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Linda Roorda

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  1. Linda Roorda
    As we noted earlier, most of the early conductors on the Underground Railroad were Quakers, but their early numbers steadily grew to include Methodists, Presbyterians and many other denominations, anyone interested in helping free the slaves.  Both preachers and abolitionists spoke publicly despite threats against them as they made inroads into the hearts of Americans.  William Lloyd Garrison was one such man who influenced untold thousands of people with his abolition work, as did others who shared his sentiments.  Obviously, their stand was unpopular as the news media proclaimed them "fanatics, amalgamists, disorganizers, disturbers of the peace, and dangerous enemies of the country."  Riots during convention meetings and attempted murder of abolitionists were not uncommon.
    But there were also black men who reached the forefront in speaking against the cruelty of slavery.  One of them was a former slave himself, Frederick Bailey.  At age 18 in 1838, Bailey left behind his common-law wife, Anna, escaping from Baltimore to freedom in Philadelphia and then to New York City, two of the most important northern freedom cities.  Meeting with men who could assist him, help was obtained for Anna to travel north where they were reunited and married.  Encouraged to change his name, he became Frederick Johnson.  
    Bound for Newport, Rhode Island, he presented a letter of introduction to Nathan Johnson, a prominent black man who would next assist the couple.  Noting that Johnson was a very common surname among blacks in New Bedford, Massachusetts where they were to settle, Bailey again changed his name – to that of Frederick Douglass, destined to become one of “the most famous African American of his generation.”  Ultimately settling in Rochester, NY, Douglass started a newspaper, supported women’s rights, and became a much-sought speaker on the abolitionists’ circuit throughout America, also having the ear and admiration of President Abraham Lincoln.  To honor his legacy, on February 14, 2021 it was revealed that the Rochester International Airport has been renamed Frederick Douglass Greater Rochester International Airport.

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

    With an unassuming yet authoritative air about her, Tubman had the ability to pass virtually unnoticed through the towns of Southern slaveholders, hiding her identity, “stealing” away numerous slaves on the road to freedom.  But that is not to say she didn’t face difficulties in helping slaves escape their bondage.  It was not an easy venture for any free black, even with proper papers, to maneuver around in slave territory without being apprehended.  Known to live in constant dependency on God during those times, Tubman is quoted as saying simply, “I tell de Lawd what I needs, an’ he provides.” 
    When she brought out her brothers and some of their friends from Maryland, they stayed briefly in her parents’ barn where her father fed them.  Hesitant to see their mother for fear emotions would give them away (Tubman had not seen her mother in several years), they left quietly, walking along muddy roads in the rains, circuitously through the woods to get around towns, eventually arriving at the homes of northern abolitionists.  They arrived in Philadelphia and were given aid by her friend, William Still, of the Vigilance Committee.  Still put Tubman and her fugitives on a train to New York City where Sydney Howard Gay gave assistance, putting them on another train to Albany, then Rochester, and finally taking a boat across Lake Ontario to St. Catharines, Canada.  Canada – where so many fugitive slaves endeavored to establish a life in true freedom, often becoming wealthy in owning their own land and businesses.  
    William Still, a free black and secretary for the Philadelphia Vigilance Committee, kept meticulous records of fugitive slaves and their conductors.  Still published a book in 1872, “The Underground Railroad,” from his extensive trove of information on the fugitives and their experiences.  In turn, Still was in contact with men in New York City who, like Sydney Howard Gay, also kept detailed records of the fugitives they assisted.  The extant records left by such men are among the limited but solid evidentiary proof of those who traveled the elusive and secretive Underground Railroad.  Messages between offices or stops were disguised as to the real purpose, known only to those involved on the “railroad.”  One such example reported by a visiting abolitionist was Still’s telegram to Gay of “‘six parcels’ coming by the train.  And before I left the office, the ‘parcels’ came in, each on two legs.”  
    Tubman was called “Moses” by her people, “General” by John Brown of Harper’s Ferry fame, and “Captain” by Sydney Howard Gay in New York City when he documented those whom she brought north to his office.  Her bold courage and ability to successfully travel unnoticed among the “enemy” was reportedly unparalleled among “conductors” on the “railroad.”
    By the time the Civil War began, Tubman had traveled 13 times into the South since she escaped bondage in 1849.  She is believed to have brought out at least 70 fugitives, among them her siblings and parents, possibly indirectly assisting an additional 50 in leaving on their own.  Supposedly, over 300 slaves were brought north on 19 trips by Tubman as claimed by her first biographer, Sarah Bradford; but these figures are believed to be greatly inflated based on contemporary study of now-known extant records.  
    With the advent of civil war, Tubman became restless, feeling the need to do more for her people.  She became a nurse, cook and spy for the Union in South Carolina, becoming “the first woman in American history to lead a detachment of troops in battle.”  
    The abolitionist issues in Stowe’s book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” also brought legitimacy to the women’s rights’ movement which sprang to life in the 1840s and 1850s.  Men who championed their tenets nationally included Horace Mann, Rev. Harry Ward Beecher, Frederick Douglass, William Lloyd Garrison, and Gerrit Smith (the cousin of Elizabeth Cady).  Women whose beliefs embodied not only the values of abolition but women’s rights included Lucretia Mott, Sarah and Angelina Grimke, Abby Kelley Foster, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Elizabeth Oaks Smith, Paulina Wright Davis, Lucy Stone, Antoinette Brown, Susan B. Anthony, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, and Esther (McQuigg, Slack) Morris who grew up on our former farmland, supporting abolition as a young woman while operating her own business in Owego, NY, later becoming the first woman Justice of the Peace in 1870’s Wyoming Territory.  These are just a few of the many whose belief in equality for the blacks seemed to naturally extend into rights for women who were unable to legally own property or to vote.  
    Yet, even the cause of women’s rights created division within the nation just as the abolitionists’ work had done.  For troubled times were about to become even more turbulent.  During the 1850s, issues arose about the need for increased funding in the work of the abolitionists and the Underground Railroad. Funds were sorely needed to meet needs of slaves who fled northward to freedom, and to assist them once they were free.  Disputes also erupted as to whether enough was being done to rid the nation of slavery as a whole.  And dissension even arose amongst the white and black abolitionists during this period.  
    Blacks felt the whites were not doing “enough to combat racial prejudice,” while the whites “were appalled by the controversy.”  Many white abolitionists felt they had willingly placed their lives, their family, and their property on the line to follow their heart’s leading to assist the slaves, asking nothing or little in return.  To be vilified for not doing enough to help the plight of the black man was abhorrent to them.
    Before elections in the fall of 1860, debate upon debate was held as the option of state secession was also discussed.  Southern newspapers began warning that if Lincoln were elected president, they expected the Fugitive Slave Act would not be followed, and the Charleston “Mercury” opined in October that “the underground railroad would operate ‘over-ground.’”   
    Then, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disgust of others, Abraham Lincoln was elected president on November 6, 1860.  Though Lincoln intended to hold the country together as one nation, he would not end slavery nor was he inclined to end the Fugitive Slave Law.  He did, however, wish to amend the law so that no free black could ever be forced into slavery.  
    With feelings running high, Southern states began to secede from the Union after South Carolina was the first to leave on December 20th.  Together, they formed the new Confederate States of America.  Shortly thereafter, federal troops arrived at Fort Sumter in the bay outside Charleston, S.C. to defend federal property.  With ongoing dispute between the Union and the Confederacy over ownership of Ft. Sumter, President Lincoln faced a dilemma in how to respond.  After Lincoln ordered aid sent to the federal troops at Ft. Sumter, the Confederate Army opened fire on the fort early in the morning of April 12, 1861.  And thus began the American Civil War… 
    After so many sacrifices were made to escape the bonds of slavery, and with the nation’s first civil war, clarity was ultimately expressed when President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863.  Freeing all slaves (except in Maryland and Kentucky which had not seceded), his proclamation essentially proved that the work of the Underground Railroad was done.  The abolitionists had accomplished what they’d set out to do.  They had gained freedom for all enslaved African Americans, the fulfillment of dreams for thousands upon thousands when their work began inauspiciously so many decades ago. 
    At President Lincoln’s second inaugural address on March 4, 1865, he stated, “…These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest.  All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war.  To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war… It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged… With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan – to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.”  
    Afterward, Lincoln asked Frederick Douglass what he thought of his speech.  Douglass replied, “Mr. Lincoln, that was a sacred effort.”   (“Absence of Malice,” Adapted from “Lincoln’s Greatest Speech:  The Second Inaugural,” by Ronald C. White, Jr., Smithsonian, April 2002, p.119)  Ultimately, all former slaves received their full legal freedom with passage of the Fifteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution in April 1870.  They could now appreciate their hard-won liberty; and yet, they continued to struggle for their rights over the next century, culminating with the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s.  And even now, many continue to feel a prejudice.
    Harriet Tubman, former slave, a free and fearless woman, died March 10, 1913 in her new hometown of Auburn, New York.  She was essentially the last survivor of an unprecedented era, famed conductor on the Underground Railroad, having lived her life to help others attain the very freedom she had gained.
    Fittingly, the town of Auburn erected a monument to the auspicious career of this amazing woman.  “In memory of Harriet Tubman.  Born a slave in Maryland about 1821.  Died in Auburn, N.Y., March 10th, 1821.  Called the Moses of her People, During the Civil War.  With rare courage she led over three hundred negroes up from slavery to freedom, and rendered invaluable service as nurse and spy.  With implicit trust in God she braved every danger and overcame every obstacle.  Withal she possessed extraordinary foresight and judgment so that she truthfully said “On my underground railroad I nebber run my train off de track an’ I nebber los’ a passenger.”  [As noted above, the figure of 300 blacks is considered an exaggeration by 20th century researchers.  lar]
    NEXT WEEK:  Part IV, conclusion.
  2. Linda Roorda
    Many communities in states above the Mason-Dixon line had safe homes to assist slaves fleeing north to freedom, like Portland, Maine.  A center of activity, the city was important to blacks fleeing slavery for not only safe homes enroute to Canada, but also employment in the rail and shipping industries.
    Recently, I learned from friends near Portland, Maine that the city’s Underground Railroad Abyssinian Meeting House/Church, built during 1828-1831, is undergoing restoration.  Noted to be “Maine’s oldest African-American church building and third oldest [standing African-American meeting house] in the nation”, it held worship services, abolition and temperance meetings, Portland Union Anti-Slavery Society, a school for blacks from 1846 until the 1856, and much more.  Recognized as Maine’s only Underground Railroad site by the National Park Service, it is also on the National Register of Historic Places.  (Wikipedia)
    The Abyssinian church was dealt a devastating blow, however, when the SS Portland sank off Cape Ann in 1898, taking 17 male parishioners.  One of New England’s largest ocean steamers with side-mount paddlewheels, she provided a luxury service for passengers between Boston, MA and Portland, ME.  When the powerful “Portland Gale” blizzard struck the New England coast November 26-27, 1898, more than 400 people and 150 vessels were lost.  (Wikipedia)
    Locally, Tioga County, New York can also claim involvement in the Underground Railroad.  But, as historian, Ed Nizalowski, noted online, “…as is the case in so many other parts of the country, actual documentation and credible evidence for involvement can be very difficult to verify.”  According to Nizalowski, Hammon Phinney of the Baptist Church in Owego, NY was a strong leader among local abolitionists.  Meetings in Owego, as elsewhere, throughout the 1830s and 1840s were rife with “wild confusion and violence.”  Frederick Douglass was forced to cancel speaking engagements “for fear of his physical safety” in 1840, though he did return in 1857, and Garret/Gerrit Smith was hit with eggs. 
    Nizalowski’s research uncovered four homes on Front Street in Owego which are known to have been involved in the Underground Railroad – Nos. 100, 294, 313, and 351.  “At 294 Front Street, a building once owned by the Eagles Club, a brick lined tunnel had been found running along the north wall.”  He also stated that No. 351 Main Street “has the best evidence for being a station for fugitive slaves.”  It was owned previously by Judge Farrington, “a prominent Abolitionist,” and by Hammon Phinney, with the house having “a hidden space in the cellar.”  Nizalowski avers that Phinney’s work as a stationmaster was learned primarily when the property was sold.  “In 1867 when the Hastings family bought the property from Frederick Phinney, Hammon's son, the new owners were told that the home had served as a station for fugitive slaves.  This story was passed on for over 100 years.  The best evidence for Hammon being a stationmaster comes from his obituary that appeared on March 3, 1898 where it also states that his home served as a station.  This is one of the few written references from the 19th century identifying a specific individual.” 
    Tioga County homes in Newark Valley, Berkshire and Richford may well have been involved in the Underground Railroad as Nizalowski pointed out.  There may have been additional safe houses in local communities. Though I have heard of homes used for the Underground Railroad in our town of Spencer, NY, I have no personal knowledge.  I do know the McQuigg house built in 1830s where our house stands today had servants’ quarters; whether they were whites or free blacks I have no knowledge.  At the far eastern corner of the kitchen was a staircase with a door. Taking the stairs up, there was an open area with two separate rooms and a small sitting area, closed off from the other rooms by a different type of door with a different type of latch. Sadly, since the house foundation beams had dry rot, and the structure itself was caving in, the house was not deemed appropriate for renovation by our bank.
    Typically, local history is only gained through stories passed down within families which attest to involvement in the underground.  But there was definitely assistance and support for abolition work throughout our region of New York state, both financially and physically.
    Writing in 2002 for Elmira’s “The Jones Museum” website, Barbara S. Ramsdell quoted Arch Merrill’s book, “The Underground, Freedom’s Road, and Other Upstate Tales.”  “Jones quietly took command of the Underground in Elmira, a gateway between the South and the North.  It became the principal station on the ‘railroad’ between Philadelphia and the Canadian border.  Jones worked closely with William Still, the chief Underground agent in Philadelphia, who forwarded parties of from six to 10 fugitives at a time to Elmira...  The station master concealed as many as 30 slaves at one time in his home, exactly where he never told.  He carried on his operations so secretly that only the inner circle of abolitionists knew that in a decade he dispatched nearly 800 slaves to Canada.”  
    As noted in Part III, I had discovered while researching and reading various books and websites that the Abolitionist Movement and the Underground Railroad are intertwined with the beginnings of the Women’s Rights Movement.  It was a time in history when many good people of faith were not inclined to confront the evils of slavery; it was just the normal way of life, or so they believed.  And, for the most part, it was felt that the place of women was in the home or in limited occupations, often not even given as good an education as their brothers.  It was an era when those opposed to owning another human clashed definitively with those opposed to slavery’s demise. 
    Though slavery has been around since early historical times, even in Biblical history, how thankful we are that some felt a calling in their heart to honor God’s love for all by working tirelessly to free those in slavery.  Were it not for the ardent religious beliefs, persistence and sacrifices of the abolitionists, men and women, white and black, who carried on their work despite great opposition, slavery might have lasted far longer in this nation than it actually did… and thank God it did come to an end.
    Yet, as stated in my preface, slavery is still a lucrative venture around the world, including in our own America.  Under various guises, slavery flourishes in over 100 countries with India, China, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Uzbekistan, and North Korea topping the lists… all for the financial profits gained.  Adult and child sex trafficking (especially of women and young girls), drug trafficking, forced child labor, debt bondage, unlawful recruitment of children for war, and domestic service slavery, are just  a few of the repulsive categories.
    I began this series by noting Martin Luther King, Jr. had said, “We are determined to work and fight until justice rains down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”  Paraphrasing Amos 5:24, King did just that with God at his side to challenge us to seek justice.  May we do the same.  Never forgetting, we do not erase history.  Without the knowledge and ability to learn from injustice, we are destined to repeat.
    Knowing slavery continues in our world today, may we have hearts that care enough to help in some way.  One avenue we can take to help stop enslavement is by donating to a charity of our choice which specifically works to educate the public and free those held in bondage.  For example, our charity of choice is Samaritan’s Purse, begun by Franklin Graham, son of the Rev. Billy Graham.
    Among the innumerable famous and little-known Blacks who have brought betterment to our world are the following few:
    1. George Washington Carver (1864-1943) – born into slavery, an artist, botanist, teacher, agricultural scientist and inventor with extensive research on over 300 uses for peanuts; created Tuskegee Institute Movable School to teach modern agricultural techniques and tools to farmers in Alabama and around the world.
    2. Edward Bouchet (1852-1918) - son of former enslaved parent, removed to New Haven, CT; accepted at Yale, first African American to earn a Ph.D., 6th American to earn this degree in physics.
    3. Jean Baptiste Point du Sable (1745?-1818) – from Haiti, first to establish a permanent settlement at Chicago, a man of great reputable character and business acumen.
    4. Matthew Alexander Henson (1866-1955) - son of free-born tenant farmers; ran away from abusive home at 11; traveled with Robert Peary in 1891 on first of several trips to Greenland; Peary and Henson took their final trip in 1909; Henson set foot on North Pole first; returning home, Peary took all credit with Henson’s achievements ignored as a Black man.
    5. Bessie Coleman (1892 -1926) - one of 13 children born to Indigenous father and African American mother; educating herself, graduated from high school; not accepted at flight school being black and female, saved money for training in France; first Black woman to earn her pilot’s license in the world.
    6. Lewis Latimer (1848-1928) - son of self-liberated parents, Chelsea, MA; served in U.S. Navy during Civil War; a draftsman with numerous inventions, including filament system to keep carbon filament in lightbulbs lasting longer, only Black member of Thomas Edison’s elite team; improved design of railroad car bathroom and early air conditioning unit.
    7. Jane Bolin (1908-2007) - first Black woman graduate of Yale Law School; first Black woman judge in 1939; with Eleanor Roosevelt, created intervention program to keep young boys from committing crimes.
    8. Alice Allison Dunnigan (1906-1983) – first African-American female White House correspondent; first Black female in Senate and House of Representatives press corps; chief of Associated Negro Press in 1947; served under Pres. John F. Kennedy as education consultant for President’s Committee on Equal Employment Opportunity until 1965.
    9. Wangari Maathai (1940-2011) - first Black woman to win 2004 Nobel Peace Prize for environmental work in Kenya; social, environmental and political activist; founded Green Belt Movement, planting trees.
    10. Irene Morgan Kirkaldy (1907-2007) – July 1944 arrested for refusing to give up bus seat in Virginia; convicted in County Circuit Court, appealed decision to Virginia Supreme Court; Supreme Court ruled in her favor June 3, 1946 aided by Thurgood Marshall and the NAACP.
    11. Claudette Colvin (1939-) - 15-year-old who refused to give up bus seat March 2, 1955, arrested 9 months before Rosa Parks; main witness in federal suit, Browder v. Gayle, ending public transportation segregation in Alabama.
    12. Amelia Boynton Robinson (1911-2015) - tireless advocate for civil rights; first African-American woman in Alabama to run for Congress in 1964; worked with Martin Luther King, Jr. to plan march from Selma to Montgomery on March 7, 1965, severely injured; received Martin Luther King Jr. Freedom Medal in 1990.
    13. Rebecca Lee Crumpler (1831-1895) - earned MD in 1864, first African-American woman physician in U.S.; wrote and published “Book of Medical Discourses in Two Parts”, first medical text authored by African-American.
    14. Otis Boykin (1920-1982) – with 26 patents, developed IBM computers, and circuitry improvements for pacemakers.
    15. Charles Drew (1904-1950) – physician, surgeon, medical researcher with discoveries in blood transfusions, developed large-scale blood banks, blood plasma programs, and bloodmobiles for Red Cross.
    16. Jesse Ernest Wilkins, Jr. (1923-2011) – a genius, youngest student ever at age 13 to enter University of Chicago, earning bachelor, master, and doctorate degree in math at age 19; nuclear scientist, mechanical engineer and mathematician; published papers in mathematics, optics, and nuclear engineering; perfected lens design in microscopes and ophthalmologic uses; involved in Manhattan Project with future Nobel laureate Eugene Wigner with significant contributions to nuclear-reactor physics.
    17.“Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Who Helped Win the Space Race” is a 2016 nonfiction book by Margot Lee Shetterly. It tells about the lives of Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson, three mathematicians who worked as computers (then a job description) at NASA during the space race. They overcame discrimination to solve problems for engineers and others at NASA. For the first years of their careers, the workplace was segregated and women were kept in the background as human computers. Author Shetterly's father was a research scientist at NASA who worked with many of the book's main characters. These three historical women overcame discrimination and racial segregation to become American achievers in mathematics, scientific and engineering history. The main character, Katherine Johnson, calculated rocket trajectories for the Mercury and Apollo missions. Johnson successfully "took matters into her own hands" by being assertive with her supervisor; when her mathematical abilities were recognized, Katherine Johnson was allowed into all male meetings at NASA.  (Wikipedia)
    BOOKS I’VE READ:
    *Abide With Me, A Photographic Journey Through Great British Hymns, by John H. Parker, New Leaf Press, Green Forest, AR, 2009.
    *Bound for Canaan, The Epic Story of the Underground Railroad, America’s First Civil Rights Movement, by Fergus M. Bordewich, HarperCollins Publishers, New York, NY, 2005.
    *Gateway to Freedom, by Eric Foner, W. W. Norton & Company, New York, NY, 2015.
    *Harriet Tubman, Conductor on the Underground Railroad, by Ann Petry, Harper Trophy of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., New York, NY, 1955.
    *The Island at the Center of the World, by Russell Shorto, Vintage Books Edition, New York, NY, 2005.
    A FEW OF MY WEBSITE SOURCES:
    *“Absence of Malice” (Adapted from “Lincoln’s Greatest Speech:  The Second Inaugural” by Ronald C. White, Jr.) in Smithsonian, April 2002, p.119.
    *“The Underground Railroad in Tioga County, A Piece of History With Many Gaps to Fill” by Ed Nizalowski.
    *John W. Jones Museum, Elmira, NY - “Our purpose is to preserve… related artifacts in memory of his role and the roles of others in the Southern Tier involved in the Underground Railroad and the American Civil War.”
    *Freedom Quilts – “The History of The American Quilt: Part One (Early African American Quilts) - Pattern Observer. History of the American quilt” by Molly Williams.
  3. Linda Roorda
    What is love?  We say “I love you!” to our family and friends … but we also say we love a book, a movie, a car, a new outfit, our pets.  Is love found in endless glowing words of romantic emotion or selfless acts to please another?  What makes love tick?  It’s the minutes between the anniversaries that make the memories special.  Writing for our 44th anniversary in 2018, I thought this poem and reflection would be fitting for Valentine’s Day this Friday.
    My husband used to write me special letters to express his deepest feelings.  Not able to buy cards unless someone took him to the store, many were the times he listened repeatedly to a specific song on record, tape or CD and painstakingly wrote it out, phrase by phrase... just to express what was in his heart.  That effort on his part meant more to me than the world’s most beautiful romantic manufactured card.
    He also showed his love in a myriad of ways… like willingly helping with our babies after he came in from 14-16 hour days of farm chores just because he wanted to.  He learned to diaper them, lovingly rocked and burped our little ones, and even read bedtime stories to them before his own dinner.  Seeing my big 6’7” guy hold our tiny babies in his calloused farm-worn hands clearly evoked an image of tender love.  He was committed to his family, always there for me and our children, helping guide them as they grew, or enveloping us in his arms when we needed a warm snuggle.  He helped with household chores despite vision and physical limitations – just because it was his way of showing love... trying to ease the load I carried after working a full shift, taking him to medical appointments, and handling more and more of what he could no longer do.
    Years ago, I attended an annual women’s faith retreat.  In one of the classes, we were asked to share how we express love to our spouse in a unique way as the leader wrote 10 ways on the board.  A few said they’d write “I love you” with shaving cream on the bathroom mirror or add a special note when packing lunch for their husband, etc.  My simply saying “I love you” to my husband was laughed at when shared with the woman next to me, a pastor’s wife.  I felt so humiliated.  What I wanted to explain (and should have said but was afraid to) was that my husband was blind and my saying those three simple words had always been special to him, and that everyone’s examples were only good for those with vision.  Baking scrumptious meals and desserts, and not treating him as incapable of doing things just because he was blind, seeking his advice when I had a problem, or even waiting for him to ask for help before offering or giving my assistance… these also showed my love in tangible ways that he appreciated.
    My husband meant what he said.  His words were not empty, hollow flattery.  When he said something, listen close because there was a depth of truth and wisdom from his innate ability to understand life and how people operate.  He was a man of few words.  I used to wish he’d talk more, like me!  But I came to understand and appreciate the meaning behind his few words chosen well, his sense of humor, his devotion to me and his family, his strong faith in God in the midst of blindness and multiple health issues, and his ability to share Godly wisdom. 
    Giving flowers was never his thing, though I tend to long for beautiful bouquets. On the other hand, he knew the value of our hard-earned dollars.  He didn’t frivolously throw it away on something that would be tossed aside in just a few days… like flowers.  He preferred to spend his money on something to be enjoyed long term.  And I admired him for that.
    As a widow, I treasure my husband who respected me and appreciated all that I did.  Maybe he didn’t tell me every day; but, when he did, it was worth the wait to hear those words because he meant them.  It was a hard life for him, yet he didn’t feel sorry for himself.  Being legally blind since he was a premature infant, and though he could drive a tractor on the farm or along the roadside, he could not hop in the car or truck and go whenever and wherever he wanted.  He was stuck at home, unless someone drove him to his destination.  How frustrating that was for him at times!  I appreciated his attitude of acceptance as, in his later years, totally blind and with health issues that limited his mobility, he accepted the path God allowed his life to take.  He was able to express wisdom and insight we both would not have understood had we not gone through these various difficulties. 
    My husband loved me despite the immaturity I came into our marriage with at 19.  He loved me enough to help me grow, to become the best wife and mother I could be, and to use the hidden talents God blessed me with in ways I could never have imagined.  In turn, I loved him for being there for me, listening and talking through issues we faced.  He’d been gifted with a sense of humor that cropped up when needed most.  I loved working by his side in the past in the barn, doing yard work, or in the house.  He used to tease me, saying I followed him around like a shadow in the barn, and when he’d stop short to take care of something, I’d “crash” into him and we’d burst into laughter with hugs!  I miss those times working closely together… a lot. 
    Yet, no marriage is perfect.  We had our share of problems and arguments when our wants got the upper hand.  But we made it work and kept our vows to each other rather than running away when times got tough.  Love comes in admitting our wrongs, asking forgiveness, and understanding the unique and different strengths we each bring as gifts to be shared for personal growth.  In contemplating love, the depth of a heart is revealed in the willing ability to stand by a loved one no matter the cost, except in the case of abuse. Yet, even then, if the abuser is willing to admit their wrongs and truly change from within, the path of regeneration, or reconciliation, is well worth the effort.  But, if the abuser refuses to see or admit their wrongs, and perpetuates such behavior, even if others may not see it, then it’s time to walk away for one’s physical and/or emotional preservation, whether in a marriage or a friendship.  Love is not about what someone else can give you; it’s all about what you can give the other, in building them up, without looking for praise.  And in that, I’m reminded of Jesus’ words, words rephrased in our marriage vows, that “greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”  (John 15:13) 
    Though I may not have been married to the most romantic guy in the world, God truly blessed me with Ed’s love and practicality.  Perhaps the complement to my emotional heart and creativity, he brought a balance to keep me grounded and contented, sharing laughter with his great sense of humor that helped bring many smiles to our faces.  He had an innate ability to understand people… like the depths of my heart, our children’s needs as they grew up, sharing wise words when they came to him with problems, or taking seriously his former role as a church Elder/Deacon… knowing how to balance his role as leader of our family with the Lord as guide.
    We were far from perfect, but it’s knowing how to pick our battles, and how to pick ourselves up again in the storm, with “promises to keep and miles to go” to quote another poet.*  Therein lies the secret of true love as we seek the wisdom of God above… letting His love permeate our hearts and souls to become a better person.  Because I firmly believe God put us together, allowing us to face various difficult trials to draw us closer to Him as we grow in faith and love.  And, if Christ loved each of us so much that He willingly lay down His life for us, for our sins, then we can surely share that love with others around us.
    For as Colossians 3:12-14 reminds us, we are to “…clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”  This is the love I saw in my husband. 
    This is Love
    Linda A. Roorda
    This is love
    beyond a feeling
    in the depths of the heart
    a commitment to keep.
    ~
    This is love
    exhilarating joy
    that flows through the soul
    with a gentle tenderness.
    ~
    This is love
    in the place of self
    a sacrificial gift
    bringing joy to another.
    ~
    This is love
    a blending of hearts
    to become as one
    in sharing life’s journey.
    ~
    This is love
    a tear that is shared
    the hand tenderly held
    the comfort in silence felt.
    ~
    This is love
    a listening ear
    with honest confession
    as mercy and grace pour out.
    ~
    This is love
    to take life’s pain
    and wash it away
    in selfless gifts with joy.
    ~
    This is love
    that One above
    would give His life
    to show us the path of love.
    ~~
     
