Linda Roorda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’ve all heard the old adage that there are two sides to every story, and a classic trial brings that point out vividly. I’ve served on three juries in the past – one clearly guilty, one given a lesser settlement than pursued, and one clearly not guilty. It’s an honor to be selected to sit with peers to carefully review and ponder the facts of the case as presented by the respective attorneys, and to be responsible for the right verdict. Certainly, some have abused the trial-by-jury system and condemned truly innocent folks, but it has been more often than not an equitable and viable justice system. The legal teams for the defendant and the plaintiff each present salient points to be considered, arguing their case convincingly with evidence and witnesses. Once the case has been handed over to the jury, it’s up to the 12 jurors of peers to discuss the evidence presented and determine guilt or innocence. For the most part, at each trial, we jurors could tell early on where the truth lay. We also brought along our own life experiences and knowledge which helped weigh the evidence from both sides. In one trial, for example, the farming background I and another gentleman had made all the difference in helping others understand more fully the veracity of certain aspects which had been presented during the trial. But sometimes it seems that a trial with its accusations is like that voice in my head reminding me of how guilty I am. It’s Satan pointing out all my sins… one after another, stacked high, like a mountain tall. The right way to live is spelled out in the Ten Commandments, in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and scattered all throughout Scripture. But, I’m also very aware that I cannot keep God’s commands and expectations to live a pure and holy life. I have a serious debt which I can never repay. So, what am I to do? Go to the Lord, admit my sins and failures, and accept God’s love and forgiveness, for nothing I could ever do will wash away my guilt. My favorite verse since childhood has been – “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16 KJV) Jesus took the punishment I deserved on that fateful day we call Good Friday. He was whipped, mocked, and nailed to a cross… not for anything He had done. He was sinless, faultless, perfect. Yet, He did that for me. He willingly took my place, giving His life to purchase my right to join Him in heaven forever. His mercy and grace brings me to tears. Someday I will stand before Almighty God, my judge, to give an account of my life, and I will have nothing to say in my defense… except that my advocate, Jesus, will be standing at my side, declaring me guiltless because He already paid for my sins… with His own life. My Advocate Linda A. Roorda With accusations I’m now confronted No plea have I but guilty as charged I hang my head to litany stark And with quiet shame my accuser I face. It once had seemed the world was my own I learned the games to lie and to cheat I did not care if others were hurt As long as my will and goals were achieved. But in the spiral of downward tumble I lost the vision I’d once beheld A purer focus, others before self Humble respect in tangled webs lost. And one by one as charges were read I clearly recalled the past with deep pain Regret now for words carelessly spoken How could I ever repair what I’d done? In my despair while under scrutiny My only hope was to beg for mercy That maybe some good done along the way Would balance the book, the ledger of sin. But, alas, I heard the judge declare Guilty as charged; no mercy be shown. Like rock upon rock my sins were stacked high As I stared upon the mountain of debt. Just then the doors were flung open wide And striding forth came a man in white robe Boldly he exclaimed, “This debt has been paid!” “I hung on the cross, and took all the shame.” Slowly I sank to my knees in awe. Who was this man who gave all for me? How could he give his life for my debt? For I can’t repay such a merciful gift. Reaching out gently he pulled me up straight And showed me his scars and nail-pierced hands He held out his arms in welcome embrace As he dried my tears and declared me free. I love you my child… I did this for you. I carried your shame upon my beaten back. I purchased your soul with life-giving blood That you might have life with mercy and grace. Now all I ask is by faith you walk Bring to the world compassion and peace Carry my light to the corners dark Open your heart to love and forgive. ~~

Beauty – we all admire the aesthetic and beautiful in both people and nature, though beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say. Often, as our young girls strive to look beautiful, they imitate the actresses and models they admire on the “silver screen” or magazine covers. But youthfulness fails to realize the images are a façade, made more beautiful and glamorous by makeup and the air brush. It’s not a true beauty. And a pretty face may not always have a heart of love. For “…man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (I Samuel 16:7b) So then, what is beauty? And how do we define it? There’s an old-fashioned philosophy which I believe still holds true today. “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as [elaborate hairstyles] and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” (I Peter 3:3-4 NIV) With those words in mind, when we give of ourselves to benefit others, a depth of beauty is seen through the glow of an unselfish act, and a genuine love for others. “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30) Living our life to please God reflects the unique inner beauty He blessed each of us with. “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mothers’ womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:13-14) We show the beauty of true character by reaching out to help those in need, especially those who cannot pay us back for such a free gift. Beauty is in a heart of humility, serving others with grace and gentle kindness. Beauty shines brightly when we don’t call attention to ourselves… as we quietly go about living a life of peace by showing honor and respect to all we meet on our path. And you know what has touched someone with the beauty of your heart… Yet, the question must be asked… then what is the opposite of love’s beauty? The generous airs or charms put on to cover that which has been defiled… to disguise a selfish attitude of pride filled with self-centeredness and greed. Which brings us back to our question, what is beauty? Smiles to brighten someone’s day. A helping hand serving those in need. Sharing truth with humility. Generous acts of kindness strewn among friends and strangers. An unfading gentle spirit of love and peace found within the selfless heart. Among these and more we find true beauty… What is Beauty? Linda A. Roorda What is beauty if the heart is shallow What is glamor when rudeness takes charge And what is charm with selfish desire… For what is love but the giving of self? ~ What then are words when the mind deceives What is character with rebellious soul Why enticing lures to captivate hearts… For what is virtue but integrity’s truth? ~ What is kindness if the tongue reviles And what is honor without reputation Or the humble soul if boastful and proud… For what is grace but gentle elegance? ~ What is adornment when respect has fled What are principles if deceit is the core What is esteem when self is worth more… For what is honor but morality’s judge? ~ What then is beauty but innocence pure The charm and grace of respectful repute Humility’s stance with integrity’s honor… For what is beauty but the gift of self? ~~

