Category Archives: Uncategorized

It was 7:30. I was standing at the kitchen sink, loading breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, and waiting for Cecilia’s bus.  Our birdfeeders have been busy with the kind of weather we’ve been having, and I heard a thump and then a little shrieking sound.  It puzzled me, and I looked out to see if there was something amiss.  It sounded like a bird had hit the window.  There was nothing.

Just as I was turning back to my job, an object hurtled past the window.  A mama cardinal smacked the sliding glass door with a thump and tumbled onto the deck, lying there stunned.  Just as quickly, a Cooper’s Hawk dove in, landed squarely on the stunned Cardinal and swooped off again, its hapless victim firmly in its talons.  It landed about twenty feet out in the yard, and sat there.

I was furious.  The area that the hawk dared to come into has only one open side.  I sometimes see them in the tree out in the lawn, but this is a protected cove and it really made me cross.  And of course, Cooper’s Hawks are protected.  You may not kill them.  But you can encourage them to leave.  So I headed for the trusty BB gun.  Maybe three pumps on a copper BB in a ten pump gun would do the trick.

Rats!!!

As I rounded the corner to get the pellet gun, I caught sight of a DART van pulling into the driveway. Cecilia’s bus.  Of course.  So I detoured back, got her shoes on her, and put on her coat, grabbed her lunchbox and headed for the other side of the house.  As I went by the door leading to the side yard, I craned my neck and saw that the Hawk was still on the lawn at the same place.  I hurried Cecilia to the van, was barely civil to her driver, and flew back into the house.  Still there!

I grabbed the ancient pellet gun (Think “Youngest Son, age 12 or so”) and slid a pellet from the holding place into the chamber, gave three quick pumps that felt absolutely futile, and opened the door.  The hawk, watchful and wary, lifted off with its prey and I aimed in the general direction (using the term “aim” loosely, here) and pulled the trigger.  “Phoot” went the old pellet gun with a most useless sound, and the Hawk rose, sure and majestic and disappeared into the piney woods that borders Shady Acres.

I felt almost nauseous as I watched it go.  I came to my computer and googled Cooper’s Hawk.  What I read comforted me somewhat.  This from an article about protecting backyard feeders from hawks:

It is important to remember that even though it may be disheartening to see a songbird fall victim to a hawk, the hawks are only playing their role in nature’s cycle and they do not kill more birds than needed to survive. In fact, studies estimate that only 10 percent of a hawk’s kills are successful, and of those, the majority of the birds the hawk takes are old, weak or sick and removing them from the flock will help strengthen the remaining birds.

And even though I am quite sure that the Mama Cardinal wasn’t sick, I’m sure that she was confused.  Especially after I read this:

Protect Windows: Use decals and other methods to prevent window collisions by panicked birds. When a hawk attacks, small birds will mistakenly fly into windows and a stunned bird is easy prey.

We have decals and latticed windows, but we still have occasional incidents of birds flying into the windows.  So, it is one of those things that, even while I really hate it, I cannot escape the natural balance that God put into our world, and even the compelling engineering of this bird of prey.  He certainly is handsomer than a buzzard.

It’s a cold and windy day in Milford, Delaware.  The basketball pole at Shady Acres finally succumbed to the years of wear and tear and laid over on its side, snapping at the base.  There are limbs strewn about and the furniture on the upper deck keeps changing places with itself and making me jump.  I keep thinking that this time, for sure, it sounds like one of Certain Man’s trees has decided to come crashing down on the house.  That is one of the few things I don’t like about all the trees. So far, it’s just the furniture. 

The temperature has been slowly dropping — literally by tenths of a degree all day.  It was 41.9 when I got up around six ((later than usual, since I decided that there was no way I was going to send my poor ladies out in this mess) and now it is 39.6.  Every now and then, I will see some stray snowflakes, but not enough to alarm even Certain Man. (Who, by the way, announced back in November, “I saw two snowflakes go by today, and that was one too many, and enough to last me for this year!)