  4. Linda Roorda
    It’s been a rough month for both of us with my husband's ongoing health issues that never completely go away, extraneous related issues, so many medical appointments, house electrical and car problems, leaving us both feeling like we want to just run away… escaping it all to the proverbial vacation in the hills. I know you’ve been there, too.  But God… answered our needs with good friends who were glad to help, and a new medical internist team who really care.  And I found this poem and blog written during another difficult time in 2014 and 2015 that spoke to my heart, reminding me…
    We all have doubts and questions in our hearts.  We all have fears and worries and thoughts with which we wrestle.  But so did the best of men and women who were close to the heart of God – like Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Jacob, Joseph, David, Job, Esther, Mary, Peter, Paul, just to name a few… In fact, there’s a reason why I appreciate their life examples so much… it’s in the depth of their honesty.
    Perhaps we deal with wondering or wandering thoughts, difficult and painful questions, tears with pleas, and heart-felt longings.  Maybe, truth be told, we’re upset and just a little angry at God for not answering our prayers.  Maybe we wonder why our faith seems weak in the face of a host of trials while others float along in life with hardly a problem.  Maybe we feel we’re not worthy of His love and His grace, or maybe we think we don’t need His help... that we can manage on our own, or maybe we think He really can’t understand what we’re facing.
    Yet, we do know we truly can take all our problems to our Lord in prayer, though sometimes it seems like we just shouldn’t bother Him with all of life’s little seemingly insignificant issues.  Sometimes, our heart is so heavy we don’t even know how to put our thoughts into words in order to pray… 
    I’ve been there.  I’ve wrestled.  I’ve wondered, wandered and worried. Yet, Jesus understands.  He knows what we face.  He cares.  He’s been there.  He faced life head on with trials and temptations, with love from friends, but also with rejection, mocking and scorn.  And He knew to whom He could turn – His heavenly Father. 
    When I focus on what Jesus went through, how He suffered for each of us, then what have I to fear?  He knows… for He’s a friend like no other, just as the Apostle John wrote:  “Greater love has no one than this:  to lay down one's life for one's friends.  (John 15:13 NIV) 
    And being the Friend that He is, He welcomes our ponderings.  He exemplifies the bond of a friend who shares the burdens, doubts and fears of our heart.  He helps us understand the meaning within or behind life’s trials and wrestling thoughts.  He loves us deeply.  No matter what we’ve done or where we’ve been, or what questions keep us awake at night, we can go to Him.  He opens our eyes to His truth and words of wisdom when we come to Him in prayer.  And with a heart of love, He welcomes us into his arms of peace.  He truly cares about even the littlest things that we get so concerned about and fret over… for, as I Peter 5:7 reminds us, we are to “Cast all [our] anxiety on him because he cares for [us].”
    This poem came out of my own doubts, questions, fears and frets, and my tendency to take the reins amidst the struggles of life… when I should be giving all these things over to God and rest in His peace.  May you, too, find peace in knowing that, though we all go through these issues, our Lord has his arms and ears and heart open, waiting for us to come to Him with all our concerns.  Because He cares… 
    Thoughts That Wrestle
    Linda A. Roorda
    Within my heart are thoughts that wrestle…
    Where is my faith? On what do I stand?
    Help me now Lord to draw close to You
    Help me to grow rooted in Your truth.
     
    Why am I prone to wander away?
    Why do I hold ever tight the reins?
    Help me to know You guide me gently
    As I rely on Your restoring word.
     
    Your word is truth, reality to me
    A firm foundation to strengthen my soul,
    Lessons to heed when life falls apart
    Knowledge to earn by traveling this road.
     
    Should I utter my bitter complaints
    To underscore the trial I face,
    You offer hope when I’m in despair
    As all my cares I release to You.
     
    Despite my doubts You still rescue me
    You draw me close on hearing my cries,
    Your gentle words within my soul
    Give voice to reason, a wisdom to gain.
     
    You understand my human frailties
    Though I can’t fathom you lived in two worlds,
    Within your heart was sinless perfection
    But in this life temptation You faced.
     
    For You knew pain, rejection and jeers
    And You were tempted, in hunger and thirst,
    But better than we, You stared down the hand
    Of evil's grasp which held not Your will.
     
    You cried with loss, and needed to rest
    You shared a heart for those steeped in sin,
    Your words gave life to the seeking crowds
    As You fed their souls with unreserved love.
     
    The great I Am, the giver of life
    You bless all who come, whose hearts are seeking,
    That we might know, the one holy God
    The Word in flesh, the Light of the world.
     
    For this our faith in your death alone
    And resurrection from the tomb to life,
    Cannot be swayed by earthly passions
    When we take hold of your nail-pierced hands.
     
    Grace and mercy bestowed on my heart
    When faith is wrapped in your sacrifice
    The reason you came among us to live
    How great a gift I can never repay.
    ~~
  5. Linda Roorda

    Tis The Season!

    By Linda Roorda,

    December 5th is a day my/our Dutch ancestors celebrated Saint Nicholas Day or Eve, part of traditional European Christmas celebrations for centuries.  My cousin Sytske Visscher in the Netherlands shared that “St. Nicolas Day/Sinterklaas Day is celebrated on December 5, or the weekend before or after. According to the myth, the Bishop of Myra in Turkey (St. Nicolas) was born on December 6 and started to give presents to the poor members of his congregation on the evening before, December 5.  Families nowadays decide to celebrate the weekend before or after the official day.  Especially celebrating with only adults can better be organized on a weekend (Friday or Saturday evening) when most people do not have to go to work the next day.  Many not only give presents but also make poems to say something to the receiver of the present about what happened to him or her in the last year.” 
    I think Christmas is everyone’s favorite time of year, especially a white Christmas!  Right?!  Even shopping begins in earnest the day after Thanksgiving.  But many of our current holiday traditions either changed dramatically or began only in the 19th century.  Writing in the “Broader View Weekly” local newspaper in December 2012, I explored the origins of many of our American Christmas traditions.
    The Dutch word “Sinterklaas” for Saint Nicholas is considered the origin of our American “Santa Claus” with Washington Irving and Clement C. Moore helping to make him who he is today.  The earliest writing in America of a figure resembling our modern Santa can be found in Washington Irving’s satire of Dutch culture.  In “History of New York” published in 1809, Irving writes in chapter IX:  "At this early period…hanging up a stocking in the chimney on St. Nicholas eve…is always found in the morning miraculously filled; for the good St. Nicholas has ever been a great giver of gifts, particularly to children."  
    Clement C. Moore immortalized St. Nicholas in “’Twas The Night Before Christmas.”  In this ode to St. Nick, he appears on December 24th, Christmas Eve in America, not the traditional St. Nicholas Day/Eve of December 5 or December 6. Moore’s poem, published anonymously in a Troy, New York newspaper on December 23, 1823, promotes a new appearance to the original lean St. Nicholas:  “He had a broad face and a little round belly…He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf…[with a] "sleigh full of Toys" [and] "eight tiny reindeer…[as] Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound."  The two original reindeer names of Donder and Blixem were later changed to Donner and Blitzen.  Once again, the Dutch influence in the former New Netherlands was involved as “donder” means thunder and “bliksem” means lightning.  
    While Irving and Moore both present the jolly gift giver as Saint Nicholas, political cartoonist Thomas Nast is considered the first to refer to “Santa Claus” in his illustration for the January 3, 1863 edition of “Harpers Weekly.”  President Lincoln had requested that Nast depict St. Nicholas visiting the Union troops.  Nast’s illustration shows Santa Claus sitting on his sleigh at a U.S. Army camp, handing out gifts in front of a “Welcome Santa Claus” sign. 

