Delaware Grammy

When he came back he had a report of all sorts of “cute” things wrong with him.  “aCUTE Sinusitis.”  “aCUTE Pharyngitis.”  “aCUTE asthmatic-type Bronchitis.”  He had a great experience at “Doc in a Box“ where he found my own cousin, Dr. Bonnie Yoder, the attending physician.  The upshot was FOUR prescriptions that would hopefully make everything right as rain!  

. . .He was still miserable as all get out, but at least he had hopes of getting better.  He decided though, that there was no way he was going to be able to preach on Sunday, and his brothers on the Leadership Team took over planning an alternate schedule for Sunday morning so he could rest and recuperate.  His best friend, Gary, called and said that he was going to come and take care of chores so he wouldn’t need to go out in the damp Delaware cold– another offer that Daniel did not refuse.  And so, he rested and rested and rested — all day Saturday, all day Sunday — and even took Monday off before he was feeling good enough to go back for a single day of work before we hit the skies for California.

Our flight was leaving at 6:10 on Wednesday morning.  Over the weeks, we had discussed what we were going to do about getting to the airport.  What time should we leave?  Where should we park?  Should we go with long term parking, or just find some motel parking where we could leave the vehicle and catch the shuttle to the airport?  What would be the safest choice for the best cost?  We had gotten lots of advice from different folks, and finally put an eight dollar deposit on a special deal we had found on line.  We weren’t entirely comfortable with the time frames, but I kept praying that God would give us clear direction about how to handle everything.  All our best laid plans became unnecessary on Tuesday evening.

Jesse and Christina had brought our grandbaby down to tell us good-bye, and we were milling about the kitchen with lots of disarray, hugs and little girl prattle when Jesse suddenly said, “I don’t know what arrangements you’ve made, but if it would be helpful, I’d be glad to take you to the airport.”

Would it be helpful?!?!?!?!?  I cannot begin to tell you the relief that flooded my soul.  But he would have to get up in the middle of the night — and it would be a great inconvenience for him (and Christina, who really doesn’t like her husband going away in the middle of the dark, cold nights — or the dark warm, ones, for that matter!) Jesse good-naturedly shot down all the arguments, and remained adamant that he was able and willing!  Daniel wasn’t in the house at the moment, but I was pretty certain what he would say.  What I said was, “Oh, Jesse.  I don’t think we would turn that down.  Dad would have to say for sure, but if you are sure you wouldn‘t mind, I think it would be a blessing.”

When Daniel arrived in from his last check on his livestock and empty chicken houses, it didn’t take much persuasion (at all) to decide to take Jesse up on his offer.  Daniel and Jesse agreed on the unearthly hour of 2:30 AM to depart, and after the final squeezes and “I love you’s,” Jesse and Christina and Charis departed for their house and a few hours of shut-eye before the departure.

Then set forth the final frenzy of what was going to fit in and what was going to be left behind, final packing and discussions.  Middle Daughter was working until Midnight, and we were both still awake and going strong when she took herself to bed. 

“I don’t know if there is any use in going to bed,” I told Daniel.  “I’m so keyed up, I don’t know if I can sleep.  And I’m afraid that, if I do go to sleep, I won’t wake up.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, “but we should probably try to sleep at least a little.”  And so we did.  I set my alarm clock on the most obnoxious noise it has for waking people up, and settled in for a token nap.  I went right to sleep.  My poor husband, though vastly improved from the week before, got to coughing.  He also has a problem with Restless Leg Syndrome, and the prednisone and inhaler he was on seemed to make that worse.  Between the coughing and the RLS, he finally just got up and went downstairs to his beloved chair.  Which is where I found him when I came down a little after two o‘clock.  He was fully dressed and ready to go .  He also was peacefully sleeping.  I hated to wake him, but it was almost time to get on our way. 

“Sweetheart,” I touched his foot, and he jumped awake, wide eyed and surprised.  “It’s after 2:00.  We need to get moving.”

“Pshew!  It feels like I just got to sleep!” he said.  And that was true.  He probably had just gotten to sleep.  But he bestirred himself and got around and Jesse came and we were finally on our way!

