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Linda Roorda

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Blog Entries posted by Linda Roorda

  1. Linda Roorda

    The Pruning

    By Linda Roorda,

    I know change doesn’t come easy to me. But, change, like pruning of bushes and trees, is necessary. 
    Inevitable change without and within, As time marches forth on its forever path. But what of our heart when the depth is exposed? Are we bitter in change or more gentle and kind?
    Pruning is vital.  It cleans out dead branches on a bush or tree.  It clears out heavy overgrowth.  Pruning is a necessary step for fruit trees and grapevines, enabling them to produce a bountiful crop of top-quality fruit.  Pruning also helps plants put more energy into growing and showing off their abundance of gorgeous flowers.
    For those unfamiliar with the process, pruning helps a plant maintain optimum health.  While dead branches, or an excessive amount, choke out the sun from reaching the inner depths, pruning opens up the heart of a plant.  Removing or trimming back branches allows the sun’s rays to reach into the heart of the plant in order to revitalize the entire plant.  It may seem harsh when beginning drastic cuts; but, when the task is done, we have a much healthier plant. 

    Without pruning, any flowering or fruiting plant, vine or tree can revert to a more wild state, putting its energy into unnecessary overgrowth.  With pruning, the focus is on nutrition, feeding and nurturing the  plant so it produces the best flowers and fruit.  Admittedly, I have failed to prune many plants over the years and have ended up with a messy overgrowth that is now a challenge of where to begin.
    And so it is with us.  We need pruning… of our thoughts, words and deeds… a pruning of our heart and soul.  With the trimming away of unhealthy vices, we are more open and receptive to change… change which brings out the best in us.  As Jesus said, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”  (John 15:1-2)  We need pruning to let the Son’s light enter the depths of our heart in order to revitalize us as we begin producing our fruit of the Spirit – “…love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”  (Galatians 5:22)
    We’re all branches in the tree of humanity, bearing fruit of various kinds.  We each have something special to contribute to this world around us.  Created unique, we’re endowed with individual gifts and talents.  But, we often need pruning to clear away the destructive debris in our lives.  We need pruning to allow the Son’s rays a chance to enter the depths of our heart… to cleanse and renew… to revitalize us… so that we can shine our fruit, our blessings, out into the world.
    And since God made each of us a unique one-of-a-kind creation, it brings joy to share our special gifts with our family, friends, and others beyond our close circle.  In so doing, we bless them in ways we can’t imagine, so that they in turn are encouraged to use their gifts to bless someone else. 
    The Pruning
    Linda A. Roorda
    He takes out his shears and sharpens the blades
    Ready to trim overgrown chaos.
    He eyes the tree, knows which branch must go,
    Which limb needs space as he trims and shapes.
    ~
    Decisions are made to remove dead growth
    Prune overcrowding and bring in the sun.
    Yet not unlike my life’s debris trimmed
    When clutter is cleared, opened for the Son.
    ~
    Bearing bad fruit shows a branch gone wild
    And bearing none how stagnant we are,
    What benefit then to remain untrimmed
    For lack of growth cannot show God’s love.
    ~
    But if we abide as a branch alive
    Bearing our fruit for the world to see
    The evidence speaks our soul’s depth of love
    That we will prove the Father’s commands.
    ~
    Abiding in love just as He loves us
    No greater gift has one for another
    For You, Lord, above have chosen us
    That we may bear fruit in lasting tribute.
    ~
    Inevitable change without and within
    As time marches forth on its forever path
    But what of our heart when the depth is exposed
    Are we bitter in change or more gentle and kind?
    ~~
  2. 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?
    ~~
  3. Linda Roorda

    I Am A Woman

    By Linda Roorda,

    “You never think of your parents as much more than parents. It isn’t until you are older yourself that you begin to realize they had their hopes, dreams, ambitions, and secret thoughts. You sort of take them for granted and sometimes you are startled to know they were in love a time or two…. You never stop to think about what they were like until it is too late…” (Louis L’Amour in “Tucker”)  Oh how true!!
    The tomboy that I was while growing up in my teens, working and learning beside my Dad, prepared me for later becoming a farmer’s wife.  After all, the love of farming is in the blood of both my parents! I was not fond of housework, much preferring to be outside or in the barn. Yet we women fill so many different roles.  Not all of us are wives and mothers.  Some of us remain single.  Some of us are meant to pursue life-time careers.  Some of us work to support our family, when we would prefer to be at home raising our children. Often, our likes and dislikes, and even careers, change throughout our lifetime. 
    Typically, we women are great multi-taskers, but I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad! We come from different walks in life, and we’re very different from each other in feelings, perspectives, and opinions. I’ve had several “big sisters” or “surrogate mothers” in my lifetime who added a special dimension to my maturing and learning - my Dad’s mother, Grammy, with whom I wrote letters every other week for decades from my teens on, who helped raise me as an infant and toddler, and was there with an ear and advice as I raised my own children; my cousin Howard’s wife, Carol, like a big sister to me and whose four children my sister and I babysat during their weekend auctions in our teens, and with whom I continue to keep in touch; and his brother Robert’s wife, Virginia, briefly my hunting partner in my teens, also taught me how to cook certain meals when I lived with their family while working in Ithaca several months before my marriage to Ed, learning to make delicious homemade spaghetti sauce and a down-home scrumptious simple goulash, both a favorite in my own family’s supper menu. 
    But I remember my Mom for many things… as I grew up, she was a traditional housewife, taking care of the home and growing a large garden.  She continued her mother’s example by canning and freezing the produce every summer except the years we lived in Clifton, NJ.  When we butchered chickens, Dad put them on the chopping block, we two sisters were the “dunk-and-pluck” crew, while Mom knew how to properly dress them for the freezer, showing us one hen’s set of graduated eggs sans shells from large to very small!  She was quiet and reserved, did not share much, if anything, about herself or her family as I grew up, but she had a strong faith in God.  Her mother died when I was 9 so I have limited memories of her, though eventually my mother shared stories of growing up and of her mother’s busy life raising 12 children, helping on their large chicken and dairy farm. My mom loved the country/farm life, as I do. And she knew how to deliciously cook up the squirrel I shot, or all game and fish my Dad brought home!
    A few things she shared included making true homemade ice cream (no pre-made mix) as we kids clamored for a turn at hand cranking, bottling homemade root beer, and heating up the best hot cocoa with real cocoa powder, sugar and milk on the stove – all things from her childhood.  She also made a Dutch barley soup with buttermilk and brown sugar that I loved, as well as the most delicious cream puffs in the world using our duck eggs.  She could sew, but it was not her favorite.  She taught me to iron clothes and Dad’s handkerchiefs before permanent press fabrics hit the market.  I loved her homemade bread and made some a few times after I was married, but it was not my favorite venture.  As a kid, I savored her delicious toasted-cheese sandwiches with her homemade dill pickle slices tucked between slices of her homemade bread – long before Vlasic ever thought of selling bottled dill pickle slices for that very purpose!  
    My sister and I did a lot of the bean and pea picking, snapping and shelling.  Though we tossed some of those veggies as youngsters when we were tired of our chore, freshly picked and cooked peas remain my favorite.  I loved visiting the farm my Mom grew up on, and later in life enjoyed hearing stories of her younger days.  She shared some of her wisdom, but typical of teens, I wasn’t always listening or accepting.  I did not hear much of her childhood until I began researching and documenting her family’s genealogy decades after I got married. And treasure the time I drove her around her hometown of Carlisle, NY, sharing and pointing out places connected to her life, as I wrote down her childhood stories.
    My only desire had been to be a stay-at-home mother like my Mom, but circumstances beyond our control put me back into the workforce when my children were very young.  Each of my secretarial jobs (beginning part time as a high school senior in an Owego law office), built the foundation and skills for the next job, preparing me for my final medical transcription career before retiring and changing direction once more - subbing for teachers and their TAs, jobs I love, “being there” for “my” students.  But whether it’s being a mother or having a career, that’s not where all our satisfaction is found.  ewing many clothes for myself, husband and children, and canning and freezing a year’s worth of garden produce and fruit while raising my little ones were all reminiscent of the “good ol’ days.”
    It does our heart good to “be there” for someone else, whether to provide emotional support, bring a meal to a shut-in, or lend aid in other ways to someone in need… sometimes even if only to give an ear and a shoulder for their hurts.  And that doesn’t begin to describe the love felt by the recipients of our gifts of love and time.  But doing good for others is not where we derive all our satisfaction either.
    For several years, a popular women’s Bible study has been the “Proverbs 31 Woman.”  I like this passage of Scripture in Proverbs 31:10-31 (NIV), written by Israel’s King Solomon who had achieved fame as the wisest man in the world.  It speaks about a wife of noble character, and what she does to bring blessing to her husband and children, her family.  She works to care and provide for the needs of her household.  She buys and sells property and goods for a profit.  She respects her husband and brings him good in all she does, whether at home, among her friends, or in the city at large.  She speaks with a wise heart.  She does not sit around in idleness; instead, she demonstrates strength and dignity in all situations.  For "a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." (Proverbs 31:30b)
    As I ponder this passage, I feel like it shows that I clearly don’t measure up.  For I know all too well my own failings.  Yet, there’s no reason why I cannot pursue change within.  So, I seek that quiet time to study, meditate, pray, and listen to what the Lord has to say within my heart.  It’s the Lord’s approval I long for… to guide my steps, to change my course, to cover me with forgiveness, peace and contentment, and to find satisfaction in doing what He expects of me even when it’s not the easiest path, nor the one I would choose.
    May you be blessed - whether or not you are called Mom - for all the love you share, and for all the time and effort you put into being there for those around you… Happy Mother’s Day!
     
    I Am A Woman
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    I am a woman.  I am a mother.
    I’m a little girl, deep in my heart.
    I am emotions, raw and revealing.
    I am deep strength when life overwhelms.
    ~
    I’ve carried love within my heart
    For family dear, and friends held close,
    For husband wise, light of my world
    And children young, growing their dreams.
    ~
    I see the needs to be fulfilled.
    I reach to you, a life to touch.
    I shed a tear, and hold your hand
    To ease your pain, and bring a smile.
    ~
    In quiet time, I seek Your will, Lord.
    A time to renew, to calm my fears,
    To savor sweet dreams, my hopes and plans
    As You care for me, and meet all my needs.
    ~
    I fail at times to walk the path
    Yet You, oh Lord, are at my side.
    You pick me up each time I fall
    To gently remind, Your child I am.
    ~
    I’ve harbored pain of losses that wound.
    I’ve weathered storms, battered and scarred.
    But my weary soul with peace You fill,
    That I may praise and bless Your name.
    ~
    I hear Your voice and will in Your Word,
    For wisdom I’ve gained upon this road
    Will lead me on to comfort and love
    Others in need with You at my side.
    ~~
  4. Linda Roorda

    Contentment Flows

    By Linda Roorda,

    Are we contented yet?  It’s just an accumulation of trinkets and stuff, an assemblage that needs to be fed every so often.  I should know, because I have my own collections from the past.  But, in the long run, none of it will go with us when life’s earthly journey comes to an end.  We should be content with what we have and who we are… not seeking to satisfy our appetite with more of everything life has to offer.  Be at peace, rest in who we are meant to be… don’t compare or judge ourselves to others.
    In contemplating that accumulation, I’m reminded of a song by the rock group U2 from their Joshua Tree album – “But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…”  A fitting comment to an endless search for just the right thing.  Theodore Roosevelt was even noted to say, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”  How truthful and fitting both sentiments are for all of us at times!
    So, what is contentment?  How do we find it?  And when is enough… enough?  The dictionary on my desk tells me contentment is where the heart is at… perhaps rested and satisfied, at peace, with a quiet and calm joy.  Contentment is an attitude of the heart… being thankful and grateful for what we do have, serving others out of a joyful appreciation.  Because, believe me, contentment is not found in eyeing what someone else has… of being jealous or envious of what’s on their plate… as if we didn’t have enough to take care of on our own.
    In Philippians 4:11, the Apostle Paul wrote “…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.”  Hmm… so how could he say that with all the many difficulties, beatings, persecutions, opposition to his preaching, false accusations, weariness, hunger, imprisonments and more that he faced? 
    There’s an old hymn I’ve loved since childhood, coming to treasure the words even more after our daughter, Jennifer, died.  Horatio G. Spafford wrote a poem put to music after he and his wife lost their 2-year-old son, their property in the 1871 Great Chicago fire, suffered further economic losses in 1873, and then lost their remaining four daughters at sea - “When peace like a river, attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll.  Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul…” …well-known words of comfort.  Having three more children, losing a second son at age 4 in 1880, he resettled in Jerusalem with his wife and two daughters.  There, he founded the American Colony, a Christian group providing humanitarian relief to the disadvantaged of any faith.  He’d learned the secret to contentment.
    The Apostle Paul, writing to a dear young friend, stated in I Timothy 6:6-7: “But godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.”  Don’t get me wrong… it’s not about denying ourselves the ability to succeed in our careers or home life and to have nice things.  Instead, it’s all about the depth of our heart, our faith, our attitude… the intangibles… the spiritual treasures.
    Life really isn’t about gathering as much stuff as we can hoard for ourselves.  Life was never meant to be like that old saying attributed to Malcolm Forbes, “He who dies with the most toys wins.”   It’s not about God ensuring that we have a wealthy and happy life.  It’s not His plan to make us “rich and famous” in a life of ease without pain.  Instead, contentment is a learning process… learning to be who God intends us to be… learning to be gracious and loving when our life is full of pain, disappointments, illness and setbacks.  And, in learning to give thanks and appreciate what we do have, we find ourselves gladly serving others around us with a heart of joy and peace… as contentment flows from our soul. 
    Contentment Flows
    Linda A. Roorda
    Contentment flows from the soul at peace
    Not easily grasped though deeply pondered
    How quick am I to follow my will
    While yielding to trust finds Your truth with grace…
    ~
    Grace to understand blessings of mercy
    In wending my way through waves of turmoil
    Seeking shelter from storms that threaten
    As Your calming spirit brings showers of peace…
    ~
    Peace that envelopes my very being
    From the depth of stress that oft overwhelms
    Which tugs and strains the restful repose
    To humility meek with a heart of joy…
    ~
    Joy that shines bright in the face of woe
    Amidst the sadness of sorrow’s dark tears
    As rays of hope through shutters burst forth
    To flood my soul with serenity’s rest…
    ~
    Serenity’s rest within the world’s din
    Marks peace of mind when focused on You
    Grant me, I pray, a heart full of love
    One filled with thanks as contentment flows…
    ~~
  5. Linda Roorda

