Delaware Grammy

Oh, no! Oh, NO!!!

I’ve broken my toe.  I’ve broken my toe.

It’s the truth.  (I wouldn’t spoof!)

But my knee is doing so well that they turned me loose from physical therapy.  I do not have to go back!

Thank you, Lord Jesus!!!

About that broken toe — Yesterday, when my friend, Emma, was visiting me, I got up to get something and ran into the leg of a chair or table or something (I honestly don’t know what!) and it kinda rammed in between my little toe and the one next to it and it really, really hurt!  (“And the toes were on the foot of the leg that got a new knee, too,” she says sorrowfully, “as well as the foot that had a broken bone a couple of years ago.”)

I said to Emma, “I am almost sure that I just broke my toe!”  She looked at me like she couldn’t believe it.  (I guess that I wasn’t acting like I was in enough pain– She didn’t know that I wanted to hold my toe and dance about and holler!!!).  Instead, I walked in a very controlled manner to my chair,  pulled off my sock, peered upon it with great sympathy and it actually didn’t look too bad, but something was kinda’ “crunching” in there and my little toe really, really  hurt. 

“Well,”  I said, “I guess I’ll just see how it does. Maybe it is just sprained.”  (Wishful thinking!)  The day wore on, Emma left to go to work, Certain Man came home and went to work in the chicken house.  I fielded the many phone calls, fed my ladies, cleaned my kitchen, did a Xanga post, and occasionally would pull off my sock and gaze at my poor little toe that by now was turning quite purple.  I googled “Small Toe Fracture” and sized up the advice.  As I weighed my options, I decided that a trip to the emergency room in Milford was a great waste of useful time.  Google recommended “ice, buddy taping, elevation and rest”.  Those things I could do at home, indeed, wanted to do at home.  I had a surgical followup the next morning, and it seemed to make good sense to wait.

And so, I did.  This morning was its usual race against the clock with  the buses– complicated by a two hour delay because of snow, and a Nettie appointment this afternoon at two o’clock.  I had carefully calculated distances, and thought that it was “do-able” — that is, an appointment in Lewes at 10:20AM and one in the boonies of Dover at 2PM.  That was before. everything. else. happened!!! 

I put gauze between my toes, taped the two little ones together, actually got knee highs on and my snow boots before leaving for Lewes.  Even with the unpredictable roads, I got to my Lewes appointment on time and the receptionist told the man ahead of me that the PA was on time.  I was delighted until an hour later, I was forced to admit — She lied! 

The waiting room was cold.  So cold that a large black lady came in, plopped herself on a bench seat and said very loudly to the assembled victims  “It sho is too bad that they didn’t have enough money to pay the ‘lectric bill and they done shut off the heat!!!”  (She repeated this loudly twice or three times just in case the receptionist didn’t hear her at first!).  We shivered in silence until the waiting got to be about an hour or so, and then conversations began to spring up all over the room.  There was surprisingly little complaining, but we shook our heads over how long some people had waited, discussed plans for the day that had gone awry and mentally adjusted our schedules.  Just when I thought all hope of being able to make it to Dover on time was gone, they called my name.

The technician said that she was taking me back to get the Xray out of the way to try to help appointments run more smoothly.  She asked how the knee was doing, and I said that it was healing wondrously, and that I was so thankful for how it has done.

“But,” I said in a very small voice, “I think I might have broken my little toe yesterday.”

“You what???” She said.  “You think you may have broken your toe?  How in the world did you do that?” 

So I told the tale, and she suggested that she have a look at it.  I took off my snow boots, took off my black knee-hi stockings that I hate so much, and there was my poor, tape bound toe.  “I guess you really do have it taped,” she laughed.

“Actually,” I said, “It is only one piece of tape.  I wanted to not put a whole lot on it in case I needed to take it loose.”  Which I did while I was defending my taping job.  Really!!! I had taken a strip of tape about five inches long, had thread it between my second and third toes, brought the tape on top around the two littlest toes, and taken the rest of the tape around and brought it down a little lower, just in case the break was below the toe.  It was sports tape, and when I did it, it felt right, and I thought it looked pretty good.  Right at this moment, suddenly looking at it through her eyes, it looked kinda’ pitiful, wrinkled and there were black fuzzies sticking to it from my stockings. 

