength of faith and character, his wise and godly words of wisdom, his comforting hugs with those long arms wrapped around “little tiny me” (our joke), his even-keeled and easy-going personality, with his arms and words bringing comfort and peace when I’d become overwhelmed by life.  And this poem and reflection were written to encourage him during a time when he was feeling down about all his health issues.
    Think of the wisdom you’ve gained over a lifetime of working, learning, and maturing.  Just maybe you have something to contribute that others might find helpful on their life’s journey.  Maybe you have an answer to a perplexing problem that they couldn’t see their way out of.  Maybe you could simply be the ears to hear their story… listen to their cries… and give them the tangible support of a shoulder to lean on.  Be that someone they can vent to… someone to share their heartaches with… someone to share their joys with… while you, in turn, might share your own wisdom and humor.  Help them see their way back out of the Tunnel of Defeat to smile again and become a help to others - “…[to] comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” (II Corinthians 1:4)
    Each of us has a value and worth far beyond what we can ever imagine.  Share what you see among the positives and strengths in their life.  Open their eyes to the character and person they truly are… the one that others see within.  Let them know how much you need them… that their inner strength, which was once so vibrant, may lie hidden now, and they may have forgotten it exists, but it is still there… just waiting to emerge and be shared with some needy soul.
    For just maybe… you truly are worth more than you ever might think! 
    Maybe
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Maybe you think you’ve nothing to give
    Maybe you wonder where all the years flew
    Maybe you think of what could have been
    Maybe you wonder why life’s valleys are deep…
     
    Maybe you don’t see your gentle heart
    The love and wisdom your words express
    The protection found within your arms
    A restful solace with comforting peace.
     
    Maybe you remember your youthful strength
    Maybe you wonder why health is shattered
    Maybe you think that you’re not needed
    Maybe you wonder what value you have…
     
    Maybe compassion which empathy shares
    From a humble soul which doesn’t praise self
    And humor and smiles that lift heavy burdens
    Bring glowing praise for life’s simple blessings…
     
    For maybe your life is a shining beacon
    That others may know Who guides your heart still
    As the light of wisdom, that humble honor
    Proves faith and trust rests solely in Him.
    ~~
    06/17/16
  2. Linda Roorda

    Eden's Couple

    By Linda Roorda,

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

    The Eyes of A Child

    By Linda Roorda,

    Do we remember what it was like to view the world through the eyes of a child? Sometimes yes, but a lot of times no … too often, I see the world through the lens of adulthood, from the various angles of life that have come my way.  We all have much to learn in being a living example of Christ’s love for us… for He who came to this earth as a newborn babe, to experience life through the eyes of humanity while being fully God, came with a purpose… to redeem us from our sinful selves. And every once in a while, we see that unselfish core of child-like faith and vision in others. God bless you as we remember together “the reason for the season.”
    (My poem’s words were written a few weeks before this evening news segment aired, which prompted the following blog several years ago.)
    I think we often forget how to view life through the eyes of a child.  Their wide-eyed innocence and purity come to us like a breath of fresh air… like a flower opening its beauty to the sun’s warm rays.  But we sometimes become hardened by the realities of a harsh world. 
    The evening news on Christmas Day 2014 (as told in Huffington Post, “Prankster Gives Homeless man $100…”) showed a brief documentary of what one homeless man did when given a $100 bill by the commentator, Josh Paler Lin.  Standing at the side of a highway with a cardboard sign, the poor man must have felt like Lin was his savior when he was handed that much money!  He was reluctant at first to take it, but then gladly accepted the free gift and walked away.
    From a distance, the cameraman inconspicuously trailed the homeless man as he took the money and walked into town.  There, the man promptly entered a liquor store… and exited with two large and heavy bags.  The assumption spoken in the video was that the money had been used by the homeless man to buy an awful lot of alcohol.  I will admit that I, too, had felt great disappointment as I watched the man enter the liquor store.  And, I, too, made an assumption by association.
    As the cameraman and Lin continued to follow the homeless man without his knowledge, the gentleman walked directly to a nearby park, set his bags down, and began to pull out packages… which he handed to others sitting around picnic tables.  And what was he handing out?  Food.  After watching for just a little bit longer, Lin went over to speak with the homeless man.  Lin explained what he was doing in his documentary, pointed out the cameraman a short distance away, and then asked the homeless man to explain what he had just done with his $100 bill. 
    Impressed and teary-eyed, I then saw a youthful Lin, with hair dyed both blond and black, tell the older man he owed him an apology for his wrong assumptions.  They hugged as Lin shared that he assumed the older man had come out of the store carrying two bags full of liquor.  Instead, he had learned a valuable lesson from this selfless, older man who carried all his worldly possessions in a bag… and who thought of the needs of others before his own.  “You just touched my heart,” Lin told him.  It was then the homeless man told Lin: “There's a lot of people that are just victims of circumstance, and they didn't go homeless because they're lazy… There's a lot of good people that are homeless.”
    And I was reminded of this poem I had written a few weeks earlier.  May I have the ability to see the world through the eyes of a child, coming to the Lord with a simple child-like faith as I put my trust in God’s great love.  For as Jesus said, “…I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven… And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” (Matt. 18:3,5)
    With a child-like faith, may I show the world around me the same love the Lord has lavished upon me, a sinner, in need of a Savior…. quite like the homeless man in our story.  It was his simple and generous love for his friends which allowed him to share the food he’d bought with the gift he’d been given.  He hoarded neither the money nor the food.  And in this, I learned a valuable lesson and must ask myself, “Would I have been so generous?”
    Yet isn’t that why Jesus humbled himself to be born into this world of sin, a world far different from the glories of His heavenly home… to share His generosity by coming to us as a newborn babe, to view this world from our perspective, and to save us from ourselves?  Thank you, Lord, for loving me so much that you saw my world through the eyes of a little child so long ago…
    The Eyes of a Child
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Through the open eyes of a little child
    We see our Lord without the blinders
    To know His love as gentle as a lamb
    And feel His arms envelope with peace.
    ~
    The tender faith of one so young
    Is a gift from God through eyes without fear
    A simple trust with expectant hope
    Holding out hands for others to lead.
    ~
    No guile is found within this wee soul
    Whose love is pure like a heart of gold
    Who freely gives to others in need
    That all may praise and bless His name.
    ~
    Untainted youth by worldly vices
    Pure and trusting are innocent minds
    With hearts that see the best in us all
    And faith that hopes with unfailing love.
    ~
    To tenderly hold the hands of a child
    And feel secure, encompassed by love,
    To view the world through innocent eyes
    Is to see the best in all those we meet.
    ~
    For judging others is not their concern
    They simply believe that all will be well,
    And though their pride may rear its revolt
    How willing are they to forgive when wronged.
    ~
    Their trusting heart accepts our reproof
    When patience is taught by living examples,
    For character grows with perseverance
    As praises true will confidence build.
    ~
    What would we see through the eyes of a child
    Is it pure love that encompasses all?
    Is it a trust in those who provide?
    And through such faith do our eyes open wide?
    ~
    Faith to trust Him who holds us through storms
    A trusting belief in His loving heart
    And with this love to simply accept
    He knows what’s best as He leads the way.
    ~
    With eyes of a child may we see our Lord
    The giver of life, bestower of gifts
    The One who guides with a Shepherd’s voice
    Who lay down His life that we might live.
    ~~
  5. 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.
    ~~
  6. 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
     
  7. Linda Roorda

    A Faithful God...

    By Linda Roorda,

    I don’t pretend to have all the answers.  I know how prone I am to fret and worry.  I often don’t take my concerns to the Lord in prayer right away, but tend to stew on them and think I have to fix the problems myself.  On the flip side, there are times I wait longer than I should to implement what God wants me to do.  Yet, time and time again, our gracious God has been faithful to see me and my husband through difficult situations and painful losses, showering us with blessings throughout those times.  His wisdom shines through when we finally realize there really was a purpose behind the trial we didn’t want to face. 
    When faced with various difficulties, we can remind ourselves that “…the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen and protect [us] from the evil one.” (II Thessalonians 3:3 NIV)  How often don’t I need to remind myself to look to God, to seek His guidance first?  I am so prone to wanting to “do it myself,” as a little child is apt to say.  How independent and stubborn I am… we are!  But then, lest we forget, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9NIV)  Our God has a short memory of our failings when we unburden our hearts to Him in prayer and repentance.  
    I also like Psalm 89:1 which says, “I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever…”  To praise our God in song and the written word for all He has done for us is to share His faithfulness with those around us.  Like a mother hen, who we can visualize protecting her young chicks with her wings, David penned, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”  Such comfort there is to be found in the Psalms.
    Every day our loving God stands with open arms ready to show us His love and compassion anew.  “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’” (Lamentations 3:22-24NIV)  Oh, to be patient and wait for God’s answer to our prayers.  He wants to bless us!  But it also means His will may not be what we want.  It requires patience and prayer from us as we wait for His answer, His blessing… as he sometimes takes us through a difficult time before we see the good come out of that circumstance.
    For He is faithful and just, full of mercy and grace, and will meet us where we are.  We are each uniquely created by Him, the One who knows exactly who we are, and who knows how best to meet our needs.  Then, as we wait on Him, we can “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.  For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.”  (Psalm 100:4-5 NIV) 
    May you know His blessings as you experience the faithfulness of God in your life!
    A Faithful God…
    Linda A. Roorda 
    A faithful God…
    Who loves me dear and draws me near
    Who speaks to me in ways I can see
    Who knows my heart and helps me live my part
    Who hears my cry and knows how hard I try
    Who holds me tight in His arms of might
    Who forgives my sin on confession to Him
    Who stands me tall when again I fall
    Who deserves my praise in songs I raise
    Who never lets go as the way He doth show
    Who carries me through a trial and loves me all the while?
    A faithful God...
    ~~
  8. Linda Roorda

    I See Beauty

    By Linda Roorda,

    My desk calendar has a quote from Victor Hugo – “Winter is on my head, but eternal Spring is in my heart.”  So true, isn’t it?! Even in difficult times, we still have hope, we still look forward, and try not to dwell on the negatives… tho sometimes it’s easier said than done, and something I have to work on at times to keep focusing forward in hope… to hope in the Lord to see me/us through our difficult days.  
    Which reminds me of this blog, for winter can seem so dark, so long… yet even then there is beauty to be found in the simplicity of winter, and the simplicity of our days, if we just open our eyes to truly see the blessings around us.
    Though this poem and blog were written several years ago, reading and updating it led me to be thankful again for the little things, life’s simplicity, God’s blessings.  Enjoy!
    ~~           ~~           ~~
    There’s beauty all around us in even the simplest of things… if we just take the time to truly see. 
    Sometimes when the days were hectic and I’d get overwhelmed, just sitting in my gardens would help to wash away the stress, like a cleansing of the soul. And in the depths of a cold winter, I’d set out sunflower seeds, peanuts in the shell, and suet… to quietly watch the birds descend on the dining bounty.  Whether sitting in a summer garden surrounded by blooming splendor or sitting in the warmth of my house gazing outward at a pristine snowfall, there is so much beauty to enjoy.
    I’ve shared other poems and reflections about the beauty of nature.  Truth be told, outside is where I’d rather be, no matter the season.  Except, having discovered a tick embedded with a resultant bull’s eye rash in early 2015, I’m not as much a frequenter of the outdoor world as previously.
    But when writing this blog in mid-January 2016, winter had finally settled in with her bitter cold, howling winds, and a light snow.  After being spoiled with an extra warm late fall/early winter compliments of El Nino, it was only fitting we returned to more seasonable weather… which prompted me to feed the birds.  Almost immediately, a downy woodpecker settled on the upright peanut-in-the-shell feeder I’d made several years ago.  It’s been frequented by downy, hairy, red-headed and red-bellied woodpeckers, blue jays, nuthatches and chickadees. And that doesn’t even include the wide variety of birds which have flown in to seek a snack in the other feeders.  Some very interesting species during migrations were also drawn in when seeds were set out longer during the season than in the recent few years.
    While watching the birds though, I couldn’t help but notice the stark-naked tree limbs reaching skyward.  There’s a distinct beauty in their coarseness.  Some branches drape downward, others reach beckoning hands out and up, as they twist and turn in various directions.  And they all carry leaf buds that before too much longer will begin to swell with the promise of spring… to once again be clothed in shades of green and dazzling pastels.
    I especially enjoy the warm days of spring that flow into the heat of summer.  I absolutely love to hear the early spring peepers and frogs.  And I love to hear the variety of birds singing as they fly around our yard, swallows swooping to catch bugs on the wing... and the calls of hungry nestlings to their busy parents…  all music to my ears.
    To watch a gorgeous sunrise as the faintest of color pierces the velvet dark sky, or to gaze on a beautiful sunset with rays of sun which slice outward from behind clumps of clouds is heavenly. And, taking a long look at those clouds, notice the different types, forms, and shapes.  Again, there is so much simple beauty to be found anywhere the eye can look.
    Take time to peer a little closer at weeds while taking a walk.  Their delicate flower forms often closely resemble cultivated relatives.  Watch a stream flowing by, water gurgling over the rocks, little fish darting here and there.  Observe a bee or a bug from as close a perspective as you can get.  Study the bloom of a flower.  Appreciate what’s right there in front of you, and drink in the beauty we often and casually walk on by…
    It seems that as we contemplate nature’s beauty around us, life begins to ease into a slower pace.  Allow yourself the chance to slow down… stand still within life’s fast-paced frenzy.  Look around… and truly see the beauty in the tiniest of details.  For as Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time…”  So, take the time to pause and contemplate life in all its delicate beauty …
     
    I See Beauty
    Linda A. Roorda 
    I see beauty in the world around
    Where some see a tree I see living art
    I see God’s hand in the rays of dawn
    The streaks of light that brighten our world.
     
