Delaware Grammy

I should be finishing the planning of my menu for Friday night, but I am bone weary, and it has been a stressful day.  I found myself crying in the car tonight when I went to pick up my girlie from quiz practice.  That is usually a sign that there is something really amiss somewhere.  I decided to consciously think of all the things that are bothering me, and that was enlightening, to say the least.  And I concluded that the sadness I feel is honest emotion, not something contrived or hormonal or even vicarious.  It is HERE.  It is MINE.  It needs to be thought about, grieved over, worked through, but it isn’t a nameless, vague, “I feel sad-ish” kind of thing. 

Lord Jesus,

When you see the things I cannot control

Make inroads on the things that I think I “need”

Or even just “want.”

When age and illness and distance and even my own wicked heart

Refuse all my attempts to bring them under my direction.

Remind me, even as you have tonight,

That control belongs to you.

It isn’t self control, or trying hard enough or air line tickets or medical science or vitamins

That will win the battles.

It’s You.  Despised and rejected of Men.

It’s You. A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

It’s You.  Bearing our griefs and carrying our sorrows.

It’s You.  Wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities.

It’s You.  The chastisement of our peace upon you.

It’s You.  By your stripes we are healed.

You’ve already done it.  It has been long done.

Let my heart become another manger.

May you be pleased to dwell there in your Holy Glory.

How very much I need you.

For Gertrude. . .

The other day, I passed the place you always liked to go. 

 And I picked up the phone because I thought you’d want to know.

But I forgot you weren’t there.  I miss you all these days.

When I’m reminded of your smile and the funny things you’d say.

I miss you most at Christmas.  You were like a little kid.

You always loved a good surprise, and now I must admit

That I long more for Heaven, than I ever did before.

You give me one more reason, and each day I want it more. 

Knowing we can spend a lifetime, reminiscing on the past.

Knowing I will see your face again, where tender moments last.

It makes me want to go there, knowing I won’t be alone.

Knowing you’ll be there, makes it easy to go Home.                            

Guess what!  Not Going to Baltimore!!!  The real thanks comes from this NOT being so URGENT that we MUST go!  I am so thankful for the mercy of God in sparing my Mama’s life and allowing us to have her a little longer.  She makes every day a little brighter. 

Now, the possibilities of this day are diverse and exciting.  I am glad for a day to be at home.

I miss my Lemuel man-child. . .

What say, Delmarva?  Are we going to have snow???  Tomorrow is the day that I am supposed to go with Daddy and Mama over to Baltimore for a follow-up for Mama.  I do not relish the trip when there is snow and ice. . .  We may need to reschedule.

Daddy had wonderful news yesterday when we saw the doctor.  The lumps that were giving him extreme trouble had mostly shrunk to “insignificant” and the one that was larger than it should be was still smaller than it was before, which led them to delay any radiation for now, which makes all of us quite thankful, indeed.  He is feeling so good again, that it is easy to be hopeful.  (How can we help but hope???)  Thank God for HOPE!

The next weeks look full–but so exciting.  Next Friday night Daniel’s office comes for eating, singing carols, (with our own inimitable Karen Bontrager on the piano– she makes them sound so good that they actually sing their hearts out for her) and the reading of the Christmas story.  I love looking around at the faces of these people who share Daniel’s life every day and seeing the light of candles in their eyes, the hard, hard faces are often softened with wistfulness or even tears.  “Silent night, Holy Night. . . Christ the Savior is born. . .”  It will be the fifth year that some of these people have joined us.  Those with children always bring the kids (“It’s the one Christmas party that it is ‘safe’ to take kids to,” they say, as they scramble in out of the cold) and as a family, we have come to look forward to this event more than anyone who comes.  The many children run the train on Daniel’s Christmas village until I fear for its health, and there is noise and laughter and chatter.  Pray that the message of The Gospel, the true meaning of Christmas, will settle into the quiet places of their hearts and cause them to want to know the Prince of Peace.  How very much we all need HIM.

May that Peace guard our very hearts.