I pulled the offending tape off, and she looked at my purple bent toe, and said cheerfully, “Yep, I think that toe is going to need X-rayed.  Let me check with your insurance to be sure that I can do it at the same time that I am doing your knee, and if I can, we’ll get it done.”  She soon came back and said, “Yes, indeed.  There’s no problem with your insurance.  We can do it!”  And she did. 

When she pulled the four X-rays out of the developer, I saw her put the two from the knee up to the light first.  “Your knee looks great!” she said.  “It’s doing just fine!”  She put the other two that she had taken of the toe up and looked them over.  And said nothing.  She snapped them all together and put them in an envelope for the Jen, the Physician’s Assistant, to look at.

“What did you see?  Is my toe broken?”  I asked.

“I’m sorry.” She said, very, very kindly.  “I can’t tell you.  You are going to have to wait for Jen.  They have a room ready for you already, and we are going to put you in.  It will just be a few minutes.”

I looked at my boot and my limp stocking and my now bare foot.  “Should I put my stocking and shoe back on?  Or is the PA going to want to look at it?”

She didn’t hesitate a minute.  “No.  Don’t put anything back on.  Jen is going to need to see it.”  And I knew.

I sat in the examining room with a large print Readers Digest that claimed to be the funniest issue ever, and pretty much read every joke in there, but they were not funny.  Most of them.  I used the time to do some bending exercises on my knee so that I could impress Jen when she came in with how well the knee was doing.  And I waited and waited.  About 15 minutes after I was in there, a nurse poked her head in the door and said, “Let me see your knee,” and I dutifully pulled up my skirt and she ran her practiced hand over the scar and said, “Just beautiful!” and went out again.  (I’m still puzzled about that one.  I think they sent her in to break up the monotony, maybe.  I know there were some really angry people milling about because of the long, long wait, but I wasn’t one of them . . .)

And then, after another 15 minutes, Jen came in with my chart.  “So, you broke your toe, did you?” she asked.

“Is it broke?” I asked.  “Is it my toe, or is it my foot?  I’ve been so afraid that it was a “Jones” Fracture (a break in the bone that leads to the toe — especially difficult at times to heal) and I am quite relieved if it really is my toe.”

“It really is your toe,” she said, “but first things first.  You are here because of your knee.  Let’s talk about that first, and then we will get to the toe.”  And so she made me bend the new knee, and straighten it, and she discussed therapy and whether I needed to continue, etc. etc. etc..  And then she said, “and now.  About that toe.  I don’t want you bending it.  I think you should be in a flat shoe, and I don’t want there to be any movement.”

I looked at her in disbelief.  Some of my therapy involves standing on tiptoes and going back down, 30 rounds of such shenanigans.  And riding the bike.  The foot just naturally curves as you ride bike.   She could see my hesitation, but I tried to bring myself around.  I finally said to her, “Jen, one of the things I purposed when I decided to get my knee replaced was that I was going to do what I was told to do to get better, and if I have to wear that flat shoe for my toe to heal, then I will do it.  But if it really isn’t necessary, then I would really like not to wear it.”

She was thoughtful and did some calculating and finally said, “I will leave it up to you.  If you want the flat soled shoe, I will give it to you.  If you think you will be okay without it, I will let it go.

I finally said, “Okay.  Why don’t I take the shoe, and if I am in a situation where I think I will be on my foot for a long  time, or I am going to be bending it, I will wear the shoe.  Otherwise, I will wear what feels best, and I will try to keep it taped and immobile.”

“That’s good.  And I will need to see you back in 5 weeks to see if it is healing,” she said.  “I wouldn’t have to see you again with your knee, but I do need to check the toe.”  She stood in the middle of the room, hesitating a bit, and then said apologetically, “I hope that you won’t have to wait so long then.  It’s been a really bad morning . . . “

I had stretched out my hand to shake hers, but suddenly felt the impulse to hug her.  “Thank you so much for my new knee, Jen,” I said, “and tell Dr. Choy that I am so happy with it and thank him for me.” 

