Category Archives: Uncategorized

       Now it came to pass that Certain Man called his wife to the barn to instruct her how to feed the animals that he houses there.  He told her about the chickens and how to check and water them.  (The feeding is automated).  He told her that he gives the barn cats but one feeding a day, and showed her where the food was kept and what bowl to use.  And he reminded her that she needed to check on the water pail that he has for the use of the dog.  And he had filled the auto feed dog bin, so she would not need to worry about that.
       And then it was time for the animals of the bovine description.  Certain Man has the usual four.  The big ones with horns are about a year and a half old.  The younger variety are but a couple months.  The older ones are docile, having been parted from their manhood in a most timely fashion after the shenanigans of some of the previous tenants of the barn.  The younger ones have not fully learned the way of the barn yet, and do not always cooperate fully with the one who feeds them.  This is usually Certain Man.
       But Certain Man needed CMW to know about how to perform daily chores as there were some times when he needed to be absent.  So on the eve of one such absence, he gave her a CRASH COURSE.  And CMW dutifully wrote down all the things he said.
       “Give each of the big ones a half a scoop of Sweet Stock.  They work out for themselves who goes in which station, so just dump it down in front of the stanchion..  Split a half a scoop of sweet stock between the two little ones.”  He paused with a hint of aggravation.  “And here is where you might have trouble.  The little white one always wants to go into a stall with the little black one.  And then he crowds the black one out.”  
        He reached around behind him to where a rather new pitchfork was leaned against the wall.  “So usually I just get this pitchfork . . .”  He brought it around for CMW to see.  She was perplexed.  She could not imagine her gentle husband sticking his little bull calf with a pitchfork.
        “I turn it around like this,”  he said, turning the tines towards him with the handle sticking out.  “And I reach over the barrier like this and just sort of poke him a little until he gets the idea and then he goes over to the other side and eats what he is supposed to eat.  The handle is long enough for me to reach him quite easily, and that pretty much straightens him out.  Usually the white one eats on the left, and the black one on the right.”
       That looked easy enough to CMW, and she rehearsed the steps in her mind.  “Dump the feed . . . make sure each is in the proper stall . . . and if he isn’t poke him with the handle of the pitchfork until he goes into his own stall.”
       So this morning, Certain Man’s Wife went out there and fed all the animals.  And she had a little bit of trouble getting all the steers and calves into their rightful place, but she got out the pitch fork and poked with the handle and eventually everything resolved itself, and each animal ate in his respective stall.  It really wasn’t too hard.
       Tonight when she went in to feed them, not an animal was in sight, so she banged the gate loudly to announce her presence, and dropped the metal lid down with a kershlam! when she was feeding the sweet stock.  Suddenly, around the corner, full speed ahead came the four galloping bovines.  The little black one went straight to his stall.  Both of the big ones got into the same stall, and the little white went took over the entire empty stall belonging to one of the big ones.
       “Boo!” said CMW, waving her hands.  “Get on out of there. You don’t belong there.  Get on over to your own stall.”  The white calf moved back ever so imperceptibly, and watched this strange woman.  Aha!  The pitchfork.  That was what was needed.  CMW retrieved it from the wall.  She turned it around backwards and went after the little white calf.  “Move it!” she ordered, attempting to poke it.  It sidestepped neatly and still looked at her.  “Go!  This isn’t your stall!  Get out!  Get out!”  The little white calf retreated to the back of the stall and one of the big ones inched his way in to the feeding station. 
       “That’ll do it,” exalted CMW as she set down her pitchfork and headed to the door.  There was a sudden, hurried movement from the far stall as the big steer moved out and the little white calf moved forward to take control of the sweet stock again.  CMW went back, picked up her pitchfork and attempted to convince the little one to move back.  He did keep moving back, a little at a time, managing to stay out of the reach of the pitchfork handle.  About this time, CMW was wondering how much damage the tines would do to the impudent rascal, but she stretched ever farther over the barrier, trying to get a solid whack or poke or SOMETHING that would convince him to go back where he belonged.
       Certain Man’s wife was trying to steady herself with one hand and hold the pitchfork in the other.  She had her right hand firmly grasped around the neck of the fork while she flailed helplessly in the direction of the disobedient calf.  Alas and Alack, the tines were pointed toward her and on one particularly hefty swing that went sailing about with out making contact with the calf, the tines went up while the handle went down and the tines made solid contact with the arm of CMW just above the elbow.  CMW thought that it didn’t feel too good, but she saw that the calf was making a few delicate steps in the right direction and adjusted her swing towards him.  Again, it did not make contact, but it must have seemed menacing to the little white calf because he turned and left the stall amid made some tentative steps in the right direction.
       CMW took this opportunity to gingerly rub the smarting area where the tines had hit and came up with a bloody hand.  She craned her neck around to try to see the back of her upper arm, but there was no way she could see how much damage it had done.  But it did kinda’ hurt!  As she wiped her arm with her other hand, she realized that it was not much more than a surface wound, and would be better “before a kitty laid an egg.”  (Old family comfort phrase).  The little white calf was still somewhat wary,but when CMW left the area, he trotted right on up into his rightful place and ate his supper like a good boy. 
          Will he remember tomorrow?  Who knows?  Probably not.  But CMW still has that pitchfork; and this time, should there be such a dilemma, she will be more careful to get those tines in the right direction.