    The Adulteress

    By Linda Roorda,

    Reading several pages of a book by Laura Hillenbrand to my students, I knew I needed to read the full story.  “Unbroken - A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption” is a bio of Louis Zamperini. Holding records for running the fastest mile, he remains the youngest Olympics qualifier at age 19, placing 8th at the 1936 Berlin Olympics in the 5,000 meter race. Though he didn’t medal, he put on a burst of speed to run the fastest final lap among the competitors in an amazing 56 seconds! On asking, the teacher lent me an unabridged version and I’ve been reading every minute I can this weekend, unable to set the book down for long.
    In a Pacific battle with the Japanese during WW II, Zamperini and his pilot friend survived their B-24 plane crash of May 27, 1943. Stranded at sea for 47 days, they were picked up by the Japanese. Surviving more than 2 years of hellish prison camps and disease, they were tortured, starved, and severely beaten, enduring the brutality with humor, hope and determination. Freed after the atomic bombs were dropped in August 1945, Zamperini faced torments at home with PTSD nightmares of his experience under one especially sadistic guard. Drinking excessive alcohol to control the nightmares, his life began to unravel.
    Finally acquiescing to his wife’s entreaties, he attended a Billy Graham crusade. She had accepted Christ a few days earlier, and hoped Louie could find solace in Christ for the torments he lived with… and he did! His drinking and tormenting nightmares stopped that very night. Zamperini heard Graham preach on the adulteress that night, Graham’s words reminding him of forgotten prayerful pleas for God to save him while in the lifeboat at sea – “If you save me, I will serve you forever.”
    After accepting Christ as his Savior, Zamperini returned to Japan, meeting his former prison guards, themselves in prison. They were puzzled to see him reach out to embrace them with his infectious joy of forgiveness. He also began the Victory Boys Camp for troubled youth, sharing his life’s path, including his salvation journey. As I read, I knew I had to change my plans and post this blog instead of my first choice.
    Forgiven!  Can you imagine how she must have felt?  So close to being condemned to death, now free to go… forgiven a heavy burden of sin… free to overcome her past… and free to share the love of her Savior with everyone she met!
    “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery… ‘In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women.  Now what do you say?’  They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.  But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger.  When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ Again, he stooped down and wrote on the ground.  At this, those who heard began to go away, one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there…”  (John 8:3-9)
    We’ve all done something in our past we’d just as soon forget.  We may still feel the sting of shame.  I can think of many public figures who disgraced themselves including President Nixon, Pete Rose, Lance Armstrong, Bill Cosby, Ravi Zacharias… while many others seem to be enabled in walking away from accountability for their words or actions.  But, how much better that we all face our wrongs… our sins… head on.  Admit them and repent, ask for forgiveness, stop blaming others, walk away from wrongful behaviors, and feel the loving grace of our Lord as we make a full corrective change.
    So, what about the men who brought the adulteress woman to court?  Well… they simply walked away and left her standing alone with Jesus.  I’ve always wondered if Jesus was writing a list of their sins in the sand.  If so, that would have made them more than a little uneasy.  They would have stood in amazement, and perhaps felt shame as their secret thoughts and sins were written in the sand, available for all to read.  How did this man know so much about them?
    They had brought this woman to condemn her for adultery, a sin punishable by stoning to death.  And yet, where was the man from the tryst?  Didn’t his sin matter to them, too?  Or, was he among her accusers, blaming her?  Rather than face the depth of hypocrisy in their own heart, each man turned and simply walked away.  They didn’t want others to learn the weight of their own brokenness.  But, as they silently walked away, no contrite heart or apology was expressed.  Did they not realize that God sees and knows the truth?
    What a mockery they made of justice… fingers pointing at another while being guilty themselves.  So typical of abusers who hide behind their mask of piety.  They were so focused on trying to get Jesus to incriminate himself with a response, they didn’t understand the depth of their own sin.  They walked away from seeing who Jesus truly was, and their own need of grace. 
    Both civic and religious leaders fail us then as now. Leaders who call themselves gifted exude an arrogant pride. (Proverbs 16:18)  Leaders who fail to hold themselves and others around them accountable lack integrity and humility.  Often, they can be classified narcissistic, being more than simply self-centered.  They feel entitled to praise or special treatment.  They lack empathy, are abusive, liars who do not take responsibility for their own behavior, take advantage of others, lash out at criticism or perceive they’re not getting the attention they deserve with a behind-the-scenes retaliation and perpetual blame shifting.  Underneath the egotistic façade, they are often deeply insecure and use a faux cover to present themselves as more worthy than they really are.
    Yet, what a powerful picture of mercy and grace Jesus gave us all as He forgave the woman.  All she had to do was repent from her old ways, and become a changed woman.  In leaving her old life behind to follow the Teacher, our Lord, she gladly started sharing with others what He had done for her.
    Because she now had a future!  A life to look forward to!  She’d lived her past under whispered labels.  She’d heard the mocking voices deep in her soul… stupid, worthless, trash, adulteress, prostitute.  Yes, she’d lived a life of ill repute.  But, the Teacher… He respected her!  So, what did He see in her?  He saw someone who’d been taken advantage of to benefit others… someone weighed down by a heart of sorrow and shame… someone willing to openly shoulder responsibility for all of her own wrongs… someone longing for change.
    This Teacher, the man named Jesus… He saw what she could be when cleansed of her past.  He saw her broken heart longing to be made whole.  He stood her up tall so she could start anew.  Just like our Lord does for us.  He forgives the heart that repents, no matter the charge… that longs to make amends… that longs for a closeness with God.  He holds out His hands to draw us near… setting us back up on our feet as He guides our path with flawless wisdom…  Forgiven!
    The Adulteress
    By Linda A. Roorda 
    I met him today, the greatest Teacher!
    My life was a mess, but He picked me up.
    He gave me hope... He gave me vision.
    He freed my soul from sin’s dark snare.
     
    Dragging to court they brought me up front,
    My accusers smug turning to the crowd.
    With taunting words they scoffed and accused
    Revealing my life, my sin and my shame.
     
    How could I have reached such fallen depths?
    He told me he cared.  I believed his lies.
    His words were glib with flattery smooth
    But now I was caught, ensnared in a trap.
     
    Stating that stoning was punishment fit
    They asked the Teacher his thoughts on the law.
    Instead He stooped and commenced to write
    Words hid from others, known only to them.
     
    Yet, as they questioned, He continued to write.
    On standing tall, He peered in their soul.
    “If any one of you lives without sin,
    Let him be the one who casts the first stone.”
     
    Slowly the elders and then the younger
    Quietly fled until only two,
    The Teacher and I, we alone stood still.
    From silence He spoke, my soul deeply touched…
     
    “Woman, where are they?  Have any condemned?”
    Glancing around, “No one,” said I.
    “Then neither do I.  I condemn you not.
    Go, and leave your sin.  Forgiven are you.”
     
     
  6. Linda Roorda

    Spring's Debut

    By Linda Roorda,

    It’s common knowledge that spring is my favorite season!  I love earth’s awakening from those long and dreary winter days… though this past winter seemed like it just didn’t want to release its hold on the cold and snow.  But now, the sun shines brighter, the sky is bluer, and there’s an obvious warmth that’s beginning to penetrate every fiber of every living thing.  There may be a good deal of rain mixed in now ‘n then; but, with that rain, slowly and surely new growth takes shape as tiny leaves, flower buds, and new blades of grass begin to emerge.  The cold blanket of snow has been thrown off, the creeks and rivers flow abundantly along their way, and sparkling gems of color begin to explode.  It’s a seasonal dance featuring the debutant of spring dressed in her finest!
    Drink in the pleasure of every facet of spring… from the sylvan palette of leaves in multitudinous shades of green, yellow and purple… to blossoms of white, pink, yellow, red, blue and every shade in between… to birds with their various colors and lilting tunes… to skies wrapped in shades of azure with clouds from white to deep gray… to shades of pink, purple, orange and red at sunrise and sunset… to the velvet black night skies of sparkling diamonds… to spring showers bearing fresh aromas as they saturate and nourish the plants and soil… to the tantalizing and aromatic blossoms from lilacs, roses, sweet peas, irises, daffodils, lilies of the valley… and so much more.
    “See!  The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth, the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance…”  (Song of Solomon 2:11-13a)  Enjoy creation’s blessing in every sense of sight and sound, taste and smell, for “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time!”  (Ecclesiastes 3:11a)
    Spring’s Debut
    Linda A. Roorda
    At the dawning of spring’s debut
    The earth awakens from wintry slumber
    She yawns and stretches, throwing off covers
    Changing her gown from white to sylvan green.
    ~
    She welcomes showers of refreshing dew
    As fragrant aromas drift on gentle breeze
    While life’s renewal and emerging growth
    Bring bright adornment for the bleak and barren.
    ~
    Slowly she dons her delicate gown
    Until she’s covered in brilliant hues
    With sunlight’s rays streaming their warmth
    She lifts her face to absorb their glow.
     ~
    Regaled in finery like delicate silk
    She extends a brush to paint her palette
    With every shade of the rainbow bright
    Her crowning glory like entwining tresses.
    ~
    As we gaze in awe at the transformation
    From sleeping beauty to splendor arrayed
    Like multi-hued gems that sparkle and shine
    Is spring’s debut, prepared for the dance.
    ~~
     
  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
    With school either having started for some, or about to start for others, I pondered the realization that there was so much I thought I knew when younger, but really didn’t… for education isn’t only that which is gained in a classroom.  Over the years, I’ve learned I can’t turn the clock back to undo or redo what’s been done.  Life doesn’t have a rewind button for our editing... so we inevitably move forward in a relentless flow of time. 
    And in that flow, learning becomes an emotional and spiritual educational process as disappointments and suffering soften our hearts amidst the joys.  This is how we mature and become wiser.  In the process, we learn that we may not get that second chance. Make amends now… apologize, forgive and move forward.  Love one another… and let the other know it.  I have searched for and regained friends from years ago… friends I’d lost when moving away, friends lost when my childish words took their toll, and to whom I’ve given heart-felt apologies.  I cannot undo, but I can atone for and correct my wrongs.
    Walk away from sin… don’t let it overtake you with its tempting appeal.  The great Ten Commandments really do have something to say to us today.  Stop blaming someone else.  Don’t condone or excuse the habit of lying, concealing your wrongs to protect yourself.  Even if no one else is the wiser, God knows.  Own it, confess it, and make amends.  Others do take notice of what we do… do it well, for a good name is much to be treasured.  Love, listen, take advice gladly, and learn… you won’t go wrong.  “Be very careful, then, how you live… making the most of every opportunity…”  (Ephesians 4:15-16)
    As we look back, we often wish we knew then what we know now. Wouldn’t such knowledge have saved us a whole basket of trouble?!  But did we hear, did we listen, did we truly heed the advice given as we grew up?  I’m afraid I didn’t always do so.  I thought I “knew it all” in my teens.  It took time as life traversed a variety of circumstances unique to my needs to gain understanding and knowledge with wisdom from God.  And from the realization of my own errant ways and words, I apologized and made amends… because the Lord has done so much more for me.
    For the loving Father that He is, God took the time to teach me all through the years.  Because I was often not listening to wiser words in my youth, I now treasure the wisdom of others as I sit at their feet to learn, recalling fragmented words of wisdom expressed years ago.
    Blessed with Godly wisdom, Solomon wrote in Proverbs 2:1-6: “My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.  For the Lord gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.”  And vs. 9 adds, “Then you will understand what is right and just and fair – every good path.”  Oh, how true!
    If only… that age-old phrase we all quote... if only I knew then what I know now.  So, let me take what the Lord has taught me through the difficult struggles to reach a satisfied contentment… through tears of deep sorrow to tears of great joy with laughter’s healing touch.  And may we use the blessings He’s bestowed upon our hearts to reach out in love with something we’ve learned…
    Something I’ve Learned by Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Something I’ve learned since I was young…
    If I knew then what I do know now
    I’d have been spared life’s toughest lessons.
    But, then again, how else would I learn?
    ~
    Something I’ve learned came slowly with time…
    For I wanted life to move fast forward
    And in wanting more, I just needed less
    As contentment dwells in life’s simplest gifts.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned by looking backward…
    That in facing life I thought I knew all,
    But looking forward from slow motion days
    Impatience revealed an unsettled heart.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned wishing I’d discerned…
    By heeding then the sage’s wisdom
    Who’d lived and seen what I could not fathom
    For experience marks the role of teacher.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned is not easy to say…
    That which I rue when youth went its way
    As lessons learned brought maturity’s wealth
    With understanding through wisdom’s trained eye.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned by climbing the hill…
    Conquering hurdles that hindered my path,
    For stones that seemed like unmoving boulders,
    Were mere stumbling blocks to peace found in You.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned I treasure now more…
    My faith in You, Lord, once taken for granted
    Its value gained from bumps in the road
    Which led me to where I stand on Your Word.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned we all have to face…
    Sorrow and loss have taught to accept
    That which was healed as my heart grew wise
    For only from pain can compassion speak.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned about all my stuff…
    I can’t take it there on the day that I leave
    Much better by far to share with you now
    Showing my love in tangible ways.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned that when the door shuts…
    Reasons there are for not looking back.
    Express regret for what’s done is done
    Then welcome the door He flings open wide.
    ~
    Something I’ve learned with You at my side…
    To share the bounty of blessings divine
    To gently speak with a tender voice
    And to hear with love from a generous heart.
    ~~
  9. Linda Roorda
    Change… whether visible on the exterior or inside and unseen, can be a hard adjustment to make.  I don’t like change.  Those who know me, know that aspect of me well.  Change has not always been kind to me.  But, once I wrap my brain around it, understand and accept said change, I roll with it and move forward.  Because, as I’ve grown older, and wiser with the years, I’ve learned change is inevitable, has value for the lessons it teaches, and I’ve learned not to fear change.  Perhaps some of you welcome change, and I admire you for that!  But what is it about change some of us don’t like? 
    Nature exhibits obvious and dramatic changes right before our eyes.  From the casting off of autumn’s multi-colored leaves and darkening skies signaling the portent of dark and dreary days ahead… to winter’s dazzling white to the not-so-white coverings of stark-bare limbs of trees reaching out and the dirty-white snow on roadsides… to spring bursting forth with new life in its multi-colored splendor as birds bring joyful songs to our lives… to the warmth and long-term blooms and verdant green of long summer days… these are changes we clearly see and can identify with.  We understand these changes, even welcome them, as we accept the inevitable in the forward march of time. For “there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)
    We visibly change, too.  From the moment we’re born, we continually change... as we grow and mature from infancy on into adulthood and elderhood. We never stop changing as we age, and our appearance gives credence to this process which is as old as time itself.
    But what we don’t see are the changes beneath the surface.  In nature, it’s the life substance within a plant that moves it forward with growth to change through the seasons. For us, change is evident in our learning processes, our maturation.  Just raising a child provides ample evidence of virtually daily change and growth - physically, emotionally and spiritually.
    Our physical change and growth are obvious.  From helpless newborn to the excitement of childhood growth, learning to do things “myself,” to the physical growth and aging process propelling each of us forward into young adulthood and on through the decades as we become “senior citizens,” change never stops.  We know it, we see it, and we feel it.
    Emotional change, though, is less obvious, yet still evident in our behavior and reactions as we mature from childish ways and selfish ambition.  “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became [an adult], I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face…and now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”  (I Corinthians 13:11-13NIV)
    Emotional maturity develops as we process our wins and losses in life… as we learn to share, to understand and appreciate each other, to show empathy for someone else’s situation, to feel pain and loss, to feel and share joy, peace, and more.  All these emotions are developed inside, invisible within our thought processes, but are evidenced in our maturing reactions.