    Another treasured tradition of our modern Christmas is Charles Dickens’ short story, “A Christmas Carol,” written as a commentary on the greed of Victorian England.  Available in bookstores the week before Christmas 1843, it sold very well, never being out of print since.  Scrooge has the distinction of being one of the most well-known literary characters.  But what do we care… Bah, humbug!
    Our decorated Christmas tree comes from German traditions with Queen Victoria’s husband Prince Albert putting up the first decorated tree at Windsor Castle in 1841.  Based on illustrations of this event published in America in 1849, Christmas trees then became fashionable on this side of the “pond.”  Small candles were used to light the tree, with popcorn and cranberry strings typically used for decoration.
    From the religious aspect, Christmas celebrations differed in many ways based on national origin.  I found it interesting to learn that Christmas celebrations were outlawed in Boston by the Puritans in the mid to late 17th century with fines for violations, while the Jamestown, Virginia settlers enjoyed their merry celebrations under Capt. John Smith.  After the American Revolution, Americans looked down on English traditions, including Christmas.  Apparently, Congress was even in session on December 25, 1789!  In fact, Christmas did not become a federal holiday until Congress declared it such on June 26, 1870.  
    By the late 19th century, celebrating Christmas was made popular through children’s books and women’s magazines.  Church Sunday School classes began encouraging celebrations, and families were decorating Christmas trees with everyone “knowing” Santa Claus delivered gifts on Christmas Eve, traditions which have been carried on into the 21st century.
    Other popular traditions we all look forward to include decorating our homes and trees, baking scrumptious special treats, singing carols, and either making or shopping for just the right gift for each special person on our list.  But, alas, the years have also taken a simple celebration in honor of Jesus’ birth and made it into a highly marketed holiday, one often filled with ostentatious materialism.  Personally, I prefer to step back to the simpler traditions of my Dutch ancestry and childhood home, one without “all the trappings” and media frenzy.
    With my dad being a first generation Dutch-American, we veered from Dutch tradition in some ways.  We maintained Christmas Day with a morning church service and a big family dinner; but, our gift-giving was held the Saturday before Christmas, not the Dutch traditional day of December 5.  My husband’s Dutch family opened gifts on Christmas Eve as they had Christmas morning worship service too, but we decided on Christmas morning for our kids to open gifts.
    My first and last adoration of Santa Claus came the Christmas I was 5 years old when Santa visited my grandparents in Clifton, New Jersey. We three oldest granddaughters shyly sat on his lap to share our wants.  Afterwards, my grandmother took us to an upstairs window to watch Santa and his reindeer leave.  All I saw was a car with red tail lights driving away between the snowbanks.  At that moment, I was crushed and disillusioned, and just knew there was absolutely no Santa Claus because, despite dressing the part, he did not have a sleigh and reindeer! 

    After all, everyone’s favorite reindeer is Rudolph with his nose so bright!  Supposedly written by Robert L. May for his daughter when her mother was dying of cancer, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was actually written in 1939 for his employer, Montgomery Ward, as a Christmas book given out free to customers.  Though May’s wife did die around the time he wrote the story, he read it to his 4-year-old daughter as he worked on it simply to ensure it held a child’s interest.  With memories of his own childhood, May decided on a tale with roots in “The Ugly Duckling” and the taunts he had suffered as a child.  Poor Rudolph was ostracized by other reindeer for being different, having an obvious physical abnormality… a glowing red nose.  No one else had one!  Regardless of his defect, Rudolph thrived under his parents’ love, overcame his disability and the taunts to become a responsible young deer!  And then one foggy night, Santa noticed how Rudolph’s nose shone through the dark, and asked him to lead the team of reindeer pulling his sleigh on Christmas Eve!  How excited and honored Rudolph must have felt! 
    We’ve all been blessed with special Christmas memories over the years.  While visiting my mom at Elderwood nursing home in the past, she shared that her mother had always put up and decorated a large Christmas tree in their front parlor.  It was a big change for her to learn that her new husband was not so inclined to such displays due to his more austere Dutch upbringing.  With limited decorations and no trees until my mid-teens when my dad finally gave in to the pleading of his six kids, I have found it difficult to step out of that mold.  Yet, I have enjoyed putting up a tree with lights and decorations when our three children were young.  And now, since my mother-in-law gave me her ceramic tree the Christmas before she passed away, I am honored to share her generosity in this smaller and simpler display.
    My favorite Christmas memory was when my husband, Ed, farmed with his dad.  With finances tight, I usually sewed clothes for all of us.  But, one year I also made doll beds for each of our children by taking free boxes from the local grocery store, gluing the bottoms together, and covering them with wood-grain contact paper.  My step-mother gave our three children a Cabbage-Patch type girl or boy doll she had made, while my grandmother sewed clothes and blankets for each doll.  And our kids could not have been happier!  
    Our local churches do not have a Christmas morning service like Ed and I grew up with, though we have enjoyed the local Christmas Eve candlelight services and singing of favorite carols.  We also began a tradition of reading the Christmas story with our children before they opened gifts on Christmas morning.  
    And another favorite of our family has been the TV special, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by Charles M. Schulz.  With the busy holiday shopping extravaganza and commercialization, I think we sometimes lose a little of the wonder of that very first Christmas.
    “Narrator:  It was finally Christmastime, the best time of the year.  The houses were strung with tiny colored lights, their windows shining with a warm yellow glow only Christmas could bring.  The scents of pine needles and hot cocoa mingled together, wafting through the air, and the sweet sounds of Christmas carols could be heard in the distance.  Fluffy white snowflakes tumbled from the sky onto a group of joyful children as they sang and laughed, skating on the frozen pond in town.  Everyone was happy and full of holiday cheer.  That is, everyone except for Charlie Brown…”
    “Charlie (to Linus):  ‘I think there must be something wrong with me.  I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess.  I might be getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I’m still not happy.  I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel…’”
    “Later, after a day of frustrations, Charlie says:  ‘I guess you were right Linus; I shouldn’t have picked this little tree.  Everything I do turns into a disaster.  I guess I don’t really know what Christmas is about.  Isn’t there anyone who understands what Christmas is all about?’”

    “Linus:  ‘Sure, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.’  [Walking to the center of the stage, Linus speaks:]  ‘And there were in the same country Shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not!  For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you.  You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger.’  And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’”  [Luke 2:8-14] 
    Did you notice Linus drops his blanket? He knew who to trust. And, for me and my family, that’s what Christmas is all about…  As we begin to celebrate this Christmas season, share your special memories!
  6. Linda Roorda

    To Be Mary...

    By Linda Roorda,

    As we approach Christmas and remember “the reason for the season”, I think back to the time when this poem and reflection were written nearly 10 years ago. Thinking about Mary, I wondered what she thought of all the simple, special and amazing events. As a Jew, waiting for the Messiah, she must have been awed and humbled to know she was especially chosen by God to bear the “Son of the Most High,” (Luke 1:31), the “Son of God.” (Luke 1:35) Even as the angel explained, and Mary accepted God’s will on her life, did she truly understand the significance of the life she would give birth to?  And out of my ponderings, came these words. 
    The precious little baby whose birth we again celebrate grew up with a purpose.  I’ve wondered what it would have been like to have watched His life unfold.  We have the advantage of looking backward with Scripture in hand.  Mary would have known the old Jewish prophecies from the past which looked to a future Messiah.  And I wonder what her life was like as she watched her little boy grow into manhood.
    But first, what did Mary think when told by an angel that she had found favor with God... that she would conceive and give birth to a son…before she was even married?  What would everyone in town think of her?!  After all, it was a punishable offense to be pregnant before marriage; she could be stoned to death!  What did she think on hearing this angel say that her son’s kingdom would never end?  (Luke 1:26-38)  Yet, Mary willingly gave of her life, telling the angel, “I am the Lord’s servant.  May it be as you have said.”  (Luke 1:38)  Later, she sang a beautiful tribute of praise to God, which we call The Magnificat:   “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant...”  (Luke 1:46-48) 
    And in Matthew 1:18-25, we learn that after Mary informed Joseph she was pregnant, he decided to divorce her quietly and to not make a public spectacle of her.  He loved her that much.  But an angel appeared to him in a dream and told him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, and to name her son Jesus, “because he will save his people from their sins.” 
    Still, it must have been hard for both Joseph and Mary to deal with the community at large as all their neighbors knew of her pregnancy before their actual marriage had taken place.  What courage and faith it must have taken on their parts to follow God so explicitly while others may very well have talked behind their backs.  May I be granted even a fraction of that kind of faith to follow my Lord.
    Can you imagine what Mary thought when shepherds sought them out to see their son in the stable… because the angels had told them they would find Him there.  And what did she think later when three wise men from the east showed up at their home… bearing gifts for her child… gifts fit for a king?  Luke 2:19 tells us she kept these things in her heart and pondered all that had taken place. What did Mary really think about as she watched her son grow up? 
    What were her thoughts during a time she and Joseph couldn’t find Jesus?  When Passover celebrations concluded in Jerusalem, the family began walking back home.  After a bit of time had passed, they realized their oldest son wasn’t with them.  Oh no!  Where could He be?  I can just imagine the fear in their hearts as they casually and then frantically searched among the crowd.  Not finding their son anywhere, they turned back towards the city with heavy hearts.  He had to be around somewhere… but, where?  He couldn’t just disappear! 
    Eventually, they found him – teaching in the synagogue.  And here these men, the Rabbis, the leaders of the synagogue, sat in rapt attention listening to all that this young lad, their son, had to say!  My word!  He was only 12 years old!  I’m sure they must have been just a little perturbed at his having caused them so much concern.  When they told him to come home, he replied, “Don’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?”  Hmmm… they must have thought that was quite an odd reply.  His dad, Joseph, was a carpenter, not a rabbi.  Did his parents realize Jesus meant his heavenly Father’s business? 
    This was just the beginning of Jesus’ unusual life and ministry.  What he did, how he grew up, where he studied… these are all unknown to us, but not to his mother.  Dear Mary must have watched with pride as her little boy, now a grown man, had quite a following.  People eagerly came to hear him and came to be healed, with many healed miraculously.  Nothing like this had ever happened before!  And though there were people who were not pleased with her son’s ministry, still, the majority seemed to listen closely to every word he said. 
    What were her thoughts as she watched her son’s special life unfold while she raised her other children?  What did she think about when her first-born son was despised and rejected, and then crucified like a common criminal? The anguish she must have suffered as tears flowed down her face. And what were her thoughts on learning her son had risen from the grave, just as He had said!  Did she realize then that He truly was God… that He was the promised Messiah to save us from our sins… and that her son was her Savior, too?  And did she understand that this was why He was born?  I’m sure she must have recalled His words, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life”! (John 3:16)  For this is why Jesus, her precious baby boy, was born.  This is why we celebrate Christmas!  Oh, the joy of it all!
    To Be Mary…
    Linda A. Roorda
    What was it like to be Mary…
    A betrothed young woman
    Not yet married but promised,
    As she carried the stigma
    Of unplanned pregnancy.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To wonder at this baby boy
    Foretold by visiting angel,
    To love the Lord, her God
    And follow His will without question.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    Giving birth to her child
    In a stable among animals,
    And to gaze in wonder
    On the life of her precious son, Jesus.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To find her son teaching
    Scholars trained and wiser than He,
    To wonder and ponder
    At His knowledge beyond their ken.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To follow crowds of people
    Who looked for healing and comfort,
    Observing her son’s miracles
    With His divine words of wisdom.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To watch her son teach and minister
    As He was loved yet despised,
    Revered yet rejected,
    Fully God and yet fully man.
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To watch her son be crucified
    As He paid for our sin with His life,
    But then to see Him risen,
    Our lives redeemed for eternity!
     
    What was it like to be Mary…
    To know her Son was born for this
    To think He’d save the world
    But not in the way she’d hoped
    For His life was given that others might live. 
    May you be richly blessed as you ponder the life of this precious babe in this season of joy!
    Merry Christmas!
    ~~
     
  7. Linda Roorda
    There was a time we longed to know more about our loved one, wasn’t there?  When we were dating, we wanted to know everything there was to know about our beloved’s life… from childhood to adulthood… who they were in the depth of their heart, and what made them who they are today.  We often come to know each other so thoroughly that we can finish their sentences!  We know how they think, and why they do what they do.  And we eagerly follow their leading.  How well I remember following Ed in the barn, learning from him… following so close he called me his little shadow! 
    I hope we never lose sight of that longing to know our loved one on a deeper level because life continually changes, and so do we.  And that got me to thinking… and wondering… how well do I know my Lord?  Oh, I know Him… I love Him… and I know His word.  But, do I know Him deeply, as well as I knew my husband?  I know I fall short and cannot live up to His expectations.  But I also sense a need in my heart to continually study the depth of who God is; and, in that way, learn more about Him and His will, His path, His leading in my life.
    In Deuteronomy 6:5, we read, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”  That’s not always easy.  It’s a challenge.  There is so much in life that clamors for our time and attention.  Yet, as the psalmist David expressed his heart in Psalm 25:4, I find it echoes my heart-felt longings:  “Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths.”  While he also wrote in Psalm 63:1-2, “O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you.  My soul thirsts for you…” 
    Many years later, the prophet Jeremiah heard Yahweh/Jehovah God speak to him with a message for the people of Israel on returning to their homeland from captivity in Babylon.  “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, “‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart.’”  Jeremiah 29:11-13 NIV)  And that’s the heart I want while seeking Him in my life.
    The day I was writing this blog in 2015, my stepmother, Virginia, and I spoke on the phone.  As we reminisced about my father, Ralph, who had died that April 17th, she shared a story about my brother Charlie’s daughter.  At age 3, Nina tagged along behind her grandfather on his way out to the garden.  “What are you doing Pop-Pop?” she asked.  “Picking the Japanese beetles off the tomato plants and putting them in this bucket,” was his reply.  Since she wanted to go in the garden with her beloved grandfather, he told Nina to follow where he put his feet so she wouldn’t get her sneakers dirty from the mud.  Out of love and understanding for his little granddaughter, Pop-Pop then took a shorter stride.  As Nina followed, she stretched her little 3-year-old legs just far enough for her feet to land in Pop-Pop’s big footsteps as he led the way down the path.
    Under Pop-Pop’s guidance, Nina picked beetles off the leaves and dropped them into the bucket.  As she exclaimed to Granny, “I pick Napanese beetles like Pop-Pop!”  Nina was literally following in her grandfather’s footsteps, and proud of it!  And isn’t that what the Lord asks us to do as we seek Him?  That we would love Him enough to follow in His steps, on His path, as He guides our way!
    To Walk In Your Steps
    Linda A. Roorda 
    My soul is thirsting for truth from Your word,
    My daily strength on this path of life.
    A joy with grace and merciful peace
    When in Your will my soul finds its rest.
    ~
    Teach me Your ways, to walk in Your steps
    Let Your light shine as it guides my path,
    May I be used to reach seeking souls
    Others who need the touch of Your hand.
    ~
    May all my words echo Your wisdom
    And may the thoughts within my heart's depth
    Reveal the treasures I’ve kept and pondered
    That all I do will glorify You.
    ~
    So I’ll rise above the fray of this world
    To place my trust in Jesus my Lord
    And even though some days overwhelm
    I rejoice within His absolute love.
    ~
    For gracious is He who pursues my heart
    Just as I am, He embraces me.
    To know His truth with mercy sets free
    Blessed assurance and peace in His will.
    ~~
     
  8. Linda Roorda
    To whom do I owe allegiance?  In whom do I put my trust?  To whom do I give credence?  Important words to contemplate for each of us in this world of conflict and hypocrisy.  Because, when we are individually or collectively silenced or canceled for our beliefs or opinions, for the sake of those who consider themselves to be “in the know” about any and all subjects, we, as a society, have ceased to listen and to understand.  We have lost our empathy, compassion and love, the ability to agree to disagree, but most of all we’ve lost true tolerance, loyalty and respect… allegiance.
    I’ve said it many times before… we are each created differently.  Our kids often heard that phrase from us as we rejected comparisons and envy around us.  We are each unique, to be respected and loved for who we are… even in our infirmities.  Just as every snowflake, every leaf, and every creature in the world of nature is different yet similar, even imperfect, so are we.  Not just physically and outwardly, but also emotionally in our thinking and reacting.  We each have different life experiences that contribute to making us who we are today, and why we think the way we do. 
    Have we not read or heard of the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? (Matthew 7:12, Luke 6:31)  In other words, haven’t we been told to put ourselves in someone else’s “shoes” to understand their life and perspective?  In so doing, we understand just a little better what their life is like, enabling us to show empathy, compassion, true tolerance, and loving kindness. And that exemplifies Jesus’ words in Mark 12:29-31: “the most important is this: …Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this:  Love your neighbor as yourself.”
    With trust placed in our God, He keeps us from stumbling.  He gives us the ability to love and respect those with whom we disagree.  But when we take our eyes off Him and His wisdom and we stumble, He is right there to help pick us up to start over again.  He welcomes us back, just like the little lost lamb He sought and brought back from danger.  For all that our great God does for each of us, I, we, owe Him our thanks, our praise, and our adoration… our allegiance. 
    To Whom Allegiance…
    Of Christ and His love
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Suppose my voice were threatened to silence
    By those opposing my faith in Almighty.
    To whom allegiance, the question I’d face
    Would I still speak or in fear acquiesce?
     
    Some think it’s fair to believe at will
    Whatever goes, whatever seems right,
    To each his own, a designer faith
    That which best fits their values perceived.
     
    I’d hope my faith through testing and trial
    Would stand ever firm in the Lord of my soul.
    For the great I Am with mercy and grace
    Will gently guide when His face I seek.
     
    His wisdom my source for dealing with life,
    Yet often my search still draws me away.
    Why do I think my knowledge is best,
    And why do I fight His hands on the reins?
     
    Time and again He’s proven to me
    He truly knows best, His way unequaled.
    He pulls me up short to rein in my will
    With reassurance as He directs my steps.
     
