Category Archives: Uncategorized

Deborah

and

Rachel

and

holly

are

home.

PTL!!!

It has been quite a week at Shady Acres.

Monday, I played “Catch-up” with my washing machine and the mountains of laundry around here.  I had a Chiropractic appointment.

And here, I guess, I need to tell a short story about my carnal heart.  You see, when Nettie took her tumble back at the end of July, I was careful in how I responded to her because the slightest indication of disapproval, impatience or inconvenience is enough to send her into a slump.  I didn’t figure that she needed an emotional upheaval in addition to all the pain she was (apparently) suffering.  But in this disobedient heart of mine, I had lots of feelings.  “Why couldn’t she be more careful?” I thought repeatedly.  “I just don’t have time for all of this.  And how can things really be hurting the way she is letting on?  The X-rays came back clear.  It just can’t be that bad . . .”

The doctors office had told me that, even though her x-rays came back clear, since she had been complaining of lots of back pain for a number of weeks, I should still get her in to see the Physician’s Assistant at Southern Delaware Orthopaedic Associates as soon as possible.  She had her usual blood work on Monday morning, and while she was waiting at Lab Corp, I phone SDOA and was delighted to discover that they could see her that morning at 10:30.  It took some real “finagling” and rushing about, but by 10:35 or so, we were in Lewes, films in hand and ready for the appointment.  Henry looked the films over studiously.

“According to the report, and from what I see, the films look good,” he said, cheerfully, as usual.

“Why is she having so much pain?” I persisted.  “We’ve been in physical therapy for a month and she is still having pain that she can hardly live with.”

“Where are you going?” he questioned.  When I told him he said, “They’re no good.  I have yet to see anyone who was really helped by their outpatient physical therapy department.  I want her to go to Dover.  And I want her to go three times a week.”

“Boy, Henry,” I said ruefully.  “You sure know how to complicate my life, don’t you?”

“Well,” he said, “We could get an MRI and just see what is actually going on.  Would you like that?”

I was so ready for them to do it.  “Yes,” I said.  “I really think it would be good to get an MRI.  And then, if there is nothing, we will know, and if it is something, we can get on it and get some help  In either case, we will know what we are up against.”

“Okay, then,” he said, still cheerful.  “We will get you an appointment.  Wait here.”

So we waited and they set the MRI up for Friday morning.

The rest of that day, and the morning of the next, I kept thinking about how I was ever going to juggle going to physical therapy three times a week in Dover.  And I was thinking, too about “Why couldn’t she have been more careful?  Is it REALLY as bad as she is pretending???”  etc.  etc.  etc.

So, Tuesday morning, after seeing the PA on Monday, I was talking on the phone to my neighbor, Lillian, and went to get something over in the laundry room. Christina was here with Carson and Nevin.  She was sitting in the corner on Daniel’s chair with Charis and the boys were watching a TV show.  Anyhow, Daniel had gotten some new parts for his grill, and I had combined the two big boxes into one, and then let the empty box sit on the floor by the door way into the kitchen from the laundry room.  It had some wonderful “poppy” kinds of packing, with the air bags being about 6X8 inches square, and I knew that someone would just love to stomp on those one of these days, so I hadn’t put the box out for recycle yet.  Anyhow, somehow, I brushed my foot against the box as I went by, and lost my balance. I went careening into the kitchen like I was drunk, trying to not drop the phone, trying to regain my balance, but it was all for naught. I slammed onto the kitchen floor in great disarray, and my phone went skittering across the floor.  I scrambled, slithered, or something so that I could regain it, and was relieved to find that the connection wasn’t broken.

ONLY

ONE

MORE

SLEEP

(LORD WILLING)

AND

OUR

GIRLIES

WILL BE

HOME.

HIP, HIP HOORAY!!!

LORD WILLING,

ONLY

FOUR

MORE

SLEEPS

UNTIL

OUR

GIRLS

COME

HOME!!!

Those of you who raise chickens in tunnel  houses in HOT slower lower Delaware will grasp the magnitude of our gratefulness to the Heavenly Father for His divine protection and provision for us last night.  I really don’t think it will be lost on the rest of you, either.

We were without electricity in a full chicken house for approximately 30 minutes last evening.  Both of us were praying fervently for wisdom and strength and courage and help and most of all, that God would somehow keep the birds alive in the stifling house.   We couldn’t run lights and fans last night, so Daniel wasn’t able to evaluate our losses last night.  We hoped that they would be minimal, but it is so hard to predict in situations like this.