Youngest Daughter and I have been working at tax preparation.  She reads me numbers from the bank statements and I enter them into a ledger.  Yes, I should have done this long ago, but I find that doing things this way has some advantages.  There is method to my madness, I promise you, but it’s complicated and I don’t feel like explaining it.  Besides, people have been known to criticize, so I keep this a somewhat secret procedure.  Besides.  Our accountant has been known to mention that he would like to hire me because of the state of the information that I turn into him, and though he would never approve of how I keep my records, I suppose that if the end result is that acceptable to him, I can keep on doing it the way it is the most comfortable for me.  It really isn’t all that different from most commoners.  The one thing that makes my husband tear his hair out is that I just cannot bring myself to put it on computer and keep it up to date all the time.  (Hold the advice.  Don’t even bother.  If I haven’t changed for that Daniel Yutzy guy, I probably won’t change for someone else.)

It has been a most comfortable day.  I’m still in my housecoat, and the pellet stove is burning brightly.  I’m still dealing with a most aggravating stuffy nose and have drank copious amounts of hot liquid and ate some wonderful soup that we made when I was at my Sweet Mama’s house yesterday.  I feel thick and stupid and slow because of how stopped up my nose and ears are, but it is so nice to be where it is warm and dry that I am so happy.

I said to our girls a few hours ago, “This is a good day for us to be grateful for a Daddy that provides so well for us and to be very, very grateful for this warm and sheltering house.”

One of them said, “Because he has to be out in it?”

I said, “Well, yes, that, too, but when you think about not only how he goes out in this weather, but also how his provision for us at every turn makes it possible for us to be in where it is warm and dry, it just is such a blessing.”  I had ventured out onto the deck to put lids back on the containers of bird seed lined up by the railing, and it was really COLD and really WINDY and the boards on the deck were slippery and I almost fell.  When I returned the few feet back into the safety of the house, I couldn’t help but think of how hard it would be to have to be going in and out of a truck, inspecting houses.  He stopped by home briefly this afternoon and he was damp and cold and tired.  But still cheerful in spite of it all.  What a guy!

We just might still get some snow tonight, but not nearly the amounts that others are having to deal with. 

Whatever is going on in your part of the country, I hope you are all just as warm and dry and safe as we are on the little farm called Shady Acres.

Tonight, the littlest one of the Ohio Grandsons is home from the hospital.  The family is together under one roof, and the Sugarcreek Yutzy Gang is attempting some normalcy, though it has yet to be seen just what that looks like.

Youngest Daughter put in her appearance today.  Home for Spring break.  How I love the way Spring break breaks into the winter months that can be long and dreary.  Many plans for the week ahead.  But lots to do besides.  I’m so glad she is home.

There is much for which to be grateful at the chicken farm on Shawnee Road.  There was a short in one of the plugs on the one feed line in house 3.  A foot of charred ceiling is all there was (in addition to the burnt electrical cord).   I told Certain Man that we must be supposed to raise chickens for a while yet.  That could have been so different!  And those sick chickens that were dying by the hundreds actually just missed average by a fraction of a percent.  No, the check isn’t as good as it usually is, but it still made the Farm Credit payment with some to spare.  So grateful!

I’ve thought of other things that I so often take for granted.  My washer and dryer work.  My kitchen range and oven works.  Certain Man laid by a great supply of pellets this fall and we are warm and cozy.  Old Faithful, our mini-van, has continued to run like a top.  At almost 275,000 miles, I thank God for this servant who has far exceeded our expectations.  I have family who love me and tell me so.

I would be lying to say that everything is okay with life here.  It isn’t.  But there are blessings that are without number.  God is not only alive, He is not silent.  The things that disturb, the things that trouble are not mine to fix.  Let’s remember to pray for those we love.  It is still a best gift.  God’s word tells us that prayer moves the hand of God, and that He inhabits the Praise of His People.  