Jesse is able to find his way in almost any circumstance, and he did a great job of getting us to the airport.  We were flying out of Reagan International, and there were detours and such, but he still got us there in plenty of time, dropped us off at the curb and headed back to Delaware in time to get to work.  We checked in and then it was time to go through security.  I always set off the buzzers.  Between my hair pins and my knees, I’m the proverbial red alert.  I explained about my knees, and the gal put me into a wire cage and asked me to please stay there until they could get someone.  Apparently, Reagan doesn’t do the body scan — at least there were no provisions made for that.  I kept hearing them call for a “Female” to come to security, and finally a man came and relieved the female attendant at the security scanner and she disappeared for a while and then finally came back, stripping on purple gloves as she came. 

All this time, I was in this wire cage, right in the middle of security, with people passing on all sides.  My patient husband was back in possession of his shoes and his belt and our carryon and my purse and the laptop bag.  He waited at the edge of the crowd, peering over in my direction to see if they were ever going to do something.  Occasionally, we would exchange “mouthed messages”  as in “What’s happening?” (with arched eyebrows)  “I don’t know!” (with helpless, palm up gesture of both hands)  “What’s taking so long?” (with a puzzled frown)  “I don’t know!” (with helpless shrug of shoulders).  I stood there, on the cold floor, without my footwear, and wondered if I was supposed to stand on the little rubber mat, or on the tile floor area beside it.  I searched the enclosure for hidden cameras, but being it was just a wire enclosure ( almost was like a chicken wire with metal corners and a wire roof over it), it was obvious that there was no extra equipment for surveillance.  This was truly just a holding pen.

The gal opened the door and let me out.  “Come with me,” she said., leading me over to a side area that was filled with strange machines of all sorts.  “Do you want a private screening or is this okay?

I fully expected one of those “full body scans” that have been so controversial, but I’ve had to have them every time since I had my knees replaced, and I certainly didn’t care if anyone saw them take the picture.  As long as the picture wasn’t broadcasted over the airport I figured it was a necessary indignity.  “This is fine,” I told her.  “I don’t need a private screening.”

Oh! Dear! Me!

I should have guessed what was up when she asked me if any part of my body was hurting.

“? ? ?”

I must have looked puzzled because she asked again.  “Is there any part of your body that will hurt if I touch it?”

“Um, no . . . I‘m pretty much just fine!”

And she got about her chore with a no-nonsense attitude.  What I got was a criminal frisking in plain view of anyone who wanted to watch!  I will grant you that she was gentle, and she not unnecessarily linger in any private areas, but she covered them all, and this naive Mennonite gal was very surprised and quietly mortified.  Patient husband was outraged, but hey!  We had a plane to catch and it seemed to us that the best thing to do was to quietly gather my shoes and watch and purse and get out of there as quickly as possible.  My red face and all.

Our flight offered no meals at all, so we grabbed a bottle of water and a banana and ate that for our breakfast.  And then we were off to the boarding area and soon called to board.  Our seats were in the next to the last row.  This pleased me to no end.  I‘m not the happiest flier, although I have conquered my terror with the help of My Heavenly Father.  Mark Lowry said that he always sits as far back in the plane as possible because whenever there is a plane wreck, the tail of the aircraft is always sticking straight up in the air.  He figures that the safest place is in that tail!  When I told someone that my theory is that of Mark Lowry’s. they said, “Or, you could look for the black box and sit on that!  They seem to always find that when there is an accident!”   That is a thought!  I wonder where they keep that black box.  I’ll bet it’s in that tail!

Our plane was not at all full.  Daniel and I had the three row seat to ourselves.  Daniel, by virtue of his position as leader, and desire and inclination always takes the window seat.  This is another thing that pleases me greatly.  I don’t really have a great interest in peering down thousands of feet to the landscape below, trying to figure out where we might be now, checking out the clouds beneath, or trying to figure out if the plane is going to stop in time or going to make it off the runway in time etc., etc., etc..  These kinds of things do not inspire confidence in me, nor does it enhance my enjoyment.  My idea of a great flight is to sleep or read or write or see if I can get a tomato juice, or talk to my seatmate or something.  Anything to take my mind off the fact that the ground is very, very far beneath me and I am quite dependent on the laws of aerodynamics that I understand NOT AT ALL to bring me safely down.  Daniel had a wonderful time.  He often tries to point out things and it seems like they are always just beyond the point that I can see, or I cannot find where he is pointing in the great expanse, or I am suddenly feeling very strange at the sudden glimpse of the ground below.   I try!  Honestly, I do!  It’s just that this flying thing isn’t quite the adventure for me that it is for him.