The week is getting off to a good start.  We are having “spiritual gifts” teaching this week at our church with Gary and Ruth Troyer from South Carolina.  Such good, good, teaching with practical instruction.  Last night he had some pertinent things to say to the Deacon.  Stuff he can certainly use to help him be more effective.  We were both encouraged (and corrected, too, I might add.)  Sometimes it is easy to “flounder around” to know how to best meet the needs of people.  And I cannot tell you how many times we’ve been given books or instructional material as how to do it “right.”   Anyhow–

I saw the doctor yesterday morning.  Have an order for x-rays to see why the big toe on my right foot is numb.  I had an intense, puzzling intermittent pain in in for a while, then an equally distracting “buzz” like an electric fence.  Buzz . . (four seconds) Buzz . . . (four seconds) Buzz . . . etc., etc., etc.,.  It didn’t bother me too much unless I sat down or at night.  Then it was really maddening.  About three months ago, the buzzing stopped, and the numbness set in.  When I talked to my orthopedic fellow, he thought that the original pain was from a sciatic nerve problem.  When I went back and asked about the numbness, he was concerned about a blood clot, but that didn’t seem to be the problem, so he suggested we “watch it” and see what happens.  Yesterday, Dr. Wilson took my foot and put pressure on my heel, and I nearly went through the ceiling.  My heel has given me trouble whenever I wear certain shoes, but he didn’t know that.  He thinks there is a bone spur on the heel, but maybe in my lower back, affecting the nerve.  Whatever.  So he wants an X-ray to see if there is one, and where.  He gave me a shot in my heel, and that wasn’t any fun, either, but it seems to be helping. 

I need to get moving on this day.  Linda has a dentist appointment in Seaford at 9:30.  No teeth, but she still has to have a check-up.  The last time they saw her, she had what they decided was a “Geographic tongue”  It looks terrible, and I originally thought that they must be burning it at center when they heated up her food.  But after all of that was ruled out, they decided that it was this other condition.  Well, it looks worse now than ever, and I suspect that we are in for a long haul of tests about whether she may have something else going on.  She has had two radical mastectomies, and there has been some indication that she doesn’t feel very good some of the time.  She has regular cancer check ups, and they have all been clear, but I am disquieted about this. 

Went to Salisbury with Daddy and Mama on Monday.  Good news for the most part, thank God!

Went to Lancaster with good friends on Tuesday.  Good times for the whole part.

Went to Dover with Mama on Wednesday.  Good being together, good lunch at Bob Evans. 

Had Bible Study on Thursday Morning.  Great chatty bunch of gals — great lesson on “Hope in the hopeless situations of our lives.”  Wonderful Babysitters — Ivy and Aubrey, wonderful little ones (with some shoving and tears.)

Fetched Lynne Lee from the car shop around noon and went to lunch at the Diner.  Good New England Clam Chowder, good Milford Side Salad, good conversation, some tears, some shared sorrow, some shared laughter.  Stopped by to see her Mother who is not feeling very well.  More good conversation. 

Worked on Calendar pages Friday morning for the Yutzy Family Calendar.  Almost done.  Haven’t begun to put the Yoder one together yet.  Sigh.  Love it when it’s done, but the process can be challenging.

Looking forward to the weekend.  How sweet life is!

He is so tall.  When I hug him, I barely reach his shoulder.  All the words I said to him were said against his shirt.  My Son.  I held him for the last time in a long, long time this morning, and tried not to cry.

“Be a faithful disciple, Son.  Let God be your first and greatest love.  Let all the other loves of your life be defined by that love.  Know that you are prayed for every single day, and that I will always love you.  I am so proud of you, so glad that you are mine.”

Is there really anything more to say?  How do you say good-bye to what you want to hold on to so desperately when you know that there is, will always be, a higher calling?  How can you resent it when a child does what you tried to raise him to do?

Lord Jesus, hold me steady.

Thanksgiving with the Yoders was a wonderful time.  My sensible sibs all agreed that we didn’t want the day to turn into a sobbing wet mess.  There were some tears, but there was far more laughter and story telling, and support and courage and food, of course. “The lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places.  I have a goodly heritage!”    There was a grand mix of siblings, in laws, grands and their spouses, and great grands,  (The Great-grands are so wonderful–they really light up our lives) and of course, Grandpa and Grandma Yoder.