I don’t want to forget your face . . .

I will never forget your heart! 

Four months are gone.
Who would have known
How much we miss this man?

So many days
We always marked
By song and food and words.

Christmas day.
Mama’s Birthday.
New Years day, Valentines.

Church meeting times.
Winter Bible School.
Every Single Sunday.

Good Friday’s dearth.
Glad Easter’s Morn.
Our Family gathered in.

Anniversaries,
And birthdays, too.
No cards to mark our days.

Daddy’s strong sons
Cleaned and put up
Purple Martin houses.

Faithful Martins
Came back on time.
Built their nests.  Mama cried.

The lima Beans
Flower gardens
His straw hat on the shelf.

The memory
Of who he was
Sits quietly in our hearts.

Four Months Are Gone.
How could we’ve known
How much we’d miss this man?

This is Certain Man and Certain Man’s Wife. 

       I love this picture of Daniel.  And I know it isn’t the best picture of me, but it was taken at the meal following Daddy’s funeral on December 22, 2005, and I feel like it almost embodies what that day was like for me.  It was a day that was filled with the conflict of life and death, triumph and loss, victory and defeat, joy and sorrow.  I felt such a dichotomy in my soul, and my husband was a tower of strength for me.  I drew from his strength that day and even more in these days that have followed. 
       We are far from perfect, and our family is far from perfect.  But he has been so good for me, such an encourager, such a good friend, such a stabilizing force in my often capricious emotions.  I could not be who I am or do what I do without his energizing support.  I thank God for this gift to me and our children.

        This is our side yard — with our Kwansan Cherry Tree in full bloom.  It looks better in full sun, but the evening shadows were moving in when I took this picture.  (Youngest Son, some of these pictures are especially for you — these flowers will be gone when you and your team come home in two weeks.)  OOPS!!! that would be three weeks.  (“Don’t rush me, you’ll cause me to fall!”)

      These are our three daughters,  (Blueberryeyes, Jesses_girl and Piecesofrainbows) getting ready to go out to supper at the new Appleby’s that just opened in Milford.  Beloved Son in Law was working late, so they decided to go without him.  Eldest Son decided to join them after they left, or I might have gotten a picture of him on here, too.  (Sorry ’bout that, Stayingfocused — maybe next time I can catch him.)

 Spring is coming to Shady Acres.  Yesterday, Certain Man began to mulch the hedge roses that line our fence.  Last year, he bought me the arbor so that I could get into the front yard without going out to the road to get around the fence.  We are still looking for roses or something that will climb over the arbor and go with the hedge roses.  In between the hedge roses, there are peonies.  These extravagant flowers grow on his mother’s grave, and he has always been partial to them.  I am anxious for their fragrant, showy blooms, and from the looks of the buds, it won’t be long.