When Daniel went to pick up the dead this morning, there were:

7

As in seven chickens.

Not seven hundred.

Not seven thousand.

SEVEN DEAD CHICKENS

And these are
“50 day old birds”
that are heavy for their age.

This is nothing but an incredible intervention by an Almighty God

I call it miraculous!

We give grateful praise.

Our God is an awesome God!

The day has been a really good day– Certain Man got some significant projects done for

himself — repairing his grill, replacing his big light at the corner of the house so people can play

basketball in the dark. He spent hours and hours working on Eldest Daughter’s birthday present

— there were lots of setbacks — he even made a trip to Dover that was unnecessary. But he

finally finished that up to his satisfaction with a little help from his wife and finally the day was

winding down. Even though it was late, he had finished the projects he most wanted to do, so he

was making one last trip to his chicken house.

It was 9:20 and I was in the kitchen, getting bedtime meds finished up for Our girl

Nettie and Cecilia when the cell phones started to ring. I picked mine up to hear, “You

have a poultry alarm . . .” I wondered briefly where Daniel was, and went to check on the lights

to see which house it was. House two. H-m-m-m-m-m. Our chickens are big (less than a week

from going out) and it is a bad time for things to go wrong, so I decided that as soon as I got the

ladies to bed, I would go and find him. I had barely gotten back into the kitchen and turned

around when the back door opened and I heard my husband’s hurried steps. We wives that have

been married a long time can often tell when something is wrong, just by the way the steps

sound, and these were not his usual steps.

“Sweetheart, did you see that you have an alarm going off in house two?”

He went flying past me on his way to the study where he keeps some of the things he

needs in an emergency.

“I know,” he said with an edge to his voice. “ We’re in big trouble out there. If I can’t

get something done fast, we’re liable to lose the whole house!”

That certainly got my attention

“What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm.

“The breaker to the house is off and nothing I do makes it go back on to stay.” He grabbed his special flashlight and started out the door. As he left he said over his shoulder, “We have to do something because it is only a matter of minutes before they start dying.”

I didn’t think to grab a phone or anything, I just took off for the chicken house behind Certain Man. As I hobbled the best I could, I noticed his bedraggled, limping half run, too. “We’re quite the pair,” I thought. Neither one of us can hurry very much. But Certain man did exceedingly well for someone who was in such pain from a troublesome knee.

I noticed that he stopped at the generator shed and did something there, and then hurried out to the chicken house and did something there with the electric panel on the outside of the chicken house. “Nope. Nothing!!!” He said to me as I got to the chicken house. “There has to be a short under ground between the main switch box and the chicken house because no matter what I do, the breaker throws as soon as I reset it. There’s nothing I can do. I’m afraid we’re done for.”

I opened the door and looked in. It was already awfully hot in there. “Shouldn’t we open the doors?” I asked, but Certain Man was already heading down to the west end of the house. When he is terribly worried, he doesn’t communicate very well, so I decided that a little air would be better than no air, so I headed the opposite direction, opening doors as I went. I got down to the end and got the big doors open on the east end, and felt a bit of a breeze come through. Certain Man had already opened everything he could at his end.

Then began the most interesting process that I’ve seen for some time. Daniel got the heaviest extension cord that he owned and ran it from House One over to the electrical panel. He attempted several things that didn’t work, and my heart went out to him when they failed, because he was trying so very hard and there was so much at stake. Some of you are aware of a family condition that causes hands to shake. Daniel does not have it as badly as some if the people in his family, but it was surely making itself known tonight. Finally, he was able to direct wire the extension cord in a way that made it possible for him to run three tunnel fans. We closed up the doors and watched the temperature drop steadily down into the 70’s in the chicken house. Daniel took the lull in the frenzied activity to get ahold of two of his electrician friends. One could not help him out. The other said that if Daniel thought things would stay even till morning, he would come around 6:30 and run a temporary line until one can be properly dug in on Monday.

So, Daniel has been going out there every 45 minutes to an hour to see if anything is getting hot. He sets his little alarm clock and crashes to sleep on the rug in the family room. I see his weary, weary face, restless in slumber and his clothes are rumpled and dirty. I wish I knew more what he is doing out there so that I could do it for him. His alarm went off just now, and he turned it off and is making his way out one more time.