Then our own family scrambled around trying to be ready for Christmas the next day.  We celebrated “Little Christmas” last night.  For the first time, it appears that one of our children will be missing on Christmas Eve proper.  We decided a few months ago to have our family gift exchange (where the offspringin’s and Certain Man and I pull names out of a hat and buy something for that particular person) on November 25th. 

Eldest Daughter, Youngest Daughter and Niece Holly and I went Shopping early on Friday morning –( Something I have never done before, and don’t think I will be very apt to do again, but this time I was constrained.)  By the time I got home, there was supper to make, lots of straightening to do, and I was TIRED.  The offspringin’s that live at home, plus Youngest Son’s Gal Jess, sprang into action and helped.  They chopped and stirred and measured while others picked up and vacuumed and set the table and wrapped presents.  I could never have made it without them.  And I would not have wanted to.  It was FUN!.

Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle Nelson and Aunt Rose wandered in around ten of six, and they helped to put the finishing touches  on the traditional supper.  Eldest Daughter and Beloved Son in law scrambled in, carrying interesting packages.  We sat around the lovely table, replete with goblets and sparking cider, and ate the big pot shrimp chowder, and left over cranberry/apple salad, homemade bread that had been in the freezer too long and was still frozen, and pie, left over from Thanksgiving Day.  There was laughter and stories, and puns from Beloved Son in Law (which, incidentally, we would not want to do without), and when everyone was stuffed, we headed to the living room to open presents. 

Certain Man read the Christmas Story, that ageless, wondrous story of a virgin, espoused to a man named Joseph, bearing a child, calling his name Jesus.  About Wise men, coming from the East, bearing gifts, and a king, jealous and vengeful, looking for a King who will always be the victor.  And then Grandpa prayed.  We have been blessed by this tradition for over 20 Christmases now.  When our children were younger, they would fidget and get impatient.  “Grandpa prays so LONG!!!”  But now they look forward to it with eager anticipation, every one of them maintains that it would not seem right without it.  His voice was strong, his prayer was a blessing, and we luxuriated in that voice we’ve heard so often, and never get tired of hearing.

This year, no one said, “Okay, bring on the loot!” (probably a first!) but they still unwrapped and exclaimed and thanked each other with joyful enthusiasm and shining eyes.  Again, there was lots of laughter and good natured joking — and some inevitable tears.  Most notably, from Youngest Son when he opened a long flat box that contained a picture frame with the word “Family” cut out of a mat, and in each letter was a picture of one of his family.  That is a memory for all of us to carry in the months ahead.  We are just going to miss him so much!

And then, too fast, it was over.  And today, we are washing up laundry, packing suitcases, and trying hard not to dwell on the dark side of things.  Days like today never have enough time, and I am far from finished tonight.  But at nine o’clock tomorrow, Youngest Son is to pull out of Greenwood Church parking lot for the next leg of his adventure.  Somehow, we will try to be ready.  There is this stricture to my throat that I keep trying to swallow down, and I’m having less success as the hours pass.

The one good thing this evening was a report from my sweet Mama that Daddy had a better day today than he has had for a while.  He had some energy, went shopping and did some of the things that he likes to do.  We are always glad for any good news, and this seems like the best we’ve had for a while.  Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the prayers, the love and the ongoing support that we all feel and treasure so much. We’ve been so blessed!

        ~Remember us!   

If my Daddy had been a harsh, mean man. . .  If he hadn’t loved my Mama or his six children so intently. . . If his name in the community had been spoken behind the hands of gossips or been wine in the mouths of bar maids. . . If these days would be, of necessity, a time to mend fences and build bridges, how very much harder this would be.

But this pain, though so very real, and deep, and even sometimes scary, is nothing like it would be if there was unfinished business, or hearts broken by painful memories or public humiliation or a shady character.

When I go to the bridge, it’s already there.  I don’t have to wade muddy waters, or swim against a raging current.  I don’t have to check for weakness because of faulty foundations or eroding elements.  The bridge is there.  Like a faithful example of a loving Heavenly Father, my Daddy has made it easy for me to come to him, and find that he has already done his part to lead me safely home.