She hugged me back and thanked me and looked happier.  “I’ll send the girls in with your new shoe, ” she said and was gone.  The girls came in with this dainty little shoe with velcro pads — and it didn’t fit.  “We need a large,” they hollered to someone out there, “Women’s large” they said again for all the world to hear.  And I got my shoe, and took care of all the paperwork and flew home to pick up Nettie and go to Dover for a lower extremity ultrasound series.  While they worked on her, I skedaddled over to SAM’S for some much needed supplies, and then went back to pick her up and then came home to my warm, welcoming house.  It is cold in Delaware, and I feel so blessed to be able to look at the stars and curl up in my chair and just take life easy.  So far this evening, it hasn’t been unbearable, and for that, I give grateful praise.

Faces of Christmas, 2009

 And Charis learned a new trick, too!

  I might have to dig out my gate!

Some of you have received this by mail.
For those of you who didn’t —
This is our annual Christmas Photo Card and letter.

Shady Acres** Christmas, 2009

♫ Joy to the World, The LORD is Come! ♫

Dear family and friends,

            I am sitting here on my recliner, and the activity in my family room swirls around me in happy circles. My sisters are here, working on pages for our extended family calendar. There have been many memory making minutes today as we have looked at pictures, talked to extended family to procure what we need, and tried to shuffle the many pictures into some resemblance of order. It is astonishing to realize the size that a family can become as the years pass. The Mark Yoder clan currently numbers 75 (and hopes to add five more in 2010!).

            Our own little family increased by one this year. And it is pretty much the story that will define the 2009 chapter in our family history book. We’ve waited and prayed and waited and prayed for a grandchild (pretty much ever since there was the prospect!). But as the years passed, and we saw the heartbreak of our daughter and her husband, there were times when we wondered what God was up to, and if the prayers of my precious Daddy, now in Heaven, would ever be answered concerning a child for them.

            God has his own timing, and this was the year for that prayer to be answered in a fullness and joy that we never dreamed possible. In February, Jesse and Chris were notified that a birth mother had chosen them and that they were to be the parents of a baby, sex unknown, to be born later that month. The story would take a book to fill, but time after time, Jesse and Chris (and their families, as well) had to return to the place of just trusting God to work out what seemed like an impossible situation. Our joy was complete when Charis Nicole was born, healthy, strong and happy on April 24, 2009. Yes, the due date was that far off, but she finally arrived! Ever since they brought her home from the hospital at less than 48 hours old, she has been lighting up our lives. She is one of the happiest babies we have ever known, and she has a smile that will melt the gruffest heart. Well worth waiting for on every count, she meanders in and out of our lives with joyful abandonment. She started crawling at six and a half months and at eight months continues to surprise and worry us with what she can accomplish when she sets her mind to it.

            Christina is a stay at home mama, and Jesse still works at Burris Foods as administrator of their particular computer programming. Having a baby has changed them in such good ways. There is a softness that is beautiful, indeed, and we thank God for answered prayer. Both Jesse and Chris are active in various roles at Laws Mennonite Church, and we are so glad for their contributions there.

            Deborah is as busy as ever. She is working “per diem” at the local hospital’s ICU, and teaches Sunday School. The children there dearly love “Beeba” and it has been a blessing to her. Currently, she is planning a trip with Wycliffe to Chad, Africa to help with their Kid Zone program. If plans carry, she will be leaving in late January. She will be working with the “small toddler” group, and is very excited about going. On a similar note, she had promised Rachel back when Rachel entered High School that she would take her on a trip to Europe the summer after Rachel graduated from High School. This was the year for that, and Deborah did an incredible job planning, reserving, and giving leadership to the trip of a lifetime for her little sister. They took along a cousin, Holly Yoder, and they had a splendid time, visiting over twenty countries. Deborah has also been the one holding down the fort here at home in the last three weeks since my knee replacement. It has been wonderful to have my own personal RN!