    My voice will then share the Truth it has known
    A comforting Peace in the storms of life
    A gentle holding in the palm of His hand
    A vision of Light ever guiding my path.
    ~~
  9. Linda Roorda

    Tolerance

    By Linda Roorda,

    Recently, I’ve seen several memes quoting, “History is not there for you to like or dislike; it is there for you to learn from it.  And if it offends you, even better, because then you are less likely to repeat it.  History is not yours to erase or destroy.  Teach that to your children.”
    In an editorial, Dianna Greenwood penned, “that doesn’t mean we tear the monument down or run around crying about how it victimizes us.  Instead use them as teaching tools, to tell the current and next generations about a time in history we do not want to return to.”  It means teaching our history, the good and the bad.  As the author of “1984” and “Animal House”, George Orwell affirmed “The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” 
    Yet we mock, delegitimize or destroy aspects of history. We want our way despite what others may think.  It’s been said to me, “please tell me you’re not going to vote for _____.”  The old give-and-take attitude seems to be lacking... all too evident among those who mock or belittle, especially within today’s world of politics… where a war of words continues to erupt, and people are canceled.  It seems absolute truth and moral or ethical standards have become a negative, a cause for ridicule or derision… while relativism, or determining our own truth as we want it to be, is more often revered. 
    Authors like Laura Ingalls Wilder, Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens (and even Dr. Seuss) have become suspect, apparently not worth our reading in today’s political correctness.  They, like so many others, wrote about the way life was as they experienced it while walking upon this earth, something we can learn from.  The Wilder Award in literature has been renamed the Children’s Literature Legacy Award because Wilder used words from a different era, inappropriate for today.  We were appalled at censorship, banning and burning of books many years ago, but even now we walk a fine line of what is appropriate.  Rather than using it as a learning experience, we disallow our children to read of life in other times when words or language we now recognize as inappropriate were used. Even our Holy Bible is often considered unacceptable because it might offend… despite its containing the best standards to live our life by.
    As discerning parents, we did not allow our children to read a few specific books in high school with blatant promiscuous sex and distortion of family values.  We discussed why the books were inappropriate reading material with our children and school staff.  We were told by the principal that, because we calmly explained our objections, the school graciously saw our valid points and gave alternative reading material.  In Jenn’s case, after giving one particular oral book report, a few classmates told her they wished they’d read that book instead of the original proffered book.  A true story, her book showed a quality of character in the challenges a young man faced as an Olympian runner diagnosed with cancer.  Unable to compete, he turned to helping inner city under-privileged kids.  A great life example!
    The book read by the rest of the class, however, was filled with gratuitous sex, filthy language, and mocking of parental/family values – found when I simply opened the book at random junctures.  In actuality, the teacher told his students to seek their parents’ permission to read that book.  Apparently, if other students showed it to their parents like Jenn, we were the only ones who said, “no way!”  Even the school board was shocked to learn what that book held.  It was pulled from the school’s required reading list, and the teacher complimented us on our stance, saying he learned a lot from us.  There truly is a time for discernment of right and wrong when done with respect.  I was later told by a parent how much she agreed with and respected me for doing this, but was hesitant to take the public stand I had. I understand.
    My poem below began to flow with news of the violence and destruction of our nation’s historical monuments in the summer of 2017 and since.  Removing such historical memorials does not erase or change history… except for the younger generations who never learn its truths.  There are lessons learned in those memories earned.  We’ve come so far.  We’ve grown in understanding and acceptance.  We are not perfect as individuals or as a nation, but isn’t that cause for celebration rather than erasure?  Our differences can be teachable moments.  That’s what Freedom of Speech is all about… a chance to show love and respect even in expressing disagreement, revealing true tolerance, not denigrating or canceling someone just because you don’t like their stance or voting intention.
    Tolerance, by definition, is an ability to be fair, to accept a viewpoint which is different, and to realize that the opposition also has rights… without approving wrong by our silence or going into full rage when disagreeing with the alternative view.  Perhaps we remember that society’s Golden Rule (which promotes tolerance when you think about it), actually comes from the words of Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount:  “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the law…” (Matthew 7:12a)
    Nor is tolerance a license to do anything we want at will.  A moral society adheres to absolute truths of right and wrong, or it breaks down without this solid foundation… as we see with preferential treatment of criminals being put back out on the street where they too often commit more crimes… because they were not held responsible and accountable for their prior criminal acts.
    We can be cognizant and tolerant of others’ opinions or beliefs, respecting our differences… but that does not mean we tolerate rude or foul language, or abusive, bullying, or violent and criminal behavior.  Tolerance is not freedom to persist in traveling down a wrong path.  There are consequences for everything we do... and there is a time and place for speaking out respectfully against what we disagree with, or against inappropriate words or actions. 
    So where did tolerance go?  Too often it seems tolerance is relegated to that which accepts and promotes a particular politically-correct agenda to the exclusion and canceling of the opposing view and person… not appreciating a respectful explanation… putting others into that so-called “basket of deplorables.”
    What happened to our ability to show respect through appropriate discussion and explanation of one’s viewpoint? What happened to Freedom of Speech? Why the hate-filled, foul-worded, and/or disparaging language?  Why violence with riots and destruction, or angry rhetoric to disallow conservative or religious speakers, even on college campuses where all perspectives are supposed to be welcomed?  What is there to be afraid of… that others might actually have valid points of truth, different from your own perspective and agenda, promoting a deeper thought process?
    Fear of a differing opinion by engaging in anger and wrath toward that with which one disagrees serves no viable purpose.  We have heard mobs calling for their rights or else violence will ensue… while proclaiming how tolerant and justified they are!  Seems to me that violence as a coercive bully tactic is anything but tolerance.  Perhaps it would be wise to observe that true tolerance… the courtesy to listen, agreeing to disagree in appropriate discourse… comes by respecting another’s viewpoint, their freedom of speech, without the backlash of vitriolic speech and/or destructive violence.
    When morality and true tolerance steps up and extends a hand in respect, we’re living out the ancient Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17).  Given by God to Moses for the Jewish nation during its exodus from centuries of Egyptian slavery, these words still serve us well as a moral foundation for life even in today’s modern society.  Doing our best to live out Jesus’ words, we show great love and respect for others… “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV) – just as we wish to be treated.  With this love, and acceptance of those with whom we disagree, we embody Christ’s love, for “love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.”  (I Corinthians 13:6 NIV)
    Tolerance by Linda A. Roorda
    Could I but live a life that was safe
    I wouldn’t question differences encountered.
    I would not wrestle with problems I face
    Or troubles inherent with consequent strife.
    ~
    For if I the bad from this life expunged
    I’d then have left the best for display.
    My life would exist by my design
    For my benefit and pleasure alone.
    ~
    Remove the memories and mask the failures
    Fashion the remains to what I deem fit.
    Let visible be selfish ambition
    My life according to myself and me.
    ~
    I have no tolerance for views but mine
    My way is right and suspect is yours.
    I demand my way and fight you I will
    If only to prove entitled am I.
    ~
    Yet what I now see is your hand held out
    Bearing a gift, tolerance by name.
    You’ve come to my aid and lift me up
    To help me stand with dignity tall.
    ~
    There’s a price, you see, for this freedom shared
    It’s a cost in red that flowed for us all.
    And it grants relief from oppression’s fist
    That your words and mine comingle in peace.
    ~~
  10. Linda Roorda

    Tolerance...

    By Linda Roorda,

    It seems we often want our way regardless of how anyone else feels.  That old “give-and-take” attitude I remember growing up with seems to be lacking... all too evident among those who mock and bully others, even within today’s world of politics… where a war of words continues to erupt, and others are canceled.  It seems like absolute truth and moral or ethical standards have become a negative, a cause for ridicule… while relativism, or determining our own truth as we want it to be, is more often revered. 
    Authors like Laura Ingalls Wilder and Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens have become suspect, apparently not worth our reading in today’s political correctness. They, like so many others, wrote about the way life was as they experienced it while walking upon this earth, something we can learn from.  The Wilder Award in literature has been renamed the Children’s Literature Legacy Award because Wilder used words of a different era, inappropriate for today.  We were appalled at censorship, banning and burning of books many years ago, yet even now we walk a fine line of what is appropriate.  We disallow our children to read of life in other times when words or language we now recognize as inappropriate was used.  Even the Holy Bible is often not acceptable because it might offend.
    Yet, as discerning parents, we did not allow our children to read a few specific books in high school.  We discussed why they were inappropriate reading material with both our children and school personnel.  We were told by the principal that, because we calmly explained our objections, the school graciously saw our valid points and gave alternative reading material.  In Jenn’s case, after giving one particular oral book report, a few classmates told her they wished they’d read that book instead of the original proffered book.  A true story, it showed a quality of character in the challenges a young man faced as an Olympian runner diagnosed with cancer.  Unable to compete, he turned to helping inner city under-privileged kids. 
    The book read by the rest of the class, however, was filled with gratuitous sex, filthy language, and mocking of parental/family values – found when I simply opened the book at random junctures.  Actually, the teacher told his students to seek their parents’ permission to read that book!  And, apparently, if other students actually showed it to their parents, we were the only ones who said “no way!”  Even the school board was shocked to learn what that book held.  It was pulled from the school’s required reading list, and the teacher actually complimented us on our strong stance, saying he learned a lot from us.  There truly is a time for discernment of right and wrong when done with respect. 
    My poem here began to flow with news of the violence and tearing down of our nation’s historical monuments in the summer of 2017 and since.  Removing such historical memorials does not erase or change history… except for the younger generations who never learn its truths.  There are lessons learned in those memories earned.  We’ve come so far.  We’ve grown in understanding and acceptance. Isn’t that cause for celebration rather than condemnation?  Our differences can be teachable moments.  That’s what Freedom of Speech is all about… with a chance to show love and respect even in our disagreement, revealing true tolerance, not denigrating or canceling someone just because you don’t like their stance.
    Tolerance, by definition, is an ability to be fair, to accept a viewpoint which is different, and to bear with another in realizing that the opposition also has rights… without approving wrong by our silence, or going into full rage when disagreeing with the alternative view.  Perhaps we remember that society’s Golden Rule (which promotes tolerance, when you think about it), actually comes from the words of Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount:  “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the law…” (Matthew 7:12a) 
    Yet, tolerance is not a license to do anything we want at will.  A moral society adheres to absolute truths of right and wrong, or it breaks down without this solid foundation… as we now see with a preferential treatment of criminals being put back out on the street where they are free to commit crimes again, by not holding them truly responsible and accountable for their criminal acts.
    We should certainly be cognizant and tolerant of others’ opinions or beliefs, respecting our differences… but, that does not mean we have to tolerate rude or foul language, or abusive, bullying, or violent and criminal behavior.  Tolerance is not freedom to persist in traveling down a wrong path.  There are consequences for everything we do... and there is a time and place for speaking out respectfully against inappropriate words or actions. 
    So where did tolerance go?  Too often, it seems tolerance is relegated to that which accepts and promotes a particular politically-correct agenda to the exclusion and canceling of the opposing view and person… regarding differing perspectives as not having validity to be respected. What happened to our ability to show respect through appropriate discussion? What happened to Freedom of Speech? Why the hate-filled, foul-worded, disrespectful language?  Why violence with riots and destruction, or angry rhetoric to disallow conservative or religious speakers, even on college campuses?  What is there to be afraid of… that others might actually have valid points of truth, different from your own perspective and agenda?
    Fear of a differing opinion by engaging in anger and wrath toward that with which one disagrees serves no viable purpose.  We have heard mobs calling for their rights or else violence will ensue… while proclaiming how tolerant and justified they are.  Seems to me that violence as a coercive bully tactic is anything but tolerance.  Perhaps it would be wise to observe that true tolerance… the courtesy to listen, even agreeing to disagree in appropriate discourse… comes by respecting another’s viewpoint, their freedom of speech, without the backlash of vitriolic speech and/or destructive violence.
    When morality steps up and extends a hand in true respect, we’re living out the ancient Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17). Given by God to Moses for the Jewish nation during its exodus from centuries of Egyptian slavery, these words still serve us well as a moral foundation for life even in today’s modern society.  Doing our best to live out Jesus’ words in what we call the Golden Rule, we show great love and respect for others… “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you…” (Matthew 7:12 NIV) – just as we wish to be treated.  With this love, and acceptance of those with whom we disagree, we embody Christ’s love, for “love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.”  (I Corinthians 13:6 NIV)
    Tolerance
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Could I but live a life that was safe
    I wouldn’t question the wrongs encountered.
    I would not wrestle with problems I face
    Or troubles inherent with consequent strife.
    ~
    For if I the bad from this life expunged
    I’d then have left the best for display.
    My life would exist by my design
    For my benefit and pleasure alone.
    ~
    Remove the memories and mask the failures
    Fashion the remains to what I deem fit.
    Let visible be selfish ambition
    My life according to myself and me.
    ~
    I have no tolerance for views but mine
    My way is right and suspect is yours.
    I demand my way and fight you I will
    If only to prove entitled am I.
    ~
    Yet what I now see is your hand held out
    Bearing a gift, tolerance by name.
    You’ve come to my aid and lift me up
    To help me stand with dignity tall.
    ~
    There’s a price, you see, for this freedom shared
    It’s a cost in red that flowed for us all.
    And it grants relief from oppression’s fist
    That your words and mine comingle in peace.
    ~~
  11. Linda Roorda
    Today, I’m sharing something close to my heart.  I’ve shared this before, but it bears repeating because I am not alone.  Tourette Syndrome Awareness Month is May 15 to June 15, with the annual Tourette Syndrome Awareness Day on June 7, 2023.  Tourette Syndrome was named for a French neurologist, Dr. Georges Gilles de la Tourette.  He was the first to describe children and adults with specific tic movements in 1884, publishing his study about this syndrome in 1885.
    I’ve had Tourette’s since age 10-11, starting within a year after my family moved from farms in upstate New York to city life in Clifton, New Jersey… the city where I was born and my dad grew up.  It was an extremely emotional, disruptive time in my life to leave behind my close friends and the country life I loved… and preferred.
    Always believing it was that stress which precipitated my tics, I now understand there is often a genetic component, though I have no idea who may have had it in any older generation.  Most of my life I was embarrassed and ashamed to admit I had Tourette’s.  Nor did my parents know what to do about it.  I was initially mocked, and quickly learned to hide or camouflage the tics with movements that wouldn’t be as readily obvious.  I am constantly “on alert”.  Though I can generally successfully “hide” the tics, or so I think, they have to have an out and are worse when I’m away from the public eye or under stress.
    I’ve called the tics “my habit”, but never had a diagnosis until reading a letter in a Dear Abby or Ann Landers column in my early 20s.  Self-diagnosing from the apt description in that letter and response by the columnist, I felt such a relief to give my affliction a name!  Still, I only shared this information with my husband and closest family.  Though embarrassed and ashamed to see myself with tic movements in a family video, I have not let Tourette’s control my life or employment.  I was also afraid of passing it on to my children, but I wanted and was blessed with a family.  I’m aware of the tics, and am able to control them… but only somewhat.  And I’m also thankful they are considered “simple” tics. 
    Just as I’ve been ashamed of my movements, so my late husband was ashamed of being legally blind growing up.  (He read and approved this when I initially wrote it.)  He couldn’t see the school blackboard with his limited vision, even sitting in the front row, and would not ask for the help he needed.  Kids don’t want to be different from their peers.  When they have a noticeable difference, they are too often teased or mocked like my husband was, and become ashamed of who they are… sometimes with devastating effects, like suicide.  It’s up to us as adults, and even children, to be aware of the issues that others around us are dealing with.  If we provide support, acceptance, and encouragement, we will see ourselves for who we truly are - uniquely created in the image of God, and very loved.
    While subbing one day, I was surprised by a young student who kindly asked, “Do you have Tourette’s?”  Seeing no point in denying the obvious to those sweet innocent eyes, I replied, “Yes, I do.  But how do you know about Tourette’s?”  She’d watched a show.  As kids often do, they talked amongst themselves and others began asking me questions.  This led to their teacher setting aside time so I could share what I knew about living with Tourette’s.  I answered their many questions with several adding they knew someone with Tourette’s, too!  It was an informative session, endearing these students to me for their kindness and understanding.  They simply accepted me for who I am, just as I accept each of them.
    Tourette Syndrome is one type of tic disorder, meeting certain medical criteria of involuntary, repetitive movements and vocalizations, lasting for specific lengths of time.  My “simple” tics include, but are not limited to, sudden brief, repetitive movements of certain muscle groups like hard eye blinking or scrunching (the first symptom for most, including myself), facial, mouth, and head movements, shoulder shrugging, arm, hand and finger movements, head and shoulder jerking, leg and foot movements, throat clearing, repeating words or phrases verbally (or in my mind), and more.  I have an arthritic bony prominence of my collarbone from decades-long shoulder shrugs, and thoracic spine pain/arthritis from prior movements.  Tics wax and wane, change muscle groups at whim, and become worse under stress.
    Though the tics have never gone away, they often subside, albeit briefly, when I’m fully absorbed in something like singing, sleeping or designing paintings.  Totally absorbed while playing intently with my toddler son years ago, my step-mother commented that my tics had totally stopped during that brief window of time.  That was the first time I realized there really were times when “my habit” stopped!
    Tourette Syndrome is a neurodevelopmental disorder with typical onset in childhood or adolescence.  Chemical imbalances in the brain, environmental factors, or genetics are considered causative factors.  There is no cure, but there are some treatment options.  About 35 years ago, I was officially diagnosed by a neurologist and prescribed medication.  Unfortunately, taking just half a pill of the smallest dose, the dopey side effect for me was much worse than dealing with the tics, so I declined further medication.
    I do not have “complex” tics which include distinct patterns with multiple muscles and movements, hopping and twirling, head banging, and more.  Vocal tics can include sniffing, throat clearing, shouting, saying words or phrases, and repeating what was heard.  Though swearing and unacceptable language are found in a small percentage of Tourette cases, the media often describes coprolalia as a more common symptom.  My heart goes out to those with this more severe and disruptive range of tics, some of whom may qualify for disability benefits.  Many with Tourette’s also have other diagnoses including obsessive-compulsive disorder, hyperactivity (possibly me), attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and learning disabilities. 
    Guidepost magazine once featured contemporary Christian music singer, Jamie Grace, sharing her diagnosis of Tourette’s.  Reading the article about her, I burst into tears just to know that someone else has it, but has not let it stop her from living a full life, too.  I always felt so alone, never knowing anyone else with Tourette’s until I opened up about it a few years ago on Facebook.
    Looking at this from God’s perspective, I find it comforting to know He sees me for who I am, Tourette’s and all.  He has a greater purpose for our lives as we bring honor and glory to Him in all that we do, even with our limitations.  Often, as we go through the trials of life, that’s when we learn how to trust and rely on the Lord the best.  In overcoming our own problems, God uses us and our difficult circumstances to reach others who may be dealing with similar issues, bringing love and comfort to them in a way that is as unique as we are each gifted individually.
    To learn more about Tourette Syndrome and how to handle the emotional and physical challenges, go to their website:  https://tourette.org/  Read shared personal stories at: Home | Mytourette.org
  12. Linda Roorda