Prayer and Praise, Praise and Prayer.  Besides God’s word, the mightiest weapons.  All three are the most neglected.  Christians are fighting about so many things today, and we forget that our best weapons are at our fingertips and within our hearts.  Let’s be people who are known for being like Jesus.  And let’s be mighty in His Power, grateful, joyful, people of His Word.

Let’s be people of the Cross, and may the whole world notice.

Okay, so I know that I’ve (maybe!) been more than a little stressed these days, what with funerals and grandbabies and hospitals and chickens coming and now catching a little bit of the bug that’s going around, but today made me know that I have got to gather my wits around me and pay attention.

I have this sore throat and stuffy nose. (But not that horrible cough.  So far.  Thank God!) I got up this morning feeling more ragged around the edges than I have for a long time.  So I sat on my chair in the sunshine and slept and then moseyed about, getting my ladies up, combing my hair, and just really not doing much.  Had some unexpected company, which was delightful, and finally, after one o’clock this afternoon, I bestirred myself to get dressed in a skirt and top to run up to Shawnee Country Store to pick up some lunch for the family.

It was a bit chilly out, so I grabbed one of my shortest jackets and threw it on, and headed out the door.  When I got to Shawnee Country Store, the order wasn’t quite ready yet, so i meandered about the store and then waited in the aisle by the cash register until things were done.  It’s always a mixed up mess when I get things for everyone because Nettie and Cecilia all need separate checks, and it seems like there is always a line when we are getting everything separated and into their proper receipts.  But we finally got that done and I got the different bags and headed home.

I parceled out the things for everyone except Cecilia, and then I took off my coat before cutting her stuff into small bite size pieces.  Suddenly something really looked strange with my skirt.  I looked at it carefully, and here, in my haste, I had it turned exactly halfway around when I put it on.  There was this big, long, gaping pocket right in front in the middle, kinda looking like a careless male’s X-Y-Z situation.  I was embarrassed to see that, but when I thought about the fact that a similar situation had also occurred in (ahem!) the rear, I was mortified.  Especially when I realized that there had been no coverage from that “shortest jacket” business.

But that wasn’t the only faux pas.  A bare fifteen minutes later, I was on my chair, eating my half sub when I saw Eldest Daughter looking at me the way my daddy always looked at me when I wasn’t sitting like a lady.  I couldn’t figure out what she meant.  My skirt was properly over my knees.  I wasn’t sitting across from a male, anyhow.  What was the big deal?   Then she hissed, “Mom, your shirt!”

Oh, dear.  Somehow my old red shirt, once so highly favored by yours truly, had betrayed me.  It had rolled up somehow, and there, as bare as could be was a most unattractive roll of tummy showing.  I grabbed the offending hem and yanked it down, again almost unable to believe that I didn’t feel the fresh air blowing where it never does.  I just could not believe that I hadn’t noticed!

I often say that when I have a stuffy nose, I can’t think. (My brain needs air!)   Now it appears that not only can I not think, I cannot see or hear.

I’m baking bread this morning.  There is something so therapeutic for me in the mixing, kneading, shaping, and baking of this almost twenty pounds of bread dough.  I needed (no pun intended, I NEEDED) it desperately this morning.  The sky was bright when I began my task, not at all the kind of weather that I like for baking bread.  I decided that the rainy day was in my heart and maybe things would be okay.  

Out in Holmes County, Ohio, the youngest Grandson is in the hospital with pneumonia and RSV.  Just another confusing chapter in the life of three little boys.  The two oldest call him “Baby” and they love him deeply.

“Come home!” The three year old orders his mommy sternly.  “Come home!”  