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

During the season of Lent, we tend to reflect a little more intently on Christ's mission and sacrifice for us. Since He gave so much in giving His life to redeem us, it seems we could easily give up even a little for Him. Though the traditional idea of giving up something for Lent has not been something I have done, my friend and distant cousin, Carolyn, got me thinking more deeply about the season of Lent. A few years ago, as Carolyn read her “Catholic Weekly” magazine with its daily devotionals, she shared with me a Lenten focus on the Roman Catholic perspective of the “seven deadly sins.” These sins can lead us away from God… away from that close relationship we long for. Unfortunately, I/we often exhibit the pride of self, a greed as we exclude others to serve ourselves first, jealousy in coveting that which is not ours, wrath or inappropriate anger, sloth or laziness when we could and should do something constructive, lust of a sinful nature, and gluttony or self-indulgence in so many ways. Yet, we know that each one of these sins is absolutely forgiven on confession and repentance to God; and, under His tender mercy and grace, our heart is renewed as we follow in His footsteps. In synchrony with the above, we also recall that Solomon wrote in Proverbs 6:16-19, “there are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.” Some also say there is an unpardonable sin, the blasphemy against God and His Holy Spirit. As Jesus was performing miracles and driving out demons, the religious leaders’ unpardonable sin was in claiming Jesus’ power came from the devil rather than acknowledging He had the power because He truly was the Son of God. (Mark 3:28-30, Matthew 12:31-32) If we turn away from the Spirit’s convicting promptings that what we’ve done is wrong, we may harden our heart, turn our back on God and not repent, willfully continuing in sin. Yet, upon conviction of our sin, confession and repentance, we can be assured of God’s welcoming arms and loving forgiveness… for nothing can separate us from the overwhelming love of God. (Romans 8:34-39) May I always be convicted of my sins, confess them, and ask for forgiveness from God and those I’ve offended. As I continued to ponder the above Lenten theme mentioned by Carolyn, and the variety of themes from many churches for spiritual renewal each year, my own failings came to mind. Sadly, it can be said that I/we betray our Lord’s love in so many ways because we are far from perfect. Yet, as a reminder of Christ’s love for us, and living within us, there are familiar virtues we can strive for. As the Holy Spirit leads, guides and helps us live out our faith, we exude “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23) These fruits evidence the Holy Spirit’s work within us, as God transforms us to be more like His Son. (II Corinthians 3:18) Because He loved us first (I John 4:19), even in our sinfulness, we can live a grateful life of holiness, bringing honor and glory and praise to God for all that He has done… because to this we were created. (Revelation 4:11) We can demonstrate our love for God and those around us with our faith or reliance, hope or trust, and charity or love as shown in I Corinthians 13, the “love chapter”. We can share this joy and peace in living out our faith in God by showing such loving kindness in our interactions with others. With courage and wisdom from the Lord we can face those difficult painful trials. Just as God has granted mercy and grace to us, we can show the same to others, forgiving them as we’ve been forgiven, acting with moderation and self-control, with honesty and integrity in our dealings. Against these virtues there would be no complaint as we respect others, bring glory to God, and become a beacon to point others to Christ… not only during Lent, but always. Though our Lord was mocked and betrayed as He walked this earth, may we never forget the depth of all He suffered in His great love for us despite knowing our wayward ways. For it’s only thru Jesus’ shed blood that we have forgiveness and reconciliation with God. As I prepare myself spiritually this Lenten season to focus more intently on Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, Carolyn’s words echo the thoughts of my heart when she wrote that “these are the things we could all reflect on during the 40 days before Holy Easter, and maybe change our hearts and minds to reflect more of Christ’s love.” From Betrayal to Beacon Linda A. Roorda There is One who felt the heavy hand The slap to the face, the mocking abuse The glib excuses, lies begetting lies Betrayal by friends, abandoned in need. ~ For there was a man who took this and more A man who never responded in wrath, The Son of God, who sought us in love Who lay down His life that we might live. ~ The Light of this world, a rejected man Scorned by His own and scoffed by scholars. Still there were those who pondered His words Words that were new and words that gave hope. ~ Bless those who misuse, pray for their soul Just as our Lord, the servant of all, Dwelt here in peace and drew us to His side To offer us hope with redemption’s gift. ~ Be that beacon to a world needing hope Bring peace and comfort with welcoming arms. Offer your love to the soul in pain Become a servant to meet the needs. ~~ Initially published on The Network, the website of the Christian Reformed Church of North America 2017