    And then there is spiritual change in our faith.  This, too, is an unseen process of growth and maturation... a change that is often and especially brought about by life’s trials.  “Consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all…”  (James 1:2-5 N IV)
    As we grow in our spiritual faith journey, becoming more like Christ, we are constantly learning and understanding, changing our hearts and minds from within.  We learn to accept change instead of grumbling and complaining… learn to understand and grow by going through the difficulties rather than simply trying to escape and get out from under the trial.  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
    For it’s often the trial with its pain and tears which brings about learning and understanding - a process of growth... as we gracefully accept true change and joy brought about by an arduous and painful journey. And it’s only in that difficult journey that we can chose to grow under God’s wisdom… by becoming embittered and hardened or more gentle and kind ... an invisible change within our heart, yet visible in our attitude and behavior.
    Changes Without and Within
    Linda A. Roorda
    The birds have hushed their lilting songs
    Bright colored flowers have faded away
    The trees have turned to brilliant hues
    And the sky with clouds is gathering dark.
    ~
    A silence of sorts ensues with the change
    Though here and there a bird can be heard
    But ever still grows the ambience
    Of nature’s peace midst colors of fall.
    ~
    Yet what we see belies the fact
    That underneath the surface calm
    Lies greater change than evidence shows
    A turmoil within to stir transition.
    ~
    For what can’t be seen is the moving force
    Behind the progress to destiny’s goal.
    So let the heart of every soul
    Heed wisdom’s call, accepting its purpose.
    ~
    This heart of change is all you ask
    That humbly I come as You draw me near
    To be still and know that You’re in control
    As you define Your place in my life.
    ~
    Inevitable change without and within
    As time moves forward on its forever path.
    Then what of our heart when the depth is exposed,
    Are we bitter in change… or more gentle and kind?
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
  10. Linda Roorda

    You Are

    By Linda Roorda,

    I grew up in a great church full of my “own kind” – i.e. Dutch immigrants and their first- and second-generation families born in the U.S., the Christian Reformed Church.  I felt a bond and a love for my family and friends from both communities in Clifton, N.J. and East Palmyra, N.Y.  As my family moved back and forth between the two church and Christian school communities, friendships were made with some lasting a lifetime.
    I treasure the churches of my earliest memories.  I treasure having had the opportunity to go to Christian elementary school in both communities through the 6th grade.  I treasure the wisdom gained, and biblical lessons learned.  I treasure Vacation Bible School, Pioneer Girls, and the catechism classes which taught a biblical doctrinal foundation on which to lean during both the good and the difficult times.  But naturally, life moves on even as some of us move away from the tight-knit friendships we once knew.
    But in the midst of life’s happenings, there comes a time when we each have a decision to make – who will we follow?  To whom will we give our hearts?  Is it the things of this earth and the gratification we can readily obtain, or is it the faith and hope in a salvation granted through Jesus’ life and death and resurrection that will provide a heavenly eternal home? 
    At 15, I made the choice for the latter in asking Jesus into my heart under Pastor Wells of the North Waverly Chapel.  Despite getting down on my knees, confessing my sins, and asking for His forgiveness and eternal love, I did not live out my faith as I should have at that time.  Actually, it’s been a lifetime of growth.  Because, being the imperfect beings that we are, we manage to walk through life leaving a trail of mistakes behind.  And all we can do is own our wrongs and say “I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.”
    But I am forever grateful that our great God forgives us on our confession; and, in His gracious mercy, guides us along a better path.  And just as the Lord draws us close to His side and offers redemption, we can give the same forgiveness and love to others who we’ve been blessed to be family and friends with.  
    You Are
    Linda A. Roorda
    You gave your life that I should live
    You carried my sin alone to the cross
    You took my shame that I would find peace
    As You opened arms to welcome with grace.
     ~
    How can I not but love You in turn?
    How can I ever repay Your free gift?
    Precious Redeemer, You gave all for me
    To free my soul from sin’s heavy guilt.
     ~
    You are the One who draws near to me
    And only ask I seek You in faith
    You let me face the trials of life
    As I bring concerns humbly in prayer.
     ~
    For You have shown I belong to You
    With a heart for You I will gladly serve
    You seek me out, call me to Your side
    To show me a love only You can give.
     ~
    What should it matter what others will think?
    In forsaking all this world can offer…
    To You I draw near and lean on Your word
    That I may bring praise to honor Your name.
     ~
    You are my light, the way and the truth
    You guide my steps on this rocky path
    It’s You I seek when storms come my way
    Your words of wisdom will guide day by day.
     ~
    You are my hope when all else seems lost
    Yet may I be found worthy of You
    May I give praise for all You have done
    And all You will do to change me within.
     ~
    When failures dash an expectant hope
    Should I not look upon Your face first
    Seeking Your will before I take reins
    That I would but make Your wisdom my guide.
     ~
    You are my life, the depths of my soul
    Your truth does urge my heart to respond
    That others may see death carries no sting
    For You lift me up that I may withstand.
     ~
    You are my words when I have yet none
    You know my thoughts as I voice to praise
    Your words bring truth to my world of doubts
    To guide and direct, like You to become.
    ~~
  11. Linda Roorda

    The Stalwart

    By Linda Roorda,

    The old red barn stood tall on an open flat, alone against the gray sky, testament to a long life.  It had weathered countless storms, looking a tad bit worn… another great photo by my childhood friend's husband.  And once again, the picture painted a thousand words that raced through my thoughts.
    For some time now, I’ve felt like writer’s block has taken away my ability to write reflections, never mind the poems where words used to flow through my fingers almost faster than I could write or type. When the words stopped flowing, I knew the poem was complete. I would literally feel drained… because those words came from the depths of my soul, often a cathartic poem which healed emotional wounds long embedded deep.  And perhaps that’s the point… as God reaches out to each of us, maybe there comes a time when healing is complete from a time and place long ago.
    After my husband passed away last year, I thought about the brevity of life… now facing my own “autumn/winter” phase of life’s four seasons.  Spring is, after all, a beginning, the gift of new life and growth, the carefree days of youth… then summer comes along and we’re in our prime with busy days where all is well with us and the world around, learning and yearning through the passage of time…. as autumn slowly engulfs us in its changes, with colorful harvesting of awards and rewards, reaping the benefits of what we had begun… while winter overtakes us unannounced, bringing a cold and quiet idleness of hands and feet, leaving us breathless to keep up with an ever-changing world which seemingly has no use for our skills or input… though often we ably repurpose our days and ways to assist another soul on their journey to success… as forever onward we go.
    And if you were one of those to whom Ed opened his heart, you were blessed. He shared his life stories with me over the years, but it was never enough. 
    So, in honor of his heavenly birthday on Tuesday the 25th, I’m sharing a few memories of his life. A premature twin by two months, his twin Peter died at two days, being larger at 5 lbs.  But at 3-1/2 lbs, Ed was placed in an incubator for a month with pure oxygen which damaged his eyes – the right eye was totally blind while the left eye had very limited vision at 20/200 with corrective lenses.  He got his first glasses at about age 2, one of 8 children who had some vision among about 2000 seen at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City with this type of oxygen-related retinal damage, the same cause of Stevie Wonder's blindness.
    He loved farming from the time he could walk. He was also apparently a little instigator of a few sticky situations he and his brother got themselves into… like tying a dog to a fence the way they’d seen calves tied up, except the dog was not happy about it and barked profusely as they ran crying to their Dad. He also had a cat who would wait for him to get off the bus at the end of their long farm driveway.  The cat would jump onto his shoulders and enjoy a ride back to the house.  Ed used to throw his art papers into a ditch, but his sister saw them, and brought them home to their Mom to appreciate as all Moms do. 
    Ed learned to drive tractor at a very young age, a John Deere 520. Knowing his vision was not good, he was always extra cautious around machinery to prevent a terrible accident.  That, however, did not keep him from having accidents – like after the first day of kindergarten, he fell with a glass jar in his hand, cutting his hand badly, requiring many sutures to close the large gash leaving quite the scar, or playing on top of the idle hay baler, falling off and breaking his wrist. Oh, the fun of little boys!
    He needed weekly allergy shots for “just about everything” as Ed put it.  He knew when it was time for his next shot, perhaps the only kid who looked forward to shots because he’d feel better afterward.  Being stoic was just who he was.  I remember when he injured a finger with the nail retaining a blood blister underneath, and the pain he had… so, he simply put a fine bit into the drill and made a hole which relieved the pressure by releasing the blood. 
    He insisted on doing whatever he could for as long as possible to be like everyone else.  He tried to be there for me and our children as best he could. He loved to read to them when he’d come in from barn chores at night, giving us all his sound advice as needed, and how we miss his big snugging hugs.
    Like my friend Elaine said when Ed passed away, we lost his wealth of knowledge. We not only lost his wit and wisdom, but the kind and gentle peaceable man that he was, and a tremendous knowledge that he kept tucked away and shared now ‘n then... because he was not a big talker.  Especially as he became sicker, it was almost too much effort for him to make steady conversation.  But it was apparently difficult for some folks to understand this when he was so ill.
    Recently celebrating Father’s Day, that barn seemed to be the perfect illustration of my husband Ed’s character over the years.  In fact, the day I saw the photo, and wrote this poem in a couple hours in 2017, I was waiting to bring him home from yet another hospitalization.  Stalwart and steadfast, he had remained standing no matter what life sent his way, a true gentle giant.  And like that barn, he’d faced many storms head on, never bending or collapsing as the winds attempted to shake his foundation. He remained firm and resolute with his faith in our Lord, resting secure in God’s provision and love, a pillar of strength for our family. 
    Yet, it had not been easy.  There had been some serious storms that sent waves crashing against him… and against us as a couple.  Despite some plain old-fashioned trials, dashed hopes causing great disappointments, the loss of a daughter, and his losses of sight, physical strength and ability, he overcame those trials with an inner strength and peace that came from his strong faith in our Lord.  For it was God’s wisdom gifted to Ed which saw him through as he grew up, married, helped raise our children, and changed careers from farming to office assistant.
    Later, facing a continued ebbing of strength and ability with the progression of permanent muscle damage caused by statin/cholesterol drugs, and worsening congestive heart failure, we began discussing what we should do when he could no longer function and get around on his own.  In all honesty, we didn’t know what our options would be in the not-so-distant future.  We were facing new frontiers. And then, in late 2022, Ed’s health deteriorated even more as he succumbed to several health issues magnified by Covid-19, leaving this world on God’s timeline in January 2023.
    Still, through each difficulty, his and our faith grew stronger, for we’d learned that “[we] can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens [us]” (Philippians 4:13)  As I’ve said many times before, and I often need reminding of, James 1:2-4 puts it so well even though we don’t want to welcome one more difficult challenge.  “Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” 
    Being “strong in the Lord and in His mighty power” (Ephesians 6:10-13) is the foundation on which we survive great storms and come out standing. (Proverbs 10:25)  Just like that barn in Hugh’s photo, if we have a firm foundation on the solid rock (faith in our Savior Jesus Christ), weathered by time (experience and wisdom), the structure (our character) will stand tall… and prove stalwart and unwavering. 
    The Stalwart
    Linda A. Roorda
     Stalwart and stoic through the test of time
    Facing the world to weather life’s storms
    Meeting head on whatever befalls
    Humbly proclaiming, steadfast I stand.
    ~
    Bringing together nature’s harmony
    Weathered and worn, reliably true
    Dependably there to meet others’ needs
    Asking for nothing but structural care.
    ~
    Like the pioneers who settled this land
    And carved their place from wilderness wild,
    Weathered by nature midst elements raw
    They kept life sheltered from all threats and harm.
    ~
    Without proper care, wood planks become warped
    Foundations fail without wisdom’s base.
    Oh, can’t you see!  The meaning is clear!
    How like old barns are patriarchs wise.
    ~
    Learning through hardship true wisdom is gained
    Taking a stand for what matters most,
    Sometimes enduring alone in the crowd
    Serene and secure midst turmoil and storm.
    ~
    God bless the stalwart, unwavering friend
    Who braves the path no matter the storm.
    Of foe unafraid, on wisdom standing
    Steadfast and loyal with comforting peace.
    ~~
  12. 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.
    ~~
  13. Linda Roorda

    You’ve Blessed Me

    By Linda Roorda,

    As this year draws to its conclusion, I began pondering all that I’m thankful for… among the many blessings God has showered on each of us. It’s been a good year of making new friends and appreciating friends from the past, of joining a new-to-me Reformed church group and their band, able to use my aging voice to share a love of singing praise to our Lord, of treasured memories of loved ones who were a special part of our lives for a time, of family who grace our lives with their love and presence, of the students I sub for and care about, and so much more.
    But sometimes our blessings are taken for granted, because I, for one, forget to focus on the gift of those blessings while some days our hearts fill to overflowing with praise and thanksgiving for even the least of these.  Those are the days we remember all that God has given each of us with love.  And then we wonder how we can ever thank our great God enough for all He’s done for us, especially in the life of Jesus, our Lord and Savior, whose birth we just celebrated, who came to this earth with a purpose, ultimately going to the cross for our eternal salvation. (John 3:16) And that’s a blessing to forever be thankful for!
    My previously unpublished poem below was written several years ago as two separate poems during a particularly difficult year of Ed’s continued worsening health and my cancer diagnosis and treatments. Yet their poetic themes were similar enough that they seemed to flow as one entity of praise in alternating verses, fitting to end this year with and to welcome a new year.
    I also find it easier to write in the first person. From my own life experiences and feelings of my heart, words flow onto the page.  Ed always said I wore my feelings on my face.  But it’s also been said I’m too emotional, by someone in a leadership position who should know better.  It’s true, but that’s the way God created my caring heart.  And often when a poem is finished, re-reading it in its entirety brings tears to my eyes.  For I know God has blessed me with words that often seem to come from somewhere deep in my soul… from someplace with which my consciousness is not always in touch… with words that have touched the hearts of others and brought healing to mine.
    Because yes, it’s my heart that rejoices, my heart that is saddened, my heart that gets angry at times, my heart that despairs, my heart that apologizes and seeks forgiveness for my wrongs and desires peace, my heart that looks up to the Lord for His loving forgiveness, asking for His hand to guide my path, and it’s even my heart that these poetic words lift up. 
    For it’s also my heart that praises the Lord for all the blessings He’s given while allowing me to face hardships and pain, as He brings healing and peace, and joy amid tears from His loving mercy and grace.  In all of life’s ups and downs, He knows best how to guide my heart and my steps… and may He use these words to touch your heart in turn… as I thank each of you for being a blessing to me.
    You’ve Blessed Me
    Linda A. Roorda
    Oh Lord, you’ve blessed me in ways beyond count
    At each new dawning to greet a new day
    With words of praise from depths of my heart
    Like birds taking flight are songs in my soul.
    ~
    How do I begin my Creator to thank?
    For where life began barely touches the sum.
    But were I to try my heart could not name
    All the blessings of love and joy in my soul.
    ~
    Your hand is my guide unaware at times
    Taking for granted simple joys of life,
    So may I pause and contemplate
    The myriad ways Your love covers me.
    ~
    Through seasons of need joy and praise burst forth
    In testing and trial with hope I reach up
    For You always guide each faltering step
    To carry when I fall and ease heavy burdens.
    ~
    Look upward my soul as life and stress deep
    Overwhelm to the core and deprive of peace.
    With hope the key to renew my heart
    I walk not by sight but by Faith alone.
    ~
    Within this world You allow my struggles
    For an easy path was never promised.
    Yet You have vowed at my side to be
    Guiding me over life’s treacherous shoals.
    ~
    For it’s You my Lord, to whom I will run
    Whose voice I hear, whose Word is my guide
    Directing my path, gently leading me on
    Guiding with light, Your Son in my heart.
    ~
    You promised more if I will just seek
    Your grace and mercy since Your child I am,
    With a love and joy that knows no bounds
    And peace that passes all understanding.
    ~
    And oh! the joy that blesses my soul!
    For since time began You’ve called me by name.
    And with thankful heart I praise You my God
    For blessings given in ways beyond count.
    ~~
    Linda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  14. Linda Roorda