            Raph and Gina live about five miles away from us, and we get to see a lot of them. It has been an eventful year for them, with both of them having job changes. This resulted in some scary times when it seemed like the future was uncertain, but God provided for their needs, and both have jobs at this point. They are more than busy with outside activities: Gina helps to coach the volleyball team at our local Christian school, Raph plays on the worship team and is also involved with playing softball on the church team. Together they work as assistant youth sponsors at Cannon Mennonite Church. Gina works for a Bridal consultant and Raph is a carpenter with Warfel Construction. We think they have done a splendid job of facing the many unexpected challenges of this year.

            Lem and Jessica live in an apartment in King of Prussia, PA, where Lem is finishing his Master’s Degree at Bryn Mawr. (He graduated in May from Cedarville University with is BS in Social Work.) Jessica has a good job at the Veterans’ Administration in Philadelphia. They are involved in a local church there that is active in meeting the needs of the community (something they are both passionate about) and have plans to put their membership there. Lem is exploring counseling jobs for when he graduates in the spring, and then Jess hopes to go back to school for her Masters. We actually get to see them quite a bit, and it is a wonderful weekend when they come “home” to see Jessica’s parents and us. Lem and Jessica have also shown courage and maturity in facing the many decisions facing them this year, and they are excited about getting graduate school behind them and getting on with life.

            Rachel has had the most eventful year of any of us, I suppose. She got her bedroom remodeled, graduated from High School, went to Europe for nine weeks, (lived to tell the tale) and then went off to college. We feel like we have hardly seen enough of her since that June day when she, Deborah and Holly took off for Europe, but it has been exciting to hear the adventures. I’ve done my share of enjoying beauty, being scared to death, reveling in the joy, and weeping in the heartache. Adjusting to college has not been an easy thing for her, but she has made some steadfast friends, and she finished the semester with grades that will transfer (her biggest concern) and is even now, on her way home for Christmas break. She plans to return to Rosedale Bible College after the New Year and is considering her “life plan” for the fall of 2010.

            As mentioned earlier, I had my left knee replaced three weeks ago. I started having problems early in the year, they did an arthroscopy that wasn’t helpful at all, and finally replaced it on Nov. 30^th. Things have gone far better than I expected, but that doesn’t mean it has been easy. I am now three weeks post op, and am able to walk without cane or walker, but I do still have pretty serious pain at times. Rehab is going well, and that pleases me quite muchly. I actually have the second knee scheduled for replacement on March 11, but am just a little uncertain as to what I am going to do. My right knee is structurally in far worse condition than the left, but it isn’t as painful as the left. Go figure. I don’t know why, but once again, I’m surely grateful that it isn’t!

            Daniel’s year has been an extremely challenging one on almost every hand. First, his wife has hardly been herself the entire year, and then he dealt with various things of the offspringin’s, (job losses, finding apartments, worrying about the world travelers) and (most of all) his parents’ declining health and the living situation that was no longer safe for either of them. He and his siblings worked very hard at finding solutions that would be satisfactory to Ralph and Sue (as well as their children). Many, many prayers, lots of trips to Ohio, and never ending phone calls resulted in there finally being an opening in a nursing home in Columbus where they could both go. The family got together for a week in November and got the house all cleaned out and ready for finalizing the sale. Sue’s niece, Jamie Beachy bought the house and that greatly simplified things.    Daniel continues to juggle his many jobs – poultry farmer, state plumbing inspector, deacon at Laws Mennonite church, husband, daddy, and (since April 24) GRANDPA. It’s quite obvious that he enjoys this newest role immensely. In September we added a sun room to the side of our house, and his Christmas Village is set up there and is one of the best ever. He has been a great encouragement to me through this year that has seemed never ending.

            We’ve been so blessed this year, (our grandbaby being such an incredible blessing) but it has been one of heartache and trial, too. My initial knee injury was in January, so we’ve been dealing with that all year. In March, my Daddy’s oldest sister, Ruth Bontrager, passed away after being in poor health for a long time. My Daddy’s twin brother, Luke Yoder, succumbed to Lou Gehrig’s disease in April. In May, my brother, Nelson, fell from the roof of a two story house and broke his neck and his back in several places. In July, Dawn Yoder, (wife of my cousin, Jon Yoder) was struck by lightning and died of her injuries. There have been so many places for us to see God’s hand in our lives as the happenings of this year have been so evident of the fragility of life as we know it.