This is Rach and Beeba.  They are my “outdoorsy” girls.  I will never forget a day, soon after we moved to Shady Acres, when Beeba (Deborah) was probably 10 or 11.  She always climbed to the very top of our huge (30 feet tall) Magnolia tree, and would look out over the country side.  A perfect stranger pulled into my driveway one day, rung my doorbell with great urgency, and asked me breathlessly, “Do you know that you have a child in the very top of your Magnolia?  I was coming down the road and I happened to look up and there was this head sticking out of the very top!!!  Don’t you think you should make her get down?”  I did traverse out there and speak to my daughter, but she was safe enough, and it was a great way to get away from life.  (Something she has always seemed to need more than the other children, I might add.) 

This picture does not really do justice to Certain Man’s one Bleeding Heart plant.  He has a number of them in the front garden, and they act like they are in a race with eachother.  (For those of you who remember the “Lily of the Valley” escapade, this is the garden where we planted a whole bunch of Lily of the Valley roots — one for each stone, all the way around the garden which has 50 some of the stones that you see there in the foreground.  Alot of them are growing, but you can’t see them in this picture.)  The Bleeding Hearts could not be more beautiful this year, and they remind me that there are many, many hearts that are hurting in this old world, and hurting hearts can be “showy” in their own ways.  But “bleeding hearts” (of the human variety) have an incredible attraction as they allow God to turn the sorrow into fragrance and beauty. . .

I just want to say again:  I believe in The Resurrection that we give lip service to today.  I believe that Jesus rose  from the dead, conqueror over death and the grave, victorious over the scheme of Satan to wreck God’s plan.  I believe that in His sinless life, and His death and resurrection, lies my hope of Eternal Life.  He died so that I could be forgiven–reconciled to a Holy God.  I believe in Heaven, and that we will live there forever and never get done exploring the wonders there.  And I believe that this Jesus really is the WAY, the TRUTH and the LIFE. 

What an incredible HOPE!

And the tulips keep on growing . . .

The following is a recipe that I got nearly ten years ago.  I have used it over and over again with the children that have been a part of our family over the years.  Youngest Daughter and “our”  Hispanic children used to love to be involved with the making of the cookies. (I remember that one year, Vicente broke one of my wooden spoons while he was beating the pecans.)  Just this morning, Lupe, who is now 18 mentioned wistfully that we haven’t done this for a number of years.  I plan to do this tomorrow evening even if I have to do it all by myself.  I put markers in my bible with the references on them sticking out so that I can find each verse without having to spend time looking for them.  I hope that some of you will find this to be a blessing in your family.

To be made evening before Easter

You need:

1 cup whole pecans
1 tsp. vinegar
3 egg whites
pinch Salt
1 cup sugar
Heavy duty baggie
Wooden spoon
Masking tape
Bible

Preheat oven to 300 (this is important — don’t wait ’til you’re half done with the recipe).

Place pecans in zipper baggie and let children beat them with the wooden spoon to break into small pieces.  Explain that after Jesus was arrested, He was beaten by the Roman soldiers. 
         Read John 19:1-3

Let each child smell the vinegar.  Put 1 tsp. vinegar into mixing bowl.  Explain that when Jesus was thirsty on the cross he was given vinegar to drink. 
         Read John 19: 28-30

Add egg whites to vinegar.  Eggs represent life.  Explain that Jesus gave His life to give us life. 
         Read John 10:10-11

Sprinkle a little salt into each child’s hand.  Let them taste it and brush the rest into the bowl.  Explain that this represents the salty tears shed by Jesus’ followers, and the bitterness of our own sin. 
         Read Luke 23:27.

So far the ingredients are not very appetizing.  Add 1 cup sugar.  Explain that the sweetest part of the story is that Jesus died because He loves us.  He wants us to know and belong to Him. 
         Read Ps. 34:8  and John 3:16.

Beat with a mixer on high speed for 12-15 minutes until stiff peaks are formed.  Explain that the color white represents the purity in God’s eyes of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus.  
         Read Isa.1:18 and John 3:1-3.