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

Today, my thoughts turn back to thank God for the mentors in my life… and I’m sure you can think of those who’ve blessed your life with encouragements along your journey. I’d love to hear your stories of how others gave encouraging words as you grew up, or even those who came alongside you as an adult with a helpful perspective. As you remember those who cheered you on, become a mentor to someone who could use your encouraging words. (I’ve included the URL below my poem for the podcast, "Balms for the Soul", where my friend, Carla, has included my blogs - if you’d like to listen.) What do teachers Josephine Rice of East Palmyra, NY, Clara Breeman of Clifton, NJ and Kathy Haire of Owego, NY have in common? We’ve all been blessed with a mentor, and likely more than one. They come alongside to encourage us, help us understand a difficult concept, and help to guide us in the right direction. They have an innate ability to bring out the best in us… that hidden talent or gift we didn’t even know existed. I’ve had my share of mentors beginning with an elementary teacher for 1st through 3rd grades, Josephine Rice. A self-taught teacher at East Palmyra, NY’s Christian School, she was gifted. And she knew how to bring out the best in her students! I’ve always remembered her teaching skills, and ability to teach three grades of about 30+ students in the same room of a small private school. Though I distinctly remember dreading her timed math tests as she held a stopwatch in her hand, I learned a lot under her! She also taught the finer points of phonics, and I enjoyed the old “Dick and Jane” book series when learning to read. Having learned to read phonetically with certain sight recognition words, that skill continued to be a life-long benefit, particularly in my medical transcription profession when confronting unfamiliar new words. But, it was also the foundation used to help my oldest daughter, Jenn, when she struggled learning to read. I made flashcards for her, just as I used in Mrs. Rice’s class. Math was also taught by rote memorization, which paid off in foundational skills retained, though math has not been my strong point. My next mentor was my seventh-grade English teacher, Clara Breeman, at Christopher Columbus Junior High in Clifton, NJ. A woman with the 1960s beehive hairdo, she was mocked for appearing to be quite elderly. She was considered by my peers to be harsh and exacting, taking no guff from anyone, the last teacher you ever wanted to have. And, I’ll never forget my fear when I learned I had her for both homeroom and English – a dreaded combination, according to the neighborhood kids. But, I graduated high school knowing she had been one of the best! From Miss Breeman, I learned life-long foundational skills for writing, which I taught to my children when they began writing essays. I learned to love sentence diagraming, and excelled under her tutelage. But, I also felt her love when a young man, sitting next to me, began to taunt and mock me with his well-known sarcastic tongue. Miss Breeman let him know in no uncertain terms that that was unacceptable behavior and would not be tolerated. She insisted he apologize, and then moved him to another seat. A Christian woman in a public-school setting, she had no qualms about promoting the use of the biblical book of Psalms for its poetry, from which I and others did our book reports. Years later, Kathy Haire, my gym teacher as a senior in Owego Free Academy, was a mentor who used praise for her “Ladies” which brought out her students’ best. Gifted in athletic ability, I never utilized my full potential. At Passaic Christian School when I lived in Clifton, NJ, I had excelled in double-Dutch jump rope, basketball and tetherball, with a natural high jump to block and defeat my opponents, much to my shorter 6th grade boyfriend’s chagrin. Back at Clifton, NJ’s Christopher Columbus Jr. High, I had been among the fastest runners in my class, jumping hurdles with ease and room to spare on the stadium track in gym, and played a great basketball game. Later, gym class in Owego, NY showed skill in volleyball, serving a strong ball to the guys’ team, with a springing high jump to hit and spike that ball back down over the net to score. Then as a senior, with praise from Kathy Haire, I again played great basketball in gym, and perfected a routine on the uneven bars in gymnastics despite my initial petrifying fear of those bars! She believed in me and gave me confidence to succeed. I now look back at all the years missed when I could have joined track and field, tennis, volleyball or basketball teams - and the ranks of my Tillapaugh relatives with their athletic abilities and college and state records. Additional mentors include John and Betty LaGeorge and Pastor Doug and Lori Brock. Their loving friendship blessed us, though they’ve moved on from the community. Coming alongside us as a family, they included our children in babysitting and extra activities involving church and the Christian school, and simply shared God’s love and wisdom with us as a family. And isn’t that what our God simply asks of us… that we bless others through the gifts and talents He’s blessed us with? Mentors model and teach wisdom, showing us a better way, perhaps a way we never thought attainable. Mentors live out their love for others, and shower those around them with evidence of their faith in action. May we go and do the same. The Mentor Linda A. Roorda Your kind loving words enveloped my heart And brought out the best hidden within. You found the key to unlock the source Releasing the gifts that I never knew. ~ You let me fly on wings that were new Discovering self with talents and skills. Confidence builder, you who encouraged, Tapped into assets just waiting to bloom. ~ For like a flower about to blossom Absorbing kind words which nourish like rain, So discerning hearts that desire the best, Treasure the wealth emerging like dawn. ~ Your gentle praise and guiding wisdom Opened the doors to a world unknown. You led the way as practice perfected That which had worth from talent unadorned. ~ Like silver and gold refined by furnace Is elegance true, a beauty within. Always the mentor seeks out the hidden And brings out the glow with encouraging love. ~~ To listen to this blog on Podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Big193iLjkZ5kAus2h4lU

Though my poem and blog below were written over a year ago, it seems fitting for what we are all facing today in the war that Russia has brought to Ukraine, threatening to bring to other nations. Knowing that Ed’s and my niece, Rebecca and family, had been missionaries to Kyiv for several years in the past, with their dear friends among the entire nation now in harm’s way, we are, like everyone else, brought closer to the dire situation as we watch and hear the news updates… continuing our prayers for the entire nation of Ukraine, for their success in pushing back and defeating this evil and irrational enemy. There’s so much sadness around us… so many tragedies with loss of life to accidents, disease, natural disasters, wars and rumors of wars… so many murders of innocents, and abuse of innocence… so much canceling, injustice, poverty, and despair… and so much loss during this Covid-19 world-wide pandemic. We grieve and we mourn. As the lives of so many are turned upside down and come to a screeching halt, life goes merrily on its way for others. Yet, while we share the heavy burdens in our hearts, and assist in any way we can to restore the broken, the demands of our busy lives simply move us forward through the unrelenting sands of time… in our protected havens, safe from disaster. Oh, that I would see through the eyes of the Lord to be a blessing and bring comfort to those around me! “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” (I Corinthians 14:5) Since we each have unique and individual abilities, we are able to reach out in our own special way… as we become God’s emissaries to a world in need. Not all of us sense the call to go to the ends of the world to help the hurting. Instead, there are many ways we can help our neighbors, locally and around the world… physically, emotionally, or financially. We can each ask ourselves what can I do… how can I help… as we respond to the gentle nudging in our heart from our loving God. Which reminds me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25:35-40: “35 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ 37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ 40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Oh, That I Would See… Linda A. Roorda Oh, that I would see the world through Your eyes This broken world with its tears and fears Tears for the pain unleashed by life… Yet tears of joy when love conquers all. Tears for injustice, unfairness in life Cries for lost souls in depths of despair Tears for the hurting as storms rip apart The ties that once knit loving hearts as one. Tears for the needy, the shamed and the shunned Cries for the lost walking streets of filth Tears for the lonely, peering out in fear And those without hope, whose tears no longer flow. Tears for the hungry, the bullied and abused Those dying alone who long for our touch, As those who offer selfless acts to assist Are those for whom there is greater reward. For within our hearts compassion yet stirs As we become His hands and feet To carry the love of the Servant of all And wipe away tears we see through His eyes. ~~