            We give praise that Nelson is recovering so well. He is actually back at work and has no significant handicaps from his ordeal. And I have a new knee to replace the injured one and that makes me happy. As for the other losses, there is no “fix” for this –except for a faith that will not let go, and the promise of Heaven, where we shall, through the Gift God gave us that long ago night in Bethlehem, be with our loved ones again, never to part. What a glorious reunion that will be!!!

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Daniel, Mary Ann & Family

Today this precious little girl became our legal grandbaby.
Jesse and Christina were in court today for the finalization of the adoption.
They invited family and a few special friends to attend — and there was quite a representation
Great Grandpa Bontrager
Great Grandma Yoder
Grandpa and Achi Bontrager
Uncle Joel
Uncle Caleb
Auntie Abi
Jeremy, Maegan and Izzy Yoder
Grandpa and Grammy Yutzy
Auntie Beebs
Uncle Lem and Auntie Jess
Auntie Rach
Friend Lynn Lee
Friend John Love
And adding the happy family, we had 21 people there.
I remember the day that we went to court to finalize Christina’s adoption, and this day was an incredibly stirring day.  We had the best judge, who presided over the court with a smile that was effervescent.  He had taken time to read over the case thoroughly and he prepared a homily to give to those of us who congregated there.  Following the proceedings, he gave Charis’s parents a beautiful copy of what he had written to put with her baby book.  He affirmed Jesse and Christina as the “perfect match” as parents for this baby and he was incredibly personable and involved.  How I thank God for His goodness to us to give such an extraordinarily approachable presiding official for this momentous occasion.  It was truly a gift.

Tonight we give grateful praise for the precious gift of a child.

Just in case anyone is wondering — there WILL BE a Christmas letter and picture from this family —

I just didn’t get it done –yet!  So hold on!  I still am planning on a Christmas mailing — I have the photo cards, I have the stamps, and almost have the letter done, and almost have the cards addressed.

24 days ago, as I came out of anesthesia, I wondered about a whole lot of things, and wondered if I would be able to do the things I need to do for Christmas.  And the truth is, I haven’t (aren’t you surprised???!!!???)

The thing I most wanted to do was cinnamon rolls for my neighbors.  And up until yesterday, I really thought that I needed to let it go this year.  But yesterday, there was a box of candy and a Christmas card from one of my neighbors.  It was signed by a single name.  My heart felt like it was breaking.  She has weathered yet another storm.  Apparently the man she was supposed to marry has gone.  She lives in the house that had been her grandma’s.  Her Grandma was my friend, and she died in January of this year.  At that time, this girlie was living with a guy, planning to marry him.  Obviously, something has changed.  The box of candy what what her grandma gave us every single year that we lived here for as long as I can remember.  It’s a tradition!

And so, this morning, I decided that I had to bake cinnamon rolls.  It was part of the tradition for our neighbors, and I didn’t want that to change.  For some reason, I have always needed to know my neighbors, longed for relationships with them, and wanted to be a part of a community where people helped eachother.  This neighborhood has been that for me.  We’ve been through alot together, these neighbors and us, and if a plate of cinnamon rolls at Christmas can help keep doors open, then I am willing to do what I can to get them made.

Guess what!  I did it.  I got up this morning, made 20 pans of cinnamon rolls, got them iced, and even wrapped in plastic wrap.  And I’m so glad I did.  Already there are three less than when I finished.  My one neighbor stopped about an hour ago with cranberry bread that he always brings me, and said, “Why did you think I brought the bread?  So I could get a pan of the cinnamon rolls!”  Another fellow stopped who always gets at least two pans, and Daniel had told him there could only be one this year because I didn’t make as many.  He looked bewildered at the other nineteen pans, but took his pan and went on his way.  Our Cecilia’s mother and her sister stopped to bring Cecilia presents and they always bring a big box of Boscov’s chocolates for the family, and so another pan went with them.  Now the rest will sit here until Certain Man comes home from work and will take them to the various neighbors.

