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*Cousins’ Sleepover*

We came together, after looking forward to this night for so long . . .

Velma Magill, Judy Stroop, Gloria Diener, Amy Herr and Lucy Yoder

There were 16 of us here.  When it all began, there were 60 first cousins.  28 of us were female, 32 were the other kind.  But we lost four of the boys, and so, that makes us pretty much even.  28 of both! 

Naomi Miller, Alma Heatwole, Sarah Slaubaugh

 The evening was pretty much the kind of thing that Yoders love (and that lots of other people seem to find threatening)  Laughter, tears, stories, memories, a devotional, and then time for every single one of us to share where we are in our lives right now, and how we are coping with the packages that life has handed us.  We were supposed to bring something that symbolized who we are, or where we found ourselves right now, and those objects were left on the coffee table and it was left open for people to pick up the different items with the understanding that it would remind us to pray for eachother. 

Lucy Yoder, Amy Herr, Karen Miller, Melanie Ressler.

What an incredible blessing this time was to each of us!  If there was any one thing that seemed to be mentioned over and over again as the night progressed and the morning came, it was that this time was appreciated more than any other activity. 

Judy Morgan, Joanie Mills, Gloria Diener

Ilva Hertzler, Shirley Miller  (The two cousins whose pictures didn’t make it on here were Donna Jones and yours truly.  If you are counting, I think that really does make 16!)

Ilva was the one who hatched the idea of a cousins’ sleepover, more than a year ago.  Ilva loves slumber parties, and she is always trying to coerce people into coming to one that she is either planning or thinking about maybe having sometime, somewhere.  This was one that finally came together, and all of the gals who came agreed that it was over much too soon, that they would never have wanted to miss it, and that we needed to do it again.

To my dear cousins —

I’ve known your names and your faces for as long as I can remember.
Tonight I know  part of your life stories.  Some of your sorrows.  Some of your triumphs.  Some of your failures.  I know your hearts in a way that I have never been privileged to know before.  And I cry for the broken hearts, broken relationships, broken children, broken dreams, broken bodies.

But I salute your bravery, your resilience, your love.

And I bow in awe before your faith.  We really do have a treasure in earthen vessels.  No one knows better than we do how imperfect we are.  But we also know that we have a Great Savior.  And we have learned to trust HIM! 

How my heart sings to know this to be true! 

Certain Man got awake in the wee hours of a rainy September Morning and decided that it was time to go home.  All the way home, the cell phone kept ringing and ringing.  His beloved Aunt Lula was dying and the extended family was keeping watch in rural Plain City, Ohio.  He was often pensive, often uncertain as to how the next few days would pan out. He had missed the funeral of his Old Order Amish aunt, Alma Kauffman, less than two weeks before, and though there was really almost no way that he could have gone, the regret that he voiced over and over again was a wrenching in my heart as I realized how much he had given up.  “Lord Jesus, please, could you make a way for him to go to this time?”

We pulled into our driveway on Wednesday afternoon around 12:30, and it was so good to be home in Milford, DE once again.  Home looked so good to both of us, and Certain Man commented about the roses that had come out just since we left.  We (mostly HE) got the car unloaded, and the mail gone through.  The phone rang again, several times, and then the call came.  Aunt Lula had taken her final journey about an hour after we got home.

I wondered what I could say about Aunt Lula that would really say what she was like.  We saw her less than a month ago, stopping by her house on our way to bring Lem home from REACH.  She was not feeling good, but she was upbeat, optimistic and glad to see us.  She was in the final stages of Ovarian Cancer, and she sat on the couch in her house and spoke freely of her soon homegoing.  When I hugged her good-bye I said, “Aunt Lula, when you see my Daddy, tell him I love him and that I miss him.”  She laughed her inimitable laugh.  I could see in her eyes that she really didn’t think she would be thinking about earthly messages when she reached the other side.