“Do you really think it is necessary to go out there this often,” I ask him, thinking of how sore his hip and knee are from all the day’s activities. “If things are okay this time out, couldn’t you trust it to be okay until morning.”

“I don’t know,” he says sleepily. “Maybe if it isn’t too hot, I can just let it go – at least for a little bit longer.” And I see him stop over at the medicine cabinet and pick up some pain medication before he goes on out. He wants me to get to bed, but I am loathe to go before he is settled in for the night.

But that is how it is for chicken farmers sometimes. Tomorrow (well, actually TODAY, now) is the Lord’s Day and I love it so much. So I am going to head off to bed. It really is high time.

And Certain Man is back in and says things are okay out there. So I guess I will go on up to my comfy bed and see if he will follow.

Good-night, All

Dear Momma,

Hello from the Highlands of Scotland! In case you haven’t noticed, Internet is very scarce.

Rachel is typing this letter and Deb is dictating most of it. Rach is paraphrasing and adding in. 🙂

Belfast was amazing! We got to go to a really awesome and alive church and it was a highlight of the trip. We found this great little cafe and it reminded us of Dolce’s. It was called Charlies. Of course it wasn’t as good as Dolce’s, but it was the closest we’ve found and it was great to have a little piece of home. 🙂 They had the best thrift stores. They all benefit something. Like the one was for impoverished children and there are a lot for cancer research. No, we didn’t buy Chris anything there. Tell her to hold her horses.

On to Scotland! Our plane ride was very uber short. Like 20 minutes or something. We found the Hertz place just fine after a long walk. We have a very nice gray Ford Focus. It was a little scary getting started beings we started in Glasgow city and we’re driving on the other side of the road….. with a stick shift. So far, we are all alive. 🙂

The first day we saw Loch Lomond. The banks are very bonny. 🙂 We stopped in a little town called Balloch and bought blankets. (Yay for warmth!) We slept in a little campground in Glenco where the Campbells massacred the Macdonalds in violation of Scot hospitality in the 1600s. Pretty place. We went to this little cafe thing just down the road from the campground. It was called Crofts and things and they could make a mean mocha (according to Rachel) Just so you know, We were in the literal middle of no where. Don’t be fooled into thinking we weren’t cause I found me (Rach) some coffee!

We headed to Inverness the next day. We stopped by Loch Ness on our way and there was this uber cute little boy playing the bagpipes. He was pretty stellar and pretty young. Like ten or twelve. We looked for “Nessie” but no luck. We thought that if we could get a real picture of her we could pay for our trip and My (rach) college…. maybe the adoption too…. But alas, It was not to be.

Inverness was lovely. They had a T.K. Maxx which is a T.J. Maxx UK style. They had more warm clothes for me (Rach) and shoes for Holly and Deb is thinking she’ll get something when we go back through. We searched all over creation for an adapter so we can plug the computer in whilst we drive. Once again, it was not to be.

We headed more north towards Ullapool. It’s right on the Alantic. We spent the night there and it was awesome. Everyone was so nice to us. On the way there we saw a sign for fresh fruit so of course we had to look for it. We went off the main road (two lanes) to a back road (one lane with passing spaces) to a dirt road with a sign saying beware of ditch on left. We ended up at Tolley’s Croft where Collin and Edna Campbell were manning a fruit stand. We picked raspberries, red currants, black currants, and goose berries. They helped us pick our own berries, and then gave us a jar of black currant jelly that Edna made herself! And they let us use the bathroom at the croft! They gave us hugs and their phone numbers. “Just in case!” We thanked them and Edna told us that she just thinks of her own children and hopes people are nice to them when they go off traveling. We went on our way with lots of fruit!

Now we are in Stirling, Scotland.

Love you,

Beebs and Rachel

I am just a little cross.

I saw, over there on Facebook, that Youngest Daughter wrote Birthday wishes on two walls less than an hour ago, and she never wrote to me.

I am, however, just a little relieved to know that at least, the three of them are not being held hostage somewhere without being allowed to write, call or whatever. 

Today, Beloved Son in Law stopped in to take the pickup load of things for the dump.  He is a good and helpful son in law, and has been in faithful contact with the girls.  I asked him if he had heard anything from them in the last two days and he said he hadn’t.  Then he informed me that he wasn’t really expecting to hear anything from them these last two weeks of their trip “because they really weren’t staying any place.”

“THEY WEREN’T STAYING ANY PLACE???” (I controlled my voice quite well.  My panic, not so much.)  “They have to be staying SOMEPLACE!!!” I said reasonably.