To be continued later . . .

(The story is a part of an ongoing project — it will return. For now, here are some pictures.
(And in case you are wondering — I’m NOT here alone.  Daniel got enough better to come along!)

Some scenes from the Apartment complex:

This is Lena’s apartment house.  She lives on the upper level, next to the far end.

The flowers are spectacular — for these Delaware folks in the middle of February.



This is the view from the parking lot.

And this is the freeway that is close to her house.  
We need to walk over it on our way to almost anywhere.

We’ve been to Sea World, went to Pasadena to see Mary Beth and Joanna, and today we are going on a Safari.

Whoo-Hoo!!!!!!!  So Happy to be in San Diego!!!!!!!

Before we ever left . . .

There has been some surprise expressed over the fact that Daniel and I suddenly took out for California, not only without telling anyone, but without permission, for cryin‘ out loud!  I never really thought I needed permission.  Not only that, but sometimes I think that people really don’t listen very well when I say something, and when things like this happen and I start hearing things like, “Mom! (or “Sis!” or “Mary Ann!”) I didn’t know anything about this!” — That’s when I’m a little suspicious that people aren‘t listening.  The thing was, we’ve been planning our California trip for a very long time.

Daniel’s oldest sister, Lena, has lived in San Diego for over twenty years.  When she started to noise about retirement back a few years ago, Daniel expressed great interest in visiting her before she left the area.  The thing was, My reputation is such that Lena really didn’t expect that it would ever happen.  Although we have discussed it frequently, when Daniel specifically asked me (probably about a year ago) if I would consider going, He must have caught me at a time when I was feeling at least a little bit adventuresome.  At least, I thought that it sounded like a great idea.  Daniel had never been to San Diego, either, but every single one of the offspringin’s had, and loud was the encouragement for Daniel and me to pursue this dream.

And so, after Lena had visited Delaware yet again for Thanksgiving, we decided to start planning our trip with intent.  There was one thing called “chickens” to organize our lives around, as well as care for Nettie and Cecilia  When the wonderful gals who attend the Thursday Morning Bible Study at Shady Acres gave me coupons for “Time away with your husband, we will take care of your ladies” for Christmas, my heart was more hopeful than it had been in a very long time that it just might happen.  So Daniel went to the calendar and determined that his chickens were going to be leaving the first week of February and he and his sister began to look for ticket deals in earnest. They settled on a flight that left at 6:10 AM on February 8th.

It has been a thing of wonder for me to observe how God has brought all these pieces together for us.  Situation after situation just kind of worked itself out, and the plans seemed to be going right along quite well.

Until last week,

It was one of those kinds of weeks — started out with a bang, and did NOT stop.  Daniel was fighting an upper respiratory infection that seemed to worsen as the week went on.  When he stayed home from work on Wednesday, I was secretly concerned.  Daniel NEVER stays home from work except under the duress of feeling really, really bad.  The chickens were going out on Thursday, and he had already changed his Alternate Work Schedule so that he was off Thursday instead of Monday because the chicken company somehow feels it’s a good idea for the farmer to be present at chicken catching time.  With that in mind, I knew something was seriously amiss as it was very much unlike him to stay home when it meant he would be off two days in a row.

Wednesday, I heard him call our family doctor to see if he could get an appointment.  I guess he was figuring that he only had a week to get better before he left for California, and decided that he had better get on with it.  Dr. Wilson had no openings on Wednesday and was going to be out of town Thursday and Friday.

“We could see you Monday morning,” said the ever helpful receptionist.

“I could be dead by then,” said Daniel in his usual manner of responding.

