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My Oldest Brother turns 57 on Monday, August 20th.
 
As youngsters we argued and fussed and I got him into trouble.  More than once, I’m afraid.  Our disagreements were so sharp at times that our Sweet Mama would cry and say, “Why can’t our children love each other?”  Our Daddy would smile and say, “My children have spirit.  They are going to go somewhere in this life.”  (It occurs to me that he didn’t say where we were going to go.  He just knew we would do it with all our hearts!)
 
One time, I shot him in the leg with a BB gun.  I didn’t mean to, but I still did it.  And it was during a fuss, so he always thought I did it on purpose!  Looking back, I remember the look on his face before the incident, and it did need dealing with.  I remember the look on his face afterwards, too.  It isn’t a comfortable memory.  There is justice in this old world.  We both got punished.
 
Clint often helped in the kitchen.  Sometimes I had to dry the dishes while he washed them.  Until Mama decided that our argumentive skills needed no sharpening and would make other, less volatile arrangements.
 
I vividly remember the time he got a brand new yellow volkswagen and he let me drive it!  I couldn’t believe it then.  Can hardly believe it now.
 
The year he turned sixteen, Daddy allowed him and Middle Brother and me to go to Tennessee to see our cousins down there.  The boys really didn’t think I should be allowed to go along, but Daddy said I could.  And then, when I left all my hang-up clothes back in Greenwood, and discovered it ten miles out of town and had to go back, it didn’t make for the best beginnings of a trip.  But we went, we survived, and we returned all in one piece.  When I think of sending our Oldest Son off when he had just gotten his license, with Youngest Son and Youngest Daughter in tow — well, let’s just say, IT WOULDN”T HAPPEN!!!  But Daddy had confidence in him, believed that he would be okay, and it was.
 
This past week has been a busy one for him.  He came home from a family cycle trip (he was driving a car) to one of his members in ICU, dying.  She hung on until Monday evening, and then went HOME to Heaven.  There are some difficult things facing his church right now — There was an elder’s meeting this week that went late.  Then Friday, he conducted the funeral (and did a swell job, too!).  He went to the dinner afterwards, mingled with the family and helped to clean up.  Then went from there to his Church Campout/retreat.  Beloved Son-in-law and Eldest Daughter and another couple were cooking for that particular event and the other gal told me late last night, “Your Brother came into the kitchen and encouraged us.  He cut up the cantaloupe and watermelon that needed cutting up and he wouldn’t have had to.  He did it just to be nice.  He sure can cut up a watermelon.  Robert (her husband) has been practicing doing it his way ever since!”
 
There are very few of his nieces and nephews who don’t think the world of him.  Every one of our children have voiced their love and appreciation for him.  Oldest Son, who is a member of his church will often say, “That Uncle Clinton! He’s the man!”
 
I just want to go on record as saying that it has been a long time since my oldest brother and I have had a fuss, quarrel or even a minor disagreement.   The events of our adult lives have revealed more what we have in common than anything else.  And he grew up.  I think I did too.  (That has helped alot!!!)  And God has done a work of grace in each of our lives as siblings that I never would have dreamed possible 40 years ago.  I am so grateful that we have been able to be friends as adults.  I am so thankful that we’ve been able to be a part of the lives of our nieces and nephews.  I know that my life is so much richer because of each one of them.
 
In a recent, sudden death, the family could not find one of their siblings.  They tried everything they knew, but she was nowhere to be found.  Finally, the day after the funeral, she got the message that she was to call home.  It was a terrible thing for her to hear, “We buried Daddy yesterday.”  It is one of those things that has caused me to think again about families and the people that make them up.  Losing Daddy has been the hardest thing for us as a family to work through.  But I cannot imagine what kind of pain it would be to missing someone at a time like that and not be able to find them.  I know that personal choice plays a big factor in situations like this, but I’m grateful for brothers who have forgiven a pesky sister and who are genuinely friends.  I have no desire to be out of their lives.
 
Happy Birthday, Clint.  I surely do love you!
       

He never taught me how to pick lima beans.