Regina longs to do just that, but it will be another day at least.  The hospital ran some tests, there are some things needing to be watched a bit yet.  And then, as if having one in the hospital and two at home and Daddy at work and Grandma Yoder filling in, Regina is coming down with something.  Probably the same thing the little guy has, but it really isn’t convenient.  She sat most of the afternoon yesterday on a hard chair in the emergency room holding a sick little boy, and it would not be surprising if she was achy, but now she has a sore throat in addition to being achy, and she really doesn’t feel good.

But then I think about the word “convenient” and remember that “Our ways are not God’s ways, neither are our thoughts His Thoughts,” and it actually stirred this rivulet of hope and excitement somewhere inside.  In the chapter of life that is right now, God has his hand, and He is writing the story.  Who can even imagine what we might see when we look back some day to this time and this place?  So much to think and pray about, hope and watch for.

When I went to mix up the bread a few hours ago, I only had a fraction of the amount of bread flour that I needed.  It made me feel like not even attempting to make bread, but I had unbleached on the shelf, so I decided to use that.  (I used to always use plain old unbleached flour for bread until I thought that I discovered that bread flour works best.  And it probably does.)  Then, I put the second oven load of bread in on the wrong temperature.  I came back when the ten minute buzzer rang to find that it was set on the second temperature setting instead of the first.  Oh, NO!  I decided to just bake it straight through on 375 and see what happened.

Well, the one thing that happened is that those five loves have “blowouts” on the sides.  But I solved a mystery for me with that discovery.  I could never figure out why some people’s bread always broke apart along the side while they were baking.  I’m guessing it comes from not putting into a hot enough oven to kill the yeast straight off. because I never have that problem, and the only thing I did differently was to not start it in a very hot oven for ten minutes.  They still look good, and I am just about ready to cut it and put it in the freezer, so I will soon find out about texture and softness.

I looked at the ten loaves of bread on the cooling rack and thought about life and especially life right now.  It feels sometimes like this situation with Raph and Gina and the boys is a little like my bread baking today.

The ingredients for a healthy family are there, at least in part.  Add to the right “bread flour” the stuff that feels like it just isn’t quite ideal, and it could make a person not even feel like trying. And then, even if it would be okay, what about the wrong temperature, the things that can make things just not turn out right?  The best intentions and even experience and knowledge don’t always translate into success.  Now does it?

But there were prayers that went into this batch of bread and it is sitting out there on my cupboard looking like we just might be able to eat it.  Actually looks pretty good.  I suspect that it will be a staple in more than one meal and we will give thanks over the broken bread and the life it gives.

And this family, this little family.  Lord Jesus, the road is broken and things are not easy.  There is laying down of lives and not taking them up again.  There are unknown factors and confusion and little boy hurt.  There is change on every hand, not only for the boys but for a couple who have had just two adults to think about for almost five years.  And there is a thousand unknowns — at least to these humans who already fiercely love these three little boys.

How grateful I am that you know the end from the beginning.  That through all of this you are writing a story.  It is good, it will be good, and even, Lord Jesus, though I may not always feel it, it has ALREADY BEEN GOOD.  May we never forget that we do not need to fear the future because not only do you know it, you are already there!  Already there, in and through all the unknowns that we could fear so much.  You have a plan.  May we embrace that plan without rancor or regret or resistance.  

And may these little guys read our hearts and know that it is all okay.

. . . and now we are safely home again.  

I cried a bit on the way home and since I’m home.  A bit.  Okay, a LOT.  Just lots of emotions crashing around my heart.  Especially after being with Raph and Gina and the boys.  Too many memories, and so many things to think about.  I wish we lived closer.  But then –.   Maybe it is better this way. I just want to hold them and squish them and fix everything for them.

Most of all, I want them to love us –Grandpa and Grammy, and all the Yutzy aunts and uncles and cousin.  They are so little.  They are accustomed to people moving in and out of their lives and not staying.  Or not coming back.  They are fresh from a traumatic upheaval.  And all the rules are different for living.  My heart aches for them in ways I cannot describe.  Just this deep, desperate ache because no matter what happens, these little boys will still have missed so much.  