    Tug Salute

    By Linda Roorda,

    In the autumnal season of life, as we age and retire out of the workforce, some of us may begin to feel unwanted and useless.  We’ve done our job, and certainly did our best… we put heart and soul into our family and career.  But now that we’re a few years removed from a busy active life, and no longer able to do what we once could, maybe some of us feel like we’ve been “put out to pasture” and left to watch time slowly tick away.
    I hope you’re enjoying a great autumn season as the leaves turn colors, the geese form their entourages and fly south, colder weather requires jackets, and tinges of wood smoke make the outdoor air aromatic reminding me of what pioneer days must have been like. We still have not had a frost but expect it later this coming week.  Like life, a lot of changes happen in this season of fall as we prepare for winter just around the corner, reminding me I need to prepare for the inevitable and get those snow tires put on.  And so, we prepare for our latter season of life… and enjoy this time of change. Admittedly, though, I am not a big fan of change… like arthritis creeping in, realizing I need to buy a magnifying glass to read the fine print… but I roll with it, accept the changes, and move forward… 
    These thoughts came to mind on seeing some photos several years ago, like those at this tug graveyard, taken by Will Van Dorp, aka Tugster, another friend from childhood days.  As Will documents and blogs about the daily traffic of his aptly-named watery “Sixth Boro” surrounding New York City and its environs, we see tugs hard at work towing and pushing barges or assisting an array of ships.  Once upon a time, newly minted, they slid off the ways into the water, freshly christened with a shining glow, eager to face whatever responsibility or danger came their way. Tugs of various shapes and sizes actively plied the waters for many decades, sometimes sold to be rebuilt, repurposed and renamed to fit a new owner’s need.  But, it saddens us when these workhorses of watery roads are abandoned in a lonely inlet graveyard to slowly rot away.  They deserve a more fitting tribute for their hard-earned rest.
    Sort of like us… who begin to feel more like the months of autumn as the effects of aging take their toll… despite our thinking we’re a few decades younger and that we can still handle what we used to do with ease!  Maybe we had only one job, one career, or maybe we embraced multiple careers in our lifetime.  Maybe we lived through an era in history with a personal perspective that today’s youth just don’t understand.
    Be willing to share your life stories… the blessings, the fun and laughter, and the tears in tough times.  What was learned through your experiences may help someone else understand how to face their own difficulty.  With the end of life coming to us all eventually, be it boat or person, we can still make the most of our time that’s left.
    We don’t need to retire to the proverbial rocker in the corner… at least not yet anyway!  We can be repurposed in retirement to benefit others.  We can volunteer our time in any number of ways within our local community.  In so doing, we can bring a smile, a sense of joy and love to someone who truly can’t get out and about as they once did. 
    Listen to the stories, memories of the heart.  Help a friend share their life’s history.  Perhaps you can be the catalyst to writing down their memoirs.  Create the opportunity for such remembrances to be passed on to their children, grandchildren and great-grands, even to others beyond their immediate family. 
    Every one of us has a story to tell… our place in history to share.  Like us, those old tugboats are deserving of recognition for what was accomplished during life’s journey with a fitting salute and tribute. 
    Tug Salute
    Linda A. Roorda
    They ply the waters, these boats called tugs
    Each bow riding high with a stern slung low
    A workhorse they say for river or sea
    Vital to traffic of watery lanes.
    ~
    Now gaunt and faded like lifeless fossils
    Left to corrode alone with their mem’ries,
    Who can recall the day of christening
    When futures shone bright as colorful hulls.
    ~
    Riding waves high to rescue the dying
    Pushing and tugging behemoths of the deep
    Gently nudging, tucking in a berth
    Or pushing deep scows hauling upriver freight.
    ~
    No matter the calm, never minding the storm
    They’ve a job to do without laud or praise
    Handling with ease by a captain’s trained eye
    Who knows safe channels like the back o’ the hand.
    ~
    But came the day they were put to rest
    No hands at the helm, their days were numbered
    Silently rocking as waves tick off time
    Lapping relentless to a tune not their own.
    ~
    Haunting images mere remnants of honor
    Come close and listen, if you dare tread near
    Listen to whispers of tales long ago
    As we salute you, the pride of the harbor.
    ~~
    PHOTO CREDIT:  Will Van Dorp, "Tugster".
  13. Linda Roorda
    Ever have visions and hear voices? Ever have a hunch, a sixth sense about something? Seems like it guides us to do something positive, or maybe helps us make a decision. I’ve had many instances. Most times I paid attention to the message; but, I’m ashamed to say, sometimes I did not heed the voices. Deeply touched by my friend Ann’s blog about her visions and voices, she encouraged me to share my own.
    Twice I sensed something bad was going to happen and couldn’t shake that feeling for weeks, until…
    Another time I had the strong sense a friend was very sad as I sat down at my work computer, but didn’t write her a note then…
    Many times, I’ve heard a loud voice speak as though someone was right next to me…
    And one time I had a heavenly vision…
    When I finally shared about my vision, it was a few weeks later. I’d worried what people would think. It’s not normal to see visions or hear God speaking to us, right? Well, wait a minute… not so fast. Let’s back up a bit. I should have known better…
    One of the clearest voices I’ve heard was after leaving an abusive employment situation. I’d resigned from the new job because of an unexpected inability to function and make decisions… I was hearing my former boss yelling and belittling me in my mind, and felt like an absolute and total failure. I literally could not think how to address an envelope!! Driving home, contemplating ending my life by crashing my car into just the right tree, I passed the home of my Dad’s friend and former Army buddy. I’d known him since I was a 2-yr-old toddler when my family lived in Alaska as my Dad finished his Army foreign assignment, before statehood. Roland lived out his strong faith in God, and now, driving past his house, I clearly heard the voice of God say, “I’m here for you. Your family needs you. You will be okay.”
    Nightmares and flashbacks then began of abuse from my teens and by my former employer, while also having very real property and car damage, but the cops did nothing to find the perpetrator. Yet, like David wrote in Psalm 91:2, “I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust’”, God was there for me in many ways during this extremely difficult time… as I took encouragement from His spoken words to me in the car that day. Seeking professional help, I was diagnosed with PTSD which had actually started after verbal rape in junior high. God knew why He allowed me to go through all these circumstances to get counseling, and my healing process began…
    Another time, I had the strong sense that something bad was going to happen. It was a few weeks before Christmas when our kids were little, and I couldn’t shake the feeling. Ed didn’t think there was anything to it, saying I was just being overly pessimistic. That heavy feeling stayed with me until Christmas Eve when he was taken to the hospital with severe chest pain. The doctors found he had a pulmonary embolism. A blood clot from his leg had passed into his lung, but he was going to be okay. I’d sensed something bad was going to happen…
    One morning as I sat down at my work computer, I had an overwhelming sense that Mary Jane, my friend since junior high in New Jersey, was very, very sad. Thinking about sending her an email, I decided my negative feelings were inappropriate and did not write. The next day, Mary Jane emailed me that her mother had passed away… a few hours before my premonition. I felt so badly about not writing her… if only I’d written a note of love and compassion when prompted…
    I also had a strong sense I needed to visit my Uncle Pete and years later an elderly friend, Edna. It was the last time I saw my uncle before his passing. Edna was in the hospital, more serious than I knew. Taking her last breath while I was there, my simple presence meant a lot to her family…
    Then came the spring of 2003. I had an overwhelming sense that something ominous was going to happen. The thought that the world was going to end that summer kept coming to mind, but just as quickly I’d push it away. It was too dark a thought, until…
    We awoke on June 11, 2003 to a hot and humid morning. I considered canceling the trip to the Watkins Glen Gorge with my girls, Jenn and Em, but we decided to go anyway. Anticipating a great time, we climbed the winding steps hewn out of rock in the entrance tunnel, rounded a curve, and stood at the top… gazing out at a downpour! How’d that happen so fast? We looked at each other and laughed – there had only been a few scattered rain drops when we entered the tunnel… someone had turned the faucet on! As it slowed to a drizzle, we walked on, enjoying the scenery of waterfalls and pools, plants and flowers.
    “We walked along, taking a few photos, as I held my umbrella over the cameras to protect them from getting soaked. I noticed the plants, telling the girls what they were, absorbed in the many varieties of ferns, flowering plants, and greenery. The girls were chatting together, enjoying the gorge, usually walking behind me, sometimes in front. As I enjoyed the plants, rock formations, and waterfalls, several times I clearly heard the words spoken loudly as if someone stood next to me, “Watch them.” Each time, I’d pay attention to my girls for a bit, but then drift back to observe the plants or the beauty of the gorge. I felt uncomfortable hearing those words, paying more attention to my girls for a while; but, the pull of nature was too strong and my focus would shift again. How could I have known that God was prompting me, and I didn’t heed His prodding better to “watch them…” Why didn’t I listen and watch them more closely?” (from Watch Them… A Mother’s Memories, by Linda A. Roorda)
    About 2-1/2 weeks later, Jenn collapsed at home in Alfred, suffering heart failure as blood clots passed through to her lungs, disrupting heart and brain function. Life support was removed two days later on the afternoon of June 30, 2003, and our precious daughter, wife of Matt, entered the joys of Heaven. Having asked God, “Why? I don’t understand?”, He provided Scripture in the Rochester International Airport! Waiting for our other daughter Emily’s arrival from California that morning, above us and to our left hung a plaque with Psalm 139:13-16: “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.”
    “The morning after Jenn passed away, I sat on the bench in my flower garden in the eastern corner of our back yard. It was sunny, but still cool. This was my favorite spot, enjoying our yard from that perspective. I could look back at the house and think about my family. I could admire God’s creation in peace and quiet, listening to the chattering of the birds fluttering all around. As I prayed, thanking the Lord for Jenn’s life, praying for peace and comfort in our loss, I had a vision of Jennifer. She was at the base of a hill, in a sunlit field of beautiful flowers, standing near a tree, surrounded by children, and indescribably happy. I heard Jenn say, “Be Strong.” And then she was gone as quickly as she’d appeared… leaving me with an overwhelming sense of peace…” (Watch Them… pg.11)
    Even Ed had a vision of Jenn with long hair, describing how she sat on the sofa in a manner he had never seen due to his blindness. But I knew it was for real because that’s exactly how Jenn “sat” – stretched out, feet and legs curled “under” her, while she cupped her chin in her left hand with that elbow leaning on the arm of the sofa!
    I’ve had more premonitions, though I cannot recall the details. And, on two occasions, I clearly heard a voice with a message. In one, I was told to get out of a friendship, and the other time told not to reply to someone’s inappropriate words… but, thinking I knew how to handle both situations, I did not heed the words heard… later confessing to God how wrong I was not to trust the validity of the messages… learning the hard way to always be attentive to His voice, His messages…
    God shows His love to each of us in many different ways, ways that are as individual as we are, and in ways we may not always recognize as coming from Him. Yet, even when we don’t give Him our full attention, He continues to reach out to us, drawing us closer to His side. Both Psalm 139:13-16 and the words “Be Strong” have continued to be precious words from the Lord that I’ve clung to. With visions and voices from our awesome God, He has held me in His hands, wrapped His love around me and blessed me with His peace, a peace beyond understanding…
    My friend, Carla Cain, had asked me late last year if I’d join her podcast, Balms for the Soul, as a guest speaker with my poetry and reflective blogs. I’ve really enjoyed this project to record them. Click to listen to this podcast here. Sharing some serious difficulties I’ve faced in life, you’ll hear how God used them to work in my life as I recovered from traumas and abuses, in the hopes of reaching others who might need encouragement in their own difficulties.
    I’ve also expressed to Ed that sometimes poems burst forth faster than I can write them down. And, also expressed discouragement in wondering why God gives me words that express storms of life instead of love poems. We both feel strongly these are the words God is bringing out of the depths of my soul, healing my wounds, giving voice to what others might be feeling, while also sharing the depths of God’s loving care in all we face… confirmed in hearing how deeply some poems have touched the hearts of others.
    There’s just something of a personal touch in hearing the spoken words, so I encourage you to take a few minutes of your time to listen to this as a podcast. And God bless you in knowing He walks beside you, including on those most difficult days, as He leads and guides us along the way. With much love and hugs...
    The Hollow of Your Hands
    Linda A. Roorda
    In the hollow of Your nail-scarred hands
    You gently hold my fragile life.
    You carry me and protect me
    And whisper words of wisdom’s wealth.
    ~
    You wrap me in your calming presence
    You shelter me in the raging storms.
    Your comfort brings a gentle peace
    With endless joy that overflows.
    ~
    Your arms of strength enfold the weary
    My faltering steps you gently guide.
    You lift my face when tears rain down
    And give more grace when You I seek.
    ~
    Your voice of wisdom sustains my soul
    With lamp held high You lead the way.
    When You I trust, forsaking folly,
    The winding path for me You straighten.
    ~
    In the hollow of your loving hands
    You gently hold my fragile life.
    You keep my soul in perfect peace
    When all my heart abides in You.
    ~~
    Listen to this Poetic Devotions podcast by clicking here:  Visions and Voices
  14. Linda Roorda
    Suppose tomorrow was your last. How would you spend it? I’ve asked myself that question after our Jenn died on June 30, 2003.  And it’s with joy for a life well lived that we remember her. All that spring of 2003, I sensed the world was going to end that summer… but I kept pushing the thought away. That May, Jenn graduated with a master’s degree in psychology. In early June, Em flew home for vacation from California where she was working after her Houghton graduation. So, we three girls went to a favorite spot, Watkins Glen Gorge.  Several times, I heard the words loud and clear, as if someone stood next to me, “Watch them. Watch them!” So, I did… for a bit. But the pull back to the plants, rock formations and water was strong. Ah, hindsight! If only I had known…
    We have no idea what tomorrow will bring.  We tend to blithely traipse through life, thinking we’re so in control of our destiny.  But are we?  Personally, I find comfort and reassurance knowing that God is ultimately in control.  I know He understands who I am because He created me.  He knows how each little bit and piece of my ups and downs, my joys and sorrows, my successes and failures all fit together to make my life something of value.  So, when life hands me a bump in the road, I can rest assured knowing that He will work it all out for my good, even though I don’t like the difficulty I must face… because He holds my hand, and He knows where He’s leading me.
    None of us wants to think about losing someone we love.  Yet, eventually, we all face the loss of a family member, our parents, grandparents, a friend, our beloved spouse, or even our own mortality.  It’s then, during our darkest days of grief, that we realize life is all too short.  What’s truly important comes into focus in the realization that tomorrow is not promised to any of us...  And we focus on how we can best use the balance of time we’ve been allotted on this earth.
    After the sudden and unexpected loss of our married daughter, Jennifer, grief hit hard.  On the 28th, she had collapsed at home, urgently needing an ambulance, going into cardiac arrest shortly after.  On life support, barely surviving the flight to Rochester’s Strong Memorial, we were told there was no remaining brain function after testing on the 30th.  Ending life support was certainly not what her husband or we ever expected for Jenn’s life.
    At 25, this former high school valedictorian, alumnus of Houghton College, had graduated a month earlier from Alfred University with high honors and a master’s degree in school psychology.  She touched the lives of many with her heart of love, gifted in reaching deeply troubled children in her psychology work.  Her profs stood in awe of her ability, saving videos of her work as teaching tools for the future.  Her love extended to classmates who had mocked her for not socializing in bars with them after classes.  Instead, she invited them to her home for projects, sharing homecooked dinners with her scrumptious desserts, ultimately winning them over with love.  In fact, two former classmates spoke at Alfred University’s memorial that October.  Reading Scripture in Jenn’s memory, they told everyone it was Jenn’s love for them which led them to accept Jesus as their Savior. 

    But while at Strong Memorial Hospital, knowing our daughter would soon be leaving this world, I simply asked God, “Why?  I don’t understand!”  Not out of anger… simply out of confusion, sorrow, and pain.  There was no seeming answer to any of our prayers.
    The next morning at the Rochester International Airport, waiting for our daughter, Emily, to fly in from California, I had a heavy heart. To my left, five plaques hung on the wall.  I remember one was an ad for spaghetti sauce. But in the center was a shiny black plaque with silver lettering.  As I read the words, I literally felt a tremendous wave of peace wash over me from head to toe.  There for all to read were the beautiful words of Psalm 139:13-16 (NIV): “13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 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. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
    God heard my plea.  He answered my heart’s cry!  And He knew these words were exactly the comfort I needed as I felt a wave of peace wash over me.  God was always with us, loving us through our pain. 
    The day after her death, I sat in my garden, praying, thanking God for her life, for her legacy of love to others, and for the 25 years we were blessed to have her with us.  Suddenly, while praying, I saw her in my mind’s eye – bathed in brilliant light, standing near a tree at the base of a hill that was covered in lush green grass with beautiful flowers all around, surrounded by children, as I clearly heard Jenn say, “Be strong!”  And I felt a tremendous sense of absolute contentment as peace enveloped my entire being. 
    What precious words of comfort directly out of Scripture – Be strong!  Be strong and of good courage… Be strong in the Lord...  Be strong!  God is with us in our deepest loss, our deepest pain… ready to comfort, hold, and encourage us as He showers us with His all-encompassing peace and strength.  My prayer is that others who grieve will find the same comfort and peace we have come to know – while focusing on using the tomorrows wisely that our God has graciously blessed us with.  Because none of us knows what tomorrow will bring… 
    Were I to know…
    Linda A. Roorda
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d want to say how much I love you.
    I’d want to know I made a difference
    In someone’s life along the way.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d watch the sun as it rose in glory
    While dawn awakens the world below
    And birds and creatures stir from slumber.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d see the world surrounding us all
    As with eyes that beheld for the very first time
    And stand amazed at creation’s beauty.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d stay in the garden to hear His voice
    As He speaks within the depth of my soul
    Embracing my heart in the beauty of nature.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d end the chase of meaningless tasks
    And focus instead on what matters most
    In the life and love of family and friends.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d see again the love in your eyes
    And listen as you share dreams of your heart
    To forever hold this memory dear.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d share the gift of love and peace
    That overflows in a thankful heart
    From blessings only God can give.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d gaze in awe on the sun’s fading light
    With colorful hues and shadows dark
    As moon and twinkling stars burst forth.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d want to share my Jesus, my Lord
    For knowing Him and His gift of grace
    We’ll rest in His peace and heavenly joy.
    ~
    Were I to know tomorrow was my last
    I’d share my vision with all the world
    Of brilliant Light and overwhelming Peace
    Within Christ’s glory on arriving Home.
    ~~
  15. Linda Roorda

    What If...