Fold in broken nuts.  Drop by teaspoons onto wax paper covered cookie sheet.  Explain that each mound represents the rocky tomb where Jesus’ body was laid. 
         Read Matt. 27:57-60.

Put the cookie sheet in the oven, close the door and turn the oven OFF.  Give each child a piece of tape and seal the oven door.  Explain that Jesus’ tomb was sealed. 
          Read Matt. 27:65-66.

GO TO BED!!!  Explain that they may feel sad to leave the cookies in the oven overnight.  Jesus’ followers were in despair when the tomb was sealed. 
         Read John 16:20 and 22.

On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie. Notice the cracked surface and take a bite.  The cookies are hollow!  On the first Easter, Jesus’ followers were amazed to find the tomb open and empty. 
         Read Matt. 28:1-9.

        This has been a sunny day.  The tulips in my barrel are starting to burst into color.  If they continue to grow and bloom, I shall have quite a spectacle!  It is chilly, though, and that isn’t quite so nice. 
       Yesterday, the hot water heater at church sprang a leak.  By the time it was discovered, there was 8″ of water in the basement.  We will have a big job to get it back into order.  Tomorrow night, we are getting together to tear up the carpet, rip out the cupboards and try to clean up.  The almost new fridge is ruined.  We were about an inch near the motors of the two furnaces, and they would have been gone as well.  Last night, MaryKayGirl’s husband went up late and was able to get the furnaces started, but sometime during the night, the breaker flipped, so we had a cold church this morning.  It didn’t take too long to warm up, though, and we had a good service this morning.  I’m so thankful that the warmth of the Holy Spirit isn’t chilled by the temperature in the sanctuary.
       I have been having a difficult time on Sunday mornings here in the last few weeks.  Last week, when my sweet Mama was called on to pray in Sunday school, I could hear my Daddy’s voice behind her words as familiar praise and petitions were given, and I thought for a while that I would need to leave class.  This morning, there was no one to sit in the spot that he always sat in, and the whole bench was even empty.  I could scarcely look in that direction without losing it.  I know it has to seem strange to my Brothers and Sisters in the church family, because it seems rather peculiar to me, too, but I guess this is one of the seasons of grief, and I am not going to try to squelch it.  
       You know, Xanga friends, this is Holy Week, and many of you (us) are coming to an Easter that is the first for us after losing people we love.  It is my prayer that sorrow will be the springboard to Hope, and that as we think of what the empty tomb means to those of us who love the Lord, it will have take on meaning like no other Easter.  

       Lift your glad voices in TRIUMPH on high,
       For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die;
       Vain were the terrors that gathered around Him,
       And short the dominion of Death and the Grave.

       He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound Him,
       Resplendent in Glory to live and to save:
       Loud was the chorus of  angels on high,
       The Savior hath risen, and man shall not die.

       Glory to God, in full anthems of joy,
       The being He gave us, death cannot destroy:
       Sad were the life we may part with tomorrow,
       If tears were our birthright, and death were our end.

       But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
       And bade us, immortal, to Heaven ascend:
       Lift then your voices in triumph on high,
       For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.
                                              ~Henry Ware