When my Daddy went away to Heaven, he left an incredible legacy behind.  One of the things I think about, especially at this time of year, is the beautiful lima beans he grew every summer.  (I know.  You all are tired of hearing about my Daddy and his pole limas!)  He and Youngest Brother would work together in a huge patch beside the nursing home, and they would plow and plant and weed and spray and tie up and tie back and then finally PICK. 

I never really thought about it until tonight that we girls never picked lima beans.  At least not in earnest.  Those of you who get the Conservative Conference’s Monthly Magazine, “The Brotherhood Beacon,” saw my Daddy’s hands on the front of the last issue.  I remember those hands, even when they were old and arthritic, picking basket after basket of fordhook lima beans.  We girls were good for shelling, washing, blanching and getting them to the freezer.  But picking them was definitely in the Male department.  And those familiar old hands did a wondrous job, indeed.

Not so, at the house of Certain Man and Certain Man’s Wife.  Certain Man does everything until it is time to pick.  And he will help pick.  At least he did one time (which was just last week, actually).  But usually it is my job.  Last Summer, seeing my grief and homesickness for my Daddy, Certain Man quietly went and purchased some healthy plants and planted one row of pole lima beans down the length of our garden  (I love him for many, many reasons, but qualities that cause him to do things like this sure do make it easy!).

I was so delighted.  They did well at the beginning, and I got my first small bucket picked, Deborah shelled them, and I made them the way My Sweet Mama always made them.

But then the summer got hot.  And I could hardly bear to be out there in the garden, picking pole limas.  Especially when I was crying so hard that I couldn’t find the beans.  Finally, I just didn’t go out there any more.  I was comforted by the fact that everyone was saying, “This sure is a bad year for pole limas!”  I don’t know about other people, but I will tell you that beans in the garden don’t get into the feezer by themselves.  And eventually, they will just stop trying.  Alas and Alack!  Most of my beans went to waste.

This year, Certain Man planted a row again, and he has watered and watered and watered.  And they are doing well.  I’ve been going out there, keeping an eye on them, and trying to pick them.  I duck in and around, red faced and sweating, with dirt in my sandals.  I ponder the mysteries of mating grasshoppers and aphids.  I squash the hornets if I am able and throw the dried up pods across the fence to the cow pasture.  And I ask Daddy why he never taught me to pick beans.  It always looked so easy. 

“I could do that!” I would think.  “Nothing to it, really!”

Well, I surely was wrong.  If the light is right, you can hold the pod up and can tell the size of the beans inside, but most of the time, you just need to feel for fullness, and after a couple hundred beans amongst the propagating insect life and the setting sun, it gets pretty fuzzy.  I realize now that my Daddy liked to pick beans, and probably enjoyed some of the quiet of the patch or just the good company of his Youngest Son.  And he probably never imagined that someday, this fifty-some year old daughter of his would take up the art of growing lima beans.   If he had, he probably would have taught me.  

He taught me some pretty unusual things in my time.  When Certain Man and I started to raise chickens, and Certain Man’s soft heart (Thank God for soft-hearted men!) wouldn’t allow him to cull, I called my Daddy and he came over and taught me how to cull chickens.  And he taught me how to butcher chickens, too — from slicing the throat to scalding to plucking to cutting them up for the frying pan or roaster. 

But he never taught me to pick lima beans.  But I’m learning, I’m learning.  And tonight, our little row of Lima Beans has finally produced enough that I was able to put two bags in the freezer.  Wow!  It feels good!

(Now if I could find some way to make my little row produce 50 more quarts, I would really be in business!)

Today there was a funeral.

We sang about the City of Light ‘mid the Stars.

And about Glad Voices Lifted in Triumph on High.

We sang about being anchored in the Haven of Rest,

And about All the Way My Savior Leads Me.

We laughed.  We cried. 
We listened.  We prayed.
We cooked.  We visited. 
We ate. We cleaned up. 
We went home again.

And all the while, I thought about that Daddy of mine, safely home, there in that City of Light.  I wondered if it seemed to him but a minute before he turned and saw Daniel and Ivan and Ethel and Uncle John and now Val.

“Lift your glad voices, in triumph on high
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die. . .”

Tonight I struggle to reconcile this revisited grief with the intrinsic belief that these words are true.  I believe in Heaven, and I believe Daddy is there.  But there is something to be said about death, too, as we know it.  Right now, the reality of death is more experiential than that City of Light. 