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

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

Yes Ann!! I LOVE that image - so perfectly fitting 🙂

What our thoughts focus on tends to tell us where our heart resides. We may focus on our loved ones, our hobbies, fun and games with friends, climbing the corporate ladder, earning a vast estate, and collecting things… reminding me of the popular saying, “The one with the most toys wins.” Don’t get me wrong. These are not, in and of themselves, inherently wrong. Instead, it’s the how and why behind that which we focus on. I’m no different than anyone else. I like my “things” – especially my collection of reproduction Delft, particularly the tiles hung in my kitchen which remind me of our Dutch heritage. My grandfather had remodeled their kitchen, putting Delft tiles into the wall design, something I had always admired. But these things mean nothing to my spiritual and eternal well being. Instead, it’s who I heed in my heart, whose word I focus on to direct my life. And I willingly admit, it’s not always easy to stay focused… for this life calls in all its many splendored ways. So I especially appreciate my favorite Psalm 139:1-18, 23-24 (NIV): “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand - when I awake, I am still with you… 23 Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting with you.” Years ago on the farm, a gate was accidentally left open. Late that evening, Ed’s dad got a phone call. Cows were in the fields of another farmer about a mile or so up the main road, and the caller was trying to determine to whom they belonged. Ed and his dad went up to see if they were their cows, and, sure enough, they were. But they were scattered all over! The neighbors wondered how in the world they’d gather the whole herd and get them back to our farm. “No problem,’ said Ed’s dad. He simply started clapping his hands and began walking up the road. And to the stunned amazement of the neighbors and other farmers, every one of those cows calmly and peacefully gathered behind their leader and followed him home… back to the safety of their own pasture. For you see, those cows had been trained since they were little calves to come to the clapping – it meant food and a clean stall in the barn. As they grew older and became part of the milking herd, they continued to respond to their master’s call… for clapping still meant food and a clean stall in the barn at milking time! And isn’t this how we respond to our master, our shepherd… our Lord? If our heart has been trained to listen to His words of wisdom, we will respond and heed His call. When we find ourselves in time of need, we’ll seek Him and follow His leading along His path. As Jesus said in John 10:14: “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…” God knows my every thought, He establishes my path and guides my way when I wander off, calling me back to His side. What peace and comfort are found in His words. And may it always be His voice that I hear and pay attention to. Your Voice I Hear Linda A. Roorda On You above my thoughts do focus You see my heart and the depths thereof, The secrets hidden away from the world For You know the thoughts that reside within. Yet I freely admit I wander away What You expect is beyond my grasp. Though I stumble, and now and then fall You pick me up to try once again. As Your tender voice calls gently to me In the midst of life and trials of pain, What shall I fear though my frets alarm When your face I seek and You are my guide. May I ever hear Your voice in my ear But more important may I heed the nudge Of a still small voice down deep in my heart A voice whose wisdom guides my every step. It’s a voice that brings singing to my soul With a joy that fills my heart with peace. For I cannot fail to see You around You’re always there to hear my heart’s song. How great is Your love that You’d call me near Close to Your side from out of this world, A world of cares, a world of troubles Gently enfolding, Your love touches me. For You called my name before time began You cared for me with a tender joy. You carried my heart gently in Your hands And stretched out Your arms to wrap me in peace. You gave away Love, the depth of Your heart To make my heart sing with joy each new day. You lift up my soul and fill me with praise As Your love for me encompasses all. ~~ 2015 ~~ Photo taken by my friend's husband, Hugh Van Staalduinen, of churches where I grew up in East Palmyra, NY.

