The Way Of A Baby With A World (A re-post)

A re-post from two years ago, because it still puts a lump in my throat. Also, a week ago today the adoption of the foster baby in the story was finalized at last.....

Saturday, December 23, 2017

The Way Of A Baby With A World

The room was packed as we inched our way forward in the long procession of people headed for the tables of food. Rows and rows of tables and chairs covered every available space in the room, leaving only narrow aisles for our line to squeeze through. My husband and I are avid people watchers and we found plenty of entertainment amongst the wide variety who had gathered. Perhaps, after all, it was the tiniest person attending who received the most attention. I noticed her first, down by my feet to the right. She was tucked comfortably into her car seat, one fist in her mouth and her blanket slipping down to nearly cover one eye.

"Aww, look at her," I nudged my husband and nodded toward the baby. "Isn't she cute?" Even he, who likes to remark on the fact that no child is as ugly as one who's not your own, agreed.

We exchanged a few words with the little miss's mom who was busily enjoying her food while keeping one eye on her baby and smiling at everyone who passed and took note of the little charmer. Babies have a way of doing that, you know. Without even trying, they somehow manage to capture people's attention and melt hearts just a little.

If you've ever had a baby of your own, you know the phenomenon of suddenly attracting attention wherever you go. At the grocery store, the restaurant, the church, the parking lot, you name it; wherever you go you are showered with smiles and comments and attention. People who would have never given you a second look otherwise, suddenly smile at you with warmth in their eyes and stop to hold your door or pick up the quarter you dropped. I remember an occasion where we were having lunch with friends at a restaurant, along with our three young children. The baby, especially, was drawing lots of attention. As a friendly lady paused beside our table to inquire and gush over each child's name, our friend spoke up mischievously, "My name is Billy!" Somehow no one had thought to ask him.

Babies seem to bring out the best in everyone, from children to old, weathered men. I remember another occasion when our oldest was small and upon leaving a restaurant, we discovered our bill had been paid by some kind gentleman who had admired our sweet, little boy.

There is a baby in our church right now who is just absolutely the sweetest thing ever. Dark eyes, lots of dark hair, perfect complexion, squishable cheeks and chubby little arms and legs. She'll look at you with the most solemn expression that practically begs to be cajoled into a smile. If you are successful, her grins are enough to turn the hardest heart into mush.

A while back I began noticing the reactions to this child at our church. From the young girls who fight for the chance to hold every baby in sight; to the mothers, busy with young ones of their own; to the husbands like mine who think the cutest child is their own; to the older men, who rarely hold a baby since their own are grown, the reactions are all the same -- complete and total adoration.

I've seen grown men ask to hold her during church; all manner of faces and contortions to coax a smile; softened eyes and gentle smiles every time.

This particular baby is the foster child of our pastor and his wife. It's as if the heartbreaking reality of all the brokenness in this world shines forth from that one sweet, little face and all of us soften and step forward to somehow ease the ache. That such purity and innocence should encounter the harshness of humanity is almost more than anyone with a heart can bear. The very sight of her prompts us all to pour forth the love we so long to see heal this broken world. On more than one occasion, as I've watched some grown man trying to coax a smile during church or noticed a grandpa jiggling her on his knee, I've felt a quick lump in my throat and blinked back a tear.

In this Christmas season, as the story of the Messiah's coming is told and retold in the programs and carols and sermons, my mind keeps going to that sweet baby at our church. Remembering the way she has captured our hearts and affection, one question keeps repeating itself in my mind.

Is it any wonder Jesus was sent to us as a baby?

He Came

A bit of frank honesty about this time of the year....

Christmas time is full of many conflicting emotions for me. To varying degrees, neither Chris nor I grew up in families that made a big deal out of Christmas time. In the years since we've been married, we've juggled differences in opinions and there's needed to be a lot of give and take from both of us. Every year I think I will somehow sort things out and come to a better place with it all, but I end up just "making it through" December and leaving it all behind until next year.

I'm not sure that I'm really ready to delve into a full blown discussion on the origin of Christmas and what a person should choose to do with all of that. Maybe your insights would be helpful, I don't know.  I've struggled with all of that for years but that's not what I came here to talk about. I came here to talk about the actual story of Jesus birth. 