    By Linda Roorda,

    This story is very close to my heart for someone I dearly loved would not have lived among us if the recommended abortion had taken place. January is Sanctity of Human Life month, and today is Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. First designated as such in 1984 by President Ronald Reagan, I think it extends to far more than the banner of the anti-abortion movement. It’s not a political issue, but one that affects our moral fiber. Sanctity of life issues reflect on each one of us because all life is sacred.
    With the 51st anniversary of January 1973’s Roe v. Wade abortion decision, I again share the story of a mother-to-be who already had two healthy children, a girl and a boy. This time, she was very ill with her pregnancy. Vomiting frequently, she steadily grew worse. Struggling to carry this new little life, and against her wishes, her physician sought to obtain a “medically necessary” abortion. At that time, three doctors needed to sign documentation indicating the mother’s life was in jeopardy if the pregnancy continued. However, no third physician would put his name on the line to allow such an abortion.
    A Cesarean section was performed at 7 months’ gestation or risk losing both mother and baby. To the surprise of all, twin boys were born! After surgery, the mom nearly died from the effects of toxemia (i.e. now called pre-eclampsia), the result of high blood pressure and the demands on her body by not one but two precious little ones.
    With prayer and great medical care, she pulled through; but her little boys struggled. The largest twin at 5 lbs succumbed to an enlarged heart and died at two days of life, while the smallest little boy at 3-1/2 lbs was placed in an incubator for a month. This tiny preemie survived, albeit with health problems and very limited vision in only one viable eye.
    How do I know? The littlest twin was my husband, Edward. His blindness was caused by the incubator's high oxygen content. But we all praise God that no third physician was willing to sign papers to permit an abortion which would have taken the lives of these precious boys.
    Prior to1952, major medical centers knew that high levels of oxygen in incubators led to infant retinal damage and blindness. But physicians at the tiny hospital in Goshen, NY, a small farming community, were not aware of these findings. As a toddler, Ed was taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City. There, his parents were told he was among about 2000 children seen in their clinic, one of seven children who had some remnants of remaining vision! The optic nerve to his right eye was damaged, causing total blindness, while his left eye had limited vision, 20/200 with correction.
    Ed got his first pair of glasses at age 2. Three years later, with a new pair of stronger lenses, he stared out the car watching the world go by. Suddenly, he shouted, “I see them!” Kids were sledding down a nearby hill; though blurry, it was something he’d never seen before. Whenever his mom told this story, it always brought tears to her eyes. That one sentence was worth every cent of his care, she’d say.
    As Ed grew up, he was determined to do nearly everything everyone else could do. It drove him forward. Totally blind since 1998, we considered it a blessing he had limited vision for as long as he did. The renowned musician, Stevie Wonder, has the same condition. Then called retrolental fibroplasia (RLF), it is caused by high levels of oxygen in the incubator which contributes to abnormal blood vessel growth, damaging the retina. Now termed retinopathy of prematurity (ROP), it still affects a small percentage of premature infants.
    Did you know that at about 22 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, fully formed, fingers and toes have fingerprints and nail; he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, sucks a thumb, and sleeps regularly. At full-term, 39 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. Even Ed's retired dermatologist, a devout Catholic, always wore the tiny "Precious Feet" pin on her lapel as a testament to her beliefs, pleased we knew what it meant. Look up the pin name online for a physician's story behind this pin.
    Since Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973 allowing for legal abortions in America, the numbers have been staggering with more than 63 million abortions. It must also be taken into account that some data is voluntarily reported while other American states have not provided details in a number of years, and I read there are many uncounted abortions. Yet with legal abortions available, the number of deaths from illegal abortions has declined.
    For anyone who has aborted their baby for whatever reason, I pray she finds peace in the loving arms of God’s forgiveness. But my prayer also is that each precious little life be allowed to reach his or her full potential and life purpose, regardless of disabilities. The current discussions of “quality of life” and euthanasia go beyond a personal decision, with government or insurance companies’ input supposedly for the “good of society.”
    There are many difficult questions on both sides of the aisle. But I’ve long pondered, if we care so much for those in the animal world, and carefully protect and preserve many other species from decimation, how much more precious is each and every human life – especially since we are made in the image of God? How can we destroy human life through abortion, i.e. murder in utero, simply because the pregnancy doesn’t fit our plans or the pre-born baby is “defective”? Do we expect abortion because some pre-born infants are imperfect, and will become a supposed burden to society? Do we justify abortion because some parents are unprepared to care for their children, abuse them, or kill them?
    Even in our imperfect society, there is a viable alternative – adoption. However, with more stringent laws passed to prevent human trafficking, adoption has become an increasingly difficult option.
    Anyone who has miscarried an unborn child understands the pain of loss. I miscarried our first little girl, Heather, at six months, with autopsy showing twins who did not separate properly, followed by a second miscarriage a year later. My cousin, Randy, intellectually challenged, grew up a kind and loving young man thanks to the love of his widowed mother. Despite his disabilities, he knew everything there was to know about his baseball team and the players!
    My step-sister’s son, Cory, was born with DeGeorge syndrome due to a missing part of chromosome 22. Also having apraxia (an inability to perform certain purposeful actions due to brain damage) and diabetes, he developed cirrhosis a year before passing away Easter Sunday 2015. Like many with disabilities, Cory had an infectious joy for life and an unconditional love for everyone he came in contact with, thanks to his mother, Janet.
    Life is sacred, and each pre-born child is a unique gift from God just waiting for us to open our arms and heart to this new little 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…
    by Linda A. Roorda
    What if…
    There was no God?
    Would we know how to love
    Or, would hate rule our lives?
    Would we each decide
    What rules 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?
    ~~
    Linda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  16. Linda Roorda

    What If...

    By Linda Roorda,

    Today is National Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. And this story is very close to my heart because someone I dearly loved would not have lived among us if the recommended abortion had taken place.
    With the 52nd anniversary of January 1973’s Roe v. Wade abortion decision, I again share the story of a mother-to-be who already had two healthy children, a girl and a boy.  This time, she was very ill with her pregnancy.  Vomiting frequently, not able to keep much food down, she steadily grew worse.  Struggling to carry this new little life, her physician sought to obtain a “medically necessary” abortion.  At that time, three doctors needed to sign documentation indicating the mother’s life was in jeopardy if the pregnancy continued.  However, no third physician would put his name on the line to allow such an abortion.
    A Cesarean section was performed at 7 months’ gestation or risk losing both mother and baby.  To the surprise of all, twin boys were born! After surgery, the mom nearly died from the effects of toxemia (now called pre-eclampsia), the result of high blood pressure and the demands on her body by not one but two precious little ones.
    With prayer and great medical care, she pulled through; but her little boys struggled.  The largest twin at 5 lbs succumbed to an enlarged heart and died at two days of age, while the smallest little boy at 3-1/2 lbs was placed in an incubator for a month.  This tiny preemie survived, albeit with health problems and extremely limited vision in only one viable eye. 
    How do I know?  The littlest twin was my husband, Edward.  His blindness was caused by the incubator's pure oxygen and the abnormal growth of blood vessels in the retina.  But we all praise God that no third physician was willing to sign papers to permit an abortion which would have taken the lives of these precious boys, against their mom’s wishes.
    Prior to 1952, major medical centers knew that high levels of oxygen in incubators led to infant retinal damage and blindness.  But physicians at the tiny hospital in Goshen, NY, a small farming community, were not aware of those findings.  As a toddler, Ed was taken to Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City.  There, his parents were told he was among about 2000 children seen in their clinic, one of seven children who had some remnants of remaining vision!  The optic nerve to his right eye was damaged, causing total blindness, while his left eye had limited vision, 20/200 with later correction. 
    Ed got his first pair of glasses at age 2.  Three years later, with a new pair of stronger lenses, he stared out the car watching the world go by. Suddenly, he shouted, “I see them!”  Kids were sledding down a nearby hill; though blurry, it was something he’d never seen before.  Whenever his mom told this story, it always brought tears to her eyes.  That one sentence was worth every cent of his care, she’d say. 
    As Ed grew up, he was determined to do nearly everything everyone else could do.  It drove him forward.  Totally blind since 1998, we considered it a blessing he had limited vision for as long as he did.  The renowned musician, Stevie Wonder, has the same condition.  Then called retrolental fibroplasia (RLF), it is caused by high levels of oxygen in the incubator which contributes to abnormal blood vessel growth, damaging the retina.  Now termed retinopathy of prematurity (ROP), it still affects a small percentage of premature infants. 
    At about 22 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, fully formed fingers and toes have fingerprints and nails; he sees and blinks, inhales and exhales amniotic fluid, kicks, sucks a thumb, sleeps regularly, and even has hiccups!  At full-term, 39 weeks, your baby is ready for life outside the nurturing womb. Ed's retired dermatologist, a devout Catholic, always wore the tiny "Precious Feet" pin on her lapel as a testament to her beliefs, pleased we knew what it meant. Look up the pin name online for a physician's story behind this pin.
    Roe v. Wade was passed January 22, 1973, allowing for legal abortions in America. The numbers are staggering with an estimated 60.1 to 64.1 million pre-born children aborted since 1973. 
    Some babies who survive saline or chemical abortions and left to die have often been given care by concerned medical staff.  These survivors share their stories with a passion, promoting pro-life options as I listened to or read their stories online.  One survivor, Gianna Jessen, was “bathed in a burning saline solution [which] she overcame to enter the world. Two months premature, weighing two and a half pounds, she spent her first couple of months in a hospital before entering the foster care system. The failed abortion also provided the “gift” of cerebral palsy, as Gianna says. “It allows me to really depend on Jesus for everything.”
    Sanctity of life issues reflect on each one of us because all life is sacred. I believe it extends to far more than the banner of the anti-abortion movement.  It’s not a political issue, but one that affects our moral fiber.  Today, churches around our nation will honor God’s gift of life, commemorate the thousands of lives lost to abortion, and commit to protecting human life at every stage.
    Yet, there are many difficult questions on both sides of the aisle. I’ve long pondered that, if we care so much for those in the animal world and carefully protect and preserve many other species from decimation, how much more precious is each and every human life – especially since we are made in the image of God?  How can we destroy human life through abortion, i.e. murder in utero, because the pregnancy may be the result of rape, doesn’t fit our plan, or the pre-born baby is defective?  Do we seek abortion because some pre-born infants are imperfect, and will become a supposed burden to society?  Do we justify abortion because some parents are unprepared to care for their children, abuse them, or kill them? 
    My cousin, Randy, intellectually challenged, grew up a kind and loving young man thanks to the love of his widowed mother.  Despite his disabilities, he knew everything there was to know about his baseball team and the players! 
    My step-sister’s late son, Cory, was born with DeGeorge syndrome due to a missing part of chromosome 22.  Also having apraxia (an inability to perform certain purposeful actions due to brain damage) and diabetes, he developed cirrhosis a year before passing away Easter Sunday 2015.  Like many with disabilities, Cory had an infectious joy for life and an unconditional love for everyone he met thanks to his mother, Janet.
    Life is sacred, and each pre-born child is a unique gift from God just waiting for us to open our arms and heart to this new little life.  Even in our imperfect society, there is a viable alternative – adoption.  However, with more stringent laws passed to prevent human trafficking, adoption has become an increasingly difficult option.
    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 hate rule our lives?
    Would we each decide
    What rules 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?
    ~~
  17. Linda Roorda
    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?
    ~~
  18. Linda Roorda
    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 and compassion.  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 wise words from Scripture in mind, when we give of ourselves to benefit others, a depth of beauty is seen through the glow of an unselfish act – the embodiment of 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 has 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 generous 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 of life.  For you will know when someone has been deeply touched by the beauty of your heart…
    Yet, the question must be asked… what is the opposite of love’s beauty?  The generous airs or charms put on to cover that which is defiled… a self-proclaimed boasting in how humble one is… the disguising of a selfish attitude of pride filled with self-centeredness and greed… an indifference, or absence of emotion, caring, compassion, and love.
    Which brings us back to our initial question, what is beauty? Smiles to brighten someone’s day… a helping hand serving those in need... sharing truth with true humility… earning trust with acceptance and respect of others… generous acts of kindness strewn among friends and strangers… and an unfading gentle spirit of love and peace found within the selfless heart.  Among these and more we find true beauty… 
    For “[beauty] 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 3:4)
    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
    Or 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?
    ~~
  19. Linda Roorda

    What's My Purpose?

    By Linda Roorda,

    What’s my purpose in life?  Who am I meant to be?  And what am I meant to do? 
    If you’re like me, you’ve pondered those thoughts every now ‘n then over the years, especially in our younger days.  With life ahead of us, we often wonder what part we’ll play in society.  What career should we go into?  Who will we love and marry?  These thoughts carry evidence of the weighty questions from our heart regarding our basic needs, and for who we will become… as we seek to find our place in the world at large.
    Celebrating my childhood friend’s birthday and 50th wedding anniversary with her husband yesterday, and meeting other childhood friends I haven’t seen since my family moved away, brought to mind all the different paths we have each taken in life. Yet, the foundation set by the Christian school and church have been part of the solid foundation in God that was established for our lives.
    I once read of a little child’s misunderstanding of the Lord’s Prayer – “Our Father who art in heaven.  I know you know my name…”  Besides being cute and precious, there’s a lot of truth in those words!  I find peace and reassurance knowing that our heavenly Father knows my name… knows who I am, who He’s created me to be, and what my purpose is on this journey of life.
    As the Lord said to an Old Testament prophets, “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”  (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

    God knows what my needs are even before I ask.  But He likes to hear me give voice to those needs… to express a trust in His caring hand, and in His loving wisdom.  Yet, how often doesn’t it seem that, when faced with the brevity and fragility of life, in the pain and turmoil that besets our path, it’s then we’re more apt to pray from the depth of our heart and remember the greater purpose of our life – to praise, thank and glorify our Creator God and bring Jesus’ love to the world around us.
    As we thank and praise our God in the busyness of every-day life, we feel the blessing of a relationship with Him, and feel His presence in even the simplest things that we do. We feel a joy and peace as we follow His footsteps… His words… and as we adopt them for our path in life.  There’s a comfort and a peace we find in knowing we’re listening to His voice in our heart for which direction to take… and how we can use our purpose to help others on this journey of life.
    Because there are as many ways to define our purpose as there are people… for we are each created unique with our own set of gifts or talents, desires or yearnings, and special ways to show love to each other. We actively seek to encourage and support others, show how much you care in words, actions, or simply with smiles and hugs. Share your humorous wit, and a hard-earned wisdom gained through experience. Value family relationships, and give back to your community from your wealth… whether financially or by simply lending a helping hand in a myriad of ways.
    It may not come instantly to us when we have a concern; but, given time and prayerful reflection as we delve into His Holy Word, He’ll lead us forward on the right path.  He’ll show us His will, His purpose for our life and in the lives of others… though sometimes we may not see how He’s working all things together for our good until we look back and see how He’s led us every step of the way.  Because, as we read in Romans 8:28, “we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
    What’s my purpose?  To bring glory and honor to our great God in all that I do!
    What’s My Purpose?
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    What’s my purpose if not to bring praise…
    To honor a love that knows no bounds
    A grace and mercy I do not deserve
    From One who has blessed with joy out of woe.
    ~
    What have I done that You would seek me
    For I’m not worthy of Your gracious gifts
    But with open arms You draw me near
    To offer me hope with shelter and rest.
    ~
    The blessing of friends reflects Your heart’s depth
    Holding out hands as others we touch
    For there’s a bond that silently speaks
    In drawing near to humbly share love.
    ~
    May I forgive as You forgave me
    All those I meet on this path of life
    As peace You share envelopes my soul
    From striving turmoil to soothing solace.
    ~
    What’s my purpose if not to share love…
    A semblance of Yours bought with a price
    May we be blest from Your gracious hand
    And may our lives bring glory to You.
    ~~
  20. Linda Roorda