    For those of you who received this as an e-mail, you will just need to skip re-reading this — But it is the story of my day–
     Sometimes it feels like these last fifteen weeks have been an eternity.  This week, while driving Mama home from a CAT scan, she suddenly said, “Sometimes I just feel like I HAVE to see your Daddy.  I just feel like I will look up and he will come walking in.” And the tears began to fall.  I said to her, “You know, Mama, I really do understand how that feels — not to the extent you do, I am sure, but there are times when I just feel almost desperate in my grief.  That it seems so unending, somehow.  But that has had its sweetness, too, because it turns my heart towards the hope we have, and towards the Father, and that ALWAYS helps me.”  And the good thing is, Mama has found that true, too.  
        Today she and I made the trip to University of Baltimore Hospital for a follow-up with her doctors.  The news is wonderful.  She is doing great.  Everything is as normal as it can be after an esophagectomy.  The four people most involved with her treatment all came in today.  Dr. Gamliel (the surgeon), Dr. Doyles (the Chemotherapist), Dr. Sumtha (the Radiologist) and Tiffany (the P.A. for her Radiation therapy).  Each one of them was more than ecstatic with her progress.  They don’t need to see her back for six months, and in another year, hope to go to once a year.  Dr. Gamliel has a special affection for her, and he keeps turning the praise for her success back to God.  He is Jewish, and has been almost reticent about talking about God, but today he said, “The longer I am in this business, the more religious I become.  I cannot take the credit for the healing.  That is from above.  And I can do the same thing for different people and it all works out differently.  I know that it is a higher power.”
        In the course of our conversation, I said to him, ” Who would have thought that she would do so well?  Isn’t it amazing, when you think about last year at this time and all she has been through?  I look at how great she is doing and I am so thankful!”
        He said, “You want to know who would have thought?”  He raised his hand towards Heaven.  “And I thought so, too.  I felt the fire when I first met you and I knew that you would do your part to get well.”
        And so, on a day like this, we really miss that Daddy.  He would have been driving around Baltimore, looking for a cheap parking place, striding down the sidewalk so fast that we could barely keep up, waiting impatiently in the waiting rooms while he felt that people were purposefully making him wait, and shuffling his feet in the presence of the doctors who were trying hard to help Mama, zipping out ahead of us to bring the car from where ever he had parked it, then sailing along in his precious car while we tried not to see the risks he took on I-695, I-97 and Route 50 and the bridge, and coming home to Yoder drive, pulling up and heading first of all to the mail box to see if the mail had gone, then trotting over the nursing home to see if there was any lunch left to bring over for him and Mama. We really do miss him so much.  But he would be so proud of Mama.  She grows stronger every day, and she is embracing life and the changes with courage.  She will always miss “her” Mark.  Dr. Gamliel told her today that losing him is really like an amputation.  He will never come back, and things will always be different, but she can cope, and she can learn to get along, and she can even enjoy living, but it will never be the same, and there are times when it will hurt.  And that is true.  All of us are finding it so.