    I hear the chirps of birds in the air
    Tunes of delight as they share their praise
    With grateful hearts for daily blessings
    Their endless singing brings joy to my soul.
     
    I gaze upon a flowing river
    Or gentle stream and watch its passing
    From whence it came to where it will go
    While I at the edge can only look on.
     
    I climb these hills covered in thick wood
    To look on scenes spread out far below
    A miniature world enchanting and calm
    Creation’s beauty forever enjoyed.
     
    It gives me pause to contemplate life
    Reason and meaning for all in this world
    Breeze in the air and sun on my face
    With reassuring peace midst bustling din.
     
    While gazing still away to the west
    This day winds down and shadows lengthen
    The sunset dazzles as it slowly fades
    A perfect ending, its treasure to hold.
    ~~
  9. Linda Roorda

    Gift Wrapped

    By Linda Roorda,

    “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go!”*  We love that old song and the memories it stirs.  But what does Christmas look like?  Along with hopes for the proverbial white Christmas, we each have special ways we remember and celebrate this joyous holiday.
    Lights are strung to outline houses, bushes and trees, and even vehicles!  Christmas trees of real or faux evergreen in varying sizes are put up inside the house.  Then we choose white lights, mixed colors, or a single-color theme.  And we add decorations and bows, candles, poinsettias and more to bring a festive holiday look to our homes.  There are as many ways to decorate as we are each different and unique!
    But then there’s the other part… shopping!  It can either be fun or a chore... yet, there’s something in the busy, frenzied pace that belies the true peace of Christmas.  I confess to not liking the commercialization that used to start barely after Thanksgiving was over, but now even earlier.  I don’t like hectic shopping, looking for just the right gift by trekking from store to store for hours on end, and waiting in long lines that go on forever.  And we especially don’t care to be among rushing crowds that push and shove and grab… we’ve all heard about those examples which, thankfully, I’ve not personally witnessed.  The deals may be hard to beat, but… that ambience leaves a bit to be desired.
    I prefer leisurely shopping trips, enjoying a pleasant day out, listening to Christmas music playing in the background with list in hand… because I’m not good at off-the-cuff gift decisions.  I enjoy gazing at the fancy decorations and gift ideas on display, and watching the faces of little kids light up at the sights.  But shh!!  I have to admit I’ve taken advantage of online shopping over the past several years.  Yes, me!  Someone who could never imagine she’d ever do that!
    Oh, and let’s not forget the best part of Christmas… all those gift-wrapped packages under the tree!  They hold hidden treasures for loved ones and friends, secrets known only to the giver. Giving a gift is exciting, really the best part!  As the recipient unwraps their gift, they tend to take on the bright glow of joy... and treasure the gift wrapped with love from your heart to theirs.
    I’m sure some of my other favorite Christmas memories are yours, too… like Christmas Eve candlelight services, caroling with friends to greet those who are housebound, memories of Christmas Day morning worship services of my childhood, and the happy gatherings of family and friends.
    All of which brings me to contemplate the treasured gift we celebrate on this special day - a baby born a long time ago.  Seemingly no different than any other infant… except that this one was born in a stable, amongst the cattle, donkeys, dogs, cats and mice… a baby whose birth was announced by angels to lowly dirty shepherds living out in the fields… a baby whose life still holds special meaning for us today.  
    To an astonished young woman, the blessed virgin Mary, the angel Gabriel had appeared with this message: “’Greetings, you who are highly favored!  The Lord is with you.’  Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.  But the angel said to her, “’Do not be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus.  He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.’”  Luke 1:29-32 NIV
    In due time, Mary’s little baby was born… in a stable, there being no room in the inn at Bethlehem.  “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not!  For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you.  You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.’  And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’”  Luke 2:8-14
    That birth announcement must have been so exciting, yet very humbling, to have seen and heard!  How awesome to consider that God sent us His love as a tiny infant, gift wrapped in swaddling clothes. The baby Jesus - Emmanuel, God with us… yes, the one who walked this earth on His journey to a cross… He’s the gift of salvation for us to unwrap and treasure.  Yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
    Gift Wrapped
    Linda A. Roorda
    In wintry stillness there’s a peace I find
    While the world’s a’bustle with its fast-paced voice
    Midst a din that beckons in all directions
    To draw me away from peaceful reflection.
    ~
    From frenzied crowds to pushy shoppers
    There’s a greed we find in ego’s actions.
    May we bless instead by giving of self
    For within each heart we hold the treasure.
    ~
    Yet it seems we rush from here to there
    Exhaustion filling our stressed-out lives.
    Did we accomplish what needed doing
    Or merely deplete our dignity’s calm?
    ~
    May even we with our lists so long
    Take time to ponder and remember why
    The reason for joy in this season of cheer
    Is gift wrapped in peace and given with love.
    ~
    In celebration our voices are joined
    Recalling a birth from long, long ago
    Announced to shepherds by angels on high
    “Glory to God…and on earth peace to all.”
    ~
    For with the birth of baby Jesus
    We gaze in awe on the promised One
    Messiah, Savior, and Light of the world
    The Prince of Peace for our seeking hearts.
    ~
    Most holy of nights when God came to earth
    To share Himself, gift wrapped and swaddled,
    With an invitation that we would unwrap
    His gift encased in salvation’s love.
    ~~
    12/05/16
    *Written by Meredith Willson in 1951, sung by many, hits by Perry Como and Bing Cosby in 1951.
  10. 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
     
  11. Linda Roorda

    My Shepherd You Are

    By Linda Roorda,

    I struggle with remembering to take life one day at a time, even though I often reference it in my writings. Maybe you too? It’s a daily learning process to release my cares to God. With my husband's need for nursing home rehab, I’ve panicked and become fearful of the unknown future… will he do well, rebuild muscle to regain strength enough to return home… or will he need long-term skilled nursing care… a frightening unknown future for both of us.
    But then, I remember, trust God – for He has it all under control. He knows the plans He’s already put in motion for me and Ed, individually and as a couple.  “’For I know the plans I have for you,’” declares the Lord, “’plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11)  For “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.” (Isaiah 40:11)
    I’m not alone!  When I wander with frets and worries, He pursues me… He comes seeking and calling me back closer to Himself… as I then look to Him for guidance, comfort, and peace.
    Interestingly, our friend and pastor, Charlie (and Natalie) Hale, from Maine, unknowingly confirmed my choice of this blog by sending us his own words of comfort to me and Ed about Psalm 23 last Thursday.  He wrote, “God knows we can be afraid and He has promised to take care of us through everything that comes our way. Keeping our focus on God who has promised: “Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.  For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-39)  We can trust that we are safe in the hands of God come what may because we know we are His and no one is able to snatch us out of His hands. (John 10:29)  Thank you, Charlie, for reminding us of our Lord’s precious care as Shepherd.
    As I wrote back in 2014, Psalm 23 has been a favorite sacred poem to many of us, a calming reassurance, bringing peace to our soul when we face difficult days.  What better way for the psalmist David to have described the loving protection and care of him by our, Lord, than through this Psalm based on what he knew firsthand as a Shepherd!
    My poem below is an interpretative attempt to rephrase David’s work with wording from my heart, and not to take anything away from the original.  My hope is that it still reflects the intent of David’s beautiful words, the thoughts and feelings that he conveyed as he spoke from his own experience as a shepherd before God promoted him as king over Israel. 
    For we need a shepherd, too… because, like sheep, we’re prone to wander off to that which beckons and appeals to us.  Yet, we can be so unaware of the dangers which lie ahead on our path.  With a friend and neighbor who raises sheep, it’s amazed me to learn how “dumb” sheep really can be.  They’re followers, like Mary’s little lamb – where one goes, the rest are sure to follow… even into danger.  Sheep need a shepherd to protect and shelter them from the elements and storms… someone to guide them to the best pasture and water... to pull them back when they start to wander away.  They need a shepherd to prevent dangerous predators from attacking the weakest or those grazing on the outskirts of the flock.  They need someone to assist at early spring lambing to assure all goes well; and to see that when a mother abandons one of her twins or triplets, the little one is adopted by another caring mother or cared for and fed by their loving shepherd.  Simply put, sheep need someone they trust completely to care about their every need.
    In my teens, I raised a lamb, a twin abandoned by her mom.  I fed little “Lambie” with a baby bottle from my baby brother, made sure her water bucket had fresh clean water, brought hay for her to munch on, took her outside to graze on fresh grass in our backyard while keeping an ever-watchful eye out to protect her as she investigated and jumped around, seeing how much her shepherdess cared for and loved her.
    Having cared for a little lamb, I can truly appreciate the imagery of Jesus as my Shepherd, listening for His voice of wisdom, and feeling His love guiding and protecting me.  The hard part for us, though, is being sure to follow Him...
    My Shepherd You Are
    Linda A. Roorda
    (Based on Psalm 23) 
    My Shepherd You are, protector and shield
    Providing my needs for body and soul.
    You cover with peace so I will not fear
    You give my soul rest, contentment to know.
     
    Your Word is my light on this path of life
    That Your love I may show to all those I meet.
    Yet when sorrow comes to wrap in despair
    May I ever know it will not destroy.
     
    Though in the valley, death I may face
    You walk beside me with comfort and peace.
    For calm is my heart when focused on you
    As with me you stay ever at my side.
     
    Whenever I stray enticed by sweet ways
    Your directing words still guide me in love.
    My faith you reward among all my foes
    As blessings pour out, my life overflows.
     
    Your loving goodness with mercy and grace
    Will follow my days of life on this earth.
    For within your house, oh Lord I shall dwell
    To sing your praise now and evermore.
     
    Lover of my soul guiding my steps
    Seeking my heart when wand’ring I stray
    Bringing me joy to follow Your path
    My Shepherd You are, protector and shield.
    ~~
  12. Linda Roorda

    And He Smiled

    By Linda Roorda,

    None of us knows the impact we can have on those around us.  We live our life as best we can, trusting God, and simply doing what needs to be done with what’s in front of us. We don’t look for adulation. We strive to be there in support of those in need, to do perhaps what they cannot.  Perhaps we give a smile, an encouraging word, praise for a job well done, or humor to lighten their day in the stress of life.
    One of my friends, Sharon, fits that description. She wrote this poem as the words came gushing to her mind in the middle of the night a few days after my husband Ed passed away. I was deeply touched with how perfectly these words flowed with very little editing on her part. And I shed tears, for these words from God so perfectly spoke not only the heart of my friend, but brought comfort and peace into the depths of my family’s loss.
    With permission granted, I share her poem with you. It embodies truth as God knows what we are dealing with and has allowed to touch our lives for His purposes.  He smiles, understands, and lovingly embraces us on those difficult days we all face… while we each become the arms of God extending His loving care to those around us.  
    And He Smiled
    By Sharon Babcock - January 2023 
    A gentle giant of a man
    And a slender doe-like young woman
    Fell in love walking the winter fields.
    God had put them together
    Already knowing the trials they would face.
    And He smiled.
     
    They made a home together,
    And their family grew,
    Even as they grieved for the babies
    They would not see grow up.
    Their love story went on
    And more babies came.
    They trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    He worked the farm,
    Driving his favorite tractor in neat, straight rows.
    She worked too, and filled their home
    With things she lovingly made,
    Curtains for the windows
    And clothes for the children.
    They trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    His vision faded,
    Blindness finally overtook him,
    And the farming that he loved could no longer be.
    They faced the death of their beloved now-grown little girl.
    The trials that God knew they would face mounted around them.
    His body became a prison of pain and suffering.
    But they trusted God.
    And He smiled.
     
    The life of the gentle giant and the young woman
    Became a lesson for all to see.
    They had trusted God.
    He had been faithful.
    And He smiled.
     
    Now the gentle giant has gone Home,
    Leaving the young woman alone.
    She will mourn for him, longing for his touch,
    His voice, and the way he made her laugh.
    But she knows he clearly sees now,
    And when he first opened his eyes in Heaven
    He saw Jesus, and there was great rejoicing.
    And God smiled.
     
    He has hugged his children, his twin brother, his parents,
    And all the other dear ones who went Home before him.
    He has looked at their faces and seen their smiles.
    His body, no longer wracked with pain,
    Is young and strong once again.
    He rejoices as he hears the words of his Savior,
    “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
    He waits for the young woman to join him once again.
    And God smiled.
     