Tonight she is there.  In the presence of Jesus.  She has left behind that pain filled body, the inconveniences of pain and morphine and bedpans and hovering relatives.  When she visited our family a few years ago, she stayed at Jess and Chris’s house.  Christina told me that she heard her in the bathroom one day, just talking to herself and laughing over her own private jokes.  That was the way she was, always laughing, always so full of joy.  I thought about her winging her way home yesterday, and could almost hear her chuckle with delight at what was waiting for her there.

Certain Man is on his way to his family.  He was able to get a reservation out of Philadelphia this afternoon at a reasonable price, and he and his oldest sister, Lena, were supposed to arrive in Columbus around the same time.  They were going to rent a car together and go to Plain City this evening.  CM’s flight got cancelled then, because of bad weather, but he caught another flight out, sat in New York City for four hours, but should be on the ground in Columbus, even as I write this.  I haven’t heard because his cell phone was nearly out of battery and he had packed his charger in the luggage that he checked.  Hopefully I will hear soon. 

Tomorrow he will spend at his parents’ house.  His Father has some things that he wants Certain Man to do.  Ralph, (His father) has gotten increasingly feeble over the last year.  He falls often, and is sometimes confused and even incontinent.  His wife has a difficult row to hoe, and the children have tried repeatedly to put into place some things to help ease the load but have been met with resistance.  They may not really understand what it is that will help most, but they have tried hard and they all wish there was a way to connect with their father in meaningful ways.  The extended family has frequently offered grace to these children– first when their mother died when they were all very young (ages 2-11) and then as the years passed and they grew into young adults.  They feel keenly the loss of their Aunts and Uncles, and I am not surprised when the funerals draw them back like magnets to connect with other family members and to remember the days when a smiley, compassionate Aunt Lula helped to care for her grief-stricken brother’s five motherless youngsters.

And now I just talked to him.  He just landed in Columbus, found Lena, and is looking for his luggage.  And I am going to bed.  These days that he is gone hold lots to keep my mind off of missing him so much.  The house is almost never empty, and tomorrow is a Female Yoder Cousin’s sleepover, and I have looked forward to that for a very long time.  I promise you that Certain Man will not be sorry he missed it.  Probably I won’t be sorry he missed it, either.

We’re Home!

And we had a great time!

But Home is truly

Home Sweet Home!!!

On this gorgeous Autumn Day,

Just me and my Best Friend —

We’re going away . . .

I have an Uncle.  His name is Lloyd Gingerich.  (He married my mother’s sister who is just older than my sweet Mama.  That’s how I got him as an uncle)   He is 82.  He is funny and active and smart and a big tease.  He and Aunt Orpha have 7 children.  Their youngest, Marie, was born when Uncle Lloyd was almost 43.  She didn’t get married until her late 30’s.  She and her husband Kirk Vredevelt have two of the cutest little people you ever laid eyes on.  Tonight on our family forum (the Wertlink) we got this picture of him holding Henry and Elizabeth.
It made me smile.
Maybe it will make you smile, too!

“. . . Blessing unto the third and fourth generations those who fear Him. . . “

We came home on Sunday to some debris, but no significant damage.   Certain Man cleaned up some, but said that the girls could help him on Monday morning.  The deck had quite abit of loose stuff on it.  And the gutters had filled up and overflowed.

Our Hybrid Thornless Honey Locust trees are especially apt to shed their branches

I had taken my flowers off the deck rail and put them on the table, so they had survived pretty well.  These branches were partly from the storm and partly what had to be cut out.

Things didn’t look quite so bad on the other side of the deck.

I came out of the side door onto the deck and heard something far over head:

If you look really, really closely, you will see a head up there near the peak of the roof.  That’s middle Daughter, manning a pruning tool, trying to cut off some troublesome limbs.  I couldn’t look at her up there without a tingling in my legs.  It looked so precarious.  But she is old enough to be her own boss, so I tried to refrain from ordering her down “this instant!”