And it’s not fair.

I know, I know, life isn’t fair.  But Oh, Lord Jesus, would it be too much to ask that somehow, someway, life could be fair for the children?  Especially in the things that really matter?

The theology is there.  I know the right answers.  I know that man is a free moral agent and when people make wrong choices, the innocent suffer.  And usually I can find peace with this.

But tonight the injustice of it all shines out in three pairs of dark eyes, and my heart hurts.

Once again, I do not know the end from the beginning.  This story is not finished yet.  God has yet to write the final chapter.  Who am I to say that this coming into Raph and Gina’s family isn’t what God had in mind all along?  I don’t know.  I don’t know. I don’t know. 

But I do know that I prayed specifically for the child or children that God would bring into this home. Long before I knew there were these three little boys, before I knew that Raph and Gina would take a sibling group, before all of this, I prayed.  And I believe that for this place and this time, this is what God has.  I do not need to know the future.  But I can pray about that, too.

And I also know this:  

                             Jesus loves the little children.  

                             All the children of the world.  

                             Red, brown, yellow, black and white.  

                             They are precious in His sight.  

                             Jesus loves the little children of the world.

And that means the three little boys that I am glad to call my grandbabies.    

I’ve learned long to trust that love.

I choose to do so now.

Certain Man and I are safely landed at Eldest Son’s house in Sugarcreek, Ohio.  It has been a very busy, emotionally draining, but GLORIOUS five days since we received word of Mom Yutzy’s passing.  It has been wondrous, indeed, to watch God’s gifts to us over the last week.  There are things that are too incredible to be co-incidental.

First and foremost: We are without chickens.  The one thing that was going to be a real problem was a formaldehyde treatment for our chicken houses that HAD to be done on Saturday or Monday.  This was the primary reason we had decided not to go to Ohio this weekend to see Mom Yutzy.  And when it seemed like she had rallied, and was expected to last a few more weeks, maybe MONTHS, we felt like it was God’s direct provision for us.  Then, on Wednesday, our service man called and said that they had changed it to Thursday morning, first thing.  So when the call came that Mom was gone, by the time we got ready to leave, the treatment was finished, and CM was able to do his part of turning off the gas, and making sure everything was in order.  While we have been here in Ohio, we got word that our “chicks in” date has gotten moved back a day, making things so much easier for when we get home.

The 19 Grandchildren of Sue Yutzy 

Back row: Raphael Yutzy and Lem Yutzy (Oldest and Youngest Sons of Daniel) Jay Yutzy (Oldest Son of Joseph) Aaron and Peter Zehr (Fourth and Fifth Sons of Rachel)  David Zehr (Only Son of Ruth) Mark, Jeremy and Philip Zehr (Oldest Son, Third Son and Second Son of Rachel) Weston Yutzy (Youngest Son of Joseph).
Second row: Deborah and Rachel Yutzy and Christina Bontrager (Middle, Youngest and Oldest Daughters of Daniel) Anna Rose Zimmerman and Miriam Bergey (Oldest and Youngest Daughters of Rachel) Joy Cedarquist (Daughter of Joseph) Bethany Weaver, Katie Steria and Charity Zehr (Middle, Oldest and Youngest Daughters of Ruth).

There were additional gifts — things we couldn’t have orchestrated, like lodging arrangements, traveling mercies, all the grandchildren being able to be there, unbelievable provision for this “completely out of state” immediate family that included wonderful three meals, an after viewing snack that was more like a meal, warm and encouraging friends who shared hugs and prayers and kind words and sleeping/living spaces and positive memories of Mom that we would never have known.  What wondrous LOVE is this?

And the weather!  We woke to ice on Friday morning, and it was cold and unpredictable for the next two day.  Monday morning, the day of the funeral, dawned sunny and clear. CM father’s funeral in November of 2010 was bitterly cold and windy, but this day was calm and bearable.  The funeral went without a hitch, and the time around the grave was so meaningful.  