    In the quiet moments
    When everyone has gone home,
    She knows her life will never again be the same.
    And yet, she is trusting God for everything, as always.
    And thanking Him for a lifetime of love with her gentle giant.
    She can sing, “It is well with my soul.”
    She is trusting God.
    And He is smiling.
    He knew.
    ~~
     
  13. Linda Roorda
    We’re very thankful for the good rains that came following the heavy smokey haze we and so much of the northeast dealt with from Canada’s many wildfires. I saw the photos taken by my cousin in New York City sent to his parents, and which his mom forwarded to me. Much denser a haze than we had here, which was bad enough, it permeated everything. And going without rain for several weeks or even a month, it was cause for joy when my students and I heard and saw the heavy rains coming down!
    But the smokey haze hit me as a good metaphor for the haze of emotional disruption caused by PTSD – post traumatic stress disorder. The emotional distress clouds your normal ability to experience life on a good positive level, while you try to live normally, hiding or concealing symptoms of distress so that few notice something just might be amiss… because you, yourself, may not even understand the depth of distress.  I’ve been there… and this is my story.  
    June is National PTSD Awareness Month.  PTSD is a serious issue whose effects I don’t think we fully understand even today.  This is the story of my journey.  I no longer deal with its effects as in years past.  Now realizing I did nothing to cause the problems, there is no reason for me to feel ashamed. 
    Life being what it is, an imperfect entity, there are things that happen to each of us over which we have no control.  What we do have control over, however, is our reaction… either to our detriment, or to our recovery and growth.  And I hope sharing my story here will be helpful, encouraging others in their struggle. 
    Several years ago, a friend’s Facebook post about PTSD suffered by combat veterans brought memories back to me of long ago.  Nearly 10 years ago, inappropriate incidents by a so-called friend during a time I felt utterly overwhelmed by extreme stress… working full time and caring for my husband, his many medical appointments, and virtually all household needs for so many years… reactivated my own PTSD symptoms. 
    Post-traumatic stress disorder is not a syndrome affecting only our military vets returning from an active war zone.  It is believed that about 20% of American adults who have suffered some form of trauma can be diagnosed with PTSD.  This diagnosis includes a host of after effects from various traumas such as emotional, physical, or sexual assaults, natural disasters, serious accidents, and many other traumatic life-altering situational stressors.
    PTSD is an invisible pain with its own specialized mental challenges.  Unlike visible wounds, it often lacks outward evidence or proof, taking prisoner one’s deepest inner self and emotions.
    PTSD is typically evidenced by flashbacks, nightmares, difficulty sleeping and working, panic attacks, and feeling detached from reality… essentially an unstable emotional equilibrium.  Usually, no one else knows the victim has a problem, who may also be in denial that anything is wrong, or may be totally unaware they have a problem.  I know.  I was diagnosed with PTSD well after the trauma of verbal rape had occurred in junior high.  For me, PTSD reared its head to strike years later after having to steel myself daily in an abusive employment situation.
    Predating the initial traumatic event though, my family abruptly moved when I was 9 from a farming community of everything and everyone I loved to city life, and I was an emotional mess.  Within the year, Tourette’s Syndrome began, albeit undiagnosed until years later.  But I overcame the challenges and adapted, making a new life with new friends.  Yet, just a few years later, my family never knew why I suddenly became withdrawn, was easily agitated, and startled and screamed easily at the unexpected.  I was always on alert, wary of others, shied away from making friends, withdrew from a great group of peers in our church youth group, being afraid of even them, and often “clung” to my sister’s side when I should have been making my own friends. 
    I also never shared my fear of the dark, literally sensing someone was behind me to grab and kill me.  It was a very real and horrendous fear that I battled for several decades.  I was afraid to tell anyone, fearing they’d think I was absolutely crazy.  But, to be fair, I also had no idea the trauma of verbal rape in junior high could have caused my problems.  I thought that event had simply been tucked away in the distant crevices of my memory.
    A few years after that emotional trauma, my family moved back to a rural community in upstate New York.  There, I was mocked by a neighbor’s sons, or so I assumed, hidden from view in their yard as I took care of my horse.  Unfortunately, my dislike for them was real.  Unexpectedly, I was reminded of that mocking incident by the perpetrator over 20 years ago.  Still thinking it was hilarious fun at my expense, laughing while retelling the mocking episode, I was afraid to share the pain I’d lived with for so many years.  Sadly, my sister does not comprehend the damage her mocking did to me.  It is well known in the psychiatric community that emotional abuse damages the victim’s self-esteem with long-term consequences to their emotional stability.  Wishing I could apologize for my own wrong in holding onto dislike in thinking a neighbor’s son had done this, I gathered the courage to seek him on Facebook.  He graciously accepted my apology for my long-held hate, and forgave me, passing away unexpectedly several months later.  I am forever grateful I listened to God’s prompting at that time to reach out.
    A few years after that mocking incident though, returning home from dates with Ed (being legally blind, he could not drive), I would park my car as close to the house as possible, and run as fast as I could to get into the house.  The closer the car to the door, the more severe the fear.  It was laughed about, but I never shared my intense fear of the dark with anyone except my husband-to-be.  Sharing it with my Dad a few months before his passing, I heard the pain in his voice for his never having known in order to have been there for me way back in junior high.
    Fast forward several more years when, after leaving an abusive employment situation, property damages began, and nightmares and flashbacks set in.  It felt like I was beginning to break with reality.  Resigning from a new job because of the sudden inability to function and make office decisions regarding things objectively I knew very well how to do, hearing condemning voices and yelling in my head by my former employer, I felt like an absolute and total failure. While looking for just the right tree to drive my car into, I drove past the home of my Dad’s former Army buddy, Roland, a faithful Christian.  I’d sat on his knee for Thanksgiving at my family’s cabin in Alaska when I wasn’t quite 2 years old.  Now, driving past his home, I clearly heard the voice of God saying, “I’m here for you.  Your family needs you.  You will be okay.”  Like ancient Israel’s King David who said in Psalm 91:2, “I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust,’” God was always here for me in so many ways. 
    Finally seeking professional counseling, I was given a diagnosis - PTSD.  My counselor shared that it was not a diagnosis given lightly, typically not given out other than for military personnel.  But she said I had been severely traumatized in several ways, had suppressed the trauma and my feelings, steeling myself to additional abuses, and emotions overwhelmed me.  Told I really would be okay, and that none of it was my fault (which I’d always believed), the healing process began with my husband’s loving support. 
    Still, having to support my family with Ed unable to work at that time, taking a month off, I put one foot in front of the other to work as a secretarial temp for executives before being hired as a hospital medical transcriptionist over 30+ years ago.  The temp jobs were a boost to morale with letters of commendation from a bank president, university labor relations professor at Cornell, and a hotel CEO.  They had each told me personally they would have hired me but for their own secretary being on vacation. 
    It seems like a lifetime ago.  I have forgiven those two boys in junior high, hoping they’ve gone on to become good men as adults, as well as my mocker, and former employer.  The effects of any bullying are devastating as we see all too often among today’s youth.  I will no longer allow myself to be mocked or bullied, even when such abuse is hidden from the eyes of others, even within the church.  I forgive, but renewed friendship is inappropriate with those who continue to blame their victim, refuse to comprehend the damaging effects of ongoing bullying, and cannot apologize or amend their behavior. 
    Though I still find it difficult to go outside in the dark even with a flashlight, startle easily, and always assess my surroundings, I’ve also learned God uses the traumas of life for a higher purpose, like the words He’s blessed me with in poetry, words which I’ve sensed have come from the depths of my soul.  As Paul wrote in Romans 8:28, “we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him…”  And I pray God may use me to “be there”, bringing peace and comfort to others who struggle.
    I’m also thankful to say I’m doing well, appreciative of the great supportive friends who have blessed my life with their presence.  My prayer is that anyone else suffering PTSD, or the adverse effects of abuse and bullying, will seek help to recover… and be richly blessed in their healing! 
    Where the Heart Soars Free
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Little girl sad, withdrawn and teary
    Changes and loss disrupting life’s flow
    Leaving behind remnants of what was
    With emotional scars, reminders vivid.
    ~
    Where once her heart ran free, unhindered
    Clinging to joys and ease of childhood
    Now all the world was seen through the lens
    Of deepening gray on guard for the unknown.
    ~
    Open her eyes, Lord, that she may see
    All of the wisdom You share with her
    May she then know how great is Your love
    That You care enough to shelter her heart.
    ~
    For there is a place where the heart soars free
    Where love shines bright in a world grown dim
    Where hopeless need meets faith to overcome
    By walking the path that conquers defeat.
    ~
    As an airy joy with a zest for life
    Brings cheer to the sad and light to the dark
    Where peace in the heart and contentment calm
    Cover her wounds with Your loving grace.
    ~~
     
  14. Linda Roorda

    The Bread of Life

    By Linda Roorda,

    I woke up early one Sunday morning several years ago with the beginning of this differently-phrased poem running through my thoughts… and got up to write it down immediately.  I couldn’t risk losing the thoughts that flowed.  Reading it again, I see how fitting it is for this season of Lent. As our busy days and weeks draw us closer to celebrating Easter, we ponder all that our Lord did for us when He walked upon this earth, especially in His great sacrifice.
    For the picture that came to mind was of Jesus, the Bread of Life, the spotless Lamb of God, leisurely strolling among us, the great sea of humanity, just as we read in the Holy Scriptures.  We touched Him, listened to His words, praised Him for His great love, kindness, healing... and we sat down to dine with Him.  But then, to our amazement, He willingly allowed himself to be taunted and whipped.  Bleeding, his skin in shreds, unrecognizable, He took upon His shoulders a cross, weighed down by all of our sin. 
    The Son of God came to earth so that, as son of man, born of a virgin, He might live among us, His creation.  Though perfect in every way, He was tested, understanding our frailties, our weaknesses.  He came to seek and to serve us, with all humility, that we might learn from His ways.  He taught and ministered with wisdom beyond our finite comprehension.  He healed some and forgave the sins of others, all that we might come to understand His mission more fully.
    He took my place… my shame… my guilt.  My sin left deep stains and wounds upon His body, yet He gently covered me with a garment woven from His Words of Life.  The garment was dipped and washed in His blood, but it emerged pure and spotless… undefiled… and undeserved by me. And humbly I bow, with praise and thanksgiving for Him alone… Jesus, my Savior, my Redeemer, my God… the Bread of Life. 
    The Bread of Life
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    I watched intently
    The Bread of Life
    Walking among
    The sea of humanity
    As He, the gentle
    Perfect and spotless
    Lamb of God
    Willingly
    Took upon His shoulders
    My guilt
    My shame
    My sin
    All that defiles
    And wove for me
    With Words of Life
    A garment
    Pure and spotless
    Cleansed
    By His blood poured out
    Which covered my stains
    As I
    With grateful heart
    Praise the One
    The great I Am
    My Advocate
    Who took my place
    And welcomes me
    With open arms
    And nail-scarred hands
    Forgiven.
    ~~
  15. 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.
    ~
  16. 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 desired, 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 more often than not it has been an equitable and fair 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 these 12 peers to discuss 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 of 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 well 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, confess 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 put on trial, a one-sided sham of justice.  He was whipped, mocked, and nailed to a cross… not for anything He had done for He was sinless, faultless, perfect… fully human, yet fully God.  But 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 bring me to tears.  Someday I will stand before Almighty God, my judge, to give an account of my life.  I will have nothing to say in my defense… except that I put faith in my advocate, Jesus, who will be standing at my side, declaring me guiltless because He has already paid for my sins… with His own life… my Savior. 
    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
    Words now regretted, 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 perhaps some deed 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 that mountain of debt.
     