Down on the next level, there were gutters to clean.  According to the slave labor, the debris in the gutters
smelled like “cow diarrhea”  (ew-w-w-w!!!)

It was hard, hard work, and the ledge was precarious, causing the Mama to make much noise about being careful!!!  It was great fun to make believe that maybe you were going to fall.

Certain Man has never been one to make his children do something that he isn’t willing to do, too.
The day will come when our children look back and remember a Dad who put his shoulder to the wheel no matter what the job and stayed with it until it was finished.  I can honestly say that there has never been a time when he took it easy while the kids worked.  He didn’t always work at the very same job, but if they were doing a job, he was working, too, somewhere.  Here he takes his turn at a dirty, smelly job.

 
Part of the time, he had the long pruning hook and was cutting back some limbs that were scraping the roof.  It had made a terrible noise during the storm the other night, and the racket convinced him that it needed to be done.

Youngest Daughter has been our chicken house helper for a few years now, and she can handle the tractor quite well.  Here she extends the loader so that all that stinky stuff from the buckets can be brought to the ground and dumped into the burn pit.

Back on the ground again (while Mama draws a sigh of relief), Middle Daughter
cleans the buckets so that they can be put away.

Later last night, our Nettie-girl came home from visiting her sister and swept the remaining leaves off the deck.  It has been raining off and on, so it was hard to get a picture of it in this weather.  So, these will have to do!

This was taken after todays rain.

And this was, too.
I’m so thankful that our home was spared the brunt of storm.
And my heart and prayers go out to the many people who are still without power or telephone.
According to the paper, there are quite a number.

Another Church Retreat is History!

(Ethel, my dear Friend, this is especially for you!) 
And it is not very representative of the whole time because I only took pictures on Saturday, but it will still show you some of the good times.  I forgot my camera today — missed the ballons and the pinata and Matt Deputy and his sweet wife, Jill and baby Matt — and all the good folks cleaning up.  So much that would have been priceless pictures!  But, I left camera and cell phone on the kitchen table. And there was nothing I could do about it after the fact.  So — this was —

Saturday at Church Retreat 

We played SCRABBLE!

And, Yes, I did nearly fall asleep while we waited for people to make their words! 
Here are Buckeyegirlie, Thisisloretta and Gokum.  Eldest Daughter played for a while, then Gracegiven took her place. 

Thisisloretta makes a point with the trusty SCRABBLE dictionary.

And we held the babies

Eldest Daughter and Gracegiven’s Victoria

And we played other games

Youngest Daughter’s friend Laura plays Shang-hai with the young set

And then there was the
“Wheels Parade”

These are the mistresses of the parade — Abi and Jessica

There were instructions, faithfully given

and duly received–

 
Questions asked and answered, and then the race went off as planned — But I took a video of that and I am not savvy enough to know how to put that on.  And there was not accompanying sound, so it isn’t a great thing to miss!

Emily has a three wheel bike that she can ride with skill and speed.  She is so proud of herself, and we are, too.  (It would be nice to know what she had her nose in just before this picture was taken, though.  I couldn’t identify the markings!)

And then there were prizes for the winners

and prizes for everyone who participated, as well.  It had good participation, but there were not quite as many decorated or unique wheels this time.
Faces and glimpses of the weekend

Emma

Joanna

Deborah and Caleb

Dave and Ilva

Daniel

Dave D., Chris, Deborah

Robert, Calvin, Gary, Daniel

*****

And then, there was a
Gospel Hoe-down

Raymond, Cookie and Raymond’s Brother — (How’s that for names?)
This is a casual Christian Bluegrass group that spent the evening with us.
They had some toe-tapping singing going on.
(In fact, I found Ruby Donophan dancing in the kitchen!  And I told her staid, solemn husband Dave about this development, requesting that he attend to it.  His response?
“Good for her.  Maybe she’ll give me lessons!”
What is this world coming to?