     Now it came to pass that Certain Man’s Wife spent the day of April the fourth abroad upon the face of the earth.  (Well, not too far abroad, as she did not leave the State, but she was, nonetheless, not at home.)  It was the birthday of Middle Sister and she was so inconvenienced as to have a doctor’s appointment in Dover that day, so CMW and Youngest Sister decided that they would accompany her and do some other things as well  (i.e. lunch and some minimal shopping).
     And the day went well, indeed, though they didn’t really get much shopping done and lunch, out of time constraints, was picked up at Byler’s Store and eaten in the confines of the van.  However, the three sisters enjoy greatly just being together, so there was some time “wasted” just sitting in the van outside of various establishments, just talking.  And after the Doctor’s appointment was over, they decided to head on home.  Middle Sister was only about ten days post surgery, and her Solicitous Sisters did not want to overtire her.
     CMW came home around 3:15. and found that none of the work that she had left behind that morning had walked off.  And so she looked at things with a rather dismal eye, and made some halfhearted attempts at getting something done, but made little headway, indeed, nothing seemed very interesting to her.  So she did some computer work, and then Youngest Son Called from Phoenix, and she happened to notice the time. 
     Oh, NO!!!  It was almost 4:30.
     It so happened that Certain Man had planned to try to pick up feed for his cows on the way home from work, but CMW had said, “I should have plenty of time to go and pick up feed for you after I get home from Dover.  We do not plan to make it a long day, and I will just run out to Wall’s Farm and Garden and pick up your feed.  Then you won’t have to worry about it.”
     “Well, you also need to pick up some cat food for the barn cats, too.”
     “Gotcha!  I’ll get it.”  But now it was almost 4:30 and she had forgotten all about it.  She passed the phone that had Youngest Son on it to one of his siblings and picked up the cell phone.
     “Walls Farm and Garden–How may I help you?”
     “What time do you close?”
     “Five o’clock.”
     “Do you know if Mr. Yutzy called an order in there today for six bags of sweet stock and a bag of PMI Cat food?”
     “No, he didn’t.”
     “Okay, I need to pick up six bags of sweet stock and one bag of cat food, and I will be there in a few minutes.”
      CMW picked up her purse, got her jacket, and tried hard to close her ears to the conversation going on between Youngest Son and Middled Daughter.  The hardest thing in the world is to miss out on conversation with the offspringin’s, but if she was going to get to Walls Farm and Garden on time, she needed to hurry.  So she wrenched herself away, and headed on out.
     As she pulled up to the loading dock, an elderly gentleman, Norman, appeared with a push cart loaded with six bags of something or other.  He is a good friend of Certain Man’s and when CMW rolled down her window and asked if that was six bags of sweet stock, he grinned broadly.
     “Got it right here,” he said proudly. His good humor is contagious and CMW felt the stresses of the day melt away in the face of his efficiency and cheerfulness.  “Just pull your van up a little further and I’ll load her fer ye.  He prol’ly wants a bag of cat food, too, don’t he?  I’ll load her right up.”
     “Can I go in and pay while you load it?  Would that be okay?”
     “Sure, go right ahead.”  So CMW trotted off around the corner to the front door.  When she was almost to the corner, Norman said, “Why didn’t you just go through here?”  He motioned to the stairs going up to the loading dock and through the darkened feed room to the back door of the office.  CMW didn’t say so, but she doesn’t really care for that feed room.  It is dusty and dark and it feels like she is trespassing on territory that she would be better off away from.  
     So, she just said, “Oh, well, I’m almost there now, so I’ll just go this way.”
     It was a beautiful day.  The sun was shining and there were people milling about the greenhouse in front of the main office.  CMW came up the steps to the office, thinking about the beautiful day and planting flowers and how people were enjoying gardening.  She pushed open the heavy glass door that goes into the little office/showroom with her checkbook and pen in one hand and her big old purse slung over her shoulder.  And yep, she did it again.  Caught that toe of her sandal in the little piece of metal at the bottom of the door and down she went!  Mercifully, she was actually able to clear the door closing behind her, so she was sprawled in a heap on the rug just inside the glass door.  Nothing had cracked, nothing appeared to be broken, but she was in a most undignified position, and some of her joints had been forced into positions they had long been unaccustomed to.. 
     “Ouch!” she said as she tried to straighten her arms and legs out of their contortions into a position to facilitate rising from her embarrassment.  There were no shoppers in the show room, and only one lady, out of sight behind the desk.  If CMW had been home, she may have stayed on that floor and pitied herself awhile, but there were, just outside that glass door behind her, a bevy of shoppers who had probably witnessed the unrehearsed show, and CMW not only wanted them to not come running to help, she could not even bear to look to see if they had seen.  So she gathered herself and her belongings off of the floor and made her way hurriedly out of the door area.
     “Are you alright?” queried the lady behind the desk, a little belatedly.
     “Yep, I’m fine,” said CMW with more levity than she felt.  “I just caught my sandal on something, but I don’t seem to be injured in anyway.”  She paid her current bill and a previous bill and collected herself for the walk back out.  She decided to go through the feed room.  That way, she wouldn’t have to face the people who may have seen her fall.  As she made her way out through the feed room, she came face to face with smiling Norman.
     “You know, Norman, I should have listened to you.  I went around the other way, caught my sandal in the door and fell flat on my face.”
     “Oh, no! Are you okay?”  Concern darkened his usual smile.
     “I’m fine, I truly am, but I AM insulted!”
     “Well, now, you take care,” he said, “And try to control my buddy.” 
     With his words echoing in her mind, CMW got into her van and started home.  “Try to control his buddy???”  
     First of all, Certain Man has never been very apt to submit to any efforts to control him, and though CMW will admit to trying on occasion, it has almost always had disastrous results. 
     Besides that, how in the world would anyone think that a woman who cannot even keep herself in an upright position in public places could begin to control a man like Daniel Yutzy?  Seems like she has enough to do without taking on that project.
     And that is the news from Shady Acres, where Certain Man was happy that he had feed for his steers, Certain Man’s Wife is surprisingly unscathed from her tumble, and she even got home in time to rescue the phone from Middle Daughter and had a good chat with Youngest Son.  And that was sweet.