Do me a favor and go read this article about the story of Jesus birth, then come back and think about this with me....

How do you feel? Maybe you are skeptical of the writer; maybe you already successfully scoffed at the new ideas and held on to what you've always believed. I get it. I can't say with authority that the information in that article is one hundred percent accurate but I must admit, it does make a lot more sense than the story I've believed for years. 

Forget the fact that celebrating Christmas began with pagan roots and Jesus' birth did not take place on December 25th. What if the actual story we've portrayed for years has been a completely skewed version of the truth? What if every Christmas song you've sung, every nativity you've set up or acted out, every program you've watched or been a part of was based on the figment of western imagination? Does that kind of throw you for a loop, like it did me? Does it almost take the "magic" out of Christmas and leave you feeling confused and slightly sad and a tad cynical?

I confess that I still am not really sure what to do with it all. I do know this, it's made me realize that the miracle and wonder of Jesus' birth is not in the story. I think I've tied the meaning of it all to the picture of rejection and loneliness and abandonment we've created with our smelly stable and grouchy innkeeper. If I take away those things, it almost feels like I have nothing left and that is so far from the truth!

This article reminded me of the truth: "The incarnation is the miracle: it's not Jesus' otherness but his us-ness, his human-ness, his full experience as fully human and fully God together that is the miracle."

It doesn't have to be scary to realize I've been wrong. It doesn't have to throw me for a loop and put me into a helpless despair of wondering what to even do with it all. I still don't know how Christmas should look or how exactly we should tell our children the old, old story. I do think truth matters and that we should embrace learning, even when it makes us uncomfortable and pushes us outside of what we've always known and loved. But mostly, I want to remember that it's the incarnation that is the miracle. It's not so much how and when and where He came, but the fact that He Did.

As A Middle Aged Mom

After a day of three children quizzing, a husband and son coaching quizzers, the youngest going to school as usual, the two middle ones going out for supper with their quiz team, the oldest being in charge of some youth plans, and the driver with the permit driving the rest of us to town, my mind went in the direction of this poem. Sometimes I'm pretty sure the diapers and night feeding had their own places where they were a breeze.......

* * * * * * * * *

As a Middle Aged Mom, 

My life is a breeze --

So much that there once was

Has passed into ease. 

No diapers, 

No nursing, 

No cries in the night. 

No feeding, 

No clothing, 

No soothing the fright.

No bathing, 

No teething, 

No toddlers who bite. 

No rocking, 

No bouncing, 

No settling at night. 

Of course there are new things, 

In Middle Aged life --

Five stages to mother;

One husband to 'wife'.

New scholars, 

New shavers, 

New youth out at night. 

New quizzers,

New freedoms, 

New drivers; what fright!

New thinkers,

New talkers, 

New questioning right. 

New dreamers,

New planners, 

New challenge alright. 

As a Middle Aged Mom, 

I have a suspicion.

This 'ease' that we speak of

Is false contradiction!

Calling Mom life a breeze, 

Is only to jest. 

How 'bout we embrace it, 

That each stage is best?

               

Of Thankfulness And People

A very, very long time ago -- back when I was a young thing on the youth committee -- I wrote a poem. As I recall, we had a Thanksgiving supper for our parents and planned a short program for afterward. I'm not sure how I got the job, much less the inspiration, but I wrote the following poem and doled out the parts to my group of fellow youth. Each narrator fit the description of the person in the part of the poem that they read. I came across it recently, and it made me laugh remembering. Thought I'd share it here this Thanksgiving week.....

      * * * * * * * * * *

Of Thankfulness And People

I've been listening to people, 

and what I hear is strange.

It seems they never like themselves, 

they always wish for change.

"I wish I was like Susan," 

I heard Rebekah say, 

"She always does the nicest things, 

helps others on their way!"

It seemed I'd no more turned around 

'til I heard Susan sigh,

"Rebekah always does things right, 

I guess I just won't try!"

The next complaint to reach my ears 

came from the lips of Jim,

"Don is so good at leading out, 

if only I were him!"