“No, they don’t,” he said amiably.  “I think they were just going to sleep in the car. . . Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” he said belatedly.

“SLEEP IN THE CAR?!?!?!?!?!?  Are they allowed to do that???”

“Well, probably the same as here.  You really aren’t supposed to, but people do it.”

I was desperately trying to find a safe place for them to be.  “Maybe they can go to something like a campground or something like that,” I said hopefully.  “Somewhere they should allow people to park and sleep.”

“I have no doubt,” he said with his unnecessarily cheerful grin, “that they will have a run-in with the police somewhere along the way, but that isn’t so unusual.”

YIKES!!!!!!!!!

Oh, well, what’s a Mom to do?  I guess I will just go and pray hard.

We had a birthday party for our Oldest Son on Saturday evening.

The truth is, today is his birthday.  He is 27.

He was born on Wednesday, JULY 28, 1982 at 3:46pm and weighed in at 9 pounds, 12 ounces — a beautiful chubby baby — except that he was clearly in trouble.  He was as blue as he could be, and so they allowed me a quick hug, and then hustled him off to the NICU at Mt. Carmel Hospital in Columbus, Ohio.   

He needed oxygen for a while, and they were waiting to see “if the cultures grew anything.”  In the first two days, I would trudge down to the unit to hold him, nurse him and wonder how so plump and beautiful a baby could really be so sick.

The hospital wanted him on antibiotics, but he seemed to be fine, and they finally allowed me to bring him into my room with me.  That was a wonderful day, indeed. And then the
cultures didn’t grow anything, so they said we could go home.

He was a snuffling, squggly baby.  So very precious.
This picture was taken of him propped up in the bed
just before we left the hospital.  I have wished and wished
that things had been different for us at this particular time,
but we were so poor that we felt we could not afford the
“new baby” pictures that the hospital sold.  The decision
was hard for us, but we really didn’t see how we
could manage to pay for pictures, send Christina to
Christian Day School, and still
pay our part of the hospital bill. 

So, we got a special at Penneys when he was six weeks old.
Those old Penneys portraits
really lost their colors, didn’t they?

He was a happy baby — and we enjoyed him so much!

He loved to sit by the couch and play with his box of toys.


He learned to read at eight months. . . 

And the day came when he turned one.
The picture that was taken right after this one shows him
wailing unrestrainedly.  He had put his finger into the flame
of his candle somehow.  Yes, we were watching him
carefully.  He was just too quick for us.


Just before we moved to Delaware, they took pictures
at the school where Christina was a student.  I took Raph
and Deborah in for their “preschoolers pictures” opportunity

“MOM!” the girls say over and over again.  “We can’t
believe that you would dress Raph in such an ugly out-fit!”
Well, when you sew your kids clothes yourself,
and even make t-shirts for them, and so does
everyone else you know, your idea of what is “ugly”
and what isn’t gets warped somehow, I guess.
I always liked the above picture of him at about 14 months.  And dear, dear daughters of mine, I even like the outfit.  That I made myself.  Probably while Chris and Deb ran interference specifically  designed to cause a mama to tear out her hair — I mean, stitches.

There are lots of pictures of Raph over the years, and I got
a little weary trying to decide which ones to include and which ones to leave out.  I decided to include this one yet.   His Uncle Mark was his prayer partner one year, and true to how involved and caring Uncle Mark is, he took him hunting.  I think Raph was out less than a half hour when he bagged a really nice buck.  It was totally unexpected —
by Raph, yes, and by some of the rest of us, too.

Pictures were taken, and the buck was mounted,
but with that one event, our son was satisfied.  I’ve often wondered what happened in his heart that day, but he put his gun away, and has never hunted since.  His daddy
has never had the heart to hunt big game —
but I’m not sure that even came into this.  He just seemed to know that it wasn’t something that he was happy doing.  And so he has seemed entirely happy NOT doing it,
and that is just fine with this chickenhearted mama.

And now he is all grown up
and has found the gal that is right for him,
married her and is establishing his own home.


We are so glad that he was sent to our home.
He balances the intensity of (some of the others!!! )
with his easy-going, good natured approach to life.  I used to say he was like a St. Bernard puppy —
with big feet and a happy-go-lucky enthusiasm
that was hard to resist.
You can see that he isn’t my little boy any more

But somewhere in my heart, he will always be.

Happy Birthday, Son!
I surely do love you!