One of the things that the Ohio family does is always cover the grave as part of the committal service.  They see it as a final service, a labor of love to their beloved family member.  Yesterday, there was even a small shovel provided for children, and it was special to see our Grandbaby, Charis, shovel a few shovels of dirt onto the grave of her great grandmother.  It was precious, precious, as each of our children and our beloved son in law, Jesse, took their turns as well.  I wish so much that it was something that would be done as a matter of course in Delaware.  Years ago, when Daniel’s brother, Joseph, was killed in a truck accident and buried in the Greenwood cemetery, Certain Man, and his father were startled to discover that the grave was covered by strangers.  They appealed and won the right to come back later with several of Joseph’s close friends to help cover the grave.  Daniel’s father felt that to not be allowed to do this would be a grave injustice to the family.  It has been done a few times in recent times.  When my precious daddy died in 2005, I know it was a big leap for some of my siblings, but Daniel and I so much wanted to have the opportunity that the family agreed.  Since then it has happened a few times, and it seems to be a most meaningful part of saying good-bye.

And then it was time to wrap us some things regarding paperwork, meet old friends and some family for supper, sort out some of the things from the funeral and to  crash at Greg and Valarie’s house for one more night in that great bed.  This morning we slept in, packed, ate a breakfast with Greg and Valerie, picked up Lena on the next street, dropped her off at the airport and got on our way to Holmes County.     

And now we have this chance to spend some time with our three new grandbabies.  And “babies” are what they really are! The three year old is two years and one week older than the youngest, one year and one day older than the middle one.  And the middle one was born on my birthday!  How cool is that?  I think it’s beyond Cool!

Lord willing, we plan to be home sometime tomorrow.  I’m anxious to be there, but I’m not exactly looking forward to the drive.  We have a book to read:  Not Bad for an Amish Boy, written by Eli Helmuth, a friend of both of us, with lots of familiar names and places in it.  We started it today, and are enjoying it while the miles roll by.  It is a cold and rainy day, and sharing the words of an interesting book in a warm car while the windshield wipers slap back and forth makes for cozy driving.

The boys are napping (that would be the three little ones, their daddy and grandpa as well!) and soon it will be supper time.  Wherever you and those you love are tonight, may you be safe and warm and dry.  And don’t forget to share with those who have less.

Thank God for the Hope of Heaven!

     Susanna J. (Beachy) Yutzy passed away at Mayfair Village Nursing Home, Dublin, OH, on Thursday, February 21, 2013.  She was 89. 

     Sue was born on April 11, 1923 to the late Joe and Alma (Miller) Beachy at Plain City, Ohio. She was born and raised Amish, one of a family into which 15 children born, 12 of whom were raised to adulthood, six boys and six girls.  The siblings and their families enjoyed many happy times of fellowship over the years, sharing special meals, game nights and family reunions.  She worked for the I.G.A. Market in Plain City until 1960, when she married widower Ralph E. Yutzy and became an instant mother to his five children.

     She joined the United Bethel Mennonite Church as an adult, and was a faithful member until her death.  She and her husband were often involved in the work of the church in practical ways, meeting the physical needs of the body of believers, visiting the sick and elderly, and inviting those who had no family into their home for food and friendship. 

     Sue worked hard for as long as she was able, helping Ralph in the various endeavors they took on, gardening, (and preserving the fruits of her labor) cooking and housekeeping.  Sue loved a clean house.

     She was predeceased by an infant son in 1962, son, Joseph, in 1981, her husband, Ralph, in 2010, just months after celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.  She was also predeceased by her parents, brothers; Eli W., Noah, and Lawrence Beachy, sisters; Emma Detweiler, Alma Gingerich, and Laura Beachy, Malinda and Alice Beachy who died as young children and a stillborn youngest sister.