I looked at him in shocked surprise, 

for Don had just confided,

"Jim sure knows how to listen well,
sometimes I wish that I did!"

I looked around at others 

and scarce believed my ears.

It seemed they all would wish for change 

to be more like their peers --

"I wish that I would talk more." 

"I wish that I were quiet."

"If only I were bigger."

"I must go on a diet!"

Amazing this, the very thing 

that one would wish to change,

The other has and doesn't want, 

it all seems very strange!

The more I heard, the more I thought, 

and scratched my puzzled head.

"The things each has are very good, 

why wish for change?" I said.

I got my friends to help me think 

and figure this thing out,

Why people wish to change their ways 

and what it's all about.

"You know," said one, "If all were 'Dons' 

just visualize the mess -

"We'd end up in a sorry state of fighting, 

I would guess!"

"I'm glad there's 'Jims' to listen!"

" 'Rebekahs' sure are nice!"

"You know, I think each one of us 

adds our own bit of spice."

And there, I think, is when I saw 

what really is the key,

And that, my friend, is this, 

(and I'm quite sure that you'll agree).

It's when I learn to thank the Lord 

for just the way He made me,

And do the bit that I can do 

with each small gift He gave me.

It's when I learn to thank Him for 

the folks He's placed around, 

To do the things that I can't do

 that happiness is found!

I hope you'll find as we have found

 that this is really living,

We're ALL important and for that 

there should be great Thanksgiving!!

An Un-typical Day

For one day, I gave eight children the pleasure of telling an adult how it's done. 

I sat in the big, important desk chair. 

Sixteen sets of eyes looked

 to me expectantly. 

I dug back in the archives of my 

Math Memory. 

I dusted off words like

"molecule" and "solar system".

I answered questions from people

 with waving hands. 

I read Charlotte's Web

and practiced my "Uncle" voice. 

I hung my coat on the hook on the wall. 

I carried my lunch like a child again. 

They called me Mrs. Eicher. 

I was a substitute. 

I was a substitute. 

They called me Mrs Eicher. 

I carried my lunch like a child again. 

I hung my coat on the hook on the wall. 

I read Charlotte's Web 

and practiced my "Uncle" voice. 

I answered questions from people

with waving hands. 

I dusted off words like

"molecule" and "solar system".

I dug back in the archives of my

Math Memory. 

Sixteen sets of eyes looked 

to me expectantly. 

For one day, I gave eight children the pleasure of telling an adult how it's done. 

Tidbits

Yesterday it was 63 degrees and sunny most of the day. I hung out laundry and trimmed my mint patch and went on a walk with just a light jacket. This morning it was 27 degrees and my morning drive looked like this...

Hello Winter! 

I can't say that I'm ever ready for you

But I must admit, you are pretty.

It feels like a cozy, curl up with a blanket and a book kind of a day. Sadly, I don't have a book; maybe a nap would work too? I did listen to a book last week -- Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate. It is a heartbreaking fictional story, based on one of America's most notorious real-life scandals -- in which Georgia Tann, director of a Missouri based adoption organization, kidnapped and sold poor children to wealthy families all over the country. Be prepared to not be able to stop once you get started.

I don't really have anything thrilling or noteworthy to talk about but I thought I might just scribble down a few bits and pieces of general interest with no particular rhyme or reason.

* * * *

I like to sew. However, I don't particularly like to cut the items out that need to be sewed. Even more particularly, I don't like when it's been months since you've sewed a dress for a growing daughter and it's necessary to re-measure things and tweek patterns, etc. Worse yet is when you've done all of that, sewed the dress, and the try on session reveals that it just doesn't quite fit right. If there's anything I do hate about sewing, it's needing to rip things all apart and re-do them. Ask me why this is all fresh on my mind.... Sigh.

* * * *

Cooking is forever a thorn in my flesh. I complain about it way, way too much. In an effort to cut out my daily pleas for supper ideas, my longsuffering husband implemented a plan and exhorted me to stick with it.