And I am going to go to my chair.  I think I will take a sweet nap and then we will get busy on some shrimp chowder for Christmas eve supper.  I’m expecting Youngest Son and his wife any time, and there will be helping hands for all the chopping.

Merry Christmas, dear friends.

Four years ago today, my Daddy went home to Heaven.  It has been a bittersweet week on almost every count.  Therapy has gone well, I’m healing well (actually, it has been surprising to my therapists and myself!) and we’ve worked on our family’s calendar which necessitates lots of family togetherness, lots of going through pictures and of course the ensuing memories.

Today was my third physical therapy session.  Yesterday, I had a “late in the day” appointment, and they were gentle, even though they were thorough.  My Sweet Mama drove me and waited in the winter afternoon until I was done, and then we came home to the warmth and cheerfulness of the old farmhouse at Shady Acres.  We worked on the family calendar until fairly late, and I was feeling pretty good, so I actually cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher.

This morning, I lay in my bed and realized that I was going to pay.  I did some stretching exercises, and thought about the hours until today’s session.  I tried to arrange the pain meds to maximize their presence in my system.  Friend Ruby was coming to clean, and Middle Daughter had big plans for today.  Certain Man was going to come home early so he could take me to PT, and I came downstairs and curled up in my chair and hoped that I might miraculously be able to stretch the rest of the way out before therapy.  And talked to my Sweet Mama.  She was going to Dover with Sister Sarah, and I thought that was a delightful diversion.  It sometimes seem that all those who grieve can’t help but follow some sort of unwritten code, and we mark the anniversaries in our hearts and we remember . . .

And then I had a call from Physical Therapy asking if I could come in at 9:30 this morning.  I had stated that I preferred a female therapist and there were none available when I scheduled — however, there had been a cancelation, and so they wanted me to come in at 9:30.  I did some quick calculations, remembered that I needed to go out anyhow to get some lab work done and decided that I would take the earlier appointment.

I was feeling pretty brave, so I actually drove myself.  Pulled into the parking lot, parked and went in.  It was a tough, tough session.  Maybe there wasn’t enough time between the two days, maybe it was the impending snow storm, but it wasn’t easy at all today.  My therapist is a Christian gal, and we chatted and enjoyed our conversation very much.  She spoke of her father, and how they weren’t close.  He had opposed her initial commitment to the Lord Jesus, and she spoke of her love for him, her prayers for him, and the tears stood in her beautiful eyes.  I was going to tell her about my precious Daddy going home to Heaven four years ago today, but it felt like my treasure of a Daddy should not be flaunted in the face of such a painful deficit.  Her hands were ice cold, but gentle, and she finished the pulling and bending part of the therapy and my knee felt like it was on fire.

“Okay, girlie,” she said kindly.  “Let’s get you on the bike.”

The bike.  My favorite part of therapy.  They’ve been astounded at my ability to actually get the pedals in a full circle, but it has actually been easier than I expected and the ten minutes of slow and easy pedaling is comforting to me.  I walked across the room to where it was standing and got myself arranged on it.

Ouch!!  It didn’t go as easy today.  I held my offending leg and eased it around the circle a few times until it was loosened up a bit, and then I began the slow and easy pedaling.  The noise and the colors of the therapy room faded as I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a little girl on a hot summer afternoon.

It’s late in the afternoon, and I see our family’s black Bel-Aire Chevrolet rounding Closser’s corner as my Daddy makes his way home from town.  I watch as it comes down the road and it seems like the back trunk is up a little.  I race through the pantry and into the garage and he parks the car and gets out.  I walk with him to the back of the car where a large flat cardboard box is protruding from under the tied down lid.

“What is it, Daddy?” I ask.  My daddy always provided for our needs, and he brought clothes and shoes and food and such, but he was never one to bring unexpected gifts.

“What do you think it is?”  His smiley crinkles are chasing themselves around his brown eyes.

“I have no idea!  Let’s open it up!”  He has no objections, so we get the box out of the back of the car and open it.  It is the most gorgeous blue girls’ bike that I have ever seen.  I cannot believe my eyes.  “For me?” I squeal.