     She is survived by daughters, Lena Yutzy of San Diego, CA, Rachel (Ivan) Zehr of Waterloo, NY, and Ruth (Andrew) Zehr, of Croghan, NY, son, Daniel (Mary Ann) Yutzy of Milford, DE, and daughter in law, Ruby (Nelson) Yoder of Harrisonburg, VA.  Also surviving are 19 grandchildren and 51 great grandchildren.

     She is also survived by brothers, Homer Beachy, Joseph (Ada) Beachy, and Walter, (Mary Jane) Beachy, and sisters Lavina Hostetler and Inez Miller, and a host of nephews and nieces.

     “She fought a good fight, she finished the course, she kept the faith.” 

     Calling hours will be at United Bethel Mennonite Church from 2-4 and 6-8 on Sunday, February 24, 2013, and the funeral will be Monday, February 25, 2013 at 10am, also at the church, with burial in the adjoining cemetery.

     In lieu of flowers, the family suggests Memorial contributions to United Bethel Mennonite Church (11342 Lafayette-PC Road, Plain City, Ohio, 43964) or Odyssey Hospice (540 Office Center Place, Suite 100, Gahanna, Ohio  43232)  

     The family wishes to recognize and thank the many friends who have visited faithfully and provided assistance to Mom so frequently over these last years.  Special thanks to Jonas and Arlou Beachy, and Jami for their unwavering loyalty, love and support. Your kindness to Mom is a gift of great value and we all thank you.

     Visit http://www.fergusonfuneralhomeinc.com to share a special memory.

It was almost midnight when I rounded the corner from Interstate 70 to Plain City-Georgesville Road.  In the seat beside me, Daniel snored softly, exhausted from the intense day.  When we received word of his step-mother’s passing, he thought that we could be on our way by noon or soon thereafter, but there were monumental things to accomplish, packing to do, calls to make, and when we finally got off around 3pm, I sank into the passenger seat and prayed for grace.

Daniel drove while fielding calls on his blue tooth, making funeral plans and discussing home arrangements.  We had gorgeous weather, sunny and clear.  I spoke with the nursing home to find out about Sue’s last moments, and found that she had been doing fairly well when she was checked on around 7:30.  She had responded with a nod of her head when spoken to, and had even given a half smile.  They said that she had shifted in her bed like she was a bit uncomfortable, but she was better than she had been in some of the past few days, and it seemed like she was at least on a plateau of some sort.  When her breakfast tray was taken in to her an hour later, they found her gone. 

I worked on the obituary while we drove, trying to find words that would capture the essence of the life of Sue Yutzy.  Last week, when I was thinking of her in the nursing home, facing the passing without any of her children there, it really troubled me.  But over the days since then, as we were made aware of all the ways that the local people cared for her, provided for her needs, and visited unceasingly, I was immensely comforted, and certain that it would all be okay.  I had thought long and hard about her life and accomplishments and wondered just what she would say mattered most to her. It gave me great cause to consider, not only for her, but also for the life I am living.

We had a sweet time together, both of us a bit pensive and weary.  The miles rolled themselves away, but there are so many of them!  About an hour and a half from Plain City, Daniel was really beat.  He pulled into a rest area and relinquished the wheel.  I never really like to drive, but I had told him that I would drive if he got too tired.  I had gotten a big Berry Flavored Tea from Wendy’s when we stopped for supper, so I was very awake.  

“Just let me get a little rest,” he said, groggily.  “I’ll be okay after a sleep.”  I saw him limping as he walked around the car.  His knee was bothering him more than usual and driving is never easy on him.  He got into the passenger seat, and moved my precisely placed seat all around until it suited him.  He winced a time or two, but finally got things situated.  He tucked his pillow under his head and went right to sleep.  

