Delaware Grammy

Today I was downloading some pictures, trying to find an acceptable one of my Sweet Mama’s Christmas Cactus for her site (www.xanga.com/sweetmama1129) and I found a set of pictures that I had planned to put on here.  Two weeks ago tonight, our church had a bonfire/hotdog roast/hay ride.  It was FREEZING, but we really did have fun!  Here are some random shots of that good time.

Josh was probably colder than he looked.  Dave, as always, was prepared!!!

THREE FRIENDS
 (Middle Beauty is Middle Daughter’s friend from school)
Notice Eldest Daughter’s charming hat. 

Caleb and his brave Mama.  (Brave because she loves to be warm, and she still came!)

So, so sorry, Mrs. Jones, that this picture doesn’t do you justice —
But who could resist such a shot of your husband’s wondrous hat?

We can smile, even when we shiver!
Middle Beauty here is mutual friend of Youngest Daughter (on the right)
And Friend Laura (on the left).

“No one said that I had to stay clean!”
The littlest Hughes girlie didn’t let any grass grow under her feet all night!

We had an “Indoor Crew” who came to eat supper, and keep warm by the stove. 
We couldn’t do without these people who may not enjoy the freezing fun of a hay ride on a cold November night, but bring warmth and consistency and a sense of belonging where ever they are.
Here my Sweet Mama, with Aunt Dottie and Uncle John and Uncle Eli and Aunt Ruth eat shrimp chowder and other potluck picnic foods and enjoy good conversation.
Just about when it seemed like no one could get any colder, most of the people crawled aboard the old hay wagon and went for the hay ride.

Guess what!  I didn’t go!  And I didn’t get any pictures of it, either
Sorry!

It is time to give thanks!

It is time share!

And so, next Tuesday night, Laws Mennonite Church is packing  Thanksgiving Boxes  in the Garage at Shady Acres.  We do not turn anyone away who wants to contribute money or items for the boxes!  We have a rather extensive list, so we are not really looking for more people to hand them out to, but if someone is truly in need, you can certainly let me know.

The items that are popular are baked goods, canned goods of all kinds,  fruit,  Thanksgiving kinds of products (boxed stuffing, instant mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, white potatoes), personal hygiene and paper products that cannot be purchased with food stamps, and even things like postage stamps, pretty tea towels or dish cloths.  If you are not sure about something, get in touch with me.   

The best way would be to message me, and I will get back to you.  Or if you would rather, send an e-mail with the particulars to:

LawsMennoniteChurch@Juno.com 

And someone will get back to you.

Each one of us has so much for which to be grateful.

“Oh, Give thanks unto the LORD, for He is Good.
  His mercy endureth forever!”

We survived the week!

And what a week it was!  My Nettie-girl was in the hospital from Monday until last night.  She developed a staph infection in the site of her carpal tunnel incision, and had to have IV antibiotics.  She is very tired, but is doing well otherwise.  She has to have occupational therapy three times a week for four weeks.  This will make for some interesting scheduling.

I had bronchitis all week.  I’ve been on antibiotics for seven days now, and it is starting to break up.  Still coughing, still feeling a bit under the weather, but things are looking up.

We made 1300 apple pies.  Go on over to www.xanga.com/pollythepatchworker and see all the work we did.  I knew that we were having revival meetings and Nettie and I were both sick, so I didn’t think that I would be having too much to do with it.  I said that I could work a “few hours” on Thursday afternoon, and a “few hours” on Friday — ended up being a whole lot more — like 6 on Thursday and 9 on Friday.  I still didn’t do as much as some mothers who were there lots more than I was.  But the project got done, and the pies got delivered.  And that is that.  I don’t have any more children coming on, so that was my one and only time for the pie fundraiser.

We had revivals from Wednesday to Sunday with Simon Schrock.  What a wonderful, blessed time we had.  Simon is an encourager, an easy to listen to, and straightforward man.  He stepped on my toes, (OUCH!!!) made me laugh, made me think, and encouraged my husband in a most helpful way.   It was an oasis in a muddlesome week.

There was one problem, though with all the goings on.  It so happened that my dear friend, www.xanga.com/MaryKay_Girl had her yearly open house on Friday night and Saturday.  Between church and pies and having Simon and Polly for lunch on Saturday, my entire house forgot all about it.  Could you have another one, MKG?