“–or, you could go to one of the walk-in,” was the helpful advice from the office.

He got off the phone and came to complain to me.  “It doesn’t make no sense,” he intoned.  “Where am I supposed to go to a walk-in?”

“They have one here in town,” I said.  “And then there is that ‘Doc in a Box’ place up by Camden Wal-Mart.”

“I guess I’ll see if I can’t knock it out by myself,” he said, “I’ll see how I feel.”  And out he went to work in his chicken house.  Coughing and snorting and looking like he could hardly put one foot in front of the other.  He spent a great deal of the day on the chair.

Thursday came, and he was feeling no better.  One thing about Daniel Yutzy is that when there is something to be done, he just kinda’ gets busy and does it.  And on Thursday, there were chickens to get moved, so he would come in and crash on his La-Z-boy, drink a cup of tea, take some cold medicine and sleep if he wasn’t coughing too hard to sleep.  Sometimes I would find him on sacked out on the floor of the sun room, while he waited for another coop truck or when he found he couldn’t push it anymore.  Sometimes he would sit in his chair and try to prepare for his Sunday sermon.  I kept watch, and wondered mightily, but I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut.  Some things a man just has to decide for himself.  But the days were getting shorter and shorter until our expected departure date.  That was something that made him push himself even harder.

“Hon,” he would say stubbornly when he saw me looking askance at yet another bout of raucous coughing, “I HAVE to get this done.  It HAS to be done before we leave, and if I don’t do it, no one else will.”  And I guess it was pretty well the truth– especially if he wasn’t going to ask someone for help.  Something he likes just about as much as he likes macaroni and cheese.  Which is not at all.

Friday Morning:
I came down to find Daniel on the La=Z-boy when he normally would have been out doing chores.  I thought briefly that there were no chickens, so maybe he was going to just flee out there at the last minute and check on things and feed the cows.  One look at his face, and a touch to his forehead and I knew he was really sick.

“There’s no way I can make it,” he wheezed.  “Where is there a walk-in that I can get to first thing this morning?”  I got on the phone and began calling.  The one in Milford didn’t open for walk-ins until noon.  I had an old phone book and couldn’t find a number for Doc in a Box.  The local hospital gave me a few numbers, but all of them were pretty much dead end leads, too.  “I’m going to go feed the cows,” he suddenly said, on his feet and looking pale, “and maybe you can figure something out until I get back in.  Then I am going to get a shower and find somewhere to go.”  No offers to help were accepted, and I was in the middle of getting ladies on the bus, so he tottered out, and I went back to looking for the elusive phone number in between showers and meds and packing Cecilia’s lunch.  Tucked away on one of the shelves of our bakers rack was a newer version of the Yellow Pages.  I quickly took a gander through the business section.

Finally, SUCCESS!!!!  I called Doc in a Box, found out that they opened at 7:30, were not especially busy at the moment, and that they only accepted credit cards for co-pay.  When he drug himself back in from his chores, it took about fifteen minutes for him to be on his way.

When he came back he had a report of all sorts of “cute” things wrong with him.  “aCUTE Sinusitis.”  “aCUTE Pharyngitis.”  “aCUTE asthmatic-type Bronchitis.”  He had a great experience at “Doc in a Box“ where he found my own cousin, Dr. Bonnie Yoder, the attending physician.  The upshot was FOUR prescriptions that would hopefully make everything right as rain!

. . . MORE LATER!!!

I’m sitting in San Diego, waiting for my sister in law to get home from work.  Certain Man and I awoke in the very early morning, and were so encouraged to have Beloved Son in Law drive us to the airport. 

We landed at O’hare in Chicago:

and it was rainy and chilly.  I took this picture through the window of the plane, and tried to upload this one and some others.  This is the only one that came through.  Daniel and I didn’t even get off the plane.

Then we came on to San Diego where it is warm and beautiful and the flowers are blooming  and I took a whole bunch of pictures — but there isn’t any way for me to get them from my computer to this computer, so I will wait for the wifi at some other place and then I will put them on.

Oh, yes, there is one thing I didn’t take a picture of, and I am so glad of it!