I’ve been having a problem with moving one of my misshapen front teeth over one of my misplaced bottom teeth over these last few weeks.  A few times I even found the top one almost numb from the stress I’ve wreaked upon it.  I’ve found that I can’t do this annoying habit if I sing.  Yesterday was a really bad day for unthinkingly grinding these two teeth together, and when I took the wheel, I felt the familiar ache in my tooth, so I recalled some old songs and softly sang the miles away.  From Zanesville, into the dark fields of Ohio, on to the lights of Columbus and then on the the dark plains of Madison County.

At the end of the ramp, I came to a stop, then pulled onto the familiar road that once led home.   It is a three mile drive from Interstate 70 to the little house on the hill that once belonged to Daniel and I.  I thought about the many, many times that I traversed this road, and how familiar it once was to me.  It winds and dips and makes its narrow way in no predictable fashion, and the houses have changed on either side to the point that I hardly know where I am any longer.  I felt an ache in my heart that has been absent for many a year as I looked at the dark houses and the winding road.  

Daniel had stirred on the seat beside me, and he looked through sleepy eyes at the passing scenery.  We passed “our” little house on the hill,  and then began the seven mile trek to town.  We passed the house where Uncle Paul and Aunt Martha live.  Went past the house where Uncle Allen and Aunt Mary Leona lived when we first got married.  I remembered the happy times spent in that house and the brave lady who taught me more about living with and loving a Yutzy Man than pretty much anyone else.  There was a catch in my throat as the dark house slipped by.  On through Amity, and past Gingway Products and the old Plank homestead, and on into the quiet town of Plain City.  Past Leroy and Mary Troyer’s house on the edge of town, and on to West Avenue where we’ve turned left for almost forty years.

And then we came into the housing development where Daniel’s cousin, Valerie and her husband, Greg, live and where we have found a place to land whenever we have needed shelter in the last five years.  I looked at Daniel and said, “I cannot wait to crawl into that great bed!”  He laughed a bit ruefully and said, “Isn’t that the truth!”  It was freezing cold, and we grabbed the most necessary things and made a dash for the comfort of the warm house.  Valerie and Greg were sleeping but our bed was waiting, and we were soon safely there.

Today has been a whirlwind of activity.  We started with a coat of ice over everything, and getting anywhere was precarious.  We picked up Daniel’s sister, Lena, at the airport this morning, then went to the nursing home and cleaned out the room.  Daniel’s sister, Rachel, and her husband, Ivan, arrived just about the time we got done, and we grabbed a quick lunch and then went to the Funeral Home for a planning session, and then went to the church for more planning with the ministers.

It is hard to believe this, but at this point every single one of the grandchildren plan to be here for the funeral.

Rachel’s seven (Mark, Philip, Jeremy, Anna Rose, Miriam, Aaron and Peter)

Joseph’s three (Jay, Joy, and Weston)

Our five (Christina, Deborah, Raph, Lem, and Rachel)

Ruth’s four (David, Katie, Bethany and Charity)

Only three of these are unmarried, and most of the spouses are coming, too.  Some of the 51 great grands are coming, too, but not nearly all.  It makes these days so rich and full of eager expectation.  As we wait for our children and grandchildren to arrive, I am reminded of how our Heavenly Father must have been longing for Sue to come home on Thursday morning, and how preparation and planning could have been going on as they readied for her arrival.

It is a time of great rejoicing even though it is a time of good-bye.

And a time of remembering.

And a time of aching teeth and aching hearts.

It is a time of being grateful for family and friends who provide safe harbor.

Of holding on to some things and letting go of others.

Oh, Lord Jesus.  Make our hearts so soft towards you that the things we hold on to and the things we let go are both unimportant beside the magnificence of the hope of Heaven and the promise of eternal life.  And even while we count as unimportant the things we hold so dear, may we celebrate what is important, and that is that you’ve already paid the price and someday, we’ll be HOME.

HOME! 

Lord Jesus.  How sweet that will be!

Sue Yutzy

Home Free

February 21, 2013

Rest in Peace, Mom