“Who else?” He says.

My Daddy always loved bikes — he taught us all how to ride when we were little shavers, he bought old bikes and fixed them up for my brothers, and he knew that I loved riding bike.  But he didn’t like his little girl riding the boys’ bikes.  He was a fanatic about modesty, and it didn’t seem right to him when he saw little girls straddling the high bar on a boys’ bike.  I suspect he tried to find a used one, but finally decided to get me a new one.

I was ecstatic.  I wore that bike out.  I would spend many an afternoon, making the same circle.  Starting in the garage, I would pull out before thousands of imaginary, adoring spectators, making sure that my speed was even, my form perfect.  I would ride to the end of the driveway, make a short dash on the chip and tar road to the other driveway and then ride full speed ahead for the barn, make the wide circle, head back for the garage, go in the side door, and sidle up to the big garage door, ready to make my grand entrance again where the fans never tired of my monotonous routine, and no one ever competed for my space on the marquee.

And I shut my eyes on the exercise bike, and I imagine that I am nine years old and flying around that old homeplace circle.  My pigtails are flying out behind me, my bare feet are pumping the pedals, my legs are strong and my Daddy is watching and smiling . . .

And then the tears begin to fall.  I take deep breaths and try to not think about it.  I realize, too late, that this kind of imagining today is not a help to me.  I am suddenly not able to imagine myself in that long ago memory.  I am old and tired and my knee hurts like crazy and I suddenly miss my daddy with a sharp, unrelenting sorrow.  I try to keep the tears from sliding down, and when they do, I try to be unobtrusive about wiping them away.  The time is suddenly run out on the timer, and the assistant PT tech comes to get me off. 

Immediately concerned, she says, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I manage.  “Really!  I am!”

“The pain’s that bad?” she asks solicitously.

I can’t answer.   I get off the bike and follow the kind assistant across the room.  I still have the ice and stim part of my therapy to do, and they are fixing me up with royal treatment today.  The room is suddenly quiet and the several clients kindly avert their eyes. The Physical Therapist comes over, alarmed at the tears, and tries to assess what has gone so wrong.

“No, no,”  I manage to get out between sobs.  “It’s not the pain, though it is pretty bad today.  It’s that bike!”  Now they are really looking at me funny.  Finally I manage to say, “My Daddy died four years ago today. He almost never bought us gifts just for the anyhow of it, but one time he bought me a bike, and every time I get on that bike it brings back all the memories.  Especially today . . . I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to cry . . .It really doesn’t hurt that bad!”  (Sob, sob, sob.)

And then kind hands were arranging the knee and putting a bolster under it.  Someone else was putting the ice into a pillow case and setting up the stim and arranging the knee just so.  And the assistant was murmuring comforting words about how blessed I am to have had that sort of a daddy, and that my Mama was a wonderful Mama and I still had her and that she knew I had wonderful parents because she had met my Mama, and with a Mama like that, I had to have had a wonderful childhood.  I listened to her gentle mammy-like crooning and felt the tears settle back into their place again.  Kind hands brought me a tissue, and the same kind hands brought a cup of cold water, and gradually the crisis of the morning was resolved.  I sat on my comfortable perch and dried my tears.  Eventually I was cheerful enough to ask for the Ladies Home Journal that was across the room, and I finished my session by reading an article on a “Seven Day plan for a more positive outlook” and realized again that life was really pretty good. 

And now I am home in my chair.  There is a winter storm warning about and Certain Man is battening down the hatches in preparation for the expected onslaught.  The house is clean, and there are candles burning.  Middle Daughter is sleeping because she has to work tonight.  Somewhere out there, Youngest Daughter is on her way to visit friends in New York and then she will be home on Monday, Lord willing.  A friend from church just called and they are bringing supper for our family in just a little bit, and that is cheery.  It has really been a wonderful day.

So blessed, so blessed are we!

(Now if I can just get my Christmas letter finished, I will really feel better!)

I am such a happy girl tonight!

Today, my cousins stopped for a visit and both of my sisters were here to work on our family calendar.  We haven’t seen Daniel for a long time, and it was wonderful to see him.  He and Julia were here to move their daddy, my Uncle Elmer Hostetler, to an extended care facility.  We got this picture, and I think it is priceless!!!