He even printed me up

these nifty little lists

It actually really does help to have a plan, since the biggest part of my cooking struggle is deciding what to cook. My problem now is getting the children to fill out the list for me. It's actually rather funny. For all that my husband and I are opposites, in this area we are so much the same: we're terrible at sticking to any kind of a plan. When we come up with a new plan around here, pretty sure our children just smile because they know it won't last long.

* * * *

This fall our church started having "small groups" again. (We're split into groups of 4 or 5 families + some singles and each group does something together every other week or so.) I have really been enjoying our group. Our gatherings have been very informal with a small snack and lots of children playing loudly. What I have loved most though, is listening to each other briefly tell our life stories. I keep wondering to myself what would happen if we did this more? So much of who we are is shaped by our childhood, our family, the community we were raised in; things we often know very little about even after attending the same church for years. It's been so interesting and illuminating. 

* * * *

A blog that I follow recently wrote a post tilted Notes From An Untrendy Person. It made me chuckle and think of several pictures I snapped recently and sent to my sister. One of them was this one taken at our local Wal-Mart, with this message -- 

"And we used to hunt high and low 

for long socks!"

The other was a picture of a homemade baby dress some etsy shop was selling for forty dollars, made from the exact pattern I used for my own little girls back in the day. I'm not sure what I'm waiting on? Quite sure I have some of those vintage dresses stored away in a tote in the attic....

* * * *

I really should get off of this cozy chair and try to get something else accomplished. Besides, it's past lunch time and I'm hungry. Also, I need to decide -- if the sewing is this evening, and I take three children with me, do I stick to the meal plan for tonight or deviate to something more suitable for less people? I tell you, the need to eat is just a major complication in this life. 

Got any tidbits of life you'd like to share? I'd be happy to listen...

A Book Recommendation For Hank Fans

Do you know Hank? If so, this post is for you.

I didn't grow up on Hank the Cowdog. I think I may have heard of him before I got married but it wasn't until Isaac was around Charles' age that he became a permanent part of my life. When Chris discovered the row of audio books at the local library, it wasn't long until they began making a steady stream through our doors...er... tape player.

I don't even know how to describe the books for those of you who aren't familiar with them? Back when my blog consisted of little snippets for blog posts, I wrote this little Hank bit about warm paws.  I roll my eyes over the silliness of the stories sometimes and I get weary of repeated listening but mostly, we all enjoy a good Hank The Cowdog story as a family. And, as Eicher tradition would have it, our children are experts at their own renditions of choice passages. The most hysterical to listen to are Isaac and Charles's. I will throw in this disclaimer here -- there is a bit of "language" included in the books that I am not overly fond of. As a whole, they are quite entertaining and wholesome.

Some time back, I listened to an interview of the author, John R. Erickson, and ever since then my fondness and appreciation of the Hank stories has increased. You can listen to the interview here. In my opinion, it would be hard to find a more humble, down to earth man than John R. Erickson.

Several months ago, I discovered that a new book was coming out titled "Finding Hank". The purpose of it was to give the author a chance to answer all the many questions he has received over the years about his writing. I decided it was a book this Hank loving household needed.

Our copy arrived in the mail last week and we have been thoroughly enjoying it. It is a lovely, hardcover book with lots of pictures and intriguing behind-the-scenes stories and facts. We've all spent lots of time looking through it and sharing the stories we've read. I love to watch Charles poring over the pictures.

These two pages are his favorite, with the pictures of the characters and the map showing all the places in the stories. 

 The book is divided into five sections, grouping the questions into different categories, which makes it easy to find any answers you might be looking for.

Probably a favorite section is part three, where John tells what inspired the characters and places in his books. There really were real life dogs that inspired "Hank" and "Drover" and many of the other characters were inspired by one or several people or animals the author knew.

If you have Hank the Cowdog fans in your life, this book is a must read!  You can buy it here or look it up on Amazon or in your local bookstore. I don't get anything out of this, I just thought you all should know.

One of my favorite quotes in the book comes from John's answer to the question, "Are you famous? Rich?"

"Am I rich? Hank has been a good dog and has brought me a comfortable standard of living, and I feel blessed for that. But what makes me rich is that I've been married to the same lady for fifty years, I've got three children and two dogs who like me, I have a clear conscience, and I sleep well at night. 