    Just then the doors were flung open wide
    And striding forth came a man in pure white
    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.
    ~~
  17. Linda Roorda

    Broken Beauty

    By Linda Roorda,

    Ever feel as though you’re broken and scattered… like pieces of shattered glass?  You’re so overwhelmed by life, torn apart by one situation after another, perhaps in rapid succession.  And you begin to feel like you want to run away from all the stress and responsibility.  I have… and know I’m not alone.
    We all get hit hard by life at times, like the disruptive past few years midst the coronavirus pandemic.  We all stumble and fall.  We’re all broken… broken by our mistakes, sins, fears, unending pain, ongoing chronic illness, loss of a loved one, financial stress, or simply by the weight of life’s never-ending demands.  But are we willing to admit we’re broken people?  Do we think we’ve got it so together that we would never admit a failing? Do we lash out at others around us out of anger, hurt and resentment? Do we perhaps look down on those who might stumble in a moment of weakness?  Or do we humbly apologize and ask forgiveness from those we might have offended?
    The damage from any trauma or abuse can be devastating, leaving us feeling raw and exposed, torn apart.  Just the simplest things can take a toll when we’re overwhelmed by stress without relief.  Long-term illness or disability can have the same effect.  We keep hoping that one day… somehow… things will get better… but they don’t seem to.
    Reminds me of what it might be like sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake without oars, rudder or motor when the storm hits.  We won’t get very far.  In fact, the storm will toss us about unceasingly or capsize us without that rudder to steer and stabilize the boat, or the oars to row our boat to shore.  And it’s so true that life’s challenges can blindside us when we least expect them and catch us totally unprepared, leaving us feeling like we’re unable to handle what comes our way.  Certainly, we don’t feel like our brokenness is beautiful!
    God never promised us a life without problems and pain.  But He did promise He’d give us what we ask for when we ask in His will, and that He will always be with us.  We just need to ask and trust Him as He “works all things for the good of those who love Him…” (Romans 8:28)  He intends our journey of difficulty to strengthen our faith.  For James 1:2-3 reminds us to “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance…” Yet that trial, or broken road, can sure seem long and tedious, and not something we readily rejoice in!
    Still, as we draw closer to our Lord in the difficulties, we realize He’s been drawing us close to Himself.  He’s at work putting our broken pieces back together to make us complete… to restore us.  How often haven’t we felt His love surround us when the path is hard and long, and we seemed so alone?  Haven’t we looked back to see He’s carried us at times when we’ve done all we could and felt as though we couldn’t take one more step? And isn’t He the one who sent someone to wrap their arms around us, with an ear to listen to our heart, words to heal, and arms to hold us up and help us stand… until we felt stronger and able to function again?  Just like Paul wrote, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”  (Philippians 4:13)
    Recently I read about the Japanese artform of Kintsugi (golden joinery), or Kintsukuroi (golden repair) https://www.britannica.com/art/kintsugi-ceramics .  These are terms for a special type of repair to broken pottery which began in about the 15th century.  Artisans take gold, silver or platinum dust, mix it with a special lacquer or resin, and apply it to the broken pieces.  As they fit the broken pieces together, the shattered pottery is made whole again.  Typically, the broken vessel becomes even more beautiful in its new state of repair – broken beauty, in other words!
    No matter what we go through, God will bring comfort and peace to our heart when we look to Him for strength to face each trial.  He has it all under control, and even has a reason for taking us through the storms, allowing us to grow and heal through the difficult journey.  He welcomes us as broken people, and makes something beautiful from our shattered pieces of life! 
    Then comes the day when we realize we’re healed… maybe not exactly as we’d wanted… but the pain no longer has a grip on us… for our brokenness has been used to heal a weakness!  The difficult journey was worth every step from brokenness to a new wholeness … because it has given us a better understanding of life with a greater empathy for others, with peace like a comforting blanket… enabling us to come alongside someone else who is struggling and overwhelmed as we “encourage the disheartened [and] help the weak...” (I Thessalonians 5:14)  For we know that God has used our trial in such a way that we now shine a light from within that we never knew we had… as we’ve gone from broken to beautiful in God’s restorative eyes! 
    Broken Beauty
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Sometimes…
    Like a beautiful vase
    Our life is shattered
    Like so many shards
    Of broken glass
    Where once there was
    A vessel whole, unbroken.
    ~
    Because…
    Trials of life
    Came crashing down
    To take their toll
    Inflicting damage
    Leaving emotions raw
    Trying to destroy
    The joy from within.
    ~
    But…
    There comes a day
    When it’s time
    To pick up the pieces
    And one by one
    To then reclaim
    The former beauty
    Of the vessel treasured.
    ~
    So…
    An effort ensues
    To fit the pieces
    Back together
    In such a way
    That there will shine
    Illuminating brilliance
    Never before seen.
    ~
    For…
    An inner strength
    Has taken hold
    So that the pieces
    Broken and scattered
    In coming together
    Now give the vessel
    A broken beauty!
    ~~
    02/05/14
     
     
     