I had a mishap yesterday morning while getting ready for carry-in at church.  The heavy wooden lid on the top of my rolling trash can in the kitchen was open while Middle Daughter was peeling potatoes for potato salad, and I came around to throw something into the trash can, bumped the lid just right and it came crashing down on my ankle.  I thought I was going to faint, it hurt so bad!  But there was no time to do more than ascertain that nothing was broken.  So now my ankle is bruised and even fatter than normal and I really would like to just put it up and forget it!  But there is laundry to do, cleaning to get done and planning to do.

Our sons are coming home — Eldest Son this weekend for a week, and Youngest Son next week for a few days over Thanksgiving.  I can’t wait.  How glorious it will be to have the children home — Eldest Daughter and Beloved Son in Law just down the road and the other four under our roof for a few nights.  We want to have “Little Christmas” together, and then, it is off to Nepal for Eldest Son.  I miss him already.

I could use some extra prayers these next few weeks.  We always celebrated Daddy’s birthday over the Thanksgiving weekend.  And He was with us last year for “Little Christmas” before Lem left for his REACH outreach.  I have been playing Christmas music, and it brings back alot of memories.  I was singing Christmas carols with our church family at our annual Christmas program when the call came that they didn’t expect him to live through the night.  I really didn’t think I would associate Christmas with his homegoing, but I was just whistling in the dark. . . I’m finding it really tugs.  I chose to be thankful that he is safely home for this season, and I thank God that He made a way for us to safely cross over.  There is no gift like knowing our loved ones are safely THERE, even while we miss them so much.

Here’s to you, Daddy Dear!  I will always love you!

Cough and Cough.

Do a little bit of work.

Cough and cough.

Sit on the La-Z-boy.

Cough and cough.

Take some medicine.

Sit on the La-Z-Boy.

Cough and cough.

Go to the hospital to see Nettie.

Cough and cough.

Come home.

Sit on the La-Z-Boy.

Cough and cough.

Go to church for revival meetings.

Cough and cough.

Cough and cough.

Oh, well.

Better days ahead.

I hope.

Some days are just that way. . .

I got up with a sense of just not feeling good.  And as I got Cecilia up and showered, I was aware that my Nettie girl wasn’t feeling a bit good either.  Except that what I had was most definitely bronchitis, and what she had was all about the Carpal Tunnel Surgery that she had almost four weeks ago.

Nettie is schizophrenic.  She has a healthy dose of hypochondria as well.  So it has been difficult to know just how badly this hand is hurting.  But from day one, she has said, “It hurts.  It hurts real bad!”  And then she would go ahead and do whatever she could possibly do to help.  (Make beds, dust, or whatever).

I would say, “Nettie, on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst possible pain, what number would you give it?”

“TEN!” Would always be the immediate reply.

But yesterday morning, she was standing around, holding it at an angle, looking like she could hardly keep back the tears.  “It hurts!  It hurts real bad!”  I looked at her face.  It was white.  “Mary Ann, I can’t make my bed!” she moaned.  “It just hurts too bad!”

I had just had it checked on Friday for the third time since surgery, and the doctor had given little more than a perfunctory glance at the steri strips holding the wound together and had announced, “It’s looking good.  Come back in five days and we’ll check it again.  But I think it looks great!”

So I called yesterday morning to his office, and was told that he wouldn’t be in until Tuesday afternoon, and no, nobody in the office could see her, and that I should just take her to the Emergency Room.  With my hacking cough and general unwell feeling, I really didn’t want to do that, so I appealed to them on several things that I felt had been done sloppily by their office during this whole affair, and they finally said that they would try to get ahold of Dr. Robinson.

I got off the phone and when I went to talk to Nettie, she was having trouble even communicating with me.  I said, “Nettie-girl, we are going to take off those steri strips and see what that incision looks like under there.”  (It didn’t look too bad around the dressing, so I thought maybe the nerve in there was just “waking up” or something.)  I carefully peeled back the strips and this fountain of liquid and pus came pouring out of the incision.

“It hurts!” Intoned Nettie again.  “It hurts real bad.  I can’t open my hand.  I can’t make a fist.  It just hurts!”

“We are going to the hospital, Nettie,”  I told her.  “I don’t like the looks of that.”