Remember the halcyon days of youth, with hours upon hours of making your own fun?! Where’d they all go? Sit back, close your eyes, and let your mind transport you back to another time, another place, long ago… or maybe not so long ago for some of you! I wish I could remember life in a 12x20 foot cabin at Delta Junction, Alaska. Our mom took me and my baby sister to join our dad for his last seven months at the Army’s Fort Greeley – a foreign assignment, prior to Alaska statehood. We flew out of New York City with several stops enroute to Seattle. The plane for the last leg needed engine repairs, catching fire after leaving Seattle, but we finally landed safely in Fairbanks. I do have a few photos, including of buffalo out behind the cabin and the day my dad bundled me up for a photo in the dog sled at -30! When Army service ended, dad wanted to homestead, but mom was not keen on the idea, so back to the states we went. They enjoyed the beauty of the Al-Can Highway through Canada on the drive back to Seattle and a train trip east, and the scary cliffs without benefit of guardrails, especially when the car’s steering wheel briefly locked up, again, as my mom struggled to turn the wheel… thankfully, just in time! Being 15 months apart, my sister and I were inseparable, inevitably together, dressed “alike” when our Grammy V. got to sewing or knitting for us. The only dress I didn’t like was the white crinkly organdy with an itchy crinoline slip – the memory still gives me shivers! But, we knew how to have real childhood fun, especially on the farms! We grew up without a television until our dad brought one home after we moved to Clifton, NJ in the mid 1960s. My earliest memories begin at about age 3 in Sodus, NY when my dad worked for Wychmere dairy and apple orchards… and we took trips to the beach at Chimney Bluffs on Lake Ontario. I remember my grandparents arriving with special gifts… my favorite Dolly, clothes sewn and knit by my grandmother, and a table made by my grandfather. Next favorite memories were on the Breemes farm in Marion where my dad farmed and our first brother, Charlie, was born. I remember the house, barn and land so clearly. Stopping there a few years ago, I was given a tour by Mr. Breemes’s now-elderly son who graciously showed me inside the barn, both upper and lower sections, though the old milkhouse is gone. Oh, the memories that came flooding back! It was a New England bank barn, i.e. built into a bank with the upper level even with the road, with all the old beams, grain bin and haymow still intact. I’m not ashamed to admit that tears began to flow as I recalled standing on a bale of hay, moving an old teakettle along on the narrow ledge of wall just below the road-side windows. I milked “my cows” while dad milked his real ones. We girls were warned sufficiently for a healthy fear of the bull at the end of the barn by the door and kept our distance from him. I even got to drive the tractor when the manure spreader broke. My dad set me up on the old Minnie-Mo (Minneapolis-Moline) as I took the huge wheel in my hands. I was to steer it straight ahead while he forked out the manure. Right! As we slowly crept along, every time the wheel turned, I let it… until we headed for a tree… at which time my dad jumped off and stopped the tractor just in time to avoid a big wreck – though he has said I was never even close to crashing. But, I can still see it all so vividly! And how well I remember the morning we opened the garage door at the side of the house. We girls stood at the top of the steps, face to face with two giant golden-brown Belgian draft horses! When Charlie was born, my dad milked alone while we “twins” roamed around looking for our next adventure. We found it all right – in the back barnyard… throwing rocks into muck puddles… until little Carol fell in still holding her rock, pulling me in as I tried to get her out. Oh pooh! Our dad had to stop chores and take us girls in for a bath, filthy stinking dirty from head to toe… but we washed up nicely! Another time we were waiting to cross the road to the barn with dad. A car drove by just as one of our kittens shot out in front of us and met his demise. The kind gentleman stopped, and walked over to apologize. Instead of bursting into tears, my dad said I replied, “First Geppetto! Now Mickey! That’s the way it goes, right Dad?!” As dad told the story, the poor man walked back to his car shaking his head. After my dad had an extended illness, we left the farm for Clifton, NJ where his parents lived. There we spent my kindergarten year, next moving back to Marion, NY. Gerald DeVries helped us move, my Dad having known him and his wife Joann in Sussex, NJ where he’d worked as a dairy herdsman after high school graduation in Clifton. In Sussex, my Dad had been herdsman for Walter Titsworth after he graduated high school. It was Walter’s elderly spinster daughters we loved to visit in our early teens. Walter was a direct descendant of Willem Abrahamse Tietsoort who, with his family, had survived the 1690 Schenectady, NY massacre by Indians. Removing to what is now Sussex/Port Jervis area of NJ, Tietsoort purchased thousands of acres from the Indians and built a new home. Interestingly, in researching my mom’s genealogy several years ago, I learned she was related to Willem Tietsoort! If only we’d known that years ago! Living upstairs in the DeVries house, my sister and I meandered the farm and pastures with Betty and Fran, helped them ready the milking machines a few times, watched their dad blow silage into the silo (with the old tractor and belt that ran from the tractor to the blower, heeding their dad’s warning to stay clear in case the belt flew off the flywheel), and shared many good times together. Moving to Musshafen’s tenant farm half a mile up the road, we found more to explore. My dad drove a feed truck, delivering Purina feed to local farmers, being awarded top N.Y. State Purina Feed Salesman for ’61 and ’62, winning a trip to the Thousand Islands with mom! We traipsed all over the fields and through the woods, never minding the heifers and dry cows in the field, and walked fearlessly up the road to visit Fran and Betty. I saw my first Baltimore Oriole nest in a bush alongside the fence line of their father’s field. Nearby neighbors had a beautiful home filled with beautiful antiques; their large bed of snapdragons fascinated me so much they remain one of my favorite flowers, and her custard pudding was out-of-this-world delicious! Our chores included dust mopping the floor, so I pushed my sister around on top of the mop and in the baby carriage we’d found in the big house. We had a steer and a flock of chickens to care for, and I remember trips to the butcher in Marion, Pembroke’s, with a gleaming white board fence around the pasture where he kept animals waiting to be butchered. We sisters ran and played between the rows of vegetables rather than weed. We shelled peas and snapped beans – dumping some under the lilac bushes when we’d had