    Worthy

    By Linda Roorda,

    What is our worth, our value?  How do we even measure such an entity?  Have we been so downtrodden that we feel like a failure… like we’re unworthy of the love of others?  Or do we hold our head up knowing we have inherent worth among the rest?
    Feeling unworthy is not new to any of us.  We’ve all been there at times throughout our life.  Haven’t we at one time or another made a simple mistake, yet were left feeling so ashamed we just wanted to disappear?  I have.  Frequently belittled in the past by those with a bravado making up for their own insecurities, I’ve felt defeated and worthless, without importance or value.
    After my family moved from farm life near East Palmyra, NY to city life in Clifton, NJ in February 1965, I struggled to accept this new way of life.  I hated the move and city life with every fiber of my being.  At age 10, I’d essentially lost all my good friends and the value of who I was… or so I thought.  I had to start over in a new city and a new school, trying to make new friends.
    Initially, this small school did not represent the love that I had been used to.  Here, at a city Christian school, I initially knew only two people – my younger cousin, Susan, and our minister’s daughter, Kristin.  Amazingly, her father had previously been our pastor in both East Palmyra and Clifton, and Kristin and my sister and I were already friends – we used to visit each other for play dates.  So, on the very first day of school, Kristin brought me and my sister inside to take us to the office.  Instead, we were met in the hall by the principal who yelled at us for being inside, insisting we go back outside until the bell rang. I felt so belittled, worthless, like I’d done something terribly wrong, all because the principal did not listen to us, nor recognize and understand that we were trying to tell her we were new students.
    At that time, I was smart, looked up to by peers.  However, there came a day that spring when I made a mistake so blatant that I was shamed.  Waiting for the school bus at the top of our block, I saw a truck pass by with S.O.X. written in very large letters on the side – and South Orange Express written beneath.  That’s an interesting name, I thought.  I’ll have to look for that truck again!
    That morning in school we had a surprise spelling bee – something I excelled in.  I read extensively already in fourth grade, being allowed three books for the week from the school library while everyone else could only take two.  As the spelling bee progressed through its rounds, I was given the word “socks.”  Of course, I knew that simple word.  Yet, what proceeded to come forth out of my mouth was “s-o-x.”  And, then I was laughed at… 
    Oh, my goodness!  What had I just done?  I knew how to spell socks!  But that trucking company’s name had become embedded in my brain that morning, and, without thinking, that’s what I blurted out!  I was so utterly ashamed that I went back to my desk fighting tears, refusing to show outwardly my devastated emotions.  I felt absolutely worthless… 
    On reading this story, my husband Ed encouraged me by saying, “Hey! There are two baseball teams, the Red Sox and the White Sox.  You weren’t so far off after all!”
    Acceptance by peers is not where my value and worth truly comes from.  Too often, we put stock in how others perceive us, even as adults… and in what they consider to be of value – like intelligence, good looks, possessions, and how much fun we are.  Instead, those things are all part of worldly superficial values.
    My family could not afford the latest new toys, nor the current fashion in clothes.  I usually wore and appreciated hand-me-down clothes… especially appreciating clothing gifts from my grandparents, or fabric to sew clothes for myself once I learned how. But the simplicity taught me to value what I did have, and to consider others no less worthy than myself.  I do not look down on someone else, developing empathy toward others in their struggles.  Remembering that when I meet someone new, or see someone who’s been hurt by mocking and shaming, I know how it feels as it had once been me.  Reaching out to others shows they are worthy, too!
    Though we may doubt our worth, God does not.  He knows our value.  After all, He created us and designed our individuality.  There are no two of us alike.  In this way, we each bring our uniqueness to benefit the world.  Unfortunately, our inherent value, our worth, has been undermined... by sin.  Yet, God loves us so much that He sent His beloved and only son, Jesus, to take the punishment for our wayward ways, our sin… to die in our place. (John 3:16)  And with that gracious gift we realize, “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”  (I John 3:1)  God knows our worth!  He values and loves each one of us for who we are... for who He created us to be!
    Though we may think we’re not worthy, we truly do have value… for we are totally and unconditionally loved by our awesome God… we are worthy!!
    Worthy
    Linda A. Roorda
    I am not worthy to be called Your child
    I’ve willfully gone about my own way
    I threw caution away with the wind
    Thinking alone this world I could handle.
    ~
    But here I am down on my knees
    Knowing I’ve failed time after time
    How can You care and how can You love
    Someone like me still bucking the reins.
    ~
    You gently seek and call out to me
    Drawing me close, my wrongs now to see
    Had I listened to Your voice all along
    I would not feel the shame I do now.
    ~
    Yet as I reach for Your loving arms
    Hear my heart’s cry acknowledge my sin
    Knowing Your grace now covers my soul
    As once again, mercy washes clean.
    ~
    I give You my all as I surrender now
    And give You the fears that grip at my soul
    What will I gain by taking the reins
    When Your guiding hands hold gently my heart.
    ~
    For You hold me up and prove I’m worthy
    You lead me on to stand on Your words
    It’s then I feel Your arms surround me
    As Your love pours out its comforting peace.
    ~~
     
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
     
  15. Linda Roorda
    With the Union Pacific's Big Boy 4014 making a run this summer/fall, I'm sharing my blog from several years ago. I fell in love with that train, and referenced it when I researched and wrote this blog on the old steam locomotives with input from my Dad a few months before he passed away. He grew up next to the railroad tracks in Clifton NJ and had a life-long love of those old trains, passing that love on to me. The Big Boy's agenda for this fall can be found in this recent news release: 1.2 million-pound steam locomotive 'Big Boy' Heartland of America Tour Kansas stops released.
    Who among us isn’t fascinated by the steam trains of yesteryear?  As the big locomotives and cars rumble past, you can’t help but wonder where they’ve been and where they’re headed. To feel the pulsing ground vibrations of an old steam engine as it chuffs down the track, to see huge billows of smoke and steam with cinders and ash in the air, to smell the smoke and oil, and hear the blowing of the whistle and clanging of the bell all make one's heart beat just a little faster!  The train’s a’comin’!
    Constructing model trains was a hobby of my dad’s, along with setting up a track and miniature town for display.  I remember watching him when I was in kindergarten as he built a passenger car with its tiny pieces.  In the mid to late 1960s, I also enjoyed it when he took us kids on the annual drive to a small, non-descript building in Carlstadt, New Jersey.  There, our eyes were opened to a whole ‘nother world as both O (1/4” scale) and HO (1/8” scale) gauge trains were set up in working displays.  And many a youngster has been thrilled to open the much-anticipated Christmas gift of a model train set like these!

    At the New York Society of Model Engineers display at 341 Hoboken Rd, Carlstadt, NJ 07072, the HO-gauge trains run through small towns, farming communities and mountain passes – with sound effects of the old locomotives.  The display is not huge by any means, encompassing two good-sized rooms, but it’s a fantastic setup nonetheless.
    My Dad, Ralph, was born to Dutch immigrants in Kalamazoo, Michigan, but grew up in Clifton, New Jersey next to the train tracks, where he developed his love for the old steam engines.  Clifton had two train stations – one for the Erie Railroad and one for the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western Railroad.  Eventually, they consolidated as the Erie-Lackawanna Railroad in 1960.  We lived opposite the closed Erie station in the latter 1960s, the parking lot being a great paved playground for us kids; but it has since been demolished like many others, the loss of a priceless piece of history, to make way for new business buildings.
    In talking with my father while writing this article in 2014, he told me, “Steam engines were doing a great job, getting better and better, especially when the Big Boy locomotives were developed and used out west.”  He told me their wheel designation was 4-8-8-4, which I’d learned from my research so I knew exactly what he was talking about.  He explained, “They had a front 4-wheeled truck to stabilize the engine on the curves, followed by 8 driving wheels, another set of 8 drivers, and a rear 4-wheeled truck underneath the engine’s firebox with the tender car coupled behind that.  Tenders carried the train’s fuel [coal, wood or oil] and water.  The Big Boys were used to pull freight cars a mile or more in length over the western mountains.” 
    Dad added that, in the latter 1940s after World War II, it was determined diesel engines could do a better job and go faster than the old steam engines.  “But actually, a steam locomotive could accelerate faster from a standing start than diesels, which were slower to get started; once they got up to speed though, the diesels could travel much faster than steam engines.”  By 1950, he said, the railroad companies had switched all their locomotives to diesel.  “But now and then you might see a rare steam engine being used on the track just because it was available.”
    My Dad also explained that steam locomotives needed a tremendous amount of water to create steam from the burning fuel.  For example, in The Great Book of Railways, I learned that the Big Boys used “22 tons of coal and 44 tons of water every hour.” (p.20)  Clean-burning anthracite coal from Pennsylvania mines was used to fuel steam engines in the eastern U.S. with coal from Wyoming used for the western trains.  I was surprised to hear my Dad say that oil was also used for trains out west because of the availability, but with the proximity of oil wells that makes sense.  “And water tanks,” he added, “were set up every so many miles along with places to take on more coal.  Some trains used extra tenders to carry additional fuel needed for their run.  And sometimes, to get a train up a mountain, more than one engine was coupled together to haul the freight cars up, or they used pusher locomotives at the rear of the cars.”
    And then my Dad, who never passed up the opportunity to tell a good story, shared this one about a well-seasoned engineer running a steam locomotive with a long line of cars.  They’d just hired a new young fireman on the crew.  As the train pulled up to a water tower, the engineer placed the tender exactly in position to take on water.  Pulling the chain on the gantry (crane), the young fireman filled the tender.  When he was done, he released the chain, took a look in the tender to check the water level and fell in, yelling for help, paddling to stay afloat, wondering how long it would take for them to get him out of there.  After a while the old engineer strolled back to see what was taking so long.  Peering into the tender, he pondered the sight that met his eyes, and calmly said, “You know, son… you don’t need to tamp the water down!”
    I have to admit – I really enjoy researching and writing articles for the learning I gain in the process, but this article was one of my absolute favorites as it meant so much to my Dad who was on Hospice at the time of this writing (passing away in April 2015).  And it carries childhood memories of time spent with my Dad at the Jersey train shows.  So, come along and together we’ll learn the history of those grand old iron horses, the steam locomotives.
    Looking back to the start of the 19th century, life was moving forward at a relatively slow pace.  The times still invoked thoughts of the century past in every-day life, but now there was a sense of optimism in our new nation.  And, if they could only have known of the many improvements to come in the new century, they’d have shaken their heads in disbelief, just as our view backward amazes us at our nation’s changes.
    Since the invention of the wheel, man has been contemplating how to make a better wheel or vehicle to transport all manner of goods.  England’s mines were the backdrop for development of the early steam locomotives by some of the best engineers in the late 18th to early 19th centuries.  Beginning in February 1804, Richard Trevithick’s locomotive invention hauled iron and passengers, followed by locomotives for racked/cogged rails (trains with a center driving wheel which engages with the racked or cogged rail for climbing steep grades) as designed by John Blenkinsop in 1812.  The next year William Hedley’s Puffing Billies came on the scene (the first smooth-wheeled locomotives), with George Stephenson’s steam locomotive of 1814 designed to work at a typical colliery (British deep-pit coal mine).  [The Great Book of Railways, pp.8-9]

    On a side note, the above research regarding Hedley’s Puffing Billy trains brought to mind a favorite children’s song that perhaps others remember.  “Down by the station, Early in the morning, See the little pufferbellies, All in a row.  See the station master, Turn the little handle [we sang throttle], Chug chug, puff puff, Off they go!”  Supposedly written by Lee Ricks and Slim Gaillard in 1948, the words go back to a 1931 Recreation magazine, with a tune similar to Alouette; and first popularized by Tommy Dorsey.  (Wikipedia) 
    American ingenuity took a little longer than the Brits to work itself up to full steam.  With the Delaware & Hudson Canal Company forming in 1823, the intent was to construct and operate canals between New York City and the coal mines near Carbondale in northeast Pennsylvania.  Eventually, the idea of locomotive power became their focus as a more efficient means of transporting both coal and passengers.  With that in mind, the D&H engineers took a tour of England’s renowned locomotive factories to gauge what would best meet their needs. 
    This tour led the Delaware & Hudson Canal Company to order the first steam locomotives for use in the United States.  Built in England in 1828 by Foster, Rastrick & Company, the Stourbridge Lion was shipped over in pieces and reassembled at New York’s West Point Foundry.  Ready for its first official run made on August 8, 1829, it was meant to carry coal from the mines near Carbondale to the canal at Honesdale, Pennsylvania.  Weighing about 7-1/2 tons, however, it was too heavy for the wooden track, a definite disappointment as the engineers had sent requirements to England for a locomotive weighing not more than 4 tons.  However, by the early 1830s, steam locomotives were being built in the United States.  
    Col. John Stevens, the “father of American railroads,” set up an experimental track by 1826 on his property in Hoboken, New Jersey to prove the viability of a steam locomotive operation.  In 1830, Peter Cooper built the first American-made steam locomotive, the Tom Thumb, which ran on common track.  The public was additionally impressed when George Pullman invented the Pullman Sleeping Car in 1857, improving passengers’ over-night travel. 
    With much of our early transportation dependent upon beasts of burden over roads which were not of the best quality (previously published under my blog "Traveling From Here to There"), or by boats on the rivers and lakes, a boon developed with the construction of numerous canals.  Following close on the heels of New York’s Erie Canal debut in 1825 (see my Homestead article "Clinton’s Ditch, aka The Erie Canal") was the burgeoning development of the railroad.  With a good percentage of engineers graduating from the U. S. Military Academy at West Point, their knowledge was put to active use in surveying, planning and developing the railroads.  With their expertise, many of these West Point graduates soon became presidents and officers of the various railroad companies. 
    Each state soon began granting charters to these newly-formed railroad companies.  Among the earliest to be chartered was the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad (B&O) in 1827.  Intended to run between Baltimore and the Ohio River, its first section opened May 24, 1830.  New York’s Mohawk & Hudson Railroad was incorporated in 1826, and began operating in August 1831.  Its first locomotive was the DeWitt Clinton, named for the former New York State governor of Erie Canal fame.  The Saratoga & Schenectady Railroad followed soon after with its opening in June 1832.  Even then, ideas were being discussed regarding laying longer track from New York to Buffalo; but, it was a delicate subject as the state was heavily in debt for the Erie Canal which had just opened in 1825.  
    Throughout the succeeding decades, many small railroad corporations merged to operate more efficiently.  In particular, the New York Central, headquartered in New York City, eventually became the main consolidated corporation in the northeast and Midwest as it merged with more than half a dozen other companies.
    Innumerable side tracks were laid to meet the transportation needs of outlying regions as freight was shipped more efficiently than previously.  Towns vied for the opportunity to be on a rail line or spur, able to ship products out from a nearby hub rather than the expense of taking goods to a station many miles away.  Some towns were established after track was laid.  Stations built in towns on the line included water towers there and along the route to replenish the locomotive’s need to create steam and thus power.  The public found it convenient to take a passenger train for a trip to the next town or hundreds of miles away.  It sure beat the slow horse and buggy!