    When Breaks the Dawn

    By Linda Roorda,

    Sometimes words seem so utterly inadequate. I awoke this morning to learn a friend lost her beloved sister quite unexpectedly yesterday. Thinking of all the devastation and loss of life Hurricane Ida left behind, and the sadness that has engulfed us all from the debacle in Afghanistan half a world away, our thoughts and prayers and support continue to be with each one so heavily affected by loss.
    And I remember that five years ago tomorrow our world came close to crashing down in a different way, but our great God took control and we praise Him for the blessings with each new dawn.  No, we don't know what the next minute holds for any of us. We've all had our shares of painful losses, within rich blessings that sometimes, it seems, we take so much for granted. May you feel God's arms envelope you with His comforting love and peace amidst the pains of this world. With much love, Linda
    ~~  ~~  ~~                            ~~  ~~ ~~                             
    We often give a prayer of thanksgiving for each new day… as the sun barely begins to peek over the hilltop or horizon, sending its rays to disperse the darkest night… as the twinkling gems scattered upon the black velvet heavens slowly fade from sight… and the sun’s brilliance once again illuminates our world.
    With each new dawn we become aware of the wonders of a new day… another day in which to sing praise and bless someone else along our path.  Having been blessed in so many ways I lose count, I’m afraid I have a tendency to take many of them for granted.  Yet, even the littlest ones seem to just always be there to greet us as we rush by without giving them a second thought… Oh, we have so much to be thankful for, don’t we?! 
    The above reflection was begun in August 2016 with those two simple paragraphs not long after the poem below was written in 2015.  It was just a simple way of saying thanks to God for His blessings and guidance each new day, blessings that I often tend to take for granted… because we never know what tomorrow brings as the saying goes, never mind the next minute. 
    And those words were given new meaning when we were involved in an accident a few weeks later on September 6, 2016.  We were both okay, despite muscle strains.  Actually, we were very thankful to be alive!  It could’ve been so much worse.  With even a second’s worth of difference, it could have been a head-on crash, or at the very least a direct hit into my driver’s side door.
    Even NYS Trooper Leonard told me in the ER, “That was some excellent driving you did there!”  Coming home from my husband’s medical appointment in Sayre, a southbound car on Rt. 34 drove directly into my northbound lane.  As I came over a rise in the road, that car barely missed the SUV ahead of me as I braked and veered to the right shoulder, onto the gravel and grass, running over a 4-ft reflector post which ripped off the rear fender, avoiding going down the steep slope which likely would have rolled our car and very possibly killed my husband.
    Unexpectedly, my car had been rammed hard by the drifting car into my driver’s side rear door and panel.  The impact blew the left rear tire, broke the suspension, ripped the rear bumper off, and whipped my car around into the arc of a 180-degree turn.  Steering to avoid colliding with other southbound cars, I ended up facing southward on the shoulder of the opposite lane.  Later, Ed heard witnesses telling the Trooper, “I don’t know how she missed those cars, but she somehow managed to go between them!”  And no one else got a scratch!
    I’m as impressed as anyone else.  I vaguely recall being in the midst of other cars, afraid we’d take a direct hit on Ed’s door or that I’d hit the car to my left as we spun in that arc, but none of that happened.  I am not hesitant to say that I firmly believe it wasn’t my driving expertise.  In fact, I felt like I wasn’t in control of our car.  I truly believe God’s angels took that wheel and safely wove us between the other cars to prevent a major pileup, one with multiple injuries or even a fatality. 
    So many wonderful people stopped to check on us, called 911, helped stabilize us, and gave us both wonderful loving support.  As my left arm began feeling very heavy and numb, an EMS volunteer held my neck from moving prior to putting a brace on once the ambulance arrived.  The other driver went off the road and into the woods.  She’d been seen to be weaving across the lanes for several miles, with others getting ready to dial 911 for cops to intervene when the accident happened.  She told others she was driving under the influence of her opioid medication.  I do hope she got the help she needed to get off those meds.  Interestingly, she lived a good distance south of the PA border, but had driven quite a ways from her home to Ithaca, NY for her medications.
    I can’t say enough how thankful we are for God’s mighty hand in all of this.  In the space of a second or two, there could have been a completely different result.  Yes, we are so blessed in so many ways… with each new dawn.
    When Breaks the Dawn
    Linda A. Roorda 
    When breaks the dawn my heart rejoices
    For I am blest to see a new sun
    And in my soul a song is stirring
    With praises for this beautiful day.
     
    You open my eyes to the truths of life
    Truths on display in all creation
    A beauty here I marvel to see
    Speaking to me in majestic hue.
     
    Show me each day the way I should walk
    A daily journey with You at my side,
    Let deeper truths from Your holy word
    Speak to my soul and guide all my steps.
     
    May all my steps bring glory to You
    On a path of faith with Your word as guide
    For wisdom’s ways are worth more than gold
    And treasures kept show where the heart lies.
     
    When breaks the dawn let my praise arise
    To You, O Lord, the giver of gifts
    That all may see Your mercy and grace
    Gently bestow a love to be shared.
    ~~ 2015 ~~
  21. Linda Roorda
    Approaching Memorial Day, my thoughts are of all who gave their lives in war that we and so many around the world might live in freedom.  Their battles on the field and in the mind are not what we who have never been there can truly fathom.  We can listen to or read survivors’ stories, hear of their fears amid tales of bravery, empathize with the sadness and trauma as they share the loss of buddies and who and what they might have become, consider questions relating to the whys and wherefores of war and the lessons learned, but we can never fully comprehend unless we’ve been there.  I’m very thankful for all who have served for the sake of freedom, but especially remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
    Yet, even this season of corona-virus pandemic has been compared an invisible war.  Here and around the world, we’ve battled an infection that struck unexpectedly.  Our medical professionals grew weary on the battlefront, facing daily unknowns, while being the sole comfort of those dying without family present.  We faced the loss of family and community members, not to mention the toll among the greater world community.  We saw unemployment numbers skyrocket, houses of worship closing for a time, businesses being shuttered forever, long lines of the weary waiting patiently for free food, arrests of those trying to open their business to normalcy while hardened criminals are released from jail only to commit crimes again, and we’re left with doubts and fears.  Will life ever be normal again?
    I have doubts and fears, too.  If we’re honest, we all do.  We think we’re not good enough and will never measure up.  We may doubt our abilities or skills, fear a lack of control in certain situations, or fear the unknown future.  We look for accolades to prop us up, to make us feel better about ourselves, trying to prove that we really are someone of some importance.   
    But I have to ask: whose voice am I listening to?  That inner voice which berates me for every mistake, every misstep, every poor choice or selfish deed, even looking for praise… or, am I listening in humility to God’s gentle nudging, that quiet voice in my soul from His deep and tender love?  A number of times I’ve been nudged with a gentle inner whisper, while other times I’ve heard His voice speak loud and clear.  Unfortunately, I have not always listened and reacted as I should have.  My will, my desired outcome, got in the way of God’s voice.  I need to remember to “be still, and know that [He is] God.” (Psalm 46:10a)  For when I quiet my frantic ruminations and sit still, humbly and quietly waiting to hear the Lord’s guiding words, it’s then that my heart is receptive, and my doubts and fears subside.  
    Open to profound wisdom and examples of Christ’s love in the world around us, I recall “Blood Brothers” from M*A*S*H (April 6, 1981). https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0638258/  This episode is a classic, my favorite about the medical unit’s priest, Father Francis Mulcahy.  I appreciate his quiet gentle ways, words of wisdom, and deep humility, yet I also appreciate that he is not so “holier than thou.”  Like the rest of us in many ways, he reveals a temper flare at times.  Knowing his superior, Cardinal Reardon, is scheduled to visit and review what Mulcahy has accomplished at the 4077th, the good Father wants everything and everyone around him to show perfection… including his own sermon.  Instead, Mulcahy becomes cranky and frantic with constant interruptions from side issues.  Oh, so like me at times!
    In the midst of feeling sorry for himself, Father Mulcahy learns that Capt. Pierce has just diagnosed one of his patients with an incurable disease.  Offering his own blood for his severely wounded best friend, a young soldier is told he has leukemia and can’t give blood.  Arguing about plans to send him out the next morning to the hospital in Seoul, Pvt. Gary Sturgis insists to frustrated Capt. Pierce that he wants to stay.  A matter of days won’t bring him a cure, and it’s more important that he be at his buddy’s side when his wounded and unconscious friend wakes up.  Ultimately, Father Mulcahy sits down and talks with Sturgis.
    The next morning, Cpl. Max Klinger searches for and finally finds the Father still in his pajamas and bathrobe, engrossed in conversation with Sturgis.  Suddenly realizing the entire night has passed them by, Mulcahy is self-conscious and visibly upset at himself.  Totally unprepared to face the Cardinal and his congregants, Mulcahy enters the mess tent used for the worship service.  Stumbling over apologies for his lateness and disheveled appearance, and lack of a well-written sermon, Father Mulcahy decides to simply tell the truth. 
    “I want to tell you about two men.  Each facing his own crisis.  The first man you know rather well.  The second is a patient here.  Well, the first man thought he was facing a crisis.  But what he was really doing was trying to impress someone.  He was looking for recognition, encouragement, a pat on the back.  And whenever that recognition seemed threatened, he reacted rather childishly.  Blamed everyone for his problems but himself, because he was thinking only of himself.  But the second man was confronted with the greatest crisis mortal man can face - the loss of his life.  I think you will agree that the second man had every right to be selfish.  But instead he chose to think not of himself, but of a brother.  A brother!  When the first man saw the dignity and the selflessness of the second man, he realized how petty and selfish he had... I... I... I had been!  It made me see something more clearly than I've ever seen it before.  God didn't put us here for that pat on the back.  He created us so He could be here himself.  So, He could exist in the lives of those He created in his image.”
    What great words to live by!  We truly have a purpose in life!  We can learn so much from others around us in examples of Christ’s love… even as we’re in the world, but not of it. (John 17:14-16)  Just as our “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1), so should our doubts and fears disappear in the presence of our Lord.  “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You.  Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord…is the Rock eternal.”  (Isaiah 26:3,4)
    It’s not the inner negatives nor the adulation I hope to hear that matters.  It’s where my heart resides in humility as I seek our Lord’s approval.  As we each grow in faith, we look to God to guide us through our fears, doubts of inadequacy or inferiority that plague our thoughts, the negativity which so easily berates us… remembering and recognizing that we belong to God, and are loved beyond measure by Him.  Christ lives in us as we become His hands and feet to reach others.  In bringing Him our praise, we will hear His still small voice in our hearts, removing all doubts and fears that assail no matter what we face. 
    When Doubts Assail…
    Linda A. Roorda
    When doubts assail look up beyond self
    Focus on truth from wisdom above.
    Take heart from His words spoken in peace
    And know He holds you in the palm of His hand.
    ~
    When doubts assail know you’re not alone
    There’s Someone who cares, your burden to bear.
    He’ll give you His peace and provide a way through
    As darkest of nights emerge in new dawn.
    ~
    When doubts assail and plague your heart
    Thinking your worth isn’t good enough,
    That you could never measure up in life,
    Know there is Someone who believes in you.
    ~
    When doubts assail and fears haunt your path
    Speak softly in prayer and listen for His voice,
    That gentlest nudge stirring in your soul,
    As He guides your steps in the way you should go.
    ~
    When doubts assail be eager to learn
    At the feet of Him whose wisdom excels,
    Bask in His love and dwell in His presence
    Building your faith to prosper in truth.
    ~
    When doubts assail lift your voice in song
    Glorify His name with reverence and awe,
    For Holy is He, full of mercy and grace…
    As a child of the King, you’re loved beyond measure.
    To listen to this blog in podcast format, go to Balms for the Soul Podcast by Carla Cain, and scroll down to "When Doubts Assail", click to listen, and find others with my name.
    ~~
  22. Linda Roorda
    With Memorial Day celebrated last weekend, my thoughts were of those who gave their lives in war that we and so many around the world might live in freedom.  Their battles on the field and in the mind are not what we who have never been there can truly fathom.  We can listen to or read survivors’ stories, hear of their fears amid tales of bravery, empathize with the sadness and trauma as they share the loss of buddies and who and what they might have become, consider questions relating to the whys and wherefores of war and the lessons learned, but we can never fully comprehend unless we’ve been there.  I’m very thankful for all who have served for the sake of freedom, but especially remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
    Yet, even a few years ago, the corona-virus pandemic was being compared to an invisible war.  Here and around the world, we battled an infection among us that struck unexpectedly.  Our medical professionals grew weary on their battlefront, faced daily unknowns, while being the sole comfort to those dying without family present.  We faced the loss of family and community members to Covid, not to mention the toll among the greater world community.  We saw unemployment numbers skyrocket, houses of worship closing for a while with a smaller return of members, businesses being shuttered forever, long lines of the weary waiting patiently for free food, arrests of those trying to open their business to normalcy while hardened criminals are released from jail only to commit crimes again without true legal justice, and we’re left with doubts and fears.  Will life ever be normal again?
    I have various doubts and fears, too.  If we’re honest, we all do.  We think we’re not good enough and will never measure up.  We may doubt our abilities or skills, fear a lack of control in certain situations, or fear the unknown future.  We look for accolades to prop us up, to make us feel better about ourselves, trying to prove that we really are someone of some importance.  
    But I have to ask: whose voice am I listening to?  That inner voice which berates me for every mistake, every misstep, every poor choice or selfish deed, even looking for praise… or, am I listening in humility to God’s gentle nudging, that quiet voice in my soul from His deep and tender love?  A number of times I’ve been nudged with a gentle inner whisper, while other times I’ve heard His voice speak loud and clear.  Unfortunately, I have not always listened and reacted as I should have.  My will, my desired outcome, got in the way of God’s voice.  I need to remember to “be still, and know that [He is] God.” (Psalm 46:10a)  For when I quiet my frantic ruminations and sit still, humbly and quietly waiting to hear the Lord’s guiding words, it is then that my heart is receptive, and my doubts and fears subside. 
    Open to profound wisdom and examples of Christ’s love in the world around us, I recall “Blood Brothers” from M*A*S*H (April 6, 1981).  This episode is a classic, my favorite about the medical unit’s priest, Father Francis Mulcahy.  I appreciate his quiet gentle ways, words of wisdom, and deep humility, yet I also appreciate that he is not so “holier than thou.”  Like the rest of us in many ways, he reveals a temper flare at times.  Knowing his superior, Cardinal Reardon, is scheduled to visit and review what Mulcahy has accomplished at the 4077th, the good Father wants everything and everyone around him to show perfection… including his own sermon.  Instead, Mulcahy becomes cranky and frantic with constant interruptions from side issues.  Oh, so like me, and all of us, at times!
    In the midst of feeling sorry for himself, Father Mulcahy learns that Capt. Pierce has just diagnosed one of his patients with an incurable disease.  Offering his own blood for his severely wounded best friend, a young soldier is told he has leukemia and can’t give blood.  Arguing about plans to send him out the next morning to the hospital in Seoul, Pvt. Gary Sturgis insists to frustrated Capt. Pierce that he wants to stay.  A matter of days won’t bring him a cure, and it’s more important that he be at his buddy’s side when his wounded and unconscious friend wakes up.  Ultimately, Father Mulcahy sits down and talks with Sturgis.