We got the plane in Washington and stayed on it until we arrived in California.  The last flight was to last about four hours and I think perhaps 90% of the passengers used the bathroom during that flight.  The bathrooms were extremely small, as plane bathrooms are wont to be, and there was no time for adjusting clothing, combing back hair, etc.  You pretty much got in and got out and hoped that the line wasn’t too impatient whilst you were in there.

I’ve mentioned before Certain Man’s penchant for being the last to leave somewhere.  This was true again today when we were disembarking from our plane.  He had gone to use the restroom after we had landed, because he always plans to be the last to leave anyhow.  I scrunched around on the seat, gathering my computer bag, folding our lightweight blanket, collecting our neck pillows, making sure I had my phone, my camera and everything safely stashed in the purse.  When he came out and everyone else had gone, the stewardesses were waiting for us to finally get ourselves on out of there.  They were gracious, of course, and bid us a fond farewell, and we thanked them, and stepped off the plane — and suddenly there was this dreadful feeling of something tripping me up, and sure enough, with all that scootching around on the seat, my slip had worked itself down and was in the process of trying to fall off.  (I know, Mama, I know.  Always wear a full slip when traveling so these things don’t happen!)  Six inches of white were making themselves known.  I didn’t look back to see who of the crew may have been watching, but it was surely one time when I was glad that my husband likes to lag behind.  There were NO PASSENGERS in the long hall ahead of us, so I discreetly (I hope!) grabbed at that slip through my skirt and pulled it back up.  I held on to it until I found a Ladies’ restroom, and then I safety-pinned it securely so it wouldn’t slide down again. 

Whew!  It is my hope that I have my embarrassing moment over for the rest of this week, and won’t have to worry about what might happen.  But, unfortudiously, I know myself pretty well, and I suspect that there is another moment waiting for me around the corner.  Oh, Dear.  If I wasn’t afraid I would miss something, I’d be more careful.

But I don’t want to miss anything.  Look out, San Diego.  Here I come!

Going on an adventure!

Just me and Certain Man!

I will try to keep you up to date!

Do you think this gal knows anything about it?

California, here we come!

Last week I wrote a poem for a Baby Shower. 

It wasn’t meant to be profound.

Just fun.

At Middle Daughter’s urging, I’m sharing it here.

And no, this isn’t the baby it was written for
(She has not yet been born!)

. . . But this little one has changed our lives in a thousand ways.
And she’s my favorite grandbaby!

And this is the poem —

Baby Clarke

Where love takes wing, and The Blackbird Sings,
There’ll be a baby swing, and teething rings.
There’ll be sleepless nights, and nursing plights
Frilly tights, and sweet night lights.

There’ll be rocking chairs, and teddy bears,
Tumble scares, and bedtime prayers.
Searches for a binky, a Ring for a pinkie,
A Boardwalk prize, dinky, and diapers so stinky.

There’ll be tricycle crashes, resulting in gashes,
And naked streak dashes, and red diaper rashes.
There’ll be Desitin Cream, and vaporizer steam.
Sweet wistful dreams, and “kill spider!” screams.

There’ll be butterfly kisses, and tooth fairy wishes
Cheesy Gold fishes, and baby food dishes.
Dinner time spills, yucky vitamin pills.
First lisping word thrills, and so many bills.

When the bright lights are out and you feel the cold doubt,
And you think all about this day in, and day out
job you’ve taken on, and you don’t feel at all strong.
And something is wrong with the Blackbird’s Brave Song.

Hang in there, dear one. No bright crown is won
While the runners still run and the race isn’t done.
So gather your wit, your faith and your grit.
Being tired is legit, but don’t you dare quit!

(*The reference to the “Blackbird’s Song” is what makes this personal to the baby for which it was written.   “Blackbird Sings”   is this baby’s Mama’s blog.)

Ah, Ethel, I remember, I remember.  And remembering, I miss you, still . . .

She would have liked it.  The service she so carefully planned.  We all did our best, and I could almost see her peering over the edge of Glory saying, “You’d better get it RIGHT!”  (We tried, Dear Friend, we tried!)