    But a major issue began to build as train schedules were based on differing times in towns along any given route.  To bring this under control, the railroads determined standard time was of vital importance.  At noon on November 18, 1883, standard time zones for both American and Canadian railroads began.  Prior to this date, both nations were riddled with innumerable differences in time across the countryside.  The vast differences stemmed from the use of “high noon” as each town clock was set depending upon when the sun was at its peak above their town.  Obviously, the discrepancies in time caused a nightmare for train schedules, and standardized time was the only logical answer.  Without government approval, the powerful railroad companies established four standard time zones which remain close to those still in use.  In 1918, Congress formalized the arrangement, putting the railroads under the Interstate Commerce Commission.  Prior to America’s adoption of standard time, the Great Western Railroad had established standard time in Britain beginning in 1840, with virtually all railroads adopting London time by 1847.
    It should also be mentioned that tracks were built to different size specifications.  Northern railroads typically used a standard 4 ft 8-1/2 inch or 4 ft 9 inch wide track.  This was based on English track dimensions and the fact that U.S. railroads expected to import more British-made locomotives.  This was the gauge used by George Stephenson (British inventor above) for his locomotives simply because he was familiar with this track width from a local mine near Newcastle.  As it turns out, that gauge was used for the mine track simply because it was the common width of local ancient Roman roads in England.  It was next determined by measurements taken at excavations in Pompeii and elsewhere that ancient Roman roads were made for a standard chariot wheelbase of about 4 ft 9 inches or slightly less!  And that is how 4 ft 8-1/2 inch rails became the industry standard!
    The early American railroads like the Baltimore & Ohio and Boston & Albany set their rails at 4 ft 8-1/2 inches, the Pennsylvania R.R. used 4 ft 9 inches, the Erie and Lackawanna both used 6 ft 0 inch tracks, Canada used a 5 ft 6 inch gauge, while Southern U.S. rails were set at 5 ft 0 inches. 
    Obviously, the discrepancies prevented trains from running on certain track, necessitating standardization throughout the industry.  I was amazed to learn that for 36 hours over two days starting May 31, 1886, thousands upon thousands of workers pulled spikes from all west-bound tracks in the South, moved the rails in by 3 inches to 4 ft 9 inches, and immediately replaced the spikes. Thus, as of June 1886, all North American tracks were capable of running locomotives built for standard 4 ft 8-1/2 inch rails.
    Impressive tunnels, bridges and viaducts were also designed and constructed to carry trains over stunning views of open water or above valley floors between steep mountain cliffs.  With the need for better materials, wrought iron rail was produced in England by 1820.  Following this, steel in America became available in the mid-1800s with the process improved in England by 1860.   
    Naturally, the feasibility of a transcontinental track came under discussion and planning for several years before it became reality.  With the Pacific Railway Act of 1862 under President Lincoln, healing began for a war-torn nation as the north and south pulled together in a common goal after the Civil War.  The idea alone of a main railroad line from one ocean to the other across an entire continent was exhilarating!  As the Central Pacific Railroad toiled westward over the plains and up the eastern Rockies, the Union Pacific laid its track eastward out of California, over and through the western side of the Rockies. 
    Meeting at Promontory Summit in Utah on May 10, 1869, the Golden Spike was nailed into the track in an exciting celebration.  In honor of the occasion, the Union Pacific’s No. 119 and the Central Pacific’s No. 60 (Jupiter) steam locomotives met face-to-face with a single railroad tie width between them. 
    This event was the conclusion of several years’ worth of investment in time spent planning, designing, and hard physical labor of laying track.  Many an immigrant, particularly the Irish and Chinese, found work in this venture.  Across the plains and through tunnels blasted out of the seemingly impassable Rocky Mountains, the rails moved inexorably toward each other with much of the original roadbed still in use today. 
    The meeting of tracks created a transcontinental railroad connecting innumerable side tracks and spurs from all across the nation.  It was where the east met the west, no longer necessitating travel for months by wagon train from the Mississippi River to the Oregon Trail and points along the west coast.  Nor did it require a lengthy sail by ship through dangerous seas around the horn of South America to reach our nation’s western lands.  
    Closer to home, 20 miles south of us, Sayre, Pennsylvania housed the extensive Lehigh Valley rail yard.  Completed by 1904, it held the second largest factory of its kind in the world.  Large cranes were in place to lift a locomotive and move it anywhere.  With nearly everyone in Sayre working in one way or another for the railroad, it’s been said that the huge factories were noted for building or rebuilding one steam locomotive every day during peak production.  In fact, between 1913 and 1921, the factories at Sayre built over 40 K-class locomotives.  (The History of the Lehigh Valley Railroad, p.181.)  I would love to see a museum to the local railroad industry built there.

    Along with a growing railroad industry came the need of medical services for injured railroad workers. Robert Packer Hospital, established with railroad money, was named for Robert, son of Asa Packer who was the director of Lehigh Valley Railroad.  The hospital’s adjoining Guthrie Clinic was modeled after Rochester, Minnesota’s Mayo Clinic.  Donald Guthrie, MD, a graduate of Mayo, was appointed Superintendant and Surgeon-in-Chief of Guthrie Clinic (which is named in his honor), taking up his position in January 1910.
    Headquartered in New York City, the Lehigh Valley Railroad made an obvious impact on our region’s economy.  Begun as the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company in the 1820s, it once held a monopoly in the mining and transporting of coal.  In order to break its monopoly, the Delaware, Lehigh, Schuylkill & Susquehanna Railroad was incorporated in 1846.  In 1853, under Asa Packer’s expert management, this mouthful of a company name became known simply as the Lehigh Valley Railroad.   One of its passenger trains, the Black Diamond Express, with an Atlantic 4-4-2 locomotive, held quite a reputation.  Known as the “Route of the Black Diamond” (named for the clean-burning anthracite coal it carried), the track ran from New York City, west through New Jersey to Easton, Pennsylvania, northwest past Wilkes-Barre and through numerous switchbacks to climb the mountains on its trip northwest to Sayre, Pennsylvania, then into New York by going north to Van Etten, northwest to Geneva, and finally west to Buffalo. 
    Beginning in 1876, the Lehigh Valley Railroad “took control of the newly reorganized Geneva, Ithaca, and Sayre Railroad, started by Ezra Cornell of Ithaca.  The famous university that he founded in 1865 would fill regular and special trains with college students and their families for decades.  Special excursion trains were often set up with tiered-bleacher seating on flat cars for passengers to watch crew races on Cayuga Lake as the train kept abreast of the scullers. (History of the Lehigh Valley Railroad, p.126)  The line to Geneva provided the Lehigh Valley a means to construct their own line into Buffalo, but its grade out of Ithaca to Geneva was too steep for heavy freight trains to travel.  A diverging route was planned from Van Etten (then known as Van Ettenville) to Geneva along the east side of Seneca Lake.  In 1892, the new bypass was open and the line was also completed from Geneva to Buffalo.  The original route from Van Etten to Geneva via Ithaca was now used for passenger trains and local freights.” 
    With a new luxury train scheduled for its first run on May 18, 1896, the Lehigh Valley Railroad ran a contest to name the train.  With over 35,000 entries received, the winner was Charles Montgomery, a hotel clerk from Toledo, Ohio.  His submission, Black Diamond Express, “was considered most befitting the premier train of a railroad whose history and revenues were so closely intertwined with anthrocite.”  [The History of the Lehigh Valley Railroad, p.152]
    “Running from New York City to Buffalo, the Black Diamond was promoted as a train of luxury.  The 315-foot long train was the fastest in their fleet.  The Black Diamond had chefs on board who were skilled in culinary arts.  Complete kitchens had every facility present for ‘preparing and serving substantials and delicacies in most appetizing fashion.’  Day coaches were outfitted with plush velvet chairs, a large comfortable smoking room, and lavatories for both men and women.  The last car seated 28 passengers and included a parlor and an observation platform.  It was equipped with plate glass windows at the rear and wicker chairs for passenger pleasure.  Touted by the Lehigh Valley as ‘The Handsomest Train in the World,’ the roadbed it traveled soon became known as “The Route of the Black Diamond.”  Because of its appeal to newlyweds on their way to Niagara Falls, the train was nicknamed the ‘Honeymoon Express.’”  (The Lehigh Valley Historical Society took much of its information from the book, The History of the Lehigh Valley Railroad, pp.152-153]
    Of course, accidents occurred for all railroads and the Lehigh Valley was no exception.  Its second worst passenger train wreck took place on August 25, 1911.  As the No.4 train headed east out of Buffalo, it derailed on the Canandaigua Outlet Bridge because of a broken rail.  One passenger car rolled over onto its side, while two others fell into the creek 40 feet below with 29 killed and 62 injured.
    Built in 1916, a 30-bay roundhouse and turntable just south of Manchester, NY was used by the Lehigh Valley Railroad to and from Buffalo.  With the train yard seeing a decline in freight traffic during the post-World War II era, its doors closed forever in 1970.  Once considered the largest in the world, the Manchester Yard employed over 1000 people during its peak years.  In the mid-1960s, my dad had taken us kids on a ride to see the train yards along the Jersey shore.  Touring a round house, I can still envision the locomotive inside as it was turned onto a different track.  Fascinating stuff!

    In the decades after World War II, as better and more modern means of transportation came onto the scene with trucks traveling over better paved roads and planes reaching distant destinations in only hours, the old trains and their tracks began disappearing.  Lehigh Valley passenger service also declined, ending with the Black Diamond Express making her final run with her sister train, Star, on May 11, 1959.
    As bigger and better locomotives were built throughout the latter 19th and early 20th centuries, record speeds were reached at or above 100 mph.  The first train ever to record a speed of 100 mph was the Empire State Express of the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad on May 9, 1893 on a run between Rochester and Buffalo, NY.  Great Britain’s famous Flying Scotsman hit 100 mph in 1934, while the British Mallard reached a record 126 mph pulling 245 tons in 1938.  Recently, on February 25, 2016, the Flying Scotsman returned to the tracks in England, fully restored.  Retired in 1963 when diesel engines took over, she spent a number of years pulling tourist trains along the western coast in the U.S. 
    Sandwiched in the years between two world wars, the largest steam locomotives were built in both America and Europe.  In the U.S., engines were often coupled together to provide strength for running with longer lines of loaded freight cars strung out behind, especially as they traversed the mountain passes of the western states.  Then, in the early 1940s, the American Locomotive Company (ALCO) in Schenectady, New York built 25 of the largest locomotives ever.  They were dubbed the “Big Boys,” intended for hauling freight over the western Wasatch Mountains.  These are the locomotives which had impressed my Dad while growing up as I mentioned in Part I.
    In August 2013, Union Pacific Big Boy Engine No. 4014 was prepared for return to the Union Pacific Steam Shop in Cheyenne, Wyoming from a Pomona, California museum.  Expected to begin its journey in April 2014, it was pulled by several modern locomotives.  Researching and writing this article in 2014, complete restoration would take place over the next several years to full working condition, with my son mentioning they converted the 4014’s engine to oil from coal burning.  An internet search of Big Boy No. 4014 will provide photos and videos of this magnificent locomotive. 
    Built in November 1941, and with restoration completed on May 1, 2019 after sitting idle for nearly sixty years since its last run in 1959, the Union Pacific 4014 doubleheaded an excursion with UP’s 844 on May 4, 2019.  Currently, 4014 operates an excursion service as “part of the Union Pacific’s heritage fleet.” (Wikipedia)  Due to the Covid-19 pandemic, excursions were canceled for 2020, but 4014 is expected to resume this service later in 2021.
    Over time, the amount of coal needed to fuel these big steam engines contributed to their demise.  In order to stay competitive with OTR (over-the-road) truck and plane transportation, diesel and electric locomotive engines were designed and implemented.  Germany’s Rudolph Diesel designed the first successful engine in 1897 which bears his name.  By 1912, the first successful German-built diesel locomotive was also in use.  Simply put, I learned that diesel operates differently by using an oil injection as compared to a gasoline-powered engine with spark plugs. 
    Freight cars in America have often been pulled by several locomotives coupled together, providing greater strength than a single engine.  Modern locomotives are designed with diesel engines and electric generators which help them reach top speed much quicker than a simple diesel engine alone.  Thus, the “world’s first streamlined diesel-electric [locomotive was] a Denver-Chicago express” which began running in 1934.  (The Great Book of Railways)
    With the invention of electricity, it wasn’t long before the great inventors put it to use in operating trains.  Electric trains are connected to an overhead electric wire/cable which provides power.  The first electric tram, designed by another German, Werner von Siemens, was on working display at the Berlin Trades Exhibition on May 31, 1879.  His brother, Sir William Siemens, settled in England and designed the first electric railroad which began running in 1883 in Northern Ireland.  It was not until 1890, however, that London’s first electric railway began operating in underground tunnels.  London’s Metropolitan Railway soon became the world’s first subway in 1863 by using underground steam trains.  Following these world firsts, America’s first electric railway was put to use in 1895 by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad with electric locomotives pulling steam trains through tunnels under Baltimore, Maryland.  (The Great Book of Railways)
    And, of course, we also have subways and elevated rails which provide convenient transportation beneath and above city streets.  In the latter 20th century, travel by traditional passenger train declined.  There are, however, some passenger lines still in operation, including scenic excursions, just as there are freight lines providing an important transportation option.  Locally, we can watch a freight train pass through Van Etten and Spencer as it makes its way to and from the Cayuga power plant north of Ithaca, NY.  I enjoy the days when we can clearly hear its whistle and the sound of the heavy engines and cars clicking and creaking over the rails as it passes through our community, reminding us of the halcyon days of active rail travel.
    At the end of every freight train was the red caboose.  These cars were used until safety laws were relaxed in 1980 at which time improved safety monitoring devices were implemented.  Cabooses provided shelter and cooking facilities for the crew who were needed to switch or shunt a train or individual cars onto another track.  This was dangerous work as men could become injured or run over when coupling or uncoupling the cars.  The crew also kept an eye out for any shifting of loads in the cars, or damage to equipment and freight, or axles that might be overheating.  The cupola on top helped them keep an eye out for problems on the track or with the cars. 
    The railroads provided a whole new way of life with many associated occupations, a pride that came with working on the railroad, and a faster way to travel from here to there for quite some time.  We gaze up at those old locomotives, fascinated with their powerful size and the skill of the engineers running them.  Railroads had a major impact on the growth of our nation, including businesses and efficient rapid transportation of goods and people.  As we noted above, the railroad companies were even the impetus behind establishing standard time. 
    Scattered around the U.S. are many old steam locomotives available for excursion rides, along with several train museums to showcase and remember “the way it was”.  
    Simply put, railroads were a vital component to America’s way of life.  When railroad companies began closing, it was the end to a way of life that had grown more modern in new ways…  It was the end of an era.
    One of my favorites sung by Arlo Guthrie says it all, “The City of New Orleans”, written by Steve Goodman:
    Riding on the City of New Orleans
    Illinois Central Monday morning rail
    Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
    Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
    All along the southbound odyssey
    The train pulls out at Kankakee
    Rolls along past houses, farms and fields
    Passin' trains that have no name
    Freight yards full of old black men
    And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
    Good morning America, how are you?
    Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
    I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
    Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car
    Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
    Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
    Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor
    And the sons of pullman porters
    And the sons of engineers
    Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel
    Mothers with their babes asleep
    Are rockin' to the gentle beat
    And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.
    Good morning America, how are you?
    Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
    I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
    Nighttime on the City of New Orleans
    Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
    Half way home, we'll be there by morning
    Through the Mississippi darkness
    Rolling down to the sea
    But all the towns and people seem
    To fade into a bad dream
    And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
    The conductor sings his songs again
    The passengers will please refrain
    This train got the disappearing railroad blues.
    Good night, America, how are you?
    Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
    I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done…
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  16. Linda Roorda