The Hughes Youngin’s joined the group for much of the program.  Here Josh and (you can’t see him) Erick, Jr. play guitar and mandolin while Rebekah sings.  Their participation was a blessing to us.

The weekend was full of RAIN, RAIN, RAIN — but there was no lack of light and love inside.  We are impressed with the facilities and the caregivers at the camp, and the weekend was an encouragement to us all.  Thanks to the committe who worked so hard, and to all the people who took their parts so willingly. 

And thank you, Lord!

It is a wet, wet night in Delaware. Somewhere out there, Youngest Son is driving his little Mazda towards Delaware. (Actually, he just called me and he is sitting still somewhere in a traffic jam six miles on the other side of the Bay Bridge.  I wonder if the cross winds are keeping them from letting people cross.  If so, it will be a LONG time before he comes chugging in.)

Tomorrow they will bury Jessica’s Grandma, Charlotte Catts. He is coming home to be here for his girl friend, Jessica (and her family), yes, but other soul things bring him home as well. I am grateful for a chance to see Youngest Son.

Our church is together for Church Retreat at a Wesleyan Campground about thirty miles away. A good group gathered tonight in spite of the weather, and we ate hamburgers made in the convection oven instead of Certain Man’s grill, and we boiled hot dogs in a big pan, too. And many of the women forgot to bring potluck picnic foods, but it all worked out. There were nearly 50 of us there.  49 if my count was right.  Tomorrow looks like alot of fun, and more friends will be joining us.  Someone needs to save me a place at the Scrabble board.  I’ve been itching for a good Scrabble game ever since the one Thisisloretta  I played a few weeks back.  She and her hubby play on the computer, and she is sharp.  And then there is gokum‘s husband who makes people fear for their lives, I am told.  Sometimes when I play with such good people, I get disheartened.  But usually the games played at church retreat are all done with brotherly love.

I need to go and get 20 pounds of hamburger out of the freezer so I can make some taco meat for tomorrow’s lunch.  The night is getting shorter and shorter.  Yet there is much to praise about.  You make your list, and I’ll make mine, but let’s remember from whom all blessings flow!

Oh, and the music on my site is from the College Church of Christ music Library, and the singers are something they call the “Harmony Boys.”  I love the site so much, I will give you the link:  http://www.collegechurchofchrist.com/library/hardingunivconcertchoir.aspx

I hope it will bless you the way it has me!

The rising wind caught one of my flower boxes and dumped my beautiful begonias on their heads under the weight of the box and the dirt.  I came home from my Mama’s house and found the chaos.  I looked at the strewn dirt and broken stems and battered flower petals.  I thought about the broken things in our lives that we have pretty much given our hearts to, and how sometimes it looks like there is nothing worth salvaging.  I wanted to cry.

And then I remembered another flower box earlier this summer that pretty much the same thing happen to it.  It wasn’t as big as this one, and maybe not as heavy.  But I put the flowers back in as best I could and gave it some careful watching.  And trusted my Heavenly Father.  It grew back as pretty as ever.  I probably couldn’t tell you if I had to which one had suffered the trauma. 

So I picked up these plants as carefully as possible, and laid them up on the table.  I reassembled the planter and carefully replanted the flowers and dirt and added some fresh dirt.   There is a storm moving in tonight, and after that is over, I will snip and reshape and see what happens.  The plants are healthy, just injured.  Maybe Autumn will bear new flowers.

“. . . If He carried the weight of the world upon His shoulders, I know my brother that He will carry you.

If He carried the weight of the world upon His shoulders, I know, my sister, that He will carry you . . .”

(By the way — a new song is playing)

Discipleship

I gave up myself;
You gave me
Yourself
And Love, like I never
Have known.
And now, though my heart
Has learned of
Your Cross,
I know I’ll not travel
Alone.
Though disciplined now,
I’ve found in
Your Cross
The freedom my heart long
Has sought.
Not license for
Pleasure or
“Guaranteed Rights,”
But Power to be as
I ought.