Delaware Grammy

A Girlie Named Rachel
And
Dolly Named Rachel Beth

Rachel Jane

Rachel Beth

There once was a little girl named Rachel who was the Youngest Daughter of Certain Man and Certain Man’s Wife.  On her fifth birthday, her good friend, Laura Beth, gave her a dolly that was soft and hugable.  Rachel Jane gave her the name of Rachel Beth.  Which was a combination of her name and the name of her friend.  The dolly quickly became a lovey — sleeping with Rachel every night.  Sometimes at great cost.
In the twelve years since,  Rachel has literally kept track of the nights that she hasn’t slept with Rachel Beth.
That would be 24.  As in 24 nights out of nearly twelve and a half years.

Soon after Rachel turned four, a Hispanic family rented our trailer.  It was a father and a mother, their married daughter and her husband, and a teenage son and a seven year old daughter, Yajirah Guatalupé Ruiz Mancilla, who we came to know as Lupé.  After a rocky beginning, Rachel and Lupé became close friends.  Eventually, they came to regard each other as not only good friends, but sisters.  In fact, they were baptized together at our little country church one Sunday morning.  It was something they both looked forward to and back upon with a great deal of joy.  Many, many nights, Lupé would sleep in the other bed in Rachel’s room.  Rachel would sleep with Rachel Beth.  Lupé had gotten a cuddly little dog that she named “Fetchie”  (from the same family that had given Rachel her Rachel Beth) and she slept with him every night.  I would go into their room to say prayers with them, and they would each have their precious “lovey” in bed with them.

Those of you who have been following this blog know the story of Lupé.  What I haven’t said here is that I have a girlie who is grieving and grieving and grieving.  She stoically refused to cry in front of Lupé because she was afraid if she started, they would never stop.  She would come down late at night, sit on the floor of the laundry room while I sorted laundry, or crash into a chair and talk and sob and sob and sob.  My heart ached for her and the pain.  When it became evident that the time was drawing close for Lupé’s departure, there was this abiding sadness that dogged her almost all the time.

Two nights before Lupé was to leave, Rachel came downstairs with Rachel Beth.  .  I looked up from where I was reading in my chair, and saw Rachel sitting on the chair beside the fireplace, holding and caressing her dolly like a five year old.  Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
 Rachel Beth is not very pretty.  Her pigtails stick straight up in the
air. The years have done her some damage.  The years have done
something different to my Rachel-girl.  Her awkward adolescence has
blossomed into beautiful young woman-hood.  She has a gentle and loving
spirit, and she is acquainted with grief.
“Mom,” she said, “Lupé and I have been talking.”  She paused and then went on with some effort.  “We decided that we are going to trade Fetchie and Rachel Beth.  I am sending Rachel Beth to Guatemala with Lupé and she is leaving Fetchie with me.”
 I was, quite frankly, alarmed.  This was the dolly that she never, never, never wanted to part with.
I said, “Rachel, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, Mom,” she said simply.  “It will make me feel better to know that Rachel Beth is in Guatemala with Lupé.  And having Fetchie here with me will make it seem like she is not quite so far away.”

And that is what they did.
  Rachel got a card and wrote her heart to Lupé and got her dolly ready for the trip.  She took a sharpie and wrote on her cloth body the following notation:

Rachel Beth
A.K.A. “Spooky Doll”
October 23,1995
to
March 13, 2008
Please take care of me

And she said good-bye to her beloved dolly,  Rachel Beth.
And her beloved friend, Lupé.
She has slept with a cuddly little dog named “Fetchie”  every night since.

This is another thing that has made me cry and cry.

What I wouldn’t give to see that Daddy of mine today!
Even seeing him in someone else’s face would be pretty special.

Vaya
Con Dios

Now the hacienda’s dark
The town is sleeping
Now the time has
come to part
The time for weeping

Vaya con dios, my daughter
Vaya
con dios, my child

Now the village mission bells are softly ringing
If
you listen with your heart
You’ll hear them singing

Vaya con dios, my
daughter
Vaya con dios, my child

Wherever you may be, I’ll be beside
you
Although you’re many million dreams away
Each night I’ll say a
pray’r
A pray’r to guide you
To hasten every lonely hour
Of every
lonely day
Now the dawn is breaking through a gray tomorrow
But the
memories we share are there to borrow

Vaya con dios, my daughter
Vaya
con dios, my child

Vaya con dios, my daughter
Vaya con dios, my
child

(Larry Russell / Inez James / Buddy Pepper)

   
This was 2000.  We were preparing for Ariadna (Ari) and
Vicenté (Chenté)
to leave for Mexico.  Beloved Son in Law and Eldest Daughter
loved these
four little ones like their own, spending valuable time with
them.
They went on road trips, went to the zoo, to Washington, even to
Pittsburgh, PA together.