    Your Word

    By Linda Roorda,

    I suspect we’ve all heard, “There but for the grace of God go I.”  Truth be told, I think we all know how true those words are.  This world has so much to offer with its many enticements… and how easy it is for any one of us to be swayed aside… but for the grace and wisdom of God. 
    I’m thankful to God for preserving me from being enticed to follow a path that seemed so good, so right when young… which, in reality, would lead to destruction.  Studying the book of Proverbs is an eye opener.  Oh, I’ve read it before, but appreciate studying it closer verse by verse.  Here, the wisdom of Israel’s King Solomon is directly before us as he speaks to his son(s) and daughter(s), his children… us… me.  And, knowing his life’s story, the reading becomes even more poignant. 
    When King David died, his son, Solomon, took over the reign.  In a dream, God told Solomon to “ask for whatever you want me to give you.” (I Kings 3:5)  Rather than great riches, the humble king asked for wisdom with which to rule.  I can only hope I’d have thought to ask for that!  In granting his request, the Lord gave Solomon not only great wisdom beyond compare, but also great riches.  There was no one like him before or since.
    To know the rest of the story is to understand that, although Solomon began his reign intending to follow God’s precepts, he was soon swayed by the world’s enticements.  From humble and wise beginnings, Solomon gradually took to himself 700 wives and 300 concubines, allowing worship altars to be built for all their various gods.  And it wasn’t long before this worship by his wives of their pagan gods also contributed to an undermining of his own faithful worship of the one true God.
    In studying the great and powerful words of wisdom in Proverbs, I can’t help but be struck by the fact that at the end of his life, Solomon realized how far he had fallen.  His had been a life of great riches with glory and fame following wherever his wisdom and searching soul led him, and he was left to ponder at what he had gained. 
    Believed to have also been written by Solomon, Ecclesiastes begins: “The word of the Teacher, son of David, king of Jerusalem:  Meaningless! Meaningless!  says the Teacher.  Utterly meaningless!  Everything is meaningless.  What does man gain from all his labor...?  Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever… I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven.  What a heavy burden God has laid on men!  I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.”  (Ecclesiastes 1:1, 2, 4, 13, 14)
    Yet with the same great wisdom, Solomon penned these verses we’ve treasured since, especially in song –
    “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
    a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
    a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”  (Eccl. 3:1-8)
    Understanding that he had pursued all which life had to offer, it appears the Teacher, presumably Solomon, was not afraid to admit it was all for naught… while also voicing the dichotomy of profound meaning found in every activity under the sun.  Thus, his conclusion was that there was a purpose to be found in the relationship with his, and our, one true God.  For, in the end, the Teacher concluded we should “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come…and the spirit returns to God who gave it… Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”  (Eccl. 12: 1, 7, 13)
    These were the thoughts which came to mind as I reflected on my poem below well after it was written.  Not one of us can say we are sin free.  Assuredly, we haven’t committed major crimes.  But, deep inside, in all honesty, our heart is not always pure and wise as we struggle in our human attempts to follow a perfect Lord.  We, a product of this world, tend to seek our own way in our daily walk – and I know my own bent.  But I am so thankful that He pursues me… each of us… with never-ending boundless loving mercy.
    May I learn from Solomon’s wisdom, and from his mistakes, and humbly bow my heart to our Lord.  May I learn to follow His words of wisdom, and His will for my life, wherever He may lead… for “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”  (Psalm 119:105)
    Your Word
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Your word is like a comforting hand
    Within the midst of stress-filled days
    It calms the heart and soothes the soul
    To find a peace within Your embrace.
    ~
    Your word is like a sharpened sword
    It pierces the soul with words brought to mind
    Causing a change when nothing else can
    Instructing me, Your wisdom to heed.
    ~
    Your word is like a beautiful scene
    That greets my eyes, tranquil and serene
    It points to You, Creator of all
    Showing Your power and infinite might.
    ~
    Your word is like a solid rock
    Unshakeable with its absolute truth
    Lasting forever, foundation secure
    Its wisdom gained to guide and to lead.
    ~
    Your word is like the calm after storms
    After winds blow fierce and clouds gather dark
    As rain pours down to freshen this world
    So to the soul are Your words of peace.
    ~
    Your word is like a beautiful bud
    Daily growing beneath sun and rain
    It opens wide with petals of silk
    To show the world its hidden glory.
    ~
    Your word is like a fine sunny day
    With healing warmth down deep in my soul
    It broadens faith, shines light on wisdom
    And illumines steps to direct my path.
    ~~
     
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  17. Linda Roorda

    Regrets

    By Linda Roorda,

    Somewhere deep down inside, each one of us has regrets… for something we said… something we did… something we did not do or say… and we long to go back to do it all over again… only better this time. 
    But we can’t go back.  What’s done is done.  It’s marked in indelible ink on the pages of time.  Yet, there is One who offers forgiveness and peace when we bare our soul to Him of hurts and pains… as we take responsibility and ownership of our mistakes and sins.  For years, my errors festered with regrets.  A while ago, knowing it was time I did something about it, there were a few friends to whom I wrote those long-overdue apologies.  I’m so thankful for their forgiveness, a loving grace on their part.  And, like our Lord’s loving forgiveness, those regrets are replaced with joy as our slates are wiped clean, enabling us to start fresh, to move forward without looking back to rue the past… as the Lord renews our hearts. 
    Writing this poem, I was reminded that Jesus had said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”  (Luke 9:62 NIV)  An old-fashioned plow pulled by a team of oxen or horses is kept straight by the farmer holding the reins and plow handles.  If he looks back to where he’s been, he can’t guide the team and the rows will become ever more crooked.  But, if the farmer keeps his eyes focused ahead, aiming for a point in the distance, he guides the team through the reins as he handles the plow, and his rows stay straight.  Just like driving today’s tractor or car – we tend to stray from our lane if we look backwards or all around.  Our eyes need to remain focused on what lies ahead.
    And so it is in our daily life.  If we keep looking back to where we’ve been and to the mistakes we’ve made, we aren’t going to be much good to anyone else, let alone ourselves.  It’s not helpful to live with constant regrets… it’s far better to take what we’ve learned and grow from our mistakes – once we’ve fully confessed them and asked for forgiveness, of course.  For, with backward gazing, we may find we begin to sink like Peter when he took his eyes off the Lord as he looked in fear at the deep water he was walking on.  (Matthew 24:22-34)
    I like the image my late husband had shared as we prayed together during a time of stress.  Ed described it as putting our plow into the furrow while focusing on the end of the row where Jesus stands waiting, holding out his hands.  As long as we keep our eyes focused ahead, and follow the Lord and His guiding Word, our life’s path will be straight.
    Easier said than done at times though, isn’t it?  May God bless each of us with His peace as we strive for that straight row towards Him…
    Regrets
    Linda A. Roorda
    Sometimes alone I’ve felt abandoned
    Though my heart knows You still care for me.
    Didn’t You say to reassure
    I’ll never leave; I’ll never forsake?
    ~
    Lord, hold my hand when fears abound
    Help me to feel Your presence near.
    Your love brings peace when to You I flee
    Contentment known as I focus on You.
    ~
    You know who I am.  You know where I’ve been.
    You know where I’m bound on this journey of life.
    You ask of me with a still small voice,
    I hear Your words, but don’t always heed.
    ~
    Within the clamor and din of my world
    Pulled every which way from dawn until dark
    Voices are heard but whose shall I heed
    As sometimes confusion waits by the door.
    ~
    To whom will I bow?  To what give credence?
    So much clamors, my attention to gain.
    Sweet smooth flattery with enticing words,
    Or voice of reason, the wisdom of God?
    ~
    When troubles come and thoughts overwhelm
    I can do nothing but give them to You.
    And in the act of giving them up
    You draw me near from the brink of fear.
    ~
    Some days I wish that I could go back,
    Back to do over in another time
    To all that once was which fills with regret
    For knowledge gained now sees better ways.
    ~
    Then in reaching out You touch my heart.
    Just as I am You accept me now.
    With arms open wide I’m drawn to Your side
    As You cleanse my soul from stains that have marred.
    ~
    How can I thank You for all You have done?
    Where do I begin to tell of Your grace?
    With a grateful heart Your praises I sing
    As You bless me now with Your loving peace.
    ~
    In looking ahead You lighten my step.
    I need only see the future through You.
    Your guiding wisdom now leads me each day
    On a bright new path as Your hand holds mine.
    ~~
  18. Linda Roorda
    Father’s Day… a time to remember the dads we treasure.  They’ve taught us well in the ways of life.  I remember a lot about my dad.  In fact, it would be fair to say that I had put him on a pedestal while growing up… not a wise placement for anyone. But it seems he could do anything and everything, a jack-of-all-trades, almost perfect in my little girl eyes.  Though none of us can measure up all the time, there is One who is perfect… who forgives all our failings… our heavenly Father.
    But, yes, there is so much my Dad taught me and my five siblings, including all about the love of Jesus.   As a small child on the farm, I would say, “Jesus is my best friend!”  But, for a time as a teen, I forgot my childhood friend until my Dad reminded me of those words I used to say as a little girl.  Oops! 
    I loved playing board games on Sunday afternoons with my Dad, especially Scrabble. I love the challenge of this game and tend to play aggressively, perhaps because I was in tough competition with my Dad.  Though I won only one game against him over those several years, it was a sweet victory knowing that I’d accomplished the win without his having given me an edge… his way of readying us for the world.
    He taught me honesty was the right way such that in 8th grade English class I chose to write an essay entitled “Honesty Is The Best Policy”, receiving a coveted A.  Actually, I think I may have gotten writing and art abilities from him.  Although he was an exceptional storyteller, perfectly imitating voice and mannerisms of various comedians, I speak best through the written word.  He also had a gift for drawing with his talent for art passed on to me and my son.  He loved trains, especially the old steam engines, having grown up next to the tracks in Clifton, NJ.  I loved watching him as he built a passenger car for his train set, using a tweezers to handle those tiny parts.  I watched him build Packard and Duesenberg model cars, and a German Focke-Wulf plane from WWII, taking us with him as he flew it using a remote-control system… until an unexpected gust of wind dove and smashed the plane into the ground.
    As we grew up, we loved hearing Dad tell family stories of his and our childhoods.  He had a gift for telling any story in a humorous unique way, and how I long to hear them all again.  I’d ask him to write them down for posterity, but he never did.  When he drove truck in the 1960s through the 1990s (and later huge tractors for an Iowan farmer), he’d come home with stories from the road.  He shared radio routines by Bill Cosby and southern Cajun comedians, recalling their stories and imitating accents perfectly!  That was way better entertainment than TV any day! 
    I recall a few stories of his time in the Army at Fort Greely, Alaska (1956-1957), a foreign assignment before official statehood.  From 18 months to 2 years of age, I was too young to remember my six months at Delta Junction with my baby sister.  But I also remember having heard how he, his best buddy Roland Neefe, and two other friends found a sunken rowboat.  As it lay not far below the surface of a lake, they pulled it up, cleaned it off, and took it out to fish.  It made for an interesting adventure to say the least – while they took turns fishing, the other three worked hard at bailing to keep the boat afloat!  Now that’s dedicated fishermen! 
    Fort Greely is also where he learned to drive big rigs.  With someone ill, he was asked to take over in the motor pool one night.  Proving he could handle backing up a trailer perfectly, the commanding officer asked where he’d learned to do that since everyone else struggled.  “Backing up a manure spreader, Sir!” was his dutiful reply.  They kept him in the motor pool, where he gained invaluable training for later driving 18-wheelers.
    He was also given a rare promotion because he took the time to thoroughly clean an office coffeepot, a skill learned from his Dutch immigrant mother who had taught him all aspects of housekeeping while growing up, like any good Dutch mother.  With a general visiting Fort Greely, the coffee-making task was passed off to my Dad as no one wanted to be making coffee for a general!  He didn’t complain but took pains to provide a clean urn for making fresh-percolated coffee… which greatly impressed the general.  When the general asked who made the coffee, the aide who was supposed to have made it “blamed” my Dad.  Instead of the feared reprimand for the typically bad-tasting coffee the office was known for, the general complimented my father on making the best cup he’d ever tasted!  Turning to the senior officer, he ordered him to give my father a promotion!
    When we were younger, he always had time for us. When we lived in Jersey, I loved it when he took us fishing at Garret Mountain in Clifton, Lake Hopatcong and Upper Greenwood Lake. It got me out of the city and into nature where I felt at ease.  And, though I could never bring myself to touch those worms (still can’t!), let alone put them on a hook, and never did catch “the big one,” it was the quality time with our Dad that meant so much to us kids.  As a tomboy, I especially enjoyed working outside with my Dad whether it was in the barn learning to care for the animals, in the huge vegetable gardens, or traipsing the fields and woods to hunt rabbits and deer.  That love just naturally transferred to enjoying time spent working alongside my husband in the barn or in the yard, and growing and weeding gardens of my own.
    As we grew older, we teens were often in our own little world yet I still adored my Dad.  He listened and gave sound advice.  I recall the day he didn’t go to work, taking me instead for a drive to discuss a problem I was dealing with.  At times though, I wasn’t ready to listen to him because, as life moved on, his anger took control and he wasn’t always there for us as a family, causing division with his divorce by expecting full support for his side.  No parent in a divorce situation should ever do that their children.
    But I treasure our renewed relationship later in life.  With apologies for my own errors as a teen, I heard his sadness as I expressed how family dysfunction affected all of us, and he understood my saying I/we all had needed him more than he realized when he was on the road for 2-4 weeks at a time.  I appreciated his compliments on my writing for a local newspaper, my own blogs, publishing genealogy research in a nationally recognized journal (The New York Genealogical & Biographical Record), and for how well I raised my family and took care of my Mom, even saying he’d never realized all the difficulties I’d faced in my life.  Honesty and forgiveness cleared the way for a better relationship with love expressed to both my parents.  God truly takes our most difficult situations, working them for our good when we love Him, admit our errors, and make amends.
    My Dad’s careers changed from his love of farming, to driving a grain truck delivering feed to dairy farmers (winning top NY State Purina Feed salesman awards for 1961 and 1962), to carpentry with his Dad, a revered general contractor in northeast New Jersey, to driving an 18-wheeler hauling tanks locally and later OTR (over the road/cross country).  When we lived in Clifton, NJ, he drove chemical tankers “locally” in northeast Jersey, southern New England, and New York City.  What stories he brought home from his experiences!  I got to ride with him only twice and wish it could have been more.
    But I was never so happy as when we moved back to New York on August 16, 1969!  Though I hated city life, I can now look back at special memories of Clifton where I was born.  As we settled into “backyard farming,” he taught me how to care for our mare, War Bugg, a granddaughter of Man O’ War, a retired Western working ranch registered Quarter Horse.  One of his trucking buddies also rode the rodeo circuit and put War Bugg through her paces – she did a figure-eight so tight you’d’ve thought she’d fall over!  I helped Dad build her corral and box stall in the barn, along with re-roofing and remodeling the old chicken coop for our flock.  And then came the heavy-duty barn chores of bringing hay down out of the mow, hauling 50-lb bags of grain, mucking out the pens, learning to groom War Bugg and pick up her feet to clean the soft undersides, devouring books on horses and their care, dreaming of being an equine vet.  I saw his deep concern when I stepped on a wasp’s nest in the haymow with 11 stings on my leg, and his gratefulness for my dousing him with a 5-gallon pail of water when a torch threatened to catch him on fire while trying to burn tent caterpillars, chuckling later that I almost drowned him! He did have a great sense of humor, which I valued in my husband Ed, too.
    But I also learned the hard way that running War Bugg flat out up the road and back could have killed her, hot, sweaty and lathered.  Not realizing the depth of War Bugg’s Western training, I’d simply clicked my tongue and she took off like a rocket, so I let her run… on the paved road.  I was scolded hard, yet taught to walk her slowly, allowing her to have only small sips of warm water till she cooled down.  After riding her another time, I dismounted, tied her to the backyard light pole, and ran into the house briefly.  On returning, I realized she’d pulled on and broken her bridle, standing as if still tied with reins straight down.  And it was then I realized she was Western trained to be “ground tied” and to take off at the click of the tongue, very responsive to touch, the absolute best horse!  I still miss her… and her gentle neighs when I put grain and hay in her feed trough.
    Soon enough, I got married and began a new life with my new family, while my siblings and parents scattered themselves around the U.S.  Life changes, and we change with it. We learn from those childhood mistakes and grow up wiser for them.  As a child, I teased Dad when he turned 30 that he was old, and that when he’d turn 50 he’d be “over the hill!”  Well, Dad, guess what?  Your oldest daughter reached that milestone a good ways back, and she’s still thankful to be alive and working!  Giving him this writing in 2014 before he passed away April 17, 2015, his wedding anniversary with my Mom, he knew I felt blessed to have him as my Dad.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive the childhood fun of days long ago, but I treasure those memories that linger still... and I love you, Dad!
    May you each be blessed with very special memories of your Dad, too!  Happy Father’s Day! 
    I Remember A Dad
    Linda A. Roorda
    I remember a dad who took me fishin’
    And remember a dad who hooked my worms,
    Who took those hooks from fishy mouths,
    And showed me the country way of life.
    ~
    A family of six, two girls and four boys
    Fun and trouble we shared as we grew.
    From farms and fields to paved avenues,
    Walking and biking, exploring we went.
    ~
    I remember a time spent playing games,
    A dad who’d not cheat for us to win.
    Family and friends and holiday dinners,
    Lakes and farms and countryside drives.
    ~
    Weeds were the bane of childhood fun,
    So ‘tween the rows we ran and we played.
    But as I grew and matured in age,
    Weeding was therapy in gardens of mine.
    ~
    I remember a dad who thrived on farming
    Livestock and gardens, and teaching me how.
    I remember a dad who took me huntin’
    Scoutin’ the fields, always alert.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught us more
    For growing up we learn by example.
    I remember working alongside my dad
    Roofing a barn and building corrals.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose gifts were given
    In fairness to meet each child’s desire.
    I remember a dad whose wisdom we honor
    In memories of caring and love in small ways.
    ~
    I remember a dad who brought us laughter
    With Cajun and Cosby stories retold.
    For blessed with a gift of retelling tales
    Family and childhood events he recalled.
    ~
    I remember a dad whose time was given
    To help his children face life’s turmoils.
    Time spent together are memories treasured
    For things done best put family first.
    ~
    I remember a dad who taught me more
    To treasure my faith in Jesus my friend.
    In looking to Him as Savior and Lord,
    Salvation by Grace, not earned by my deed.
    ~
    As I look back to days long ago,
    I remember the dad I knew so well.
    For I miss the dad who took me fishin’
    And remember the dad who taught me more.
    ~
  19. Linda Roorda