I have been trying to remember how it was that we became friends.  There were so many years of laughter and suppers out and confidences shared and good, good times. 

 I remember one time while Certain Man was still a self employed plumber that we girls, Ethel and I, decided to go out for lunch together.  This was something we never did without our husbands, but we felt like doing something different for a change, so we made our plans and were amused at our husbands’ exaggeratedly aggrieved airs.  They made some mention of having a secret of their own, but these fellows often made such statements that were intended to arouse curiosity.  We settled ourselves comfortably in the restaurant of our choice on this particular day, and had just gotten our salads, when who should come down the aisle but our two men.  We were both surprised, but even more astonished when they continued past our table, on around the restaurant to a table on the other side.  (They had gotten the hostess to take them on this deliberate parade around the restaurant)   There they ate their lunch with the highest, mightiest air imaginable.  We thought maybe they came to be nice to us (NOPE!)  or to pay our lunch for us.  (They didn’t.)  We thought maybe they wanted us to come join them.  (Negatory!)  Something!!! We could hardly believe that they were miffed about us going out without them.  (They were!)  We secretly thought it was pretty funny, but I suppose you could say the guys won that one.  We never did that again.

The road was not all easy.  We didn’t always understand each other, and sometimes, understanding,  chose different ways of responding.  I am so thankful for these last few years when we could reconnect, forgive each other, learn to extend grace to each other, and there, found a friendship that was was rich and full and rewarding.

Ah, my Ethel Friend.  You were a friend that sharpened me as iron sharpens iron.  You made me think, you made me go back again and again to God’s Holy Word to see just what it REALLY said.  You were full of courage, you didn’t ever consider anything more important than TRUTH, and you were never afraid of confrontation.  I can truly say that I do not remember a time when you were cowed by what people thought.

You were strong.  You were consistent.  You were beautiful.  You loved JR and John and Brian and Evanna and Brianna and Briar with a love that sought their good, knew them intrinsically, and in the harsh, heartbreaking knowledge of your soon homegoing,  equipped them for life without you, and made incredible memories.

Today, surrounded by so many people whom you loved and who loved you, I find my heart so numb.  The busy-ness of these last few days was easier for me than the waiting of the last few weeks.  There was finally something to DO besides wait.  But in that busy-ness, I feel a numbness, a sense of the surreal.  Right now, I am so thankful that you are done with this old world and its heartache and pain and suffering and disappointment and grief and loss.  But there will be a time — No, there will be many times when I will look for that smile, when I will listen for that inimitable voice that so often said, “Yes, but, Mary Ann——-!!!!”  and I will miss the friendship of a gal whose very difference from me gave me reason to love her.

I’ll see you in The Morning!

Just thinking back to five years ago at the end of January. . .

This picture was taken on January 27, 2007.

What a lot has happened in those five years!

Do you have a picture or a story from five years ago?

I don’t have enough time this morning,
but I could (quite literally) write a book!

Thank God for His incredible grace!
His undying love.
And the Hope of Heaven.

One of the funnest things in the world to do is to sleep over at Grandpa and Grammy’s house.

Grammy lets me wear her nighttime reading glasses and jump on the bed!

And I make up a song and jump and sing and watch myself in her mirror
and it is fun, fun, fun!!!

“I wook jus’ wike Gwammy,
Fah, wah, wah, wah, wah!!!”

(Poor  child . . .)

Christmas is over, and the decorations are down.  All that’s left is the Christmas Village, and Certain Man hopes to take it down soon.  He had planned to take it down this weekend, but decided to wait another week because of some extra activities this weekend.

When we take down the Christmas decorations, we take down the Thankful wall.  This is how it looked, just before we took it down and stashed it away for future reference:

And I want to post this one entry, made way down in the corner, just before the tape came off:  I think it was one of my favorites, written by our girlie who does the artwork for the Thankful Wall each year.  

“Middle Daughter,” “Deborah,” “Beebs,” “Beeba, “Auntie Beebs,” whatever you might be called at the minute, nothing that you might be called can change the fact that you light up our lives so many days in so many ways, and we are so glad you belong to our family!