The kids were so much a part of our lives as a
family.

Here they are on the beach with Whimonalintel

And this was taken the night before Ari and Vicenté
left.
Our hearts were breaking.

About ten days ago, Vicenté returned
to United States.

The kids got together within hours of his arrival. 

My Girlies.
What a sweet, sad time we had.
We knew that
our precious little Latin Lupé Lou was soon to be leaving us.

Yesterday,
the kids were at church. 
We got the original “crew” together for some
pictures

Lupé had come to say good-bye to the many people she loved
there.

Lupé and Deborah plan to fly for Mexico and then on to Guatemala
this Thursday, Lord Willing.
  Deborah is going along so Lupé doesn’t have to
fly alone to her new country .  She plans to return on Monday.
Lupé’s young
husband, Ervin, is still in prison in Texas, awaiting deportment.
He hopes to
be released yet this week.

And yes, I feel like my heart is breaking once
again.

Vaya Con Dios, Mi Hija!

On the couch, from left to right:  David, Uncle Jesse, Aunt Gladys, Paul and Shirley
In front:  Jonathan and Robert

Later, two more children were added to the family, Joseph and Naomi.
Tragically, Robert and Joseph were killed in an automobile accident on April 24, 1977.
I often think about my young cousins.  Robert had just turned 18, Joseph was 13.
I wonder what they would have become.  I wonder how they would have affected the world for good.
But the one thing that Uncle Jesse and Aunt Gladys have taught me is this:
There are things far worse in this old world than having two sons safely HOME.
I cannot begin to imagine their grief.
But they have exampled their hope.
And the strange thing about hope is this:
It is contagious!

And for those of you who don’t know, here are the names.
In back, on the left,  is my Sweet Mama, Alene Wert Yoder, holding my Youngest Sister, Alma Jean Heatwole.
Beside her, in the white shirt, is my Daddy,  Mark B. Yoder, Sr.
Beside him, to the right (our right, his left) is my Oldest Brother, Clinton Edward Yoder
In front of him in the striped shirt is Polly the Patchworker’s husband, my Youngest Brother, Mark B. Yoder, Jr.
The little blonde haired girl in the front with little curly ponytails is my Middle Sister, Sarah Jane Slaubaugh.
Standing directly behind her in a blue polo shirt is my Middle Brother, Nelson Roy Yoder.
And the girl in the brown print dress is me: Buckeyegirlie, Certain Man’s Wife, but legally, Mary Ann Yutzy.
I’m not exactly sure when this was, but I know that I had my school picture taken in that very dress when I was in fifth grade, so it had to be 1963-64.

We are building a pavilion!

The beginning of it all.  A cold, but sunny morning.  Things would change fast!

Eldest Son with good friend Matt.  These two are a trip. 
Knowing them as well as she does, CMW could have some anxiety
about entrusting the precious pavilion into their care. 
(Actually, these two are the carpenters of choice for this job.  No lie.)

Eldest Son surveys the yet unsullied landscape. 
H-m-m-m-m. . .  This picture looks a little bit like, “We walk by faith and not by sight.”
Pull yer cap up there a mite, Son of mine!

If the corners are straight to begin with, that is half the battle!

This is a good piece of machinery to have when you want to dig in a bunch of posts.

Then the hard work really begins.

I was amazed that Eldest Son could actually pick one of these big old posts up and drop it into the hole.

Then they needed to steady and secure it.

“You gotta’ hug these things to work on them!”  
It is safe to say that both of these fellows would much rather be hugging their girls on this cold morning.
(The question is, would the girls want to be hugging these half frozen guys with mud on their shoes?)

And the morning and the evening were the first day!
By the evening, it had started to snow.  The fellows worked hard, and were ready for trusses by the next morning.  The next morning, it was cold and snowing and sleeting and eventually just a freezing rain, and there was a layer of ice over everything.  The fellow came to hang the trusses, so they worked through the incredible cold, coming into the house in late morning with the job done.  They were wet and freezing and almost numb with the cold, but warm dry clothing, big mugs of hot chocolate and a warm fire cheered them up.  They were glad to have the trusses in place.  It was so cold and wet and rainy that day that there were no pictures taken.  But this is what it looks like now, and we are all anxiously awaiting it to be completed.  (These pictures were taken this morning.  The snow is all gone, and it looks and feels like spring.

View from the edge of the garage


View from the edge of the patio

And while I was out there, guess what!  I saw this:

In spite of the ice and the snow and the cold of this past week,
My tulips are coming up very nicely.
Spring is coming!

Ah, the promise of the resurrection.  
Made even sweeter by the knowlege that Melanie Miller is safely home
in the arms of Jesus
as of this morning at around 11:30.