    A Peaceful Solitude

    By Linda Roorda,

    We often find peace in a quiet place of rest whether it be our church Sanctuary or outdoors in nature.  There, alone, unencumbered by life’s trappings, we can meditate on and seek our Lord in prayer.  Away from the hustle and bustle of life’s busyness and grueling schedules, we can focus our thoughts and attention as we pray for God’s wisdom and for blessings upon our family and friends.  Because we are so like those sheep that David settled down to rest in peaceful green pastures, we can meet our Shepherd there for His guidance and restoration.
    With a simple prayer in such peaceful solitude, I’m reminded of how often Jesus sought a quiet place to pray.  Away from the noisy crowds, He met His heavenly Father alone to pour out His heart.  Asking for His simple needs to be met, He also prayed that those with heavy burdens would find peace by relinquishing their cares to the very capable hands of God. 
    From the beginning of his ministry, Jesus sought a quiet place to get away from life’s busy pace and demands, to think and pray to His heavenly Father.  Like Mark 1:35 tells us, “very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.”  Shortly afterward, his disciples found him; together they went off into the synagogues and villages to preach and serve the needs of the people.  “Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses.  But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”  (Luke 5:15-16)  Another time, after sending his disciples ahead to the next town by boat, and dismissing the crowd of people, “…he went up on a mountainside to pray.”  (Mark 6:46b)
    If quiet time was needed by our Lord to pray and restore his energy… to refresh his soul during hectic days of ministry… how much more do we need that time alone?  I know I tend to forget that, often uttering prayers-on-the-run so to speak.  Jesus went off by himself to grieve when His cousin, John the Baptist, was beheaded.  He spent time alone to contemplate important issues in His ministry.  And He prayed for hours when facing his arrest and death on the cross.  All fitting examples for situations we face that are both simple and complex.
    There is a peace I find in my quiet place… sitting in my gardens among nature’s blessings of flowers and birds… listening to the sweet chirping of busy birds, watching dainty butterflies flutter by, and watching the creek below our ridge on its endless flow… for in the midst of His creation, I feel God’s presence.  How appropriate that our risen Lord was found in a garden that first Easter morning!  To my garden I often go to pray, think a situation through, and hear the Lord’s wisdom in His still small voice within my heart.  In my garden, a respite from life’s hectic pace, I find a peaceful solitude, and come away feeling refreshed and restored.  How about you?
    A Peaceful Solitude
    Linda A. Roorda
    There is a place where I long to rest
    A place of quiet and contemplative peace
    A placid harbor, restoring my soul
    Where the Lord I meet in solitude still.
    ~
    A place of rest my cares to release
    Where storms of life meet the Calmer of Waves
    With prayers of faith and trust in His will
    As I’m safely held in the palm of His hand.
    ~
    For soothing comfort and solace is found
    Near to the heart of our gracious Lord
    Feeling His presence all along the way
    As He takes my fears to comfort with peace.
    ~~
     
  20. Linda Roorda
    Oh, the countless blessings of God!  He is so good to all of us in so many ways!  And my heart sings in praise and thanksgiving for all that He has done in my life!
    Recently, I flew out to visit my daughter and her family. And I gotta tell you, they were so good to me!  I don’t like flying, but the flight from ELM to DET left way more than a bit to be desired.  Taking generic Dramamine, I learned the hard way it is not as effective as the real deal. So, gripping that little white bag kindly provided by the airline, and white-knuckling the armrest through dramatic turbulence, I was more than glad to deplane, yet not delighted to get on yet another plane from DET to MSP.  Thankfully, the motion sickness was not as severe on that leg of the journey, but I was so very happy to land!!
    With the flight worsening my minor head cold to include bronchitis, I was not the energetic Grammy they expected.  Despite the downside, and not being able to visit the zoo and a Native American history center Emily planned, we did stroll through St. Cloud University’s arts and craft vendor displays, watched their oldest son swim in his first competition, saw their middle son go fly a kite and made an origami crane as he told me how to fold it, drew and colored a blooming plant with their youngest son, viewed the exhibits at a local county museum, and played numerous games of checkers, magnetic chess, RackO, and Sequence when I needed the rest.
    I also greatly appreciated the thought my daughter gave to movie selections – Bambi, Those Calloways, and The Sound of Music!  In the summer of ’65, my dad had taken me and my sister to the Clifton Theater two blocks from home in Jersey to see the double feature - Bambi and Those Calloways.  Remembering only the vicious wolverine and square dance scenes from Those Calloways, I’d always wanted to see the movie again. Looking forward to April 23, 1978 when it was featured on NBC’s Sunday night Disney theater… it was with mixed emotions that I could not watch it… because we went to the hospital for Jennifer to be born early the next morning!  So, thank you again, Emily, for choosing that movie for your Mom!  And then she chose her and my favorite, The Sound of Music, which my dad also took me and my sister to see in Clifton in the latter 1960s.
    After returning home, my son and his wife and children came to visit.  Going to Ithaca’s Science Center, it was a pleasure to watch the kids enjoy all the hands-on experiences!  Even Grammy put her fear aside and petted the pink gecko held by a staff member.  Playing games at home, or walking the gardens with me, brought shared blessings of family time.
    It seems that, among things we might consider minor in the overall scheme of life, are so many special blessings! Yet, we often go on our way without looking closer and being so very thankful for the “little” silver linings… reminding me of how much God loves us in all those “little” things we take for granted.
    From the moment we awaken until our day draws to a close, we are loved and cared for by an awesome God!  Each breath we take is His gift.  Each beautiful sunrise and setting sunset shines forth glorious rays upon His creation in different hues.  The gift of love, the touch of a hand in comfort and peace, in joy and sorrow, the moments of special fun that we savor… these are all precious gifts from our God. 
    For we were created that we would have a relationship with the Lord of our life.  God created us with a purpose… to bring glory and honor back to Him in all that we do.  For all we are, and all we will be, have come from His hand.  And He showers His love upon us as He provides for our every need, blessing us richly if we but open our eyes to see and understand.  Oh God, You are so good to me! 
    You are so good to me!
    Linda A. Roorda 
    Oh God, You are so good to me!
    You loved me ere I came to be
    I thank you for the life that You gave
    That I may live covered by mercy.
     ~
    I praise You for the gifts You’ve given
    The talents hidden and openly used
    From blessings I see to~ those hid from view
    You care for me beyond ways to count.
     ~
    I thank You for each bright sunrise
    As golden rays stream down upon earth
    And birds awaken with their songs of praise
    While we yawn and stretch to start a new day.
     ~
    Be with me Lord, my prayer for this day
    May all the words and thoughts of my heart
    Bring honor to You, my strength and my shield
    As I align my steps on Your path.
     ~
    Help me to keep my tongue in check
    When frustrations mount throughout my day
    May I with patience attend to my tasks
    And seek Your will in all that I do.
    ~ 
    Prayers for my friends and family dear
    To keep and protect each one on their way
    And may they know Your love that surrounds
    Like a warm hug will protect and guide.
     ~
    And when temptations sneak in unannounced
    Open my eyes Lord, your wisdom to see
    May I discern the right from the wrong
    To keep my feet on Your righteous path.
     ~
    With grateful thanks I now close my day
    You covered my needs in blessings poured out
    With a joyful heart for Your care of me
    Rejoicing in peace, contented am I.
    ~~ 
  21. Linda Roorda
    As some of my readers know, yesterday would have been my 50th wedding anniversary. Wanting to do something special to carry the memory forward, I invited another widowed friend to share a few hours at Wayne Myers’ Gardens in North Spencer.  (Look them up online.)  But Wayne's tour and knowledge is utterly impressive of the ways of our ancestors.  He has built numerous buildings including a sluiceway for a waterwheel in a grist mill, a covered bridge, and several other old-appearing outbuildings with original weather-worn wood from old barns.  They house a large variety of tools and implements, an area of old living quarters above the mill with many household necessities, old feedbags, milk cans, farm tools, working horse and oxen paraphernalia including buggies, plows, harrows, along with his original artwork in welding a large sunflower using overturned shovels, a large frog at his waterfall pond, a very large salamander, a kid enjoying a swingset, and so much more! Ed would have loved “seeing” this with me as we enjoyed Cooperstown’s Farmers Village and Old Sturbridge Village in Mass., and I’ve also seen Genesee Country Village Museum in Mumford near Rochester, NY. This made my day special, sometimes thinking I’ve lived in the wrong century!
    Yesterday, October 26, 2024, would have been my and Ed’s 50th wedding anniversary.  We had so hoped and dreamed of reaching that milestone, but God had other plans for our lives.  Many of our friends and relatives have already or are reaching that celebration point, and I’m very happy for them!  They made it!
    A lifetime of love is not a mere trifle.  Yet it seems that the years evaporated far too quickly. Our 49 years together, married 48 years and 3 months, did not happen without the ups and downs being mixed and stirred up well.  It involves loving your spouse enough to be there in the best of times and the worst of times… to keep moving forward when life hands you those bitter lemons, to carry your loved one during serious illness or disability, to remain at the side of the one who falls rather than taking the easy way out, helping them stand again on solid ground, to encourage and praise each other in new endeavors, and to simply share the depth of precious memories made as a couple and a family… for time relentlessly moves forward… a unique relationship, one that could never be duplicated…
    After dating for several months, Edward wrote me a song in a letter, a habit of his. Thinking it was his own compilation, he admitted it was the Beach Boys’ song, “Wouldn’t it be nice?”  Proposing to me, of course I said yes!  He could only afford a tiny little diamond, but I loved that gem with the ring resembling a petal or leaf. I didn’t need anything large and ostentatious to show our commitment. Years later, I took my old ring that needed repairs, and my mother’s broken white gold ring which my father had replaced, and was able to purchase a new setting, adding two more tiny diamonds from a ring my mother had, one on each side of my own.  To me it represented each of us separately, the center diamond signifying our marriage union… with a love that never fades.
    When we first began dating, he’d also told me that if I ever felt sorry for him, then I didn’t belong at his side.  So, I tended to take him for granted at times, and assumed he could do almost anything despite his limited vision, which he often could because he was determined to do his best at what everyone else could do so easily with sight.
    We didn’t have much then except love. But what we had we shared. Our first home was a 12x64 ft trailer, part of his wages.  He worked on the farm with his father until June 1985 when he had a major retinal detachment requiring 9-hour surgical repair, told by the eye surgeon he could no longer be a dairy farmer.  With three young ones at the time, it was devastating news, and I returned to work to support us.  In time, Ed went to the Carroll Center for the Blind in Newton, MA, and worked locally for two companies, often wishing he’d known as a teen to take advantage of free college for a business degree.  But God was with us in the many difficulties encountered, working out each situation with a purpose in our lives.
    Yes, we had our ups and downs.  We faced many challenges, difficulties and tragedies, including the death of our oldest daughter at age 25.  We were exhausted physically and emotionally, upset at each other at times, but we worked through the issues.  We were not perfect.  We were human.  We had faults too.  Loving and forgiving each other, we stayed together… for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as the typical wedding vows say… while our gracious God walked beside us, every step of the way, always guiding, leading, and blessing us on this road called life.
    Anniversaries…
    Linda A. Roorda
    Anniversaries…
    Like the years they recall
    Are simply milestones
    And bookends
    Rich with memories
    Tucked into the pockets
    Of endless time
    As bits and pieces
    Like childhood toys
    Are gathered at whim
    To be recalled
    For their special treasures
    Hidden deep within
    That readily affirm
    With broader meaning
    In sight and sound
    From shared joys and tears
    Through difficult storms
    To peaceful harbors
    As the hand of comfort
    Envelops my soul
    In embrace secure
    Like a blanket warm
    That leaves me knowing
    The love I feel
    And share with you
    Has come full circle
    In the gift of self
     Our memories treasured.
    ~~
     
  22. Linda Roorda
    October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.  This poem and reflection were written in 2014 when I had cancer and pondered the various aspects of my diagnosis.  I urge you not to neglect your own self-screening and medical exams… because, if it wasn’t for Ed’s insistence that I take care of myself, I planned to cancel that mammogram… because he was in the midst of several new health crises with procedures and surgery.  I just didn’t think I had time in my hectic schedule of working full time and running nearly every afternoon for Ed’s appointments to go for an annual mammogram... Yet, it was that exam which found my cancer… so I share a few thoughts from those days…
    The artist fills her palette with dabs of paint from among the dark and drab to the bright and colorful.  I well remember laying out my paints years ago.  I love the smell of the oils, mixing to find just the right shades… then gently brushing color onto the white surface, adding accents along the way, bringing the flat blank canvas to life.  Come to think of it though, I haven’t picked up a brush since our youngest was a toddler, decades ago.  Unless you count painting house walls and doors!
    But I also remember how hesitant I was to make those first few brush strokes… fearing mistakes which would ruin the whole composition.  Not that my work was ever that good.  I simply enjoyed losing myself for hours in creating art… forgetting time, food, and sound.  My heart was totally involved in a world of joy of my own making.
    And I can’t help but wonder how much pleasure our God, as Master Artist, must have enjoyed as He created this world for us to enjoy?
    Our life’s palette is filled with so much good, so many blessings… the bright colors.  But we often don’t like to think about, nor do we welcome, the dark and drab… those difficulties which confront us, and just might ruin our day, or a long string of days.  I suspect I’m not alone with a tendency to take life, my family and friends, my surroundings… my blessings… just a little bit for granted. 
    Those were among the thoughts rambling around my mind when this poem was written in 2014, my summer of breast cancer, procedures and surgery. It was a time we were dealing with Ed’s new diagnoses added to multiple others, nearly losing him to a severe bout of pancreatitis (he did not drink alcohol), with his own near-daily appointments, procedures, and surgery, seeking time and space for us as a couple to handle the weight of our concerns… 
    My thoughts since those days have come to echo a book given to me by my daughter, Emily.  The author, Ann Voskamp, of “One Thousand Gifts” wrote on pg.90: “Who would ever know the greater graces of comfort and perseverance, mercy and forgiveness, patience and courage, if no shadows fell over a life?”  A few pages later (p.97), she pens, “And emptiness itself can birth the fullness of grace because in the emptiness we have the opportunity to turn to God, the only begetter of grace, and there find all the fullness of joy.” 
    The scare which a cancer diagnosis brings can haunt you to the core… for it’s then you come face to face with the brevity of life in a world that continues to hum around you… when more often than not life would whiz on by without a second glance. This poem began as I sat on our deck, taking in the sun’s rays, observing a gorgeous tiny hummingbird swooping in to drink from their favored nectar. This little bird reminded me how much more thankful I was for every second of life… every waking moment… every minute blessing… as I paid closer attention to nature’s beauty around me…
    For here, surrounding me, but taken for granted, were blessings of joy found in the simplest pleasures… like the voice of God speaking in those moments of solitude and quiet as birds sang melodies of praise … as dawn emerged to overtake the darkness with its brilliance… and as something so tiny and delicate as a hummingbird echoed its Creator’s joy in the art of creation.
    And with those thoughts came the realization that all of life brings a joy to my soul… whether the dark and drab or the bright and colorful.  Each and every experience is a chance to slow down, to welcome the new day, to appreciate what God has allowed me, and you, to journey through… by finding we’re in the midst of His palette of life, His will, and all that He has planned for us to experience and learn from as we draw closer to Him and His great love.
    The Palette of Life
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    There’s joy in my soul as the sun warms bright
    And colors of dawn announce a new day
    Birds stir in nests while I stretch and yawn
    With thankful heart as dawn awakens.
    ~
    Solitude I seek, Your voice I would hear
    In the early morn, the cool of the day
    As light emerges from its slumber dark
    Bathing our world in brilliant display.
    ~
    So I sit still and listen closely
    As birds arise to greet a new sun
    With songs on the wing to gladden the heart,
    No better way to start a new day.
    ~
    Throughout the hours I hear their chorus
    Songs from the heart lifting praise with mine
    As sounds of life between these spruce walls
    Gently beckon to slow my fast pace.
    ~
    Hummingbirds feed, their wings beating fast
    With a gentle buzz as they zoom on by
    Tiny and frail, delicate beauty
    Feathers glisten in their brilliant hues.
    ~
    Sun shining bright in an azure sky
    A gentle breeze as leaves flutter slow
    Shades of all colors in plants surrounding
    Endless beauty, the blessings of life.
    ~
    These are the things that give joy to life
    Though they be small, with them the heart sings
    From morning sunrise to evening sunset
    Treasures are found wherever we gaze.
    ~
    And may all I do bring honor and praise
    To creator God whose gifts are bestowed
    Amid life’s frailty like colors bursting forth
    With joy in my soul, the palette of life.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  23. Linda Roorda