     
  18. Linda Roorda
    December 5th is a day my/our Dutch ancestors celebrated Saint Nicholas Day or Eve, part of traditional European Christmas celebrations for centuries.  My cousin Sytske Visscher in the Netherlands shared that “St. Nicolas Day/Sinterklaas Day is celebrated on December 5, or the weekend before or after. According to the myth, the Bishop of Myra in Turkey (St. Nicolas) was born on December 6 and started to give presents to the poor members of his congregation on the evening before, December 5.  Families nowadays decide to celebrate the weekend before or after the official day.  Especially celebrating with only adults can better be organized on a weekend (Friday or Saturday evening) when most people do not have to go to work the next day.  Many not only give presents but also make poems to say something to the receiver of the present about what happened to him or her in the last year.”
    I think Christmas is everyone’s favorite time of year, especially a white Christmas!  Right?!  Even shopping begins in earnest the day after Thanksgiving.  But, many of our current holiday traditions either changed dramatically or began only in the 19th century.  Writing in the “Broader View Weekly” local newspaper in December 2012, I explored the origins of many of our American Christmas traditions.
    The Dutch word “Sinterklaas” for Saint Nicholas is considered the origin of our American “Santa Claus” with Washington Irving and Clement C. Moore helping to make him who he is today.  The earliest writing in America of a figure resembling our modern Santa can be found in Washington Irving’s satire of Dutch culture.  In “History of New York” published in 1809, Irving writes in chapter IX:  "At this early period…hanging up a stocking in the chimney on St. Nicholas eve…is always found in the morning miraculously filled; for the good St. Nicholas has ever been a great giver of gifts, particularly to children." 
    Clement C. Moore immortalized St. Nicholas in “’Twas The Night Before Christmas.”  In this ode to St. Nick, he appears on December 24th, Christmas Eve in America, not the traditional St. Nicholas Day/Eve of December 5 or December 6. Moore’s poem, published anonymously in a Troy, New York newspaper on December 23, 1823, promotes a new appearance to the original lean St. Nicholas:  “He had a broad face and a little round belly…He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf…[with a] "sleigh full of Toys" [and] "eight tiny reindeer…[as] Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound."  The two original reindeer names of Donder and Blixem were later changed to Donner and Blitzen.  Once again, the Dutch influence in the former New Netherlands was involved as “donder” means thunder and “bliksem” means lightning. 
    While Irving and Moore both present the jolly gift giver as Saint Nicholas, political cartoonist Thomas Nast is considered the first to refer to “Santa Claus” in his illustration for the January 3, 1863 edition of “Harpers Weekly.”  President Lincoln had requested that Nast depict St. Nicholas visiting the Union troops.  Nast’s illustration shows Santa Claus sitting on his sleigh at a U.S. Army camp, handing out gifts in front of a “Welcome Santa Claus” sign.
    Another treasured tradition of our modern Christmas is Charles Dickens’ short story, “A Christmas Carol,” written as a commentary on the greed of Victorian England.  Available in book stores the week before Christmas 1843, it sold very well, never being out of print since.  Scrooge has the distinction of being one of the most well-known literary characters.  But, what do we care… Bah, humbug!
    Our decorated Christmas tree comes from German traditions with Queen Victoria’s husband Prince Albert putting up the first decorated tree at Windsor Castle in 1841.  Based on illustrations of this event published in America in 1849, Christmas trees then became fashionable on this side of the “pond.”  Small candles were used to light the tree, with popcorn and cranberry strings typically used for decoration.
    From the religious aspect, Christmas celebrations differed in many ways based on national origin.  I found it interesting to learn that Christmas celebrations were outlawed in Boston by the Puritans in the mid to late 17th century with fines for violations, while the Jamestown, Virginia settlers enjoyed their merry celebrations under Capt. John Smith.  After the American Revolution, Americans looked down on English traditions, including Christmas.  Apparently, Congress was even in session on December 25, 1789!  In fact, Christmas did not become a federal holiday until Congress declared it such on June 26, 1870. 
    By the late 19th century, celebrating Christmas was made popular through children’s books and women’s magazines.  Church Sunday School classes began encouraging celebrations, and families were decorating Christmas trees with everyone “knowing” Santa Claus delivered gifts on Christmas Eve, traditions which have been carried on into the 21st century.
    Other popular traditions we all look forward to include decorating our homes and trees, baking scrumptious special treats, singing carols, and either making or shopping for just the right gift for each special person on our list.  But, alas, the years have also taken a simple celebration in honor of Jesus’ birth and made it into a highly marketed holiday, one often filled with ostentatious materialism.  Personally, I prefer to step back to the simpler traditions of my Dutch ancestry and childhood home, one without “all the trappings” and media frenzy.
    With my dad being a first generation Dutch-American, we veered from Dutch tradition in some ways.  We maintained Christmas Day with a morning church service and a big family dinner; but, our gift-giving was held the Saturday before Christmas, not the Dutch traditional day of December 5.  My husband’s Dutch family gave gifts on Christmas Eve as they had Christmas morning worship service after barn chores, but we decided on Christmas morning for our kids to open gifts.
    My first and last adoration of Santa Claus came the Christmas I was 5 years old when Santa visited my grandparents in Clifton, New Jersey. We three oldest granddaughters shyly sat on his lap to share our wants.  Afterwards, my grandmother took us to an upstairs window to watch Santa and his reindeer leave.  All I saw was a car with red tail lights driving away between the snowbanks.  At that moment, I was crushed and disillusioned, and just knew there was absolutely no Santa Claus because, despite dressing the part, he did not have a sleigh and reindeer!
    After all, everyone’s favorite reindeer is Rudolph with his nose so bright!  Supposedly written by Robert L. May for his daughter when her mother was dying of cancer, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was actually written in 1939 for his employer, Montgomery Ward, as a Christmas book given out free to customers.  Though May’s wife did die around the time he wrote the story, he read it to his 4-year-old daughter as he worked on it simply to ensure it held a child’s interest.  With memories of his own childhood, May decided on a tale with roots in “The Ugly Duckling” and the taunts he had suffered as a child.  Poor Rudolph was ostracized by other reindeer for being different, having an obvious physical abnormality… a glowing red nose.  No one else had one!  Regardless of his defect, Rudolph thrived under his parents’ love, overcame his disability and the taunts to became a responsible young deer!  And then one foggy night, Santa noticed how Rudolph’s nose shone through the dark, and asked him to lead the team of reindeer pulling his sleigh on Christmas Eve!  How excited and honored Rudolph must have felt!
    We’ve all been blessed with special Christmas memories over the years.  While visiting my mom at Elderwood nursing home in the past, she shared that her mother had always put up and decorated a large Christmas tree in their front parlor.  It was a big change for her to learn that her new husband was not so inclined to such displays due to his more austere Dutch upbringing.  With limited decorations and no trees until my mid-teens when my dad finally gave in to the pleading of his six kids, I have found it difficult to step out of that mold.  Yet, I have enjoyed putting up a tree with lights and decorations when our three children were young.  And now, since my mother-in-law gave me her ceramic tree the Christmas before she passed away, I am honored to share her generosity in this smaller and simpler display.
    My favorite Christmas memory was when my husband, Ed, farmed with his dad.  With finances tight, I usually sewed clothes for all of us.  But, one year I also made doll beds for each of our children by taking free boxes from the local grocery store, gluing the bottoms together, and covering them with wood-grain contact paper.  My step-mother gave our three children a Cabbage-Patch type doll she had made, while my grandmother sewed clothes and blankets for each doll.  And our kids could not have been happier! 
    Our local churches do not have a Christmas morning service like Ed and I grew up with, though we have enjoyed the local Christmas Eve candlelight services and singing of favorite carols.  We also began a tradition of reading the Christmas story with our children before they opened gifts on Christmas morning. 
    And another favorite of our family has been the TV special, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by Charles M. Schulz.  With the busy holiday shopping extravaganza and commercialization, I think we sometimes lose a little of the wonder of that very first Christmas.
    “Narrator:  It was finally Christmastime, the best time of the year.  The houses were strung with tiny colored lights, their windows shining with a warm yellow glow only Christmas could bring.  The scents of pine needles and hot cocoa mingled together, wafting through the air, and the sweet sounds of Christmas carols could be heard in the distance.  Fluffy white snowflakes tumbled from the sky onto a group of joyful children as they sang and laughed, skating on the frozen pond in town.  Everyone was happy and full of holiday cheer.  That is, everyone except for Charlie Brown…”
    “Charlie (to Linus):  ‘I think there must be something wrong with me.  I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess.  I might be getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I’m still not happy.  I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel…’”
    “Later, after a day of frustrations, Charlie says:  ‘I guess you were right Linus; I shouldn’t have picked this little tree.  Everything I do turns into a disaster.  I guess I don’t really know what Christmas is about.  Isn’t there anyone who understands what Christmas is all about?’”
    “Linus:  ‘Sure, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.’  [Walking to the center of the stage, Linus speaks:]  ‘And there were in the same country Shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not!  For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you.  You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger.’  And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’”  [Luke 2:8-14]
    Did you notice Linus drops his blanket? He knew who to trust. And, for me and my family, that’s what Christmas is all about…  As we begin to celebrate this Christmas season, share your special memories...
  19. Linda Roorda
    I’m very thankful to be celebrating another birthday, and the many blessings within the sadness of these past several months. God has answered my prayers for strength, to “be strong”, our daughter Jenn’s words of Godly wisdom from my vision of her in heaven while praying in my sitting garden the day after her passing… so fitting even now, as God has wrapped His arms of love around me by using each of my friends and family with their gifts of love, hugs, and encouraging kind words – because you each have a gift within your heart to share… reminding me of this blog and poem written several years ago.
    Sometimes, our best inspiration comes from the most unlikely place!  With the admonition to be “in the world, but not of it,” we find ourselves living out our faith foundation in the world around us (Romans 12:2).  After graduating from 6th grade at Passaic (Pine Street) Christian School in New Jersey, my Dad felt it was time to live out my faith by attending public junior high.  Despite the culture shock, I learned invaluable lessons… especially since I think we tend to compartmentalize “church/faith” versus every-day worldly life.
    So yes, sometimes our best faith inspiration comes from the most unlikely place!
    I used to enjoy relaxing in the evenings with Ed by watching reruns of M*A*S*H, though it’s no longer on that cable station.  Though not overly fond of some of the show’s escapades, I especially prefer Corporal Walter (Radar) O’Reilly and the latter years with Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce’s new surgical partners, Captain B.J. Hunnicutt and Major Charles Emerson Winchester, III, as well as their commanding officer, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, and Major Margaret Houlihan.  The show and its characters seemed to have evolved from a certain nonsense to one of moving and memorable themes.  As the varied characters offer a wide array of human egos and emotions, I’ve found the wisdom of humanity expressed well in many of the shows.
    There’s an episode that has always held a special place in my heart, one that I consider the arrogant Major Winchester’s best.  After operating on a wounded soldier, able to save the young man’s leg with his surgical expertise, Winchester tries to encourage his patient further.  Explaining that, although he’ll have permanent nerve damage to three fingers of his right hand, it won’t be too noticeable.  Angry, the soldier is reduced to tears and despondency, telling Winchester that his surgical efforts weren’t good enough.  His hands were his life… he was a concert pianist!  Feeling the pain of failure, Winchester turns away despondent.
    Then, with determination, Major Winchester approaches the 4077th’s company clerk, Corporal Max Klinger, handing him a list of sheet music to pick up in Seoul.  Later, with music in hand, Winchester wheels Private David Sheridan into the Officers’ Club and positions him in front of the piano.  Despite his patient’s disgust, Winchester attempts to encourage the young man’s gift to make music.  Angry and resentful, Sheridan wants none of it.
    Unshaken, Winchester shares the story of a pianist from another time who’d lost the use of one hand. Placing sheet music for a one-handed pianist in front of Sheridan, he asks, “Don't you see?  Your hand may be stilled, but your gift cannot be silenced if you refuse to let it be.”
    Private Sheridan scoffs at his surgeon:  “Gift?  You keep talking about this damn gift.  I had a gift, and I exchanged it for some mortar fragments, remember?”
    With great feeling, Winchester responds:  “Wrong!  Because the gift does not lie in your hands.  I have hands, David.  Hands that can make a scalpel sing.  More than anything in my life I wanted to play, but I do not have the gift.  I can play the notes, but I cannot make the music.  You've performed Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Chopin.  Even if you never do so again, you've already known a joy that I will never know as long as I live.  Because the true gift is in your head and in your heart and in your soul.  Now you can shut it off forever, or you can find new ways to share your gift with the world - through the baton, the classroom, or the pen.  As to these works, they're for you, because you and the piano will always be as one.”  Slowly and hesitantly, Sheridan began playing, gradually finding himself taken over by the emotion as the music in his soul found its voice. (from the TV series M*A*S*H:  "Morale Victory", 1980) 
    Just as Maj. Winchester tried to help Pvt. Sheridan understand, we’ve each been blessed with a special gift, a talent.  We can hide it, misuse it, or use it to benefit others... we have a choice.  Though we may not see our gift as the blessing it is, Jesus’ brother James acknowledged that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…” (James 1:17a)  Even the Apostle Peter encouraged us by writing that “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”  (I Peter 4:10 NIV) 
    We can encourage a friend with our words or any of our unique special gifts, like teaching, serving, leadership skills, mercy and compassion, or even simply giving the gift of our time (Romans 12:6-8).  When we make wise use of our talents and training, we truly are blessing the recipients of our gifts.  In faithfully serving others, may we one day hear our Lord say to us, just as he told the young man who grew his financial gift:  “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!”  (Matthew 25:21)
    You’ve A Gift Within
    Linda A. Roorda
    You’ve a gift within your heart to be shared
    To love your neighbor as you do yourself
    But much more than this is humble service
    Sharing devotion from depths of true love.
    ~
    Seek out the hurting, the ones bewildered
    In a world of turmoil, in the midst of grief,
    At a loss for words, not knowing where to turn,
    Be an anchor bringing peace to their soul.
    ~
    Be generous with praise, speak truth with wisdom,
    Carry the burden to lift the heavy heart
    Encourage and esteem, strengthen with hope
    Humbly meeting each need on your path.
    ~
    Lift up the oppressed, release from restraints
    Enfold in your arms those wounded by life.
    Show mercy and grace, forgive the offense
    Come alongside to guide the wavering feet.
    ~
    For out of confusion and cries of the soul
    In walking a line tween query and quest,
    Comes peace that calms and joy that rebuilds
    From the gift within your heart that was shared.
    ~~
  20. Linda Roorda
    Despair… a lack of hope... a feeling of utter defeat… like you’ve been so beaten down you can’t get back up to face the world.  The loss of something good can be that devastating… whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the disabling of physical abilities, the loss of a job, or perhaps the loss of something greatly treasured.  Maybe one of these difficult issues is what you’re facing right now.
    My poem below was written in 2014, during a very difficult year for us as a couple, found among my cache of unpublished reflections.  Ed faced a life-and-death situation from severe pancreatitis with no known cause, the doctor telling him if he’d waited one more day to come to the ER, he would not have survived.  That recovery was followed by additional health issues, procedures and surgery for Ed, with my own diagnosis of breast cancer with procedures and surgery.  To say we were overwhelmed by life, trying to handle so many health issues one on top of another, would be an understatement… 
    Any loss can be difficult as you slowly wend your way through grief. Your emotions have taken a hit. Yet you may not realize it’s actually healthy to go through the several steps of grief to process a loss… as long as you don’t get stuck in one of the stages.  For it’s important to know that, in the end, you will be ok… you are normal… and you will survive to ultimately smile at the world once again.
    Like many others who have faced losses, my husband and I also faced several major losses which, at the time, seemed utterly overwhelming.  And we fell right in line with the Kubler-Ross stages of grief - denial, anger, the “if only” stage, depression, and acceptance.  Admittedly, it’s not an easy journey.  But in looking back, we can honestly say we overcame the challenges and moved forward in peace knowing the Lord was at our side… every step of the way.
    One of the initial major losses we dealt with began for my husband in 1985.  He had always known poor vision after pure oxygen damaged his eyes as a premature twin in an incubator (then called retrolental fibroplasia, now labeled retinopathy of prematurity).  But, unknown to us as a young couple was the disease’s typical gradual deterioration of the retina in his left eye (the right optic nerve was damaged irreparably by the pure oxygen). 
    Going for a second opinion due to odd shadows in his vision field, he was told he had a major retinal tear that the previous ophthalmologist had overlooked and actually denied to another doctor who felt that was the issue… and Ed needed urgent surgery.  He could not even do barn chores that evening… or ever again… in order to preserve his only viable eye and limited vision for as long as possible. 
    To Ed, it felt as though it were the end of life… the end of farming with his Dad, the only working relationship he had known, a way of life he absolutely loved.  He was only 33, and we had three young ones to care for.  In coming to terms with our situation, I went back to work a month after his surgery, while he stayed home to care for our children.  Unfortunately, he faced further vision loss a few short years later as we returned from a trip to New Jersey to visit my family.  We shared an unforgettable day of fun and laughter when my Dad and step-mother took us to the ocean at Sandy Hook. But on the way home, driving north through the hills of Scranton, PA, his eye began hemorrhaging.  After two surgeries, he was left with limited light and color detection, and the stages of grief set in once again.
    Typically, major loss is also faced with denial and shock that such a thing could happen.  Yes, it was devastating.  How could this happen to us, and why?  He’d lost his farming job and had no idea what else he could do with limited useable vision.  We’d also purchased a new riding mower that spring which he was looking forward to using.  You think things will get better… soon, somehow… they just have to!  You hold out hope that life will return to normal… but the norm we were used to was gone forever.
    And then, anger and frustration took over.  You may go through a time of blaming yourself, or someone else.  Life seems unfair and you find yourself retreating into a world all your own.  If only things were different, if only I’d done things differently…  At this stage, Ed smashed his white cane until broken.  What we learned after seeking professional help for the blind and their families from Binghamton’s AVRE was invaluable.  Later, while Ed was at The Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA for six months, he again learned this was part of a normal grief process.  Other residents had also taken out their anger and frustration in various ways, with most, if not all, breaking their first cane.  It was hard to learn a new way of doing things… to tackle the simplest of tasks with very limited or no vision… learning to do the things we take for granted.  Out of his training at The Carroll Center, came the blessing of skills for a new office job.
    Then, as the final curtain of darkness closed in around him about 10 years later, a deeper depression settled in.  As he lost the last remnants of vision, Ed would describe dreams in vivid colors to me.  They seemed to taunt him on awakening, and he would be devastated once again to find his world was still dark, totally devoid of all light and color.  I suspect that may also be why he wasn’t overly fond of colorful descriptions of things he could no longer see.  I get it… that was like rubbing salt into an open wound; it was easier for him to just not think about his vision loss.
    Gradually, though, he came to accept his situation as his old self rose to the occasion.  Just like when he grew up with limited vision in school and on the farm (20/200 with glasses, reading with a book very close to his face), he was determined to accomplish whatever seemingly insurmountable task was put in front of him… and succeed he did!  His faith remained strong in God who had given him a kind and gentle heart with a depth of wisdom and sense of humor that once again carried him forward. 
    And remember that new riding mower which Ed never got to use?  Well, we have a photo of him sitting on it, reaching to the front of the mower with his new white cane… positioned to guide his path... just for the fun of it.  He always impressed me with his sense of humor and inner strength, another gift from God, for I truly don’t know that I could have handled all that he had… as well as he had.  Yes, he continued to have occasional difficult days of depression, as anyone does with major loss, but He carried on with strength and courage from the Lord to face each new obstacle.
    With our hope, faith, and trust in God above, we find He’s there for us.  He has promised “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 12:11)  “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)
    Our God may have to carry us for a while, but He’s there, helping each of us face the darkest and most difficult days… on our journey to joy.  
    The Journey to Joy
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    I see your hurt and sorrow within
    As you gaze out from a darkened pane
    Where once shone light and humor bright
    Now focus is turned to inward retreat.
    ~
    Not yours to enjoy are bright sunny days
    And seldom is heard laughter’s easy ring.
    Your days often pass in a hazy blur
    With meaning to find in the depth of loss.
    ~
    For you the birds do not sing their songs
    And clouds have covered the light in your heart.
    Each waking moment a reminder grim
    Of all that once was and all that can’t be.
    ~
    But change will come when you least expect
    And so it is with healing’s growth
    With subtle tones your soul will be filled
    As glimmers of hope displace the gloom.
    ~
    For if you allow the dawn’s gentle rays
    To open windows in the heart of your soul
    A breath of fresh joy will encompass you
    Bringing its light on the wings of hope.
    ~
    Then throw open wide shutters of despair
    And let the Son cover you with His peace
    Listen to His voice bring soothing comfort
    Drawing you near in His arms of love.
    ~
    May your heart hear the birds sweetly sing
    And may your soul see the Light of the world
    As grateful song brings praise to His name,
    For He has wrought this journey to joy.
    ~~
  21. Linda Roorda
    Though spring is right around the corner, winter left behind another remnant with a thin dusting of fresh white powder on a newly greening yard with continued flurries and a temp of 20 this morning. So I can either be distressed or accept winter’s last fling, or two, knowing it won’t last as spring will soon be here… the large influx of noisy blackbirds looking for refreshment testified to that yesterday morning! It’s just one of the things I’ve learned to accept, something I can do nothing about other than to appreciate each day of new life and the joy it brings in a myriad of ways.  Similar to the ways in which we view our individual life setbacks, problems and struggles.  But we know God is still here with us, still caring for us, still guiding us thru each difficulty that we might learn from His wisdom. And I wish you God’s many blessings and abundant love today and always...
    Sometimes I Strive -- I have struggles in life… like everyone else. I don’t like to see the downtrodden victims of society, regardless of the circumstance. Like others, I ask why there is suffering. Why are innocents murdered? Why do some suffer virtually lifelong with chronic health issues while others go their whole life with barely a problem, and live past 100 (like my great-grandmother)? Why do we find inequality in many societal sectors? Why does it so often seem like the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer? But then, those questions beg another and another… like why is there evil in the world? Is there an evil underplay which thwarts God’s good? And, where is God in all the mess?
    There was, and perhaps still is, a religious philosophy called the “prosperity gospel.” If we live and pray a certain way before God, we will be blessed… yes, but it's not just a cause and effect. It often seems to go along with faith healing… as if having enough faith, or praying just the right way, will gain us our desires from God… like health, wealth and happiness. Ours is a society that expects instant gratification. In reality, it’s a dangerous message that twists the true meaning of God’s blessings which aren’t always readily poured out the way we want… and may tend to promote the thinking that the degree of blessings is based on our level of faith and spirituality… a works-based manipulation of God through various methods to meet His favor... like my being asked "have you tried this" to gain a certain response from God... 
    We may hope and pray for years that God will heal us or rectify some problem… yet, we may or may not see the answer in our lifetime. We may hold onto Scripture that seems to promise God’s blessings upon faithful followers. Unfortunately, at times, answers that we hope and pray for never seem to come… or, the answers may not be what we want. Why? What’s wrong with us? What are we doing wrong that our prayers aren’t answered, while others seemingly live an unfettered life of health, wealth and happiness? It’s as though a dissatisfaction builds, and we get caught up in looking over our shoulder at what others have or don’t have. And that should not be... it's wrong.
    So, if we take a step back, we might hear that still small voice in our heart… the voice of God speaking to our soul. As we contemplate Psalm 37, we find the shepherd king David wrote verses rich with meaning, even for us today:
    1) “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” [vs.3; the secure care and provision by the Lord, our shepherd]
    2) “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.” [vs.4; seek the Lord, study His word, meditate on His truths, and He will give you the desires which mirror HIS will]
    With the wisdom God granted him, King Solomon advised that 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 make [our] paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) 
    Even James reminded us in chapter 1, vs.2-5 that we should “consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault…” And yet, how well we know that it’s not easy to be joyful in trials.
    We can find a multitude of examples throughout Scripture of those who loved the Lord yet suffered unjustly, while their faith was strengthened through various trials. Job lost everything, but he learned to trust God’s sovereignty. Joseph, too, suffered unjustly, being sold into slavery by his brothers. It took years before God felt his trials in total had prepared him sufficiently to become second in command under Egypt’s Pharaoh. Our Lord’s disciples were not rewarded with health and wealth for having known Jesus personally. All but John were martyred with their blessing, instead, being a powerful witness to us of Christ’s loving grace which continues today. 
    And, the beloved Apostle Paul shared his own physical struggle in II Corinthians 12:8-10. It was his belief that he was given an irritating “thorn” so that he would not become conceited in his ministry. “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me… For when I am weak, then I am strong.” Can I say that? No, not always… Paul had tremendous faith, a highly honorable witness of God's love and grace, yet even he was not healed as he desired.
    Even in turning back a few pages to Romans 8:28, we read that Paul reminded us to “…know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”  For “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)  Then, as we “…seek first his kingdom and his righteousness…all these things will be given to [us] as well. (Matthew 6:33)  The blessings come with faith and trust in God and His will for my life… not following or pleading for my own desires.
    In the midst of our troubles, as we seek the Lord’s love and guidance, He uses those trials to bring His will to completion in us, causing good to emerge out of what we consider bad… not necessarily health and wealth, but certainly that for which we can bring praise and honor to our loving God as our faith grows through the trial and suffering.  For in the end, He is all we need… not riches and great fame.
    And there I rest my case, putting an end to my own strivings and struggles against what at times seem to be unfair life circumstances… to “be still, and know that [He is] God.” (Psalm 46:10)  For who am I to question what trial God will use to bless and mature me into wisdom… or to draw me closer to Him and His great love… and maybe to bless someone else from what I’ve learned?  As our Lord’s prayer says, “…Thy will be done…”  
    Sometimes I Strive
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Sometimes I strive against You, my God
    Without an answer to desperate pleas.
    How can it be that silence ensues
    From heartfelt prayers and a depth of faith?
     