My Sweet Mama came out today and drove me to my first outpatient physical therapy appointment.  I’ve been trying to be brave, and doing therapy at home and telling myself that maybe it won’t be too bad —  And then crying sometimes at night when the pain is bad and I’m discouraged and visions of MEAN people forcing my leg into positions unthought of by me for many a year –.

And I sat on my chair this morning, feeling like I was getting ready for the guillotine, listening to Christmas music, and weeping.

“Mary, did you know that your baby boy, will one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man
Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod
When you kiss you little baby, then you’ve kissed the face of God.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the Lamb.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is Heaven’s perfect lamb?
This child that you are holding, is the Great I AM!
~Mark Lowry, Buddy Greene

I thought about the promises in that baby — that He would save our sons and daughters, that he is Lord of all Creation, and then those powerful things that I want so much, “the lame will LEAP, (that’s me!) the dumb will speak (that’s my Cecilia) the dead will live again (that’s my precious daddy) and that business of giving sight to a blind and calming a storm with his hand — how many times have I needed sight for this soul which is often so blinded?  And the storms of this rebel heart have been often calmed by the touch of the Man who had once been Mary’s Baby Boy.

And then, to remember that this baby became the Savior of the world and will one day rule the nations — especially in these days of such unrest and uncertainty.  Where there is war and starvation and deprivation and depravity and so much to decry in the world at large — and I have trouble with the world that is my heart.  How can I expect the rulers of our land and the leaders in the world today to manage their countries in a right way when I can’t manage the patch of ground that is my heart? 

And then I went off to therapy.  I was feeling so teary that I asked my friend, Emma, to please pray that I wouldn’t cry.  She comforted me by saying that physical therapists were trained to work people harder when they cry.  Whoops!  Okay, she really needed to pray that I wouldn’t cry.

Maybe physical therapy has changed, maybe not.  In any case, all the prayers worked.  I had a tough time at physical therapy physically, but I had a grand old time emotionally and even spiritually.  It was work, but I can see how the work I’ve already done has paid off, and I am so excited about the progress I am making.  There’s a long way to go, and I’ve been comforted so greatly about how to manage my time up and my time down.  And I am reminded that, just as in this life, there is no way to get through it except to GO THROUGH IT, so I have to do this now, and even when it makes the tears stand in my eyes, and even when I think I just can’t, when I think of the joy set before me — and think of how God is building His Image through this, it gives me courage to hang on just a little longer.

And when I remember that last desperate week before surgery, when I could scarcely walk, and I dreaded going up and down the steps and I wondered if it would ever be better, then I am really grateful, because I am already walking way better than I did then, and the steps hurt less now than they did then, and there are so many things that are already improved.

“For the Joy set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the shame, and is sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. . . “

 “Lord Jesus, this is so small in comparison.  Let me be faithful  in small things.”

For a wonderful close up view of Daniel’s village go here:

www.xanga.com/cerwindoris

She found details I’ve missed, and it was so much fun to look at it through the lens of her wonderful camera.

And we had a wonderful time together on Sunday.  She documented that, too, in a post that is dated Sunday night.

I’ve been blessed again with so many happy moments.  What a joyful season this is!

NYAH-NEE, NYAH-NEE,  BOO-BOO! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

I’M GETTING COMPANY! ! !

If you aren’t jealous, you ought to be!!!  Or, well, let’s just say, I would be “jealous” if someone else was getting this company! 

Cerwin and Doris High (www.xanga.com/cerwindoris) plan to drive down after church tomorrow to visit, see the village and even take some pictures!  I am so excited I can hardly stand it!!!  Tickled pink!  

It is such a blessing to have friends, and you have all been so terrific during this “out of commission time”. Each has added dimension and flavor and fellowship and faith to my life.  I’d be so miserable without my friends. 

If any of you get a hankering to see Cerwin and Doris  and would like to come by tomorrow afternoon, you are welcome to call us and drop in while they are here.  Just remember the “call” part, please — (or message me here.  That will work, too.)