    A Vessel of Worth

    By Linda Roorda,

    I love to sing, always have, since I was a kidlet.  In my childhood, it was the old Hymns of Faith whether in Christian elementary school, church, choirs, in the backseat of the car singing with my sister as our family went for a drive, or as she and I sang an occasional duet in church.  As a teen, I sang along with old country/western and then rock songs of the early ‘70s on 99.1, the WAAL.  Yet, I’ve always enjoyed the old hymns, simply for the truth of the words and the joy of singing, though I also appreciate the upbeat contemporary praise and worship songs on Family Life Network, 88.5-FM.  As I age, I still love to sing though my voice is not always as crisp and clear, nor even as loud as it once was.  With pulmonary sarcoidosis, I just don’t have the volume or depth of air in my lungs anymore.
    As a retired member/leader of a church Praise Team, it was an honor to select music for the worship service - hymns, country gospel songs, or contemporary praise songs.  Each week we brought a different set of songs, usually chosen in an attempt to mesh with the Scripture readings.  Our hearts were touched when we chose music not knowing the Scriptures to be read and the songs fit perfectly, knowing God worked through us!  Occasionally, we felt moved to change a song, unexpectedly needing “Plan B” with a different option.  Time after time, we saw what could be looked at as a failure of our plans, but instead was intended by God for His purpose… to touch someone’s heart in a way we could not have foreseen.
    Now, as a member of a praise band, The Dry Bones, led by Paul Estro, I again feel the importance of the music chosen to sing – that which Paul writes or selects from contemporary musicians.  For there’s something about singing that lifts the heart up… from sadness… from a difficult day… from the trials and wounds of life… from pains and losses in life that scar... to the joys and blessings in each day... and the friendships and value of each person...  like a cleansing of the soul, bringing a sense of purpose to our singing and peace to our emotions… for God takes our brokenness and makes something of beauty from it…
    Because singing lifts the heart up in praise to God for all the goodness He’s blessed us with… for taking us through those difficult times to easier peaceful days… for working through our wounds and scars to refine us and use us for His purpose, for His glory… so that, with praise and joy for all He has done for us, we might touch another life along the way.
    After I wrote the poem below, its message reminded me of the old hymn, “Have Thine Own Way, Lord” by Adelaide A. Pollard (1902), put to music by George C. Stebbins.  This worshipful song has been a favorite since my childhood.  “Have Thine own way, Lord!  Have Thine own way!  Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.  Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting yielded and still.”
    And the Scriptures from which both the above hymn and my poem’s messages are drawn reflect the Master Potter’s work in us: “So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands, so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.” (Jeremiah 18:3-4 NIV)  Another prophet felt the same way as he praised our heavenly Father by writing, “Oh Lord, you are our Father.  We are the clay, you are the potter; we are the work of your hand.” (Isaiah 64:8 NIV)
    Our life is a continual process of growth and refinement through the years.  As we stay focused on our God and His love, He refines our rough edges… our failures, mistakes, and sins… and works through them to bring out our best, just like the Potter, almost without our realizing it… 
    Then, one day, we take a look back.  As we ponder the path we’ve been on, we realize how our Lord took us through the difficult times to clear away the pain of wounds… to draw us closer to Him… to cleanse us from our sin… to refine and change our attitudes from within… to renew our life’s direction and purpose… and to bring joy to our heart… as we become a vessel of worth, more like Christ.  And that’s something worth singing about!
    A Vessel of Worth 
    Linda A. Roorda
    I’m like a clay pot, a plain earthen vessel
    Scarred and fragile, bruised and broken.
    What can I offer in this condition?
    What is my value, and what am I worth?
    ~
    So I watched the Potter as he took raw clay
    Gray bland in color, an undefined block.
    Throwing the clay with fingers easing
    All the rough edges, the lump he refined.
    ~
    Faster he pedaled, wheel turning smooth
    Humming a tune, his hands deftly worked.
    His vision emerged through design taking shape
    While gently he scraped imperfections aside.
    ~
    Yet there in the clay for all to see clear
    Lay fissures and cracks now being exposed.
    Some faults ran deep, others lay shallow
    All marred perfection, casting doubt as to worth.
    ~
    Swiftly he worked to shape and refine
    As beauty beneath was slowly brought forth.
    Heat up the furnace! the potter exclaimed.
    It’s only through fire refinement is made.
    ~
    Purging the defects, molding and shaping
    Tempering through fire, perfection to find.
    For hidden from view in mind’s eye alone
    Lay His creation, a vessel of worth.
    ~
    As I stood aside observing the skill
    Which molded and shaped a plain lump of clay,
    I thought of the One who had created me
    A vessel of value, made worthy by Him.
    ~~
  24. Linda Roorda
    Little lambs are so soft, cuddly and cute!  In my mid-teens, my siblings and I were given a lamb which I promptly named “Lambie.”  Very original, huh?!  It was only intended until something better came to mind, but nothing ever did.  She was a twin, abandoned by her mother and given to us by our cousin, Robert, from his flock.  I didn’t know the breed, but she had light gray wool with a black face and black legs.  Recently, one of my students who absolutely loves goats and sheep, and knows all the breeds, said Lambie looked like a Suffolk, and I agree with him from further research.
    As Lambie’s main caretaker, I took responsibility to make sure she was fed.  Following my Dad’s directions, I made a gruel with oatmeal, water and evaporated milk, feeding it to her in a glass bottle which had one of my brother’s bottle nipples attached – we were good at making do.  And I loved to watch her little tail go “ninety miles an hour” while she drank! 
    Lambie was small, not very old, so we kept her in a box near the old-fashioned wood-burning kitchen stove to keep her warm.  It was too cold to put her out in the barn all by herself without a mama.  Even our mutt, Pepsi, of terrier and other unknown parentage, liked nothing better than to jump into Lambie’s box to check out this new arrival to our menagerie.  And I’m sure Pepsi wondered why this little one said “baaaa” and didn’t whimper like a puppy, but she contentedly mothered her adopted baby anyway! 
    In warm weather, Lambie went to her pen in the barn, following me wherever I went.  It was fun to watch her spring up and down as she played and ran about the yard and nibbled on the grass. Occasionally, she tried to wander beyond her guardian’s protection until she was called back to my side.  Though I never considered myself her “shepherd,” in reality, I was.  I provided food and water for her, protected her and kept her from harm… until the vet diagnosed her with Listeriosis, or circling disease.  Nothing could be done for her and we had to put her down.  Crying so hard I could barely see, I insisted to my Dad that I would dig her grave at the edge of the raspberry patch and bury little Lambie by myself.  I loved that lamb more than I’d ever realized.  And Dad kindly gave me time and space to process my grief.
    Such were the thoughts that came to mind after writing the poem below which is based on Jesus’ parable found in John 10:1-21  Here, we read that the Good Shepherd knows each one of his sheep and calls them by name. But the sheep also know their shepherd, recognize his voice, and follow wherever he leads them.  Should a stranger enter the fold, the sheep will not follow him… instead, they will run around wildly or just run away en masse, simply because they aren’t familiar with the stranger’s voice. 

    Perhaps, under cover, a thief may come near the flock, pretending to be their shepherd.  He may disguise himself and draw a few young, inexperienced sheep away who think they’re following their shepherd.  Or perhaps a predator might sneak up on an unsuspecting lamb and lead it astray.  Disoriented and lost, the lamb follows the predator to supposed safety.  Soon it becomes obvious that the predator is not its shepherd… but by then it’s too late.
    Except, the true shepherd with his trained eye realizes what’s happened.  Like another of Jesus’ parables in Luke 15:3-6, He seeks out His precious lamb and brings it back, or willingly fights off the predator to rescue his little lost lamb.  Listening to its Master’s voice, the lamb turns around and joyfully runs back to the safety of the flock… and there it stays, feeling content and peaceful under the watchful eye of its protective shepherd. 
    And I thought, how like those sheep I am… we are… As Isaiah 53:6 says, “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”  We have a tendency at times to follow what sounds and looks so good, what seems so right… only to realize later that we’ve been duped… we were on the wrong track… and we need someone to save us. 
    That special someone, the Master, the Good Shepherd, would do anything for us, His sheep… especially those who have wandered off or been drawn away by a predator.  Not so the hireling who doesn’t care much about someone else’s sheep.  With only a little provocation, he’d as soon run away than fight for the lives of the sheep under his watch.  Just as my heart ached and cried for the loss of my lamb, so the Good Shepherd of our story aches for the lost, and would lay down His own life to protect and save His precious sheep from harm.
    And isn’t that what our Lord, our Good Shepherd, our Master, has done for us? I know He has for me. How comforting it is to know our Lord and Savior, Jesus, draws us back to His side. May we always hear the love in our Master’s voice within our heart and follow His leading…
    The Master’s Voice
    Linda A. Roorda
    ~
    Like gentle sheep we’re prone to wander
    Easily enticed by things of this world
    But at the sound of our Master’s voice
    Will we then heed or continue headstrong?
    ~
    The Master’s words will not lead astray
    Seeking the ones who meander off
    Softly calling each one by name
    With tender words of comfort and peace.
    ~
    When storms arrive and release their fury
    The shepherd guides his flock to safety.
    How like our Master who longs to embrace
    And bring us home to rest in His arms.
    ~
    When wolves appear like gentle sheep clothed
    With flattery smooth they strike unannounced
    Their intention dark, the naïve to deceive
    Serving their needs, the meek to destroy.
    ~
    Then words of wisdom are soon directed
    At wandering lambs who have left the fold
    Calling them back to a sheltered life
    Protected under the Master’s great love.
    ~
    Unlike the hireling, He lays down His life
    Whatever it takes to gather His own
    Take heed to His call and flee from the foe
    Lean into His arms of mercy and grace.
    ~
    Like a good Shepherd is our Savior Lord
    With care He protects each sheep in His fold
    It matters to Him whose words we follow
    The call of folly or the Master’s voice.
    ~~
    Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer. 
  25. Linda Roorda
    I was as shocked as anyone else at last night’s happenings where our former President Trump was shot in an assassination attempt.  And I thank God that his life was spared by a fraction of measurement.  My heart and prayers go out to Donald Trump and his family, to the family of the innocent gentleman in the crowd who was killed, and to the two who were critically injured.  We need to get back to respecting everyone, regardless of who they are.
    ~~
    “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  Unequivocally, yes, I am… yes, we are.  Words defiantly spoken by Cain in response to God’s simple question, “Where is your brother Abel?”  Cain knew... after all, he had just taken his brother’s life in a fit of jealous rage.  Abel’s offering to God from the best of his flock had been received favorably, while Cain was told by God that if he did what was right his offering would also be accepted.  Instead, jealousy and anger took over Cain’s heart… and the unthinkable murder happened.
    To say we love someone very much is proven false when we fail to show a genuine compassion for their pain and difficulties.  With true empathy for others, we take responsibility for our own actions.  We reach out in humility… we want the best for them, we are happy to see them succeed, and we respect their boundaries.  True love is not about what glory we might attain in the public eye for giving aid.  Rather, it’s about what we can do to give love for others in genuine humility, with no expectation of repayment.
    Jesus told parables to help his followers grasp the deeper meaning.  He told a story about assistance by a Samaritan to an enemy, a Jew, the victim of robbery, beaten, and left for dead.  A priest and Levite passed by, deeming it beneath them to assist the man. Instead, the Samaritan took the victim to be cared for until he fully recovered, paying all expenses.  Jesus expressed in story form what unconditional love and mercy look like:  “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”  (Luke 10:27)
    Like the Good Samarian, if we have a heart of love, we view others favorably. We essentially become our “brother’s and sister’s keeper” by understanding the difficulties they might be facing.  With empathy, we feel for our friends in their struggles… we commiserate with them, feel their pain, their sorrow.  We long to reach out and help in any way we can.  In this, we show compassion.  But we also share hope and joy by rejoicing with their blessings, even as they receive accolades and honor. 
    Loving as we’ve been loved showers blessings upon another. It enables us to comfort someone just as we’ve been comforted in similar difficult and painful situations.  As the Apostle Paul wrote in II Corinthians 1:3-4:  “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.” 
    We gain a new understanding from our own failings, with a readiness to help others in need.  We share a compassion like that which we’ve felt from God in our own difficult life circumstances.  For compassion embodies empathy, a type of sympathy, a sharing of the difficulties someone might be facing.  And with this sense of compassion and understanding comes encouragement and hope with joy.
    Jan Dravecky (whose husband, Dave, left baseball following the amputation of his pitching arm due to cancer) said simply and eloquently:  “God really does comfort His children – and most often He chooses to do so through the arms and legs and voices and ears and faces and tears of men and women who have been to the front lines and returned with battle scars.  Someone who has ‘been there’ has the credibility and the understanding to know what it is that the person in pain is going through – the questions, the doubts, the fears.  They can speak both compassionately and authoritatively because of their own experience… Have you considered how God might want to use you to comfort someone in pain?”  Perhaps you’re going through too difficult a time and think you can’t possibly help anyone.  As Jan continued, “…but who better to reach out with understanding, empathy and genuine concern [to those who are facing their own turmoils]?”  (NIV Encouragement Bible, pg. 1546)
    Being our “brother’s and sister’s” keeper is said so well in what we commonly call the Golden Rule.  In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus summed up how we should love, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you…” (Matthew 7:12a)  With such love and tender kindness, we’re able to show mercy and compassion to the hurting souls in the world around us, and rejoice to see them blessed. 
    Compassion’s Love
    Linda A. Roorda
    They understand best who have felt despair
    Who shoulder the hurt they turn to blessing
    Where tender voice calls out to the broken
    And carries to rest on peaceful shore.
    ~
    For only those who’ve travelled this road
    The very same road that you struggle on
    Find compassion’s love springs from the heart
    With understanding and emerging hope.
    ~
    In sharing such hope of vistas bright
    Where two or more can better handle
    The way is cleared of scattered debris,
    The heavy load that once overwhelmed.
    ~
    Embracing the weary and burdened heart
    Tender mercies tumble down like rain
    Washing the wounds and depths of despair
    To break their hold and release the pain.
    ~
    As compassion’s love envelopes the soul
    A gentle peace infuses the spirit
    And fills the heart with understanding
    To sing its song with heavenly joy.
    ~~
     
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