    Yet no promise was ever uttered
    That a life of ease for asking was ours,
    For at the core of trials and tears
    Lies deeper faith with trust at its heart.
     
    To watch and wonder why suffering exists,
    What is the purpose?  Where is the healing?
    Did you not say, “Take delight in Me
    And I will grant the desires of your heart?”
     
    But that’s only part of truth in blessing
    For when it’s Your will and we bear much fruit
    Will it be said You answered my pleas?
    No, even then answers seem fleeting.
     
    For in the asking You give what is best,
    Not what we want, but what meets our needs.
    As You work for good whatever we face
    Therein lies peace in accepting Your will.
  22. Linda Roorda

    A Tiny Seed

    By Linda Roorda,

    I love spring!  It’s a season full of the promise of new growth, new life.  Yet as I thought about life emerging from a tiny seed, fed and nourished by the sun’s warming rays and watered by a refreshing shower, I could not help but think of the Lord feeding and nourishing our souls to help us grow.
    As a TA sub in a science class recently, I was reminded of this unpublished blog. Studying plant life, the students experimented with seeds in different situations.  Seeds were placed on a folded paper towel with a specific amount of water… some were set on a windowsill where they would have sunlight and warmth, while others were put into a dark cupboard where it was cooler.  Checking on the progress of their seeds daily, each group measured and looked for growth.  The seeds with the sun’s warmth did the best with rich green young growth, while the seeds in the dark cool cupboard had some growth with long tendrils of white or very pale yellow instead of a darker rich green… they were searching for light and warmth.
    Interestingly, when I searched my photo file for a particular set of pictures, I saw this photo for today’s post was taken exactly 6 years ago – 04/30/2017!  The bursting leaf buds on my maple trees are at the very same stage as back then!  A reassurance when the world around us seems to be in constant flux that we are still in His care.
    In observing that experiment’s results, I realized how like us and our spiritual growth when we have Jesus and His Word, His light, as our guide, versus the darkness without His guiding light.  In Jesus, we have a solid foundation to lean on.  We’re fed with spiritual nutrition from His Word, Holy Scripture, as we turn to Him for answers in dealing with life’s problems.  And I can’t help but wonder about those who lash out at life around them, having little to no purpose or meaning.  Without a solid foundation and moral guidance to keep them on the right path, they often grow with negativity, seeking the easiest route to self-gratification regardless of collateral damage.
    I long for them to know and feel the embrace of God’s overwhelming love.  In creating us and knowing who He’s designed us to be, it must give God great pleasure to watch us fulfill the purpose He’s placed within each of us as we seek His wisdom.  Like a seed pushing upward and outward from its protective shelter below the soil, growing from a tiny seed until the whole of its beauty is evident, so is our life. 
    Developing from a tiny cell, we grow until we are one day born unique, created by God like no other being.  From infancy onward, we continue our maturing process to exhibit a growth and beauty within our heart and soul as we become who God intended us to be… a beautiful life meant to glorify Him. 
    A Tiny Seed
    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
    To patiently wait, its growth to begin
    Learning to endure the seasons of life.
     
    As the tiny seed emerges frail
    From winter’s long and darkened sleep
    Into the warming breath of spring
    The sparkling rays of golden sun
    Shine down upon its tiny head.
     
    The rains gently fall to nourish the soil
    The sun rises high to share its warm glow
    And day by day the seed begins to grow
    Coddled with love, nudged into life
    Slowly but surely potential to gain.
     
    So it reaches up yet higher still
    Straining to achieve its dreams and goals
    Looking unlike any other around
    In plain and simple, yet elegant attire
    Focusing on its purpose ordained.
     
    And then one day a small simple bud
    Opens its petals for all to take note
    Delicate beauty unfolding soft
    To praise the One who created it so
    Like you and me with purpose unique.
     