So I bundled myself and her into the trusty van and headed out to the hospital.  I told them at the front desk that I really hoped that things could move along as I was ill, too, and didn’t want to stick around there very long.

“Well, do you want to be seen, too?  We can see you as well,” said the clerk.

“No, I’ve already been in contact with my doctor,” I said.  “Besides.  Why should I spend 10 hours in this emergency room when I could only spend five?”  (I don’t think he liked that very much!)

We got to the hospital at 10:00 yesterday morning.  I got home last night around 5:30.  Nettie was admitted around 4:30 with a nasty case of cellulitis in her incision.  The treatment?  A minimum of 24-36 hours on IV antibiotics, and the a reevaluation to determine the treatment from there.  It DID hurt.  Really bad.

I picked up my antibiotics on the way home from the hospital.  It is my intention to get better as fast as I can.  Tomorrow night, we have meetings starting at our church with Simon Schrock from Choice Books as our speaker.  He is incredibly interesting, very thought-provoking and down-to-earth-fundamental.  I am so looking forward to him and his sweet wife, Polly, coming to be with our congregation for a few days.  And I want to be well.  At least somewhat BETTER.

And that is the news from Shady Acres!

Walking into my Mama’s house. . .
And seeing all the familiar faces. 
Reveling in the love and laughter and conversation
Swirling there. 
Brothers, sisters,
In laws, nieces, nephews
And now the great grands as well.
Tonight, there were far away faces there.
Israel.  His family.
And the newest face.
Maxwell.  So cute, so alert. So precious.
I find myself looking for the face that is missing.
How can it be so long?
Putting the chairs away, cleaning up afterwards.
Youngest Sister, Alma, says to me,
“Look!  There’s Dad’s writing!”
And there it was.  In his very own style.
Mark Yoder, Sr.
Written under the seat of every folding chair.
I looked at her eyes.  Filling with tears.
I am not going to cry tonight.
If I start, I won’t stop.
If we miss him this much,
What must Mama ever feel?
And so, I freeze the feelings,
As I see my brave little sister do.
So many good memories to think about.
So many, many things to remember.
And now, at home, the tears run down like rivers.
Good days.  Hard days.
But never a one without the hope of Heaven.
What an incredible promise!
What an incredible plan!
What an incredible Savior!

We shall see him, soon again!
Lord Jesus.  I believe!

Youngest Son, Eldest Son, Youngest Daughter

We had such a good weekend in Ohio with our Sons.
Unfortunately, I came home with a bad chest cold.
But life is good.
I have much for which to be thankful.
We are so blessed!!!

Tuesday and Thursday mornings,
If I get the wish of my heart,
There are two little guys that I get to talk to,
Hold and enjoy.

Big Brother helps to feed the birds every chance he gets.
What fun it is to push the slide that lets the food into the “sock.”

   
He also knows where the different kinds of Bird food are kept.
He helps to put out thistle seed, corn, sunflower seeds, peanuts and woodpecker blocks and suet.
He knows the different scoops that I use for each one
and is very concerned that we do things right.

(Sometimes when there are flowers to water, he helps do that.  But lately it has been too big a temptation to turn the hose on Aunt Mary, and that is funny for a while because she makes strange noises and moves around quite quickly … then it is very sad because she takes the hose away and isn’t quite as happy as he is accustomed to having her be.  Oh, well.  There are other things to do!)

Little Brother’s antics light up our lives.  He has a million watt smile that can soften the hardest heart.
He hasn’t been walking very long and is a bit tottery on his feet, but is still able to get around pretty well.
He likes to be outside and “help” whenever he can.
He is cuddly and funny and so sweet.

“After working so hard in the chilly outdoors, it is so nice to curl up on a big, big chair with my brother and watch “Chicken Run” until it gets too boring.  Then the two of us are off on some other adventure.  Before you know it, it will be lunch time and then it will be time to go to Auntie Chris’s house and take our naps.” 
(Actually, before any of us are ready, it will be time for Kindergarden and two wheel bikes and basketball and a driver’s license.)

  Lord Jesus, Where does the time go???
Such beautiful, golden days, too quickly gone. . .

These are the little boys that Eldest Daughter babysits two days a week.
What a gift they are to all of us!