    The next morning, Cpl. Max Klinger searches for and finally finds the Father still in his pajamas and bathrobe, engrossed in conversation with Sturgis.  Suddenly realizing the entire night has passed them by, Mulcahy is self-conscious and visibly upset at himself.  Totally unprepared to face the Cardinal and his congregants, Mulcahy enters the mess tent used for the worship service.  Stumbling over apologies for his lateness and disheveled appearance, and lack of a well-written sermon, Father Mulcahy decides to simply tell the truth. 
    “I want to tell you about two men.  Each facing his own crisis.  The first man you know rather well.  The second is a patient here.  Well, the first man thought he was facing a crisis.  But what he was really doing was trying to impress someone.  He was looking for recognition, encouragement, a pat on the back.  And whenever that recognition seemed threatened, he reacted rather childishly.  Blamed everyone for his problems but himself, because he was thinking only of himself.  But the second man was confronted with the greatest crisis mortal man can face - the loss of his life.  I think you will agree that the second man had every right to be selfish.  But instead he chose to think not of himself, but of a brother.  A brother!  When the first man saw the dignity and the selflessness of the second man, he realized how petty and selfish he had... I... I... I had been!  It made me see something more clearly than I've ever seen it before.  God didn't put us here for that pat on the back.  He created us so He could be here himself.  So, He could exist in the lives of those He created in his image.”
    What great words to live by!  We truly have a purpose in life!  We can learn so much from others around us in examples of Christ’s love… even as we’re in the world, but not of it. (John 17:14-16)  Just as our “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1), so should our doubts and fears disappear in the presence of our Lord.  “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You.  Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord…is the Rock eternal.”  (Isaiah 26:3,4)
    It’s not the inner negatives nor the adulation I hope to hear that matters.  It’s where my heart resides in humility as I seek our Lord’s approval.  As we each grow in faith, we look to God to guide us through our fears, doubts of inadequacy or inferiority that plague our thoughts, the negativity which so easily berates us… remembering and recognizing that we belong to God, and are loved beyond measure by Him.  Christ lives in us as we become His hands and feet to reach others.  In bringing Him our praise, we will hear His still small voice in our hearts, removing all doubts and fears that assail no matter what we face. 
    When Doubts Assail…
    Linda A. Roorda
    When doubts assail look up beyond self
    Focus on truth from wisdom above.
    Take heart from His words spoken in peace
    And know He holds you in the palm of His hand.
    ~
    When doubts assail know you’re not alone
    There’s Someone who cares, your burden to bear.
    He’ll give you His peace and provide a way through
    As darkest of nights emerge in new dawn.
    ~
    When doubts assail and plague your heart
    Thinking your worth isn’t good enough,
    That you could never measure up in life,
    Know there is Someone who believes in you.
    ~
    When doubts assail and fears haunt your path
    Speak softly in prayer and listen for His voice,
    That gentlest nudge stirring in your soul,
    As He guides your steps in the way you should go.
    ~
    When doubts assail be eager to learn
    At the feet of Him whose wisdom excels,
    Bask in His love and dwell in His presence
    Building your faith to prosper in truth.
    ~
    When doubts assail lift your voice in song
    Glorify His name with reverence and awe,
    For Holy is He, full of mercy and grace…
    As a child of the King, you’re loved beyond measure.
    ~~
  23. Linda Roorda
    Early Friday morning, before heading to another of Ed’s appts, I stood on the deck with the sun on my face, gazing at the garden beyond this big beautiful tree that, 40 years ago, was about 8-10 feet tall at most. Even our daughter said when visiting in July that she couldn’t get over how big it had gotten! Then, hearing the drone of a plane engine in the bright blue sky overhead, until its sound slowly faded on its journey to far-away places … reminded me of my childhood, laying in the grass, staring at the clouds and listening to plane engines overhead, without a care in the world, especially about bugs and ticks in the grass, deciding what the huge puffy clouds looked like in comparison to my sister’s thoughts… and sometimes, what I’d give for more days like that childhood fun… quiet, unperturbed, no worries or cares, and no fears of an unknown future…
    We’ve spent 6 of 7 weekdays going to medical appointments since Ed came home from the hospital on the 3rd… with 3 out of 5 days next wk having appts. Tho Ed is utterly exhausted, we’re thankful he’s still here with us, as we’ve come close to losing him at least half a dozen times over the decades… thankful for my prior hospital medical transcription job where my boss allowed me to work 3am to 11am so I could take care of Ed and his appts in the afternoons over so many years in the past… thankful for the elderly dear friend who wanted to visit Ed this past week and who, on hearing I was sorry to tell him “no” for how exhausted Ed was from his extensive appt calendar, graciously apologized and said he’d leave us alone for a while till Ed felt better again.  Unlike someone several years ago who could not understand that concept nor our needs.
    But for all who’ve cared enough to ask how Ed’s doing, tho I say “ok” and “stable”, he’s not ok. It’s really hard to explain. We thank you and are so grateful for your caring. Ed is improved from when he was hospitalized both times in July. That said, life is a daily struggle for him, for anyone with worsening severe congestive heart failure and multiple other health issues, knowing CHF has no cure. He’s had a few drug changes, eliminating some nasty side effects while replacement meds bring on new problems.
    It’s remembering to focus on God being here with us, even in the midst of what seems like never-ending difficulties in health or other challenges, wondering if our prayers are heard, while also knowing He does work all things for good to those who love Him… even when we feel so alone… because He has said He will never leave us nor forsake us. And sometimes I need a little reminder when life becomes overwhelming…
    I wrote the following article in 2016, accepted for publication in the Christian Reformed Church Disability Network Newsletter in 2017.
    Why do we have to deal with suffering? Why aren’t we miraculously healed when we pray for healing? Didn’t Jesus say, “Ask anything in my name and it shall be given you”? So, are we not healed due to a lack of faith or the right prayers?
    What Jesus did say was: "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7) He also said “… and I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." (John 14:13-14) 
    John later wrote, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14) And therein lies the key – asking in God’s will. But that begs the question… what is God’s will?
    My husband, Ed, and I have traveled a long road with his disabilities and health issues. We’ve been told to pray and fast for healing, and trust that he will be healed. It sounds so easy, but healing has not come. We have been told it was our fault that he has not been healed because we did not pray right. Although I would never want to destroy a prayer of hope, the Bible does not teach that we can manipulate God into doing what we want just by saying the right words or having "enough" faith.
    With his long-term illnesses, disabilities, and unrelenting pain and dizziness, my husband and I have wondered what’s wrong with us that healing has passed him by. Intimations by well-meaning friends that healing is simply for the asking has devastating effects, including guilt. While the “well” person can walk away emotionally and physically intact, how do we handle the seemingly raw deal we’ve been dealt? 
    Personally, I think it takes a deeper faith to move forward without obvious answers and healing. Just maybe there really is a purpose in our suffering. As we read in James, we are to “consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4). For “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial." (vs.12) Once upon a time I did not understand that concept and reacted poorly to adversity. Yet, even in that, I am not alone. 
    Paralyzed from the neck down after a shallow dive soon after graduating from high school, I learned Joni Eareckson Tada initially reacted negatively when I read several of her books. She expected answers to prayers for miraculous healing. But healing never came. Disappointed, discouraged and despairing, she finally came to terms with accepting her disability. She has seen God work by changing her heart instead, and she praises God for the blessing her ministry has been in transforming the lives of others.
    Despite his multitudinous losses of family and personal property, Job did not sin in his quest for answers. Learning of his losses, he worshipped God saying, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21b) He did not blame or curse God. But, in questioning God, and hearing the Almighty’s queries of him, Job acknowledged an understanding of where he fit in the overall scheme of life. . . and that God was in control. And God eventually blessed him even more than before. I am impressed with Job’s humility as he learned to fully trust our loving, all-knowing and all-powerful God. 
    In unbelievable circumstances that I can’t comprehend, others have struggled to regain normalcy after devastating losses, knowing their life will never be the same. I’m sure they wish their life stories were different. But God knows why life has its rough roads. He knows our story from start to finish. (Psalm 139:13-16) He hears our cries and pleadings. And, though God seems silent at times, I’m reassured by Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” 
    As God draws us into a closer relationship with Him on a path we don’t like, Ed and I know that He will never leave us nor forsake us. (Hebrews 13:5b) We understand the redemptive quality which pain and difficulty can bring to our lives. As Philip Yancey put it so well, “We’re concerned with how things turn out; God is more concerned with how we turn out.”  (“The Question That Never Goes Away – Why?”, p.105) Therein lie the keys to accepting and understanding life’s difficult situations.
    When there are no answers to pleas for healing, may you, too, feel the Lord’s loving arms gently holding you with a comfort and peace only He can give.  May you feel His strength enable you to finish well the path He’s allowed you to walk. And, may you know His answer will yet be coming in His time…though maybe not until you stand face to face with Him. And may we each be found worthy at the end of our journey. 
    Answers
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Sometimes we have no healing for pain
    And answers to prayers seem elusive at best
    But in the silence the Lord whispers soft…
    I am still here; You are not alone.
     
    When the way gets rough, I will guide your steps
    When the path is steep, your hand I will hold
    When the night is long, at your side I’ll be
    When you can’t go on, I will carry you.
     
    Though sometimes My will is not what you want
    Plans I have made take time to work out
    Wending their way through trials you face
    With meaning found as your heart seeks mine.
     
    There’s much I long to share from My word
    Coming together with trust placed in Me
    Finding comfort in My arms of peace
    When to Me you give control of your path.
     
    Even though Faith is bright hope unseen
    It covers your soul, a protective shield
    And holds you tight when stormy winds blow
    To persevere when all else seems lost.
     
    For though sometimes answers seem fleeting
    Your heart is held still gently secure
    That you may know My mercy and grace
    Hold your best interests in loving scarred hands.
    ~~
    06/18/2016
     
  24. Linda Roorda
    Often, it’s in learning to accept the difficulties we face in life that we find healing peace. Yesterday being the second anniversary of Ed’s passing into eternal glory, I thought I’d repost this blog. We are not always healed of our illnesses or disabilities just because we pray for such. I treasure knowing Ed was made perfectly whole in his heavenly home… in God’s perfect will and timing.
    Early one morning several years ago, before heading to another of Ed’s many appts, I stood on the deck with the sun on my face, gazing at the garden beyond a beautiful tree that, 40-some years ago, was about 10 feet tall at most. Even Emily once said when visiting that she couldn’t get over how big it had grown. Hearing the drone of a plane in the bright blue sky overhead, until its sound slowly faded on its journey to far-away places, reminding me of my childhood… laying on the grass, staring at the clouds, listening to planes overhead, without a care in the world, especially not about bugs and ticks in the grass, deciding what the puffy clouds looked like in comparison to my sister’s thoughts… and sometimes, what I’d give for more days like that childhood fun… quiet, unperturbed, no worries or cares, and no fears of an unknown future…
    We spent nearly every day of every week, every month, and every year since October 2008 going to medical appointments.  Ed was often hospitalized for new or recurrent medical flares with additional appointments. Though we were exhausted emotionally and physically, we were thankful he was still here with us for we came close to losing him at least half a dozen times… thankful for my hospital medical transcription job where my boss allowed me to work 3am to 11am so I could take care of him and his appointments in the afternoons over all those years… thankful for the elderly friend who wanted to visit Ed back then and who, on hearing I was sorry to tell him “no” for how exhausted Ed was from his extensive appointment calendar, graciously apologized and said he’d leave us alone till Ed felt better.
    For all who cared enough to ask how Ed was doing, I’d say “ok” or “stable.” We were grateful for their caring. Ed improved somewhat after two hospitalizations in July 2022. Life continued to be a daily struggle for him tho, like for anyone with worsening severe congestive heart failure and multiple other health issues, knowing CHF has no cure. He had a few drug changes, eliminating some nasty side effects while replacement meds brought new issues. For all those times I wanted to do things for him, Ed would say, “Let me do this as long as I can before the day comes when I can’t.”
    We also remembered to focus on God being here with us in the midst of what seemed like never-ending difficulties in health and other challenges, wondering if our prayers were heard, while knowing God does work all things for good to those who love Him (Romans 8:28) … even when we feel so alone… because God has said He will never leave us nor forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8).  And sometimes I needed a little reminder when life became overwhelming…
    I wrote the following article in 2016, accepted for publication at the Christian Reformed Church Disability “Network” website in January 2017.
    Why do we have to deal with suffering? Why aren’t we miraculously healed when we pray for healing? Didn’t Jesus say, “Ask anything in my name and it shall be given you”? So, are we not healed due to a lack of faith or the right prayers? What Jesus did say was: "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7)  He also said “… and I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." (John 14:13-14) 
    John later wrote, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14) And therein lies the key – asking in the context of God’s will. But that then begs the question… what is God’s will?
    Ed and I traveled a long road with his disabilities and medical diagnoses. We were told at church to pray and fast for healing, and trust that he will be healed. It sounds so easy, but healing did not come as they expected. I was told it was our fault that he had not been healed of his blindness because we did not pray right. Although I would never want to destroy a prayer of hope, the Bible does not teach that we can manipulate God into doing what we want just by saying the right words or having "enough" faith.
    With multiple long-term illnesses, disabilities with unrelenting pain and dizziness, we wondered what was wrong with us that healing had passed Ed by… though he did recover when the docs told us he was in a certain life-and-death situation. Intimations by well-meaning folks that healing is simply for the asking has devastating effects, including guilt. While the “well” person can walk away emotionally and physically intact, how do we handle the seemingly raw deal we’ve been dealt? 
    Personally, I think it takes a deeper and stronger faith to move forward without obvious answers and healing. Just maybe there really is a purpose in our suffering. As we read in James, we are to “consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4). For “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial." (vs.12) Once upon a time I did not understand that concept and reacted poorly to adversity. Yet, even in that, I am not alone. 
    Paralyzed from the neck down after a shallow dive not long after graduating from high school, Joni Eareckson Tada initially reacted negatively. She expected answers to prayers for miraculous healing. But healing never came. Disappointed, discouraged and despairing, she finally came to terms with accepting her disability. She has seen God work by changing her heart instead, and she praises God for the blessing her ministry has been in transforming the lives of others.
    Despite his multitudinous losses of family and personal property, Job did not sin in his quest for answers. Learning of his losses, he worshipped God saying, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21b) He did not blame or curse God. But in questioning God, and hearing the Almighty’s queries of him, Job acknowledged an understanding of where he fit in the overall scheme of life. . . that God was in control of the positives and the negatives… and God eventually blessed him even more than before. I am impressed with Job’s humility as he learned to fully trust our loving, all-knowing and all-powerful God. 
    In unbelievable circumstances that I can’t comprehend, others have struggled to regain normalcy after devastating losses, knowing their life will never be the same. I’m sure they wish their life stories were different. But God knows why life has its rough roads. He knows our story from start to finish. (Psalm 139:13-16) He hears our cries and pleadings and rescues us. (Psalms 18 and 34) And, though God seems silent at times, I’m reassured by Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” 
    Then there’s the Apostle Paul, i.e. Saul who sought to kill Jews who had converted to Christianity before Christ appeared to him and he became a great witness for Christ. Whatever his troublesome thorn was, he wrote, “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (II Corinthians 12:7-10)
    As God drew us into a closer relationship with Him on a path we didn’t always like, Ed and I knew that He would never leave us nor forsake us. (Hebrews 13:5b) During years of Ed’s unrelenting health issues and disabilities, we came to understand the redemptive quality and spiritual growth which pain and trials can bring to our lives. As Philip Yancey put it so well, “We’re concerned with how things turn out; God is more concerned with how we turn out.” (“The Question That Never Goes Away – Why?”, p.105) Therein lies the key to accepting and understanding life’s difficulties.
    When there are no answers to pleas for healing, may you, too, feel the Lord’s loving arms gently holding you with a comfort and peace only He can give.  May you feel His strength enable you to finish well the path He’s allowed you to walk. And may you know His answer will yet be coming, in His time…though maybe not until you stand face to face with Him as it was for Ed’s ultimate perfect healing. And may we each be found worthy at the end of our journey.
     Answers
    Linda A. Roorda
    Sometimes we have no healing for pain
    And answers to prayers seem elusive at best,
    But in the silence the Lord whispers soft…
    I am still here; You are not alone.
    ~
    When the way gets rough, I will guide your steps
    When the path is steep, your hand I will hold
    When the night is long, at your side I’ll be
    When you can’t go on, I will carry you.
    ~
    Though sometimes My will is not what you want
    Plans I have made take time to work out
    Wending their way through trials you face
    With meaning found as your heart seeks mine.
    ~
    There’s much I long to share from My word
    Coming together with trust placed in Me
    Finding comfort in My arms of peace
    When to Me you give control of your path.
    ~
    Even though Faith is bright hope unseen
    It covers your soul, a protective shield
    And holds you tight when stormy winds blow
    To persevere when all else seems lost.
    ~
    For though sometimes answers seem fleeting
    Your heart is held still gently secure
    That you may know My mercy and grace
    Hold your best interests in loving scarred hands.
    ~~
  25. Linda Roorda

    Where Are You Lord?

    By Linda Roorda,

    Life isn’t fair… or so we think.  We see nothing but tragedies all around us… wars without end, killing of the innocents and young innocence... while evil seems to freely flourish.  We struggle to converse with respect and an understanding of opposing points of view.  We sow words of hate and distrust among friends for thinking or believing differently.  Disease and death stalk our loved ones. What was once considered morally wrong is readily accepted as right.  And we wonder where a loving God is among all of this.
    We look for answers to life’s problems in many ways.  We need comfort.  We want peace.  Yet, there isn’t an era during this world’s existence which hasn’t had its difficulties. I’m sure many of us have asked the age-old question “why?” when trouble hits.  I did as our oldest daughter lay dying, and God gave me His reply on a plaque in the Rochester International Airport – “13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 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. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:13-16)  It was exactly what I needed to be reminded of – God was truly in control of even our family’s deepest loss, tenderly answering my heartfelt cry, “Why God?”
    Another man was beset with life’s worst tragedies when everything he owned, including his children, was destroyed, killed or taken away.  When his wife lashed out to at him to “curse God and die,” Job responded with “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”  (Job 2:9-10)  After Job’s friends castigated him for whatever he may have done to bring such calamity upon himself, Job questioned God.  And then found his answer in God’s response, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand….” (Job 38:4)
    What we may not see when we face the hardships of life is that those situations often strengthen a deeper faith in our heavenly Father.  These trials are allowed for us to “know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose.”  (Romans 8:28)
    And yes, I think we often forget that at times… I do.  But our great God, in His infinite wisdom, uses the problems of this world to accomplish good in us, even using our difficulty to benefit others.  As Joseph said to his brothers who had sold him into slavery, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20)
    Though I suspect these words may seem like nice platitudes to some, I can think of many who have been used to bless others because of their own trials.  Friends and community members have told me they kept an eye on how we reacted in the many difficulties our family has faced, and found it helpful when they faced similar situations. Through our earthly journey, God brings us to a point where we can say, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.  For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.”  (II Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV)
    Through our own difficulties with Ed’s loss of vision, the death of our daughter, the loss of his health, and so much more, including Ed’s passing, our faith in God was deeply tested.  Yet, in looking to our gracious God, we found renewed strength for our journey forward.  In seeking the Lord, and relying on His Word, He gives us His blanket of peace and comfort… like the peace I literally felt He wrapped around me. In grief’s journey, God’s comforting peace is something we are then able to share with other hurting souls from our own experiences.
    These personal trials are meant to draw us closer to God and His word as our faith is grown with new, or renewed, strength and wisdom.  We are reminded to “consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”  (James 1:2-3) Difficulties are not easy to face, but can point out where our heart may not be right toward God or others.  The Holy Spirit may pierce our heart as we realize we need to work on some issues with the Lord’s guidance.  Perhaps a trial prevented our headlong advance into something even more dangerous and harmful… like patience in backed up traffic which may have prevented our being involved in an accident up ahead.  Perhaps His words prompt us to change direction to follow a better path.  Or perhaps our hardship was meant to bring a blessing to others, to strengthen their faith, as they observe our response in facing major difficulties.
    In seeking our Lord when facing life’s seemingly insurmountable hurdles, it seems that so often the right verse appears at just the right time.  That’s not a coincidence!  God gently speaks to each of us in many ways.  As I allow His words to guide me, I see the blessings and peace only He can give within the trials. 
    God offers abundant love with mercy and grace in His gift of salvation.  He wants to give us His peace and comfort that we might bless others, while we give Him all the glory in all we do.  He wants to develop our character to become more like Christ, as we grow a richer, deeper and wiser faith through life’s vicarious ups and downs.  No matter the difficulty we face, we can truly know He is with us just like Jesus said, “…I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28:20 KJV)
    Where are you Lord…
    Linda A. Roorda
    Where are you Lord when I need you the most
    When I’m all alone and no one seems to care,
    When the night is long, my thoughts perplexed,
    When there seems no answer to unending prayer…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when the pain cuts deep
    Midst tragedy’s wounds and wars without end,
    When wrong seems right in a world confused
    When we wonder why our children are killed…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when death comes early
    And life is taken from innocent babes,
    When the heart is stopped in a vibrant soul
    While the world goes on with its endless prattle…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when disease strikes young
    When healing is elusive despite our strong faith,
    When the answer is no, but yes seems so right
    When we cannot see Your purpose ahead…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when wrongs become rights
    And simple apologies cannot be uttered,
    When forgiveness is fleeting and grudges are kept
    And we miss Your grace that heals wounded hearts…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when disasters strike
    And devastating storms destroy all we’ve built,
    When we mar the earth with our selfish greed
    As though we alone control our destiny…
    ~
    Where are you Lord when we wrestle with life
    Seeking wisdom to guide every step?
    We’re desperate for answers, demanding them now
    Forgetting Your Word sheds light on our path…
    ~
    Where are you Lord if not in our hearts…
    As You draw us close to show us the way.
    For we’ll be at peace knowing You have said,
    “Never will I leave.  Never will I forsake.”
    ~~
     
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
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