all we could take of that chore! We grew pollywogs in a jar, returning them to the creek when they showed signs of becoming frogs. We fried eggs on the hot road – after all, we’d heard that it was so hot you could, so we had to try! And, didn’t understand why they stayed raw… We licked cow salt! We practiced with our new fishing poles, casting the lead weight toward a bucket – though my aim wasn’t too accurate! We lay on our backs, gazing at puffy clouds. We shared everything, including chickenpox and mumps (and later the two-week measles in NJ), even with our new baby brother, Mark. We had a steer we named Elmer (after Elmer’s Glue!) and a flock of chickens to care for, and I remember trips to the butcher in Marion, Pembroke’s, with a gleaming white board fence around the pasture where he kept animals waiting to be butchered. I also remember we sisters, about 7 and 8 years old, chased brother Charlie as he pulled a length of chain. Wanting him to stop so we could catch up to him, we stepped on the chain. Charlie stopped all right… abruptly… and down he went with his chin hitting the concrete step, cutting it open with blood all over. He needed sutures, and we got another scolding for that one. I’m so sorry, dear brother! I remember a small private plane landing in a field across the road from our house. Never fond of naps and loving the outdoors even then, I played outside while everyone else napped on a Sunday afternoon. I stood in awe to see a plane come down in the hayfield, saw the pilot checking something out, and watched as he taxied and took off again. What a sight! But then, my napping family thought I made it all up… One evening we asked to sleep out in the yard under the stars. Setting out blankets and pillows, we turned in early – this was special and exciting! And saw a shooting star for the first time. But, in the middle of the night, we got scared. No longer having fun, cold and damp, we quietly crept back into the house to sleep on the couch. Next, as tenants on the Bouman farm, we joined Ruth and Annette for a new foursome of fun and games. We traipsed around their farm, over the fields and through the woods. Once, I narrowly missed being run down by an angry mother for coming too close to her newborn calf, sliding under the barbed wire fence with barely seconds to spare as her hugeness charged after me! We sled down the barnyard hill and built snow forts in a hayfield. We played in the upper level of the bank barn, sliding down the pile of oats in the bin. We ran around the haymow - until I tripped, catching my foot on baling twine. Pitching over the edge, I fell to the floor below, landing with my head not more than a foot away from an upturned pitchfork, sustaining quite a concussion. Living here, their sister Grace taught me to ride a bike, falling and scraping my knees a few times. Without ice skates, we tried roller skating on the pond, only once, but that was enough to know it was not our best idea! We played Red light/Green light, Mother May I, Hide and Seek, Telephone - we all sat in a circle, whispering the message to the next person… only to find out how different it was at the end from how it started! We often walked to town where our Christian school and church meant everything to us, as did the time spent playing at the homes of so many other friends. And then… on February 3, 1965, we moved back to city life in Clifton, NJ near my dad’s parents and his siblings’ families once again. How I missed my classmates and friends in East Palmyra. I cried for weeks. Though moving on in life, I never really got over that loss, retaining special friendships from both home towns and renewing a few more since. But, in the city once again, my sister and I made new friends and new fun, walking and biking everywhere with bikes our grandfather repaired for us. Our dad took us on day trips around northern Jersey, to train yards, shipping docks, and into New York City. My sister and I made frequent trips to the public library as we were both avid readers, played in Weasel Brook Park, the park at Racies Pond, and Nash Park along the Passaic River, never fearing for our safety. She and I were also responsible for the family’s laundry every week at the laundromat, enjoying our reward – money for yummy treats! And we acquired a third brother, Andy. In the summers of 1967 and 1968, Dad took us camping at his cousin Howard’s farm in Nichols, NY, setting up camp in the pasture with horses. Let me tell you, dinners cooked all day in a Dutch oven over coals in a ground pit were the most delicious ever! Loving the country, farm fresh air, and absolutely everything about horses, I was on cloud nine! The next summer, I was the happiest girl alive to move back to New York… the tiny hamlet of Lounsberry just east of Nichols. On August 18, 1969, we drove out of Jersey on Rt. 17 through zillions of congregating hippies… the one and only incomparable Woodstock! Except, I led such a sheltered life I had no idea at the time we were eye witnesses to part of an historical event! Back in the country, we found all new learning experiences as I helped Dad remodel and reroof the chicken coop, and build a stall and pasture fence for beautiful War Bugg, a granddaughter of the famous race horse, Man O’ War. And, a fourth brother, Ted, joined our ranks. I treasure my childhood - a time of innocence, a time of making our own simple fun, a time of learning… something I think many of today’s children miss out on as they play with the latest computerized gadgets and phones… or they’re overbooked in sports and extracurricular programs all year ‘round. My sister and I, lacking the current “in” toys, were out and about with little adult supervision – definitely not something available to current generations. And I think that’s a shame… for the lessons we learned were priceless and invaluable… pieces of which you will find scattered throughout my poetry and blogs. Oh, the halcyon days and blessings of youthful innocence! Halcyon Days of Youth Linda A. Roorda The halcyon days of adventures past Of dreams and schemes and youthful machines Unsupervised fun, roaming freely safe Absorbing life with innocent ease. Where did they vanish, those carefree days? Though ever near in faded mem’ries The stirring heart can recall at will All that once was from time without cares. There was no fear to childhood games With all of outdoors the playground of choice No worries or frets to grip the young heart Trust was paramount and your word was gold. Could we have known that the games we played Would form the basis of adulthood mores For lessons learned in the days of youth Were meant to achieve maturity’s morn. Values thus learned bring a depth to wisdom They form foundations to live a life well They penetrate deep the essence of our soul That should steps falter deep roots will hold firm. For where leans the mind so is the treasure Youthful innocence in the child at play, Where imagination takes hold of the heart To grasp youth’s best on the journey of life. ~