       Youngest Daughter turned sixteen this morning at 8:05.  She was born after my shortest, easiest and most tension free labor.  She was our biggest baby, weighing in at 10 pounds, 6 1/2 ounces. 
       Dr. Han looked down at her on my tummy, all new-born and laughed out loud.  “Look at that fat baby!” He exclaimed.  I cradled my arms around her and thanked God for this precious gift.
       We all thought that she was beautiful.  Her big brothers and sisters all competed for her attention, and the older children at church would tote her around.  She seemed to belong to everyone.  She would dance with J.R. and he would ask her how her hair looked.  “Gor -jus!” she would prattle, to his delight. (While it stuck up in a hundred directions.)  Her big brother’s friend, Matt, called her “Blueberry eyes”  and the name stuck.  (That’s her Xanga name.)  Her future brother in law, then only 12, would carry her around and show her the world.  We were so thankful for this baby girl.  Sixteen months earlier, our family had lost a baby when I had a ruptured appendix and Rachel was much prayed for, and greatly welcomed.
       She didn’t like to smile when we wanted her to.  This is a picture of the five of them, taken when she was around ten months old, I think.

She was a pretty somber girlie this particular day.

There were no school pictures during those days, because we were homeschooling.  So when I would run into Wal-mart for picture days, we’d take our little one along and get pictures of her, too

And then there was the year when we got our family Christmas pictures taken at Olan Mills — I have to laugh at our children and their fresh, young faces.

And she kept growing, getting more and more talkative and beautiful

These two pictures come from one of my favorite pictures shoots.  Probably from Wal-mart, but maybe from the old Roses Store in Milford.  I love these two pictures

And now she is so grown up.  I love the person she is becoming, even while realizing that she needs guidance for some time yet.  This picture was taken this past summer when she and Middle Daughter made their trek to New York City for an expedition. 

A few weeks ago, she passed her Driver’s Ed course, and so we are about to embark on the world of our last child driving!  I feel older already. 

My Rachel-Girl, I am so glad that you belong to us.  I don’t know what God is going to have for you to do, but I do know that this world needs more hearts like yours, more strong and healthy young women who aren’t afraid of hard work or getting dirty if the need is there.  I pray that you will be able to trace God’s finger in your life through the good days, yes, but also through the dark and uncertain times when it feels like the world isn’t a friendly place.  You know what?  It isn’t.  But you have chosen to trust your Heavenly Father, and He will never leave you nor forsake you.  I know this to be true, and I will always love you, and “as long as His mercy permits me to live, I shall never cease praying for you!”

I was sitting at my dining room table on Friday afternoon, enjoying the chimes.  A pretty good wind had blown in, and there were some warnings about gusts up to 40 m.p.h.  That made my chimes really bong about, and it sounded so good. 

Suddenly I thought about the fact that that wind would probably blow my flower boxes off my deck railing.  Especially those to the NorthEast and the SouthWest.  So I was just about to go out there and take them down when I heard a Ka-plunk sounding sort of noise in a rather forceful sort of way.  I looked out and three boxes were already down.  So I betook myself out there to get the others down quickly before more of them succumbed to the elements.

I did pretty well at taking down the remaining six or seven side boxes until the last one, full of water from our day of rain, trailed a long. cold stream of water down my leg.  Then I had to go to the bathroom.  Urgently.

I thought about those three boxes that were still down, and thought that I would come right back out and try to put them back together after I attended to the matter at hand.

Well.  The phone rang.  The ladies came home.  Youngest Daughter came home from school.  And there was one thing and then another and finally, it was dark, and I still hadn’t gotten my flower boxes picked up.  So I trotted out there and picked up the worst of them, and carefully tried to put it back together.  I kept thinking, “It is almost time for a good frost, and all of these will be history.  Why am I trying so hard?”  But I couldn’t get past the thought that maybe it wouldn’t frost hard for a few more weeks, and these begonias are so pretty yet, so I got the first box back together.

Then I thought that maybe I should take a few pictures of my poor, on the deck and on the ground flowers.  So I did, and here they are!

But I did get them all picked up and put back together for the time being.  I will need at least one new box next year, but the box the suffered the worst damage is one of my oldest ones, so it doesn’t really owe me anything.

And now, watch that killer frost move in tonight.  We’ve had hard frost, but my flowers haven’t been touched.  The trees and the deck and house seemed to have protected them.  I am glad to enjoy them for a few more days.