    For by His loving and abundant care
    Sheltered and nurtured within our heart
    Is gently worked His will and His plan
    So that we beloved, precious children of His
    Bring honor and praise to our glorious God.
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda
    August 29, 1779, 244 years ago, a battle near present-day Elmira in Chemung County, New York was significant to the Revolutionary War.  It played a crucial, though seldom discussed, key role.  It was not a bloody battle, but it was instrumental in breaking up the power of the Six Nation Iroquois Federation, thus allowing westward frontier expansion for colonials.
    For centuries the Iroquois Nation included the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca tribes.  In the early 18th century, the Tuscarora joined their ranks by heading north from what is now North Carolina.  As the Revolutionary War commenced, the Iroquois Federation tried to stay neutral.  In time, however, most of the Iroquois gave their loyalty to Great Britain while the Oneida and Tuscarora tribes chose to align themselves with the colonists who were seeking independence from the British Crown. 
    Under Thayendanegea (commonly known as Joseph Brant), the Native Americans (referred to by the Colonists as Indians) joined forces with Loyalists and attacked western frontier settlements just as they did those further east in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys.  They carried away prisoners, ruthlessly murdered and scalped adults as well as children, and burned and destroyed the crops and homes of Patriots in both outlying and established settlements.  And a cycle of retaliation ensued.
    I am not here to open a discussion or pass judgment on the negatives and positives of the why, wherefore, and how regarding what was or was not done 200 to 400 years ago in our nation’s history by either the Native Americans or the white European settlers.  May I say, however, that conflict and conquering of other lands and peoples has been taking place since world history began.  Their times are not ours.  
    The Chemung River valley basin and its surrounding hills near present-day Elmira were home to Indians for centuries, but by the 18th century the Iroquois were in consistent residence.  Here they had ample room to grow crops along the fertile river bottoms.  Easy access to virgin forests filled with wildlife supplied them with meat and valuable pelts as they hunted and trapped.  The rivers and streams provided them not only with an ideal means of transportation, but an abundance of fish.  A healthy way of life for sure!
    Atop a steep hill which overlooks the Chemung River and the Southern Tier Expressway (formerly State Route 17, now Interstate 86) is the Newtown Battlefield Reservation State Park, once part of the Iroquois’ territory.  The 100th anniversary of the Battle of Newtown was celebrated August 29, 1879 with the dedication of a monument on top of Sullivan Hill.  The area was designated a national historic landmark in 1965, with battle re-enactments held annually in the park.  I’ve wanted to observe the re-enactments to learn more about the battle, but have never managed to make my way there.  So, come along with me and we’ll learn together what took place all those years ago.
    To understand what took place, though, is to know the precipitating chain of events which led to the small but important battle at Newtown.  In the early days of the Revolutionary War, both the British and the Colonists attempted to gain the loyalty of the Native Americans as noted above.  The ultimate decisions caused division among the great Iroquois Federation when the tribes split their loyalties.  The famed Iroquois’ leader, Joseph Brant, worked closely with the British stationed at Fort Niagara.  He frequently took to the warpath against the white settlers on the western frontier, as well as back east in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys.  But the question begs to be asked, why?
    Along with the vital convergence of the Hudson and Mohawk rivers, the greater Albany region was of key importance in the Revolutionary War to both sides.  Schoharie County, part of western Albany County prior to 1795, has historically been considered “The Breadbasket of the Revolution.”  With its fertile lands, the area produced an abundance of crops which kept Washington’s armies fed.  Thus, the area’s assets, the rivers for transportation and the productive land, became a root of contention among the Loyalists and Tories, or supporters of the Crown.  Their loyalties festered and erupted into violence and destruction against their neighbors and kin, the supporters of independence. 
    In the early stages of war, the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army, General George Washington, preferred that these vulnerable settlements use their own local militia to guard and protect against attack.  And repeated attacking was the game plan of marauding bands of Indian-Loyalist troops.  Often, “forts” of refuge for Patriots were established to escape these bands of Indians and Tories.  Among such forts is the old Dutch Reformed Church, now called the Old Stone Fort, home to the Schoharie County Historical Society in the town of Schoharie, New York which I have visited several times to research my maternal family.  Its stone walls still exhibit a hole from the direct hit of a cannonball. 
    In May 1778, Joseph Brant set out on raids in Cobleskill (near my mother’s home town of Carlisle) and the neighboring frontier settlements.  Soon after, on July 3, 1778, Col. John Butler and his Loyalist Rangers joined Chief Sayenqueraghta’s Seneca and Cayuga Indians in an attack of Pennsylvania’s Wyoming Valley.  Settlers from Connecticut had established homes and farms along the Susquehanna River in this fertile valley, an area which also produced an abundance of grain for the Continental armies.  Here, at Forty Fort (a few miles north of the fort at Wilkes-Barre, but on the opposite side of the Susquehanna River), about 360 local Patriot militiamen were killed with over 200 scalped in the Wyoming Massacre.
    That September, Patriot soldiers under Col. Thomas Hartley took their wrath out on the Seneca, Delaware and Mingo Indians by burning and destroying nearly a dozen towns on the Susquehanna, including Tioga (now Athens, PA) and Chemung (NY).  At the same time, Butler’s Rangers destroyed Patriot houses and crops on the German Flats up north in the Mohawk Valley.  This brought the Patriot militia back out to attack and destroy the Indian settlements at Unadilla and Onaquaga (now Windsor) along the Susquehanna River in New York.
    To read William E. Roscoe’s “History of Schoharie County, New York” and other related books about the killing and destruction throughout the region is to gain a better understanding of the larger picture.  Indians were known among settlers, including my ancestors; some were liked, others were feared.  The war cast a pall of deadly fear among residents of the Mohawk and Schoharie Valleys - one’s loyalties were usually known, whether for the Crown or Independence, and often one’s life depended upon that knowledge.  Neighbor was pitted against neighbor, even against one’s own blood relatives.  My various direct ancestral families were Patriots with one Loyalist, while some extended relatives were killed or taken captive by the Indian-Loyalist bands.   I have also dined with friends (Cheryl being a distant maternal cousin) at the George Mann Tory Tavern north of the town of Schoharie, beautifully restored to its colonial elegance, Mann having been a well-known supporter of the Crown during the War.
    In November 1778, Butler’s Rangers, 320 Iroquois under Chief Cornplanter, and 30 Indians under Joseph Brant attacked Cherry Valley, northeast of Oneonta in Otsego County and northwest of Cobleskill in Schoharie County.  Encompassing the fort to ensure soldiers could not escape, the Indians began their massacre.  They killed and scalped 30 or 32 residents (numbers vary in reports, mostly women and children) and 16 soldiers.  An additional 70 to 80 adults and children (again, numbers vary in reports) were taken captive into Indian territory after the homes and crops had been completely destroyed. More retributions followed from both sides with further loss of life, but the Cherry Valley Massacre was a devastating blow.  Something had to be done to stop this slaughter of innocents.  (Cherry Valley lies south of the Mohawk River and east of the northern end of Lake Otsego.  Unadilla is southwest, near where the Unadilla River joins the Susquehanna.  Onaquaga lies a short way further southwest on the Susquehanna.)
    Gen. Washington was now convinced of the need for an offensive campaign against the British, Loyalists and Indians who held Forts Niagara and Oswego.  Settling on Maj. Gen. John Sullivan as commanding officer, Washington wrote Sullivan on May 31, 1779:  “The Expedition you are appointed to command is to be directed against the hostile tribes of the Six Nations of the Indians, with their associates and adherents.  The immediate objects are the total destruction and devastation of their settlements, and the capture of as many prisoners…as possible.  It will be essential to ruin their crops now in the ground and prevent their planting more…  You will not by any means listen to any overture of peace before the total ruinment of their settlements is effected.  Our future security will be in their inability to injure us…”   Essentially, a “scorched earth” policy was to be executed.
    Thus, in August 1779, Washington sent Major General John Sullivan and his troops up the Susquehanna River from Easton, PA while Brigadier General James Clinton and his army traveled southwest from Canajoharie in New York’s Mohawk Valley down to Otsego Lake and to the Susquehanna River flowing west.  Known as the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign (or, Expedition), Washington’s goal was to destroy Indian ties to the British by decimating the Indian towns and supplies of corn, vegetables and fruit at their source.  It was this produce which not only kept the Indians well fed, but also the British army. Sullivan and Clinton were ordered to then continue northward with their armies to capture the British forts at Oswego and Niagara in order to disrupt their military hold on the region.
    On August 22, 1779, Sullivan and Clinton met at Tioga Point along the Susquehanna River (present-day Athens, PA).  With combined troops numbering at least 2300 to under 4000 (accounts I’ve read vary as to numbers), they traveled northwest along the Chemung River.  On Sunday, August 29, advance scouts found hidden horseshoe-shaped breastworks/earthworks about half a mile long.  Roughly 150 feet up the southeast slope of a mile-long hill (now called Sullivan Hill), these earthworks were within shooting range of the road and near the Iroquois village of New Town.  From this vantage point, those approaching the hill could be observed or ambushed before reaching the Cayuga Indian towns of Nanticoke and Kanawaholla where Elmira was later established. 
    Newtown Battlefield military placements discussed here.
    At that time, the slope was densely covered in virgin forest.  At its base and to the east was a marsh, Hoffman Hollow, thickly covered with grass and trees.  Baldwin Creek ran through this marsh and emptied into the Chemung River (called the Cayuga Branch by Sullivan in his reports).  My online search of Google maps shows what is likely Baldwin Creek to be, surprisingly and confusingly, labeled the Chemung River as it flows under I-86 and empties into the main Chemung River.  What was then called Baldwin Creek runs near to and west of Lowman Road within the area still labeled Hoffman Hollow.
    Manning the breastworks were 15 British troops, 250 Loyalist Rangers, and about 1000 Indian warriors.  The initial intent of Loyalist Major John Butler and the Iroquois chief, Joseph Brant, was to harass the Continental troops.  Sayenqueraghta and other Indian chiefs rejected that proposal, favoring instead attempts at luring the Continentals into a full ambush. 
    One of the forward scouts for the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign, Lt. Col. Adam Hubley, recorded the discovery of these breastworks that morning.  “On our arrival near the ridge on which the action of the 13th commenced with light corps, our van discovered several Indians in front, one of whom gave them fire, and then fled.  We continued…[and] the rifle corps entered a low marshy ground which seemed well calculated for forming ambuscades; they advanced with great precaution, when several more Indians were discovered who fired and retreated.  Major Parr… judged it rather dangerous to proceed any further without taking every caution to reconnoiter almost every foot of ground, and ordered one of his men to mount a tree and see if he could make any discoveries; … [and] he discovered the movements of several Indians… as they were laying behind an extensive breastwork. “ 
    Learning of the breastworks’ locations through Lt. Col. Hubley’s findings, the Continental commanders knew there was an attempt in the offing to lure them into an ambush.  Moving cautiously forward into position, an initial attack on the breastworks came late that morning when Brig. Gen. Edward Hand put his infantry on the far side of Baldwin Creek.  From that position, they could easily fire into the enemy’s defense works. 
    In early afternoon, Gen. Sullivan met with commanders under him to plan their next move.  Essentially, Sullivan’s men were to attack the fortified works of the enemy from the south and east with artillery and troops, while the men under Gen. Clinton were to attack the fortifications from the northeast. 
    The 1st New Jersey Regiment under Col. Matthias Ogden, detached from Brig. Gen. William Maxwell’s New Jersey Brigade, slipped south and west along the Chemung River to come around to the right and rear of the Loyalist-Indian forces.  The New York Brigade under Brig. Gen. James Clinton and New Hampshire’s Brigade under Brig. Gen. Enoch Poor marched northwest through Hoffman Hollow toward the hill’s eastern slope where they turned to flank the British left.  At the same time, Sullivan’s Pennsylvania and New Jersey brigades stayed behind with the remaining light infantry companies.  Brig. Gen. William Maxwell’s 1st Brigade was to take aim at the center or face of the British breastworks.
    Ten guns from the light infantry were placed near the road, ready to open fire on the defense positions and the land in between.  Once these guns began firing, Gen. Hand was to fake an attack on the center of the horseshoe breastworks while the brigades from the east were to turn inward, take the summit of the hill, and then turn to attack the left and rear section of the breastworks.  All together, with Maxwell’s artillery support, the goal of their three-pronged attack was to surround the defenseworks on the hill in a complete crossfire.
    It was a detailed plan which was put together quickly, but one in which the troops readily proved their mettle.  The brief battle resulted in a significant defeat for the British Loyalists and Iroquois; however, it could have been much worse for them had it not been for unavoidable delays by the Sullivan-Clinton armies.  In maneuvering through the swampy ground of Hoffman Hollow, Poor’s and Clinton’s troops got bogged down.  This put the timing of the plan off, and caused enough of a delay that the Loyalist-Iroquois men escaped full encirclement and thus slipped the noose of an utter and complete defeat. 
    In the meantime, Lt. Col. George Reid’s 2nd New Hampshire Regiment was to position itself to the left of Poor’s troops.  Unfortunately, with Reid’s men climbing the steepest part of the slope, they lagged behind the rest of the troops.  Joseph Brant took advantage of this opportunity to lead a counterattack with fellow Indians, almost completely encircling Reid.  Seeing this, the next regiment in line, the 3rd New Hampshire Regiment under Lt. Col. Henry Dearborn, turned around abruptly to fire into the enemy who were positioned downhill.  Clinton and his brigade, climbing up the hill from below and off to the right of Poor, saw these events unfold and sent his 3rd and 5th New York Regiments to Reid’s aid, further thwarting Brant’s attack.  [Above military placements discussed here.] 
    See also: JOURNALS OF THE MILITARY EXPEDITION OF MAJOR GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN AGAINST THE SIX NATIONS OF INDIANS IN 1779 WITH RECORDS OF CENTENNIAL CELEBRATIONS.  
    For a few hours, the peaceful valley and hills echoed with the blasting of cannons (ranging in size up to six-inch field howitzers), the resounding shots of a few thousand muskets, and the strong acrid smell of gun powder with its residual smoky haze.  The sounds of gunfire combined with the hair-raising battle cries of Indian warriors must have reached a deafening pitch at its peak.  Naturally, there were losses and injuries on both sides.  But, with the realization that they were overpowered, Loyalist Major John Butler, Capt. Walter Butler, and the Iroquois chief Joseph Brant wisely cut their losses and withdrew.  With their troops, they retreated towards Newtown and crossed the river with the Continentals in pursuit, but without additional losses on either side. 
    After the battle, the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign continued on their way north through the finger lakes region, burning and destroying at least 40 Indian villages, reportedly destroying 160,000 bushels of corn and a significant quantity of vegetables and fruit which the Indians had set aside for winter.  By the end of September, the armies were returning to Morristown, New Jersey for the winter.
    From Gen. Sullivan’s journal notes:
    “Teaogo [Tioga], Sept, 30, 1779.
    SIR:—In mine of the 30th ultimo to His Excellency George Washington, and by him transmitted to Congress, I gave an account of the victory obtained by this army over the enemy at Newtown, on the 29th August. I now do myself the honor to inform Congress of the progress of this army... The time taking up in destroying the corn, in the neighborhood of Newtown, employing the army near two days… I sent back all my heavy artillery on the night of the 30th, retaining only four brass three pounders, and a small howitzer; loaded the necessary ammunition on horseback, and marched early on the 31st for Catherine's Town. On our way we destroyed a small settlement of eight houses, and town called Konowhola, of about twenty houses, situated on a peninsula at the conflux of the Teaogo and Cayuga branches. We also destroyed several fields of corn. From this point Colonel Dayton was detached with his regiment and the rifle corps up the Teaogo about six miles, who destroyed several large fields of corn. The army resumed their march, and encamped within thirteen miles and a half of Catherine's Town, where we arrived the next day, although we had a road to open for the artillery, through a swamp nine miles in extent, and almost impervious. We arrived near Catherine's Town in the night, and moved on, in hopes to surprise it, but found it forsaken. On the next morning an old woman belonging to the Cayuga nation was found in the woods. She informed me that on the night after the battle of Newtown, the enemy, having fled the whole night, arrived there in great confusion early the next day; that she heard the warriors tell their women they were conquered and must fly; that they had a great many killed and vast numbers wounded…” 
    The Iroquois, who had supported the British by attacking settlements, killing and taking captives, and feeding the British military, were now forced further west to Niagara and northwest into Canada.  Under protection of the British forts, but without their winter food supply, many died from starvation, disease and the winter’s cold.  Yet, even John Butler, in correspondence that previous May, had referred to the fact that the Indians were not doing well, lacking in production of their own food supplies.
    Although successful at Newtown, the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign has often been referred to as a “well-executed failure.”  Congress congratulated them for what they had accomplished, but they were essentially not looked upon in a favorable light for their failure to take the British forts on Lake Ontario.  True, their armies destroyed the Indians settlements and crops throughout the finger lakes region, but Major General Sullivan stopped short of completing General Washington’s orders.  They had been ordered, and expected, to continue north to Lake Ontario and capture the British forts at Oswego and Niagara.
    However, knowing their field artillery was limited to lighter guns, Sullivan and Clinton returned instead to headquarters in Morristown, New Jersey by the end of September.  In fairness to Sullivan, he realized he was not equipped with big enough artillery to take on the well-defended British forts; he and his troops would likely have been annihilated.  Also, in worsening health, Sullivan resigned command in November 1779 and returned to his home in New Hampshire.
    With Sullivan not completing the balance of his campaign orders, Joseph Brant and his Indians returned to rejoin forces with the Loyalists in 1780.  Once again, they viciously attacked western settlements and the established communities back in the Mohawk and Schoharie Valley regions. 
    These raids and massacres touched my ancestral families in that part of New York.  At Beaverdam (now Berne) near the Switzkill River on September 1, 1781, a British soldier led Loyalists and Indians in an attack on the Johannes Dietz family.  Johannes’ son, Capt. William Dietz, commanded the local Patriot militia, and was, therefore, a target of the Loyalists who engaged the Indians to make Dietz an example and put fear into the hearts of all other Patriot settlers.  After capture, William Dietz was forced to watch his elderly parents, wife, four young children and Scottish maid be killed and scalped.  Two young brothers who happened to be visiting from another family were also taken captive.  At Fort Niagara, Dietz died of a broken heart not long after arrival as witnessed by another captive from Schoharie County.  Capt. Dietz’s father, Johannes, was an older brother of my ancestor, John Hendrich/John Henry Dietz (referenced in my Independence Day article at my blog, Homespun Ancestors.  (see also “Old Hellebergh,” by Arthur B. Gregg, The Altamont Enterprise Publishers, Altamont, N.Y., 1936, p. 24; signed by Gregg, in my personal library from my father’s collection)
    (See Painting of Dietz Massacre by Jacob Dietz, son of Johannes, Courtesy of the Greater Oneonta Historical Society)
    The final and most devastating attack was in the lower Mohawk Valley in October 1781 where everything over a distance of 20 miles was utterly destroyed. 
    When the war was over and the colonists had won, Joseph Brant and other Iroquois settled land given to them by the British Crown on the Grand River in Quebec (now Ontario).  The area of Brant’s river crossing became known as Brant’s ford, later simplified to Brantford.  Other Indians moved on to the Ohio River Valley region, or joined the Cherokee in the southern states.
    Ultimately, the Newtown Battle, or Battle of Chemung, opened the narrow southern gate to settlers who had been forbidden from traveling through this part of Indian territory on their way to settling the western frontier.  For American soldiers who had fought in the Revolutionary War, the Chemung Valley drew many men back who had taken part in the Sullivan-Clinton Campaign. 
    Certain to have admired the beautiful countryside in both Pennsylvania and New York while detailed there on campaigns, it was only natural former soldiers would seek its fertile land as their bounty award for service to their new government.  New England and eastern New York were considered heavily populated, with many regions too rocky for good farming.  Western New York was the perfect place to homestead with wide-open fertile land available to establish a new life.  With the soldiers settling this area, we can assume their descendants walk among us today, perhaps even unaware of their family’s history.
  24. Linda Roorda
    Impetuous Peter… the disciple like so many of us, if we’re honest.  I tend to speak quickly, not always giving as much thought to my answer as I should.  My late husband, on the other hand, would take time to formulate his reply. And how often I’ve realized the depth of wisdom he shared in what he’d mulled over.
    Then, there’s the side of us which promises never to abandon a friend in their time of need.  Yet we do. And I can’t help but wonder… aren’t we a bit miffed at their denials of wrongs to protect themselves?  Does their conscience pierce their heart?  Is there even a snippet of guilt or shame?  Don’t they know a heart-felt apology for wrongs done begins to restore relationships?  But, more importantly, have we forgiven them anyway?  For faithful is the friend who remains supportive and encouraging.
    But please note, I am not speaking about truly abusive relationships. That is an entirely different situation we need to walk away from when no genuine remorse and change is made… despite what others think who don’t know the truth.
    Which reminds me of the twelve disciples gathered around Jesus and their inner thoughts… no different than us. Unbeknownst to all but Jesus, one of their own, Judas, was in the process of selling out their Lord for thirty pieces of silver, even as they shared the Passover meal together. (Matthew 26:14-16, 17-30)
    The disciples all knew how much Jesus loved them, so it must have caused great consternation as they heard Him warn Peter that before a rooster crowed twice, Peter would deny ever having known Jesus.  (Mark 14:30)  They must have wondered how their Teacher could think such a thing, let alone say it! (Luke 22:31-34; Mark 14:27-31)  Even Peter protested that he would rather go to prison or die with Jesus, than ever renounce his best friend!
    After dinner, they went to the Garden of Gethsemane to rest and pray.  Judas (who had left the table of his dining friends) eventually rejoined them, bringing along a large entourage of soldiers.  And then he boldly gave Jesus a traitor’s kiss as soldiers surrounded his former teacher.  To prove his own devotion to his best friend, Peter rashly sliced off the ear of one of the Roman guards with his sword.  With tender love for those who meant him harm, Jesus gently restored the man’s ear, and rebuked Peter for such hasty behavior. (John 18:10-11) Surprisingly, as Jesus was being arrested, His closest friends… his followers, his disciples… turned their backs in abandonment and ran out of fear. (Mark 14:50-52) 
    Later that evening as Peter warmed himself around a fire in the courtyard during Jesus’ trial, a servant girl thought she recognized him. Concerned for his own life after Jesus’ arrest, Peter vehemently denied being among Jesus’ closest friends… three times he rebuked their remembrances, the last time swearing like the old fisherman that he was.  Immediately, a rooster crowed for the second time.  And Peter instantly recalled what Jesus had predicted.  His heart sank in broken-hearted grief.  He had vehemently denied that he’d ever do such a thing to his closest of friends, and yet that’s exactly what he had done.  Feeling utterly ashamed and alone, he walked away from everyone, and wept tears of great sorrow and remorse.  (Mark 14:66-72)
    Once again, Peter had reacted rashly, thinking he was deflecting harm to himself by denying the truth without taking the time to think of the consequences.  Yet, Peter loved his Lord.  And Jesus loved Peter… unequivocally.  For after Jesus’ crucifixion and then resurrection, the angel in the tomb told the women, “[Jesus] is risen! He is not here… Go, tell His disciples and Peter.”  To me, those words signify how deeply our Lord loved Peter.  Despite Peter’s hasty denials, God wanted to be sure Peter heard and understood the good news!  (Mark 16:7)  In Luke 24:9-12, we read that as soon as Peter heard about Jesus’ resurrection, he got up and immediately ran to the tomb to check out the story’s validity for himself.  So like our impetuous Peter, isn’t it?!  But it also shows how deeply Peter truly loved his Lord!
    Some days later, unexpectedly meeting their Lord on the shore of Galilee after fishing all night, John retold for us how Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved Him. With a tone of voice that likely reflected his deepest feelings, Peter was irritated and hurt that Jesus would ask him the same question for a third time. And Peter gave the same response each time, “You know I love you!” (John 21:15-17) Yet it was all done to help Peter understand that he was truly loved… and forgiven for his denials because of his repentant heart… and that Jesus was now giving Him a second chance with a new responsibility.  Peter was to reach out to a world of hurting souls with the same love that he had been given from Jesus after his own failures! 
    The reason Jesus was born into this world… the reason He died on a cross… was to pay for the sinful deeds we’ve done, no matter their size.  “For we have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption of Jesus.” (Romans 3:23-24)  As we confess our sins and need for a Savior, we receive God’s most gracious gift of forgiveness.  “For God so loved the world that He sent His only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)  What depths of mercy and grace are ours! 
    A Blessed and Happy Easter to each of you! 
    Do You Love Me?
    Linda A. Roorda
    Do you love me?  More than all these?
    You know I do, Lord!  A loving friendship.
    You know my thoughts, my words and my ways,
    Surely you know how deep is my love.
    ~
    Do you love me?  Do you truly love?
    You know I do, Lord!  I’d sacrifice self.
    Then feed My sheep, meet them in their need,
    Go to My flock, and lead them in truth.
    ~
    Do you love me?  With your heart and soul?
    Oh Lord, I am grieved!  My heart has been stabbed.
    But oh! the shame of having denied
    One with whom I’d walked, the leader of hearts.
    ~
    Did you not warn of what was to come?
    I pledged you my love above all others.
    I’d follow you Lord, even unto death!
    I’d never disown my Savior, my God.
    ~
    But when confronted, my heart shrank in fear.
    I heard my own words deny with alarm.
    Twice more they claimed I was with the condemned,
    When out of my mouth came vicious cursing.
    ~
    I winced in shock to hear the cock crow.
    My heart sank in shame for what I had done.
    My Lord had said deny Him I would,
    Now all I could do was bitterly weep.
    ~
    You gazed thru my heart. You saw my soul’s depth.
    You poured out Your love though faithless was I.
    And now, Lord, you ask, do I truly love?
    Yes, Lord, I do! With heart, soul and mind.
    ~
    Then tenderly care for the sheep of My fold.
    Go to the fields and guide them in truth.
    Feed them my Word, everlasting life.
    Shower with mercy and grace in My name.
    (Published at the Christian Reformed Church online Network here 04/04/0/23)
     