No one panic.  I am not losing my faith.  I believe more than ever that Heaven is a real place, and that Daddy is there — But I miss him intensely as we pass off yet another hand into the hand of the Father. . . and I realize that this person who so lately spoke and laughed and walked with us, now is in the presence of The Father.  And Daddy is there. 

What a comforting thought!

They’re home, safe and sound!  Thanks for all the prayers!

And it is Monday at Shady Acres — Which means laundry by the (literal) bushels.

Today is also the day when we finalize the planning
for the funeral of one of our church members.

Brother Val Miller (age 88) was killed in an accident last Thursday night,
and will be buried tomorrow.

Please pray for his widow,

Polly Bontrager Miller,
and his children and grandchildren.

It’s after midnight.

Somewhere, “out there,” three of our offspringin’s are making their way home from Conference.

Lord Jesus,
hold them tight!

Happy  Birthday,
Eldest Daughter!!!

You’ve brought so much joy to all of us!  We thank God for you!

You’ve always been the “Big Sister”  and have taken seriously those responsibilities.
Every one of your siblings respect you and love you.  You’ve always been available to be inconvenienced by them, and it has been something that you have done for us as parents and for them as siblings that has made for a sense of security and belonging that has been so important to who we are as a family.

Even as a small child, when asked what you were thankful for, it was always, “I’m thankful for my family!” 
Thank you for living in a way that we always knew that the people you loved lived daily in your heart.
We are so blessed to be your family.

I know that you think we “dressed you funny” when you were a little girl.  We probably did.  But when God “dressed” your face and your heart, He couldn’t have done a better job.

We never wonder, though, who really is your FAVORITE!!!
  And we think that you have given us the best Son-in-law that we could ever have even dreamed of. 

As the following pictures show, you certainly have your hands and hearts in alot of people’s lives.

You come to the yearly potato salad fixin’ day, and always help with enthusiasm and laughter.

There is a whole passel of children who call you “Auntie Chris!”

Ah-h-h-h-h! Squishy Nevie!!!

What would we do without your helping hands at the family cookouts and picnics on the lawn at Shady Acres?

I ain’t saying nothin’ about this picture, Thank you very much!

Your sisters and you are the greatest of pals.  And it is no secret that it is largely due to your efforts and investments in their lives.

There are so many things that I cannot even begin to put on this page.  These are just a drop in the bucket compared to the many things that are so much a part of your life and our lives.  What a gal!  You put your old Mama to shame over and over again by your efficiency and organization.  If I could claim credit for raising you that way, it would be nice.  (But everyone who knows me would know that I was lying if I did!).  I am so glad that you have developed your gifts in the way that you have, and I am so glad to be your Mama.

Happy Birthday, Christy-girl.  Just in case you didn’t know – –

WE SURELY DO LOVE YOU!!!!

“Ain’t gonna’ lie,”  says Youngest Son quite often.
(when he is about to say something that I often think is pretty obvious . . . )

Well, I ain’t gonna’ lie either.

Sometimes this summer feels like I am:

on a bike-

going downhill-

without any brakes.

And I’m mostly loving the ride-

With panic at regular intervals!

(Now if I could just get my breath!)

We had a Mark Yoder Family picnic this week. Certain Man grilled the hamburgers and hot dogs and over saw the cranking of the homemade ice cream.

For which there was a LOT of help!

(This was my favorite.  Andrew Aycoth wanted to help turn, so Raph was “helping” him.

Of course, there were those who got a little bit sidetracked —

(This almost fits!)

Faces in the crowd:

Probably motors and things with wheels is the topic of this conversation!

I had another shot of Youngest Sister, but I am under threat of Death if I put it on here!

The evening was the best all week, weather wise, and the gathering wasn’t too shabby, either.  One of the reasons we wanted to get together was that Oldest Brother (Clint’s) son, Chip (with the baseball cap) and Chip’s lovely wife, Susan ( (hand to face) are heading back to their jobs in South Carolina early next week.

“I wonder what Uncle Clinton is up to now!” Sez Raph.

The grass sure is getting brown, but this flower is pretty!

Part of the “patio crowd.”  It was so nice to have Ethan and Queena with us.