We recently watched a news clip from January 10, 2022 showing a young woman driving up to a large dumpster, opening the rear door of her car, grabbing a black bag, flinging it into the dumpster, and driving away. Six hours later, passersby rummaging through the trash heard what sounded like a kitten crying. I cried as I watched a woman tenderly cuddle and caress an infant after finding the newborn boy inside that bag, while her friend called 911. My heart goes out to the teen mom, 18 years old, reportedly afraid and unsure of what to do, claiming she didn't know she was pregnant. Reading that she and her boyfriend had broken up last summer, I was also saddened that the baby's father had had no say in the future life of his child when she threw their baby into the trash. I also hope she gets some good counseling. Yet, every state has safe haven laws providing a drop-off at police and fire departments, even at hospitals. Not considered abandonment of an infant up to each state’s specified age limit, safe havens will place the infant in protective custody for foster care or adoption. When teaching sex ed to our teens, perhaps it’s time we tell them about safe havens and that there are many options where someone can turn to for help, not just for an abortion, and not to throw their baby away like garbage. I have also read and heard stories about survivors of attempted abortion left to die by abortion clinic personnel – infanticide is the appropriate term. Thankfully, compassion stirred the hearts of staff who sought medical care for these infants who were later adopted and loved, some of whom were born with defects due to the abortion procedure, some going on to become outspoken pro-life advocates for the value of every human life. As one abortion survivor, Melissa Ohden, stated, “Something’s wrong when women’s empowerment is based on ending another human being’s life.” On February 25, 2019, the U.S. Senate failed to pass the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act by a vote of 53-44. It would have protected infants born alive following an abortion attempt. Independent journalist, Thor Benson, tweeted that “there is no such thing as an abortion survivor.” What a false narrative he promoted! Among a number of abortion survivors is Gianna Jessen, “born during a saline abortion” per her birth certificate with resultant cerebral palsy, a powerful pro-life speaker. On August 22, 2013, Gianna shared her emotional journey with an Australian government audience, “We are in a battle for life and death. Which side are you on?… If abortion is just about women’s rights, then what am I? … What arrogance… that the stronger should dominate the weaker, and determine who should live or die. You cannot make your own heart beat. It is the mercy of God that sustains you, even when you hate Him… I am weaker than most of you, but this is my sermon. What a small price to pay to be able to blaze through the world as I do and offer hope. God is in control and He has a way of making the most miserable thing beautiful…” With today being “Sanctity of Human Life” Sunday, I believe that extends to far more than the pro-life movement. To me, it’s not a political issue, but one that affects our moral fiber because all life is sacred. The intrinsic value we place on life determines how we treat others around us. Though I realize there are differing opinions on abortion, this is a story dear to my heart. An edited and condensed version of this reflection and poem was first published at Do Justice, a section of the Office of Social Justice website for the Christian Reformed Church. With the 49th anniversary of January 1973’s Roe v. Wade abortion decision, I share the story of a young mother-to-be. She already had two healthy children, but this pregnancy made her very ill, vomiting frequently, steadily worsening. Struggling to carry this new life, her doctor sought a “medically necessary” abortion. Three doctors needed to sign documentation indicating her life was in jeopardy if the pregnancy continued. But, no third physician would add his name. A Cesarean section was performed at 7 months’ gestation or risk losing both mother and baby. To everyone's surprise, twin boys were born! After surgery, the mom nearly died from the effects of toxemia (i.e. pre-eclampsia), the result of high blood pressure and the demands on her body by two babies. With much prayer and great medical care, she pulled through. But, the largest twin at 5 lbs, born with an enlarged heart, died at two days of age, while the smaller twin at 3-1/2 lbs spent a month in an incubator. This tiny preemie survived, albeit with health problems and very limited vision in only one viable eye. How do I know? The smaller twin is my husband, Edward. We praise God that no third physician was willing to sign for an abortion which would have killed these boys before they were given a chance at life. By 1951, major medical centers knew that high levels of oxygen in incubators led to infant retinal damage and blindness. But, physicians at the small hospital in Goshen, NY’s farming community were not yet aware in 1952. As a toddler, Ed was seen by a specialist in Boston who gave him his first glasses. Later, at about age 5, with stronger lenses, gazing out the car window he shouted, “I see them!” Though blurry, kids sledding down a hill was something he’d never seen before. Telling this story never failed to bring tears to his mother’s eyes. Ed also recalls that was when he first saw outdoor Christmas light decorations. Taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City when age 8 or 10, his parents learned he was among about 2000 children seen in their clinic, one of only seven children with some remnants of vision. The optic nerve to his right eye was destroyed, while his left eye had limited vision, 20/200 with ultimate correction. As Ed grew up, he was determined to do nearly everything everyone else could. Totally blind since 1998, we consider it a blessing he had limited sight for as long as he did. The renowned musician, Stevie Wonder, has the same condition causing his blindness. First identified in 1941, it wasn’t until 1951 that retrolental fibroplasia was proven to be caused by high-concentration oxygen in the incubator contributing to abnormal blood vessel growth which damaged the retina. Now termed retinopathy of prematurity, it still affects a small percentage of very premature infants. At about 18-21 days, the pre-born infant’s heart begins beating. By 12 weeks, she is about 2 inches long, fully formed and recognizably human, able to feel pain. By 14-16 weeks, being fully formed, fingers and toes have fingerprints and nails, he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, may suck a thumb, and sleeps regularly. At full-term, 39-40 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. Your infant is not just a blob of cells and tissue, but a very real baby. Since Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973 allowing legal abortions in America, the numbers have reached an approximate 58.6 or 59.1 million by 2016 (depending on source). While some data is voluntarily reported, I read other American states have not provided details in years, along with untold uncounted abortions. For anyone who has aborted their baby for whatever reason, I pray she finds peace. But, my prayer is also that each precious life be allowed to reach his or her full potential and purpose, regardless of disability. Yet, I realize there are women in situations for whom an abortion may truly be necessary. Such personal decisions must be difficult and painful. I’ve often thought that if we care so much for those in the animal and plant world, protecting and preserving so many species from decimation, how much more precious is each and every human life? How can we destroy human life through abortion simply because the pregnancy doesn’t fit our plans, may be the result of abuse or rape, or the pre-born child is “defective” and may be a “burden” to society? Do we justify abortion because some parents can’t afford a baby, are unprepared to care for their children, might abuse them or kill them? Difficult scenarios; but, even in our imperfect world, there is help including viable alternatives like adoption. As abortion survivors will tell you, they are very thankful to be alive, even children born to rape victims… simply because their mother cared enough to give them the gift of life. My cousin, Randy, with an intellectual disability, grew up a kind and loving young man thanks to the love of his widowed mother, Marjorie. Despite his disabilities, he had a strong faith in his Lord, and knew everything there was to know about his favorite baseball team and its players! My step-sister’s son, Cory, was born with DeGeorge syndrome due to a missing part of chromosome 22. Like many with disabilities, Cory had an infectious joy for life and an unconditional love for everyone he met, thanks to his mother, Janet. Anyone who has miscarried an unborn child understands the pain of loss. I miscarried our first little girl, Heather, at six months, apparently twins who didn’t separate, and 11 months later miscarried another little one at 3-1/2 months. Despite our own disabilities, some greater than others, we are each created unique and have a special place in this world for touching the lives of others. Life is sacred, and each pre-born child is a treasured gift from God just waiting for us to open our arms and heart to their precious life. As David wrote in Psalm 139:13-16: “…you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” What If… Linda A. Roorda What if… There was no God? Would we know how to love Or, would ego rule our lives? Would we each decide What laws to live by Changing like the wind As our wants wrest control? Would we violate The sanctity of life Simply because Life would not matter Except for the worth We each determine How best we can serve Our selfish ambition? And yet, what if… Each life among us Was somehow meant To open the eyes Of our heart and soul To a higher purpose To show the value Inherent within No matter the wrapping? And what if… We move toward each other And then extend Our outstretched hands? Would that not show Great caring and love From within the depths Of a heart overflowing? For is that not like The hands of One Extended outward Nailed upon a beam To show us how We too should love And sacrifice self Our gift to each other? Because… what if… There is a God Who really cares And Who truly loves Each for who we are? For His life was a gift That we would know Just how we should love. ~~ Photo of young Ed doing his favorite thing - listening to music, knowing exactly which record was which by memorizing the logo/name on each record!