  25. Linda Roorda
    Spring is on its way! For real! I saw little white snowdrops and purple crocuses blooming in my gardens on my walk-about Friday. The blackbirds have definitely returned, their huge flocks of black covering the yard and treetops singing their hearts out, along with the lilting songs of my favorite bluebirds and the tweets of robins. And with the slow emergence of spring comes the vagaries of weather, the plummeting highs and lows, yet we didn’t get the sleet and snow with yesterday’s rain, for which I’m thankful.
    But with Saturday’s cold blustery, windy, dreary, rainy day I decided to sew up a new purse – using fabric of fanciful and beautiful dragonflies like iridescent butterflies.  And as I sewed, my mind wandered back in time to the many various items like clothing, quilts, and purses I’ve made over the decades. But, as is typical, I made a few mistakes that needed correcting… like when I made a special quilt for Ed in the past. The center panel and fabrics were gifted to me by three different friends, yet they meshed so well as if purchased together! And yes, I made a mistake in sewing then too… had to rip out and redo an entire side section. But in the process, I realized something special - isn't that how God takes the pieces of our life and fits them all together perfectly?! And that got me thinking about this old blog, The Master Tailor.
    I love to sew!  And it all started in 7th grade Home Ec sewing class in Clifton, NJ.  Making a simple A-line denim skirt using orange thread (to resemble Western clothing) and a beach wrap (displayed on the wall by the teacher) were the simple beginnings of better things to come. 
    With my mom too busy caring for a new baby brother to teach me more, my dad’s mother took me under her wings.  A former professional seamstress of gowns and clothing, Grammy helped me sew a western shirt (see attached photo), not an easy project with those angled points, and taught me well to use the seam ripper.  I learned to rip out my mistakes, start over, and make it right!  Isn't that how God takes the pieces of our life and fits them all together perfectly?  In making life mistakes, it’s how we accept correction or change that makes all the difference.  
    So, when I tried to make a quilt on my own, totally wrong, Grammy taught me the correct way. She gifted me with several fabrics as I made a cardboard template to cut out 6-inch squares.  Laying out the fabric squares on the living room floor, I set them in a pattern, sewed up the long strips, and then sewed each long strip side by side.  With that success, Grammy gifted me with fabric every Christmas over several years for yet more skirts and dresses. 
    After my family moved to Lounsberry, NY in 1969, I bought a c.1900 treadle machine that my auctioneer cousin, Howard, was selling for only $3.  My dad oiled it, fixed the tension, got a new leather belt for the wheels, and my sewing obsession took off.   More skirts, suits and dresses were made on that treadle machine to carry me through high school, including my prom gown and wedding gown. 
    Turning 20 on my first birthday after we married, my husband bought me a new Singer electric sewing machine!  And oh, if it could talk, the miles of thread and fabric it has sewn in clothes for myself, shirts for my husband, clothing for my children, and tiny clothes for their dolls.  And, now, using this same sewing machine, I’ve been making quilts in log cabin and prairie window designs among many other designs, along with simple and more-detailed table runners, and purses.  How I wish Grammy could see them for she taught me well!
    Have you known that feeling of contentment as you worked to create something of value for yourself or others?  Have you known what it feels like to be so engrossed in a project that you lose all sense of time?  Have you known the frustration of having to take the time to rip out a seam, or correct something that just wasn’t right?  And, because you did so, you then felt the satisfaction of seeing your finished project in all its beauty?  Maybe that’s how God views us when we recognize His hand guiding us through life’s ups and downs.  David said it so well, “If the Lord delights in a man’s ways, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.”  (Psalm 37:23-24)
    This poem was written in a reflective moment, remembering that various mistakes, hardships, and testing over the years have helped define character and create who we are deep in our soul.  At times, I’ve not paid sufficient attention to my sewing, made mistakes, and had to employ that seam ripper.  I’ve also realized what a life lesson that holds… because admitting I’ve made an error is the first step to correcting it, and then learning from it.  I may not want to face the trials which might be coming in the future; but, in looking back, neither can I imagine life without the hardships we have worked through.  They refine our life and shape us for the better… just like the seam ripper’s cutting edge.
    And I also can’t help but realize that the Lord knows what He’s doing as He works His will through those trials which He allows each of us to face.  “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him...” (Romans 8:28, NIV)  For through these difficulties, He shapes and molds us into the unique and special person He intends for us to be. 
    The Master Tailor
    Linda A. Roorda 
    As the seamstress sits and begins to sew
    Her loving care goes into each stitch
    And correlation stirs within her thoughts
    Of the Creator’s design deep in her soul.
     
    In her mind’s eye she sees it take shape
    From simple concept to finished result
    And beams with joy, her dream made complete
    As she holds with pride her creation dear.
     
    But what the world just cannot see
    Are errors which loomed about to destroy
    For outward beauty can never reveal
    The seam ripper’s hand in disciplined cuts.
     
    When I beheld what the seamstress had wrought
    I could not miss the significant key
    Of one who deftly shaped my own soul
    From even before my life came to be.
     
    The Master Tailor gazed into the future
    And pondered the me who I should be.
    He planned and designed each path for my good
    As He cut and sewed the fabric of me.
     
    He carefully stitched and eased the seams
    And reigned in penchants of wayward threads,
    But now and then along the way
    The seam ripper’s edge He gently employed.
     
    For don’t you see, without the hardships
    Life’s burdens and pain cannot reflect
    The greater good down deep in my heart
    As seam ripper cuts shape my will to His.
     
    On a journey I am, a work in progress
    For someday when my time has come
    He’ll gaze upon His workmanship
    And see exactly who He planned me to be.
    ~~
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