“Almost an engineer” Nephew David joins the crowd on the patio.

The table had its row of folks

“Is there food???”  Raph is still catching up from his six months away from the variety he was accustomed to.  Jonathan Weber is living with the Heatwoles this summer (Youngest Sister’s family) so it was expected that he would be here, too.

“There is nothing nicer than a whole lot of people together who love eachother!”

Hugs and caring conversations!  Where would our family be without them?

Jeremy and Cheryl came in when the food was almost cold, but the reception was warm, and we were so delighted to see them!

“I’m just not quite sure about this Beeba-girl.  Mommy, are you sure I’m safe???”

Youngest Sister and My Sweet Mama converse by the garage, and survey the crowd.

And then the darkness moved in, and supper was over, people were starting to get chilly.  (Of all things!!!!)

AND THAT IS ALL THE TIME I HAVE FOR NOW!!!

A Golden Day . . .

Now it came to pass that Certain Man and Certain Man’s Wife seldom have time to go away by themselves, but Certain Man determined that he was going to take off from his work and that after a morning appointment in Dover that He and His Wife were going to spend a day away from the noise of phones and such just having a quiet day to themselves.

And so, on Friday, July 20, 2007, they betook themselves to the fair shores of the fine town of Lewes, and decided to ride the ferry from Lewes to Cape May and back again.  It was a glorious day, indeed! 

The Terminal was fairly bustling with activity.  The ferry in port was one of the largest that the Cape May – Lewes Ferry Corporation owns, and we were delighted to be able to ride it.  The day was perfect.  It was not too hot, a stiff breeze was blowing, and the sky was gorgeous.

Our Flagstaff against the sky.  The wind was keeping the flag straight out.  It was actually a strong enough breeze that there were places that were not comfortable to be!

Delaware’s very own Tall Ship, the Kalmar Nyckel, was in port, and the crew was busy givng tours.  It would have been interesting to go aboard, but we contented ourselves with observing from the deck of our own boat.

Kalmar Nyckel — The Tall Ship.
Read about it here:  http://www.kalmarnyckel.org/

We had a few very brief sitings of dolphins, (not long enough to catch any pictures) and the waves were pretty impressive — so much so that Certain Man began to get queasy, so we went below and got a cold ginger ale, found a nice place to sit along the side deck and watched the water slide by.

We passed another, much smaller ferry:

And saw this pier as we were coming into Cape May–

The coast line along Cape May is quite different from the Lewes side:

The boat was not very crowded, and people were pleasant.  The three hour ride was well worth the fare, and we came home with wonderful memories, and a sense of renewal and connectedness that we’ve been desperately needing. 

Welcome Home!!!

Saturday

This is the anniversary of Certain Man and Certain Man’s Wife.

Middle Daughter spent this day with a number of people helping to get her house ready to move into.  She is renting a house for at least a year and it is a wonderful little house, but has been empty for almost a year, so needed some work. 

Are CM and CMW really ready for this precious daughter to move out? 
There have been so many nights of family time and it is nice to call her down from the upstairs to lend a helping hand, give us medical advice, or just the comfortableness of having an adult child that is truly a friend living at home.

Are we really ready???

I don’t really think so.  But it is time (I guess).  She has a job, she is 27, and she needs some independence (I guess).  If the truth were told, she doesn’t really want to go, either, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the decision was made with our heads.  Hopefully our hearts will follow.

There is a lovely sunroom/porch attached to the back of the house.  It looks like this:

And the view in the other direction from that back porch is very restful:

This really doesn’t do it justice, but I love the view.  I could sit on her porch for hours and soak it all in.

I wish I had gotten some before and after pictures of the yard with all its flower beds, but I didn’t.  I did get this picture of some of the work force:

Laura, Amy, Ruthie, Rachel and Bekah

Holly also came and helped.

As did our fearless youth sponsors:

Actually, Oldest Daughter has been a most encouraging helper to her sister:

And She and Beloved Son in Law are fixing lunch for us tomorrow in honor of our anniversary.  Life doesn’t get much better than that.  I don’t have to cook Sunday lunch!  (We will be eating at home though, because of the space and also Blind Linda’s aversion to anything unfamiliar.

And here we are, 34 years ago today!

Oh, how the years do fly!