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

Taking notice of some issues lately, decided this blog from the past bears repeating today. Oh, that we lived in a perfect world! … but we don’t. Not everything goes our way, but our response can make a difference. So, why am I hesitant to express my opinion? There's a place for respectful disagreements, including of each other's faith, or lack thereof as espoused a few years back by Joy Behar of “The View” and those who admire her. They mocked former Vice President Mike Pence for his Christian faith and talking to Jesus, even calling a “mental illness” his listening to Jesus’ voice. I, too, have heard the "voice" of God... sometimes loud and clear as if someone were next to me uttering the words, other times nothing more than a gentle nudge in my soul. Prayer is a powerful communication. But, in re: school and public mass shootings, Ed and I have long felt there's something eating away at society, like a cancer. A shooting near a school happened in Binghamton this past week. It’s doubtful if stricter gun laws will make a big difference in overall statistics of violence, since criminals always manage to get them. Though we do believe some laws strengthened may be more of a deterrent than others, it’s interesting that cities with the toughest gun laws have not curbed their gun violence. But you know, my Dad's guns were freely available to me and my brothers as teens, after training in appropriate use and cleaning, and we never considered using them wrongly. As crime rates increase, we see an obvious lack of respect for the value of another human being… with an increase in bullying and rage issues, taunting, mocking, and blatant killing of our law enforcement officers. We can argue gun crime stats, but I don't believe access to guns by teens or any criminal is our main issue. We have seen over time that any manner of weapon can be used besides guns - knives, a heavy object to bludgeon the victim, vehicles, even a rock by Cain to kill his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage in earliest biblical times. Even in states and cities with the strictest gun control laws, crime rates have risen considerably recently, especially when “catch and release”/so-called bail reform allows criminals to walk with great leniency… including repeat offenders. There are no real consequences for bad behavior. Many at-risk youths have not learned how to appropriately redirect their losses, upsets or rages other than to lash out at those around them - especially when adults use violence to release their own anger. There seems to be a lack of discipline – some kids know what they can get away with and readily test the limits. And, sometimes, kids lack appropriate role models as we adults can also be poor models. We witness or become the target of bullying, verbal attacks, abuse and harassment in many forms. Amidst the violence, angry rhetoric, and sexual harassment and misconduct in our society, something seems to be missing. What happened to the respect we once showed each other? Showing courtesy, consideration and honor to others fits together under that one term – respect. Displaying an attitude of humility with respect shows the depth of our own character and integrity. Yet, it seems that mocking or hateful vitriol is the language preferred from many directions. Like you, I find it appalling. Anger against sin and abuse is not wrong, but a righteous emotional response which God gave us. When anger stems from a heart with sinful intention, therein lies the abuse and lack of respect. And it should make us stop and think. Perhaps, instead of taking a knee to the American flag and finding fault with America, those with ability, financial or otherwise, could help the underprivileged within current charities or create new ones. Perhaps, simply from their own heart of love, instead of violence and destruction to have their demands met, they could become a mentor to show the disadvantaged a better way. I grew up without much of what my peers had. I earned my way in life. I’ve been mocked and ridiculed. But also grew up with parents who cared enough to discipline. I grew up with kids of all races, including black friends and those of international heritage, and they and their parents did all they could to accomplish their goals with respect and gratitude within the community. Where has morality gone? Why are certain “politically correct” attitudes condoned while those who disagree are held in disdain? With the push to set God aside as irrelevant in our lives, to live as if we are unaccountable to anyone or anything, I think we have also brushed moral ethics and values aside. After all, if we do not believe we’re created in the image of God, but simply exist because a few cosmic molecules exploded with a bang, then of what value is another person’s life. I find it ironic that huge fines are levied for killing animals, yet our unborn children are aborted/killed because they might be defective or an inconvenience. Is a conscience or a moral obligation obsolete? Do we do whatever seems right to us alone? Without moral absolutes and the ensuing guilt regarding what is or is not considered sinful behavior, we don’t have to hold ourselves accountable to God and His word. Still, how often don’t those who hold to a belief in God tend to live by certain moral standards that have their very foundation in Holy Scripture. With so many accusations of sexual misconduct/harassment among public officials coming to light, has this pattern of behavior become prolific because of Bill Clinton’s ability to “get away with it” during his past presidency? I remember someone saying to me then that it was no big deal, “Everyone does it!” Oh really? Does everyone lie to cover up the truth, or only abusers? What’s lacking in one’s character to cause such rampant abuse? The predator or abuser knows how to shame his victims into silence. Silent no more, many are speaking out more readily, calling attention to the abuse and harassment suffered quietly for too long. The victims are trying to bring accountability into the picture for restitution and a better way to live responsibly. Yet, too often victims are still silenced and looked upon as the problem. We feel free to disparage and mock the opposition of our dearly-held beliefs, yet we’re appalled if our own perspectives are attacked. Once upon a time, we honored each other… despite our differences. Once upon a time, we agreed to disagree. We were able to debate and argue our points in a respectful manner, but now it seems that mocking, hate-filled rhetoric, and even violence is “de rigueur.” Why? I’ve pondered the societal denigration which brought about the November 2008 Black Friday shopping stampede. The epitome of greed fed that mad rush, pushing and shoving throughout the crowd, just to satisfy selfish desires… for Christmas gifts no less… resulting in the trampling death of a Wal-Mart employee. I remember hearing this story on the news then, saddened and appalled that such a tragedy could have even happened. But, isn’t it greed and selfishness which results in any crime, whether it be robbery or murder? We’re jealous. We dislike. And we allow minor slights to fester. We have our rights, hold grudges, and can’t forgive. Someone has what we want so we take it to satisfy our pleasure, or destroy the one who owns it. How unutterably sad that society has stooped to this level, even to condemning those who bring attention to abuses they’ve dealt with. Yet, there’s nothing new under the sun, as Solomon once said. (Ecclesiastes 1:9) Even Adam and Eve’s son Cain killed his brother, Abel, out of jealousy that festered and grew into a murderous hatred. (Genesis 4:4-12) These thoughts reminded me of the vitriol espoused by and against various public officials, particularly during election time. There’s a hatred and cancellation of the opposition, those holding and expressing conservative and/or Christian biblical values. Whether by, or against, the president of our nation or any of our local officials, including law enforcement officers, such words seem to be the norm lately. With hatred and anger fueled perhaps by abusive rhetoric, and a loathing of that with which we disagree, passions are fed and all manner of evil erupts from the human heart… rather than allowing the opposition time to express their opinion. In the Summer of 2017, many thought it was “the right thing to do” by taking down statues erected in memory of our nation’s historical past. We cannot rewrite history by destroying that with which we disagree, and instead are setting a dangerous precedent. In removing what is considered a negative, perhaps we miss the opportunity to learn from past mistakes… personal and collective, national and international. Perhaps there are teachable moments that would draw our divergent beliefs together in common ground. In the slippery progression to remove more and more references to our historical past, what’s next? Think long and hard of the consequences… because it just might be us next… me and you…for our beliefs. A contrast to such rhetoric and violence can be found in Jesus’ teachings that we call The Beatitudes, especially one simple phrase we all know as the Golden Rule. “So, in everything, do to others what you would have them to do you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV) As the physician Luke expressed in his gospel (17:3), “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.” What better way to show Christ’s love to our neighbor or enemy than by lending a helping hand with courtesy and forgiveness… while respecting our differences. When an expert in the old Jewish law asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-39 NIV) With such love, we “encourage one another and build each other up”. (I Thessalonians 5:11) Wow! What a depth of perfect wisdom we find in Jesus’ words! In taking them to heart, there’d be no more abuse, petty fights or squabbles among us, or even great wars. We’d be so in tune to each other’s needs that our selfish ego and desires would vanish. All out of a simple respect for each other and their needs. May God bless each of us as we practice that kind of true humility. Respect Linda A. Roorda It seems we’ve mislaid respect and value. We want what we want, and deserve it now! We’ll step on your toes, fight and destroy Not caring to pause and treasure your worth. ~ Entitled am I, my wants come first. I rush and push, and trample on through. How dare you think that I could be wrong I have my rights! Get out of my way! ~ Oh, to our shame, what have we done… We once shared love but now foster hate. We once treasured folks for who they are And valued their rights as much as our own. ~ Common courtesy, we salute your ways With manners polite and outstretched arms Welcoming others with civility’s mores Regarding humility as our tone of grace. ~ With deference and honor we highly esteem Others before self with gratitude’s praise Rendering tribute where homage is due Tactful and kind, we respect you for you. ~~

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