I'm doing what I want to do and I find meaning in it. Could a billion dollars bring something better than that? I doubt it."

Now that's the kind of attitude about life that I can get behind!

The Other Side Of The Camera

"There is nothing quite like the connection you share with siblings. Good times with these three over the weekend... remembering, laughing, making memories. I like us."

I spent the weekend with three of my siblings and shared those pictures and words on social media this morning. I wasn't going to but then I did anyway. 

They were true. 

We had a wonderful weekend. We talked and relaxed and laughed until we nearly cried. We did nothing and we did some sightseeing and we just enjoyed spending time with people who share our DNA and sense of humor. We ate and lounged and stayed up late and relished shedding all responsibilities. 

It is incredibly true that there is something about siblings that you will never quite find with somebody else. I am so very blessed to have a family who loves and cares about each other. 

But. 

It's also true that siblings and family are not all roses and sunshine. I've seen plenty of posts on social media just like the one I posted this morning that have left me feeling like my family must be lacking because, let's face it, there are hard things about family too. 

Sometimes the connection with siblings is painful. Sometimes there are things we don't agree with; things we wish we could change or fix. Sometimes we hurt each other or feel misunderstood. My family has a hard time getting things planned and sometimes the hassle feels like more drama than it's worth. 

My siblings and I are scattered farther apart geographically than we used to be. Since mom is gone, sometimes it's felt like we've drifted apart in other ways too. There have been times when it felt like the glue that held our family together was removed with her death and we struggled to hold together what we used to have. 

I love my family dearly. We share a connection and a heritage that I would never want to trade with anyone. Weekends like this past one make me deeply grateful for the way I was raised and the siblings God chose for me to share life with. 

But. 

I don't like to portray something that isn't the whole truth. It's too easy to show only the pretty side of the room and not turn the camera around and share the messy side as well. We hurt other people when we do that, leaving them feeling lacking and less than and not quite good enough. In the long run though, we hurt ourselves more than anyone.

And so, I wasn't going to post anything at all this morning, for that very reason. And then I did because, you know, that's just what you do. But then I felt compelled to turn the camera around and show the other side.....

Bunny Trails And Bushes

I've been meaning to sit down and write this for days but it still feels like a lot of little bunny trails that may not connect very well. I'll try not to lose you in the bushes. 

Several weeks ago, Chris and I took a little weekend excursion. Thought I'd throw in a couple pictures of the beauty we took in....

This year our whole church has been reading through the chronological Bible. Every Sunday, the sermon and our Sunday school discussion comes from something in the past week's reading. It has been a really good experience; I'd recommend it to anyone! There's nothing quite like the whole lot of you reading exactly the same thing at the same time and having it crop up in day to day conversations. 

Last week we finally made it to the New Testament. What a flip of a light switch! It hit me like never before that the people Jesus came to in the gospels were those same people we had just laboriously read about in the prophets -- well, not literally the same people. But people with that same mindset; that same world view. No wonder it was so hard for them to get it!

Reading the New Testament after nine months in the Old is like chugging down clear, cold water on a blistering hot day. There's so much goodness there you can hardly taste it all properly but you keep gulping greedily and every so often some little nugget reaches out and snatches your attention, like this one in Luke 3 --

When the crowds came to John for baptism, he said, “You brood of snakes! Who warned you to flee the coming wrath? Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. Don’t just say to each other, ‘We’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham.’ That means nothing, for I tell you, God can create children of Abraham from these very stones. Even now the ax of God’s judgment is poised, ready to sever the roots of the trees. Yes, every tree that does not produce good fruit will be chopped down and thrown into the fire.” The crowds asked, “What should we do?” John replied, “If you have two shirts, give one to the poor. If you have food, share it with those who are hungry.”

Luke 3:7‭-‬11 NLT

For some reason John's response captivated me. I wonder if the crowds were caught off guard by it? I wonder if they expected something bigger, more eloquent -- share our food and clothes -- really, John?

Sometimes I make the Gospel so much more complicated than it is. 

All of this reminded me of a couple years ago when I spent a January writing about Treasure In Heaven. I took the time to go back and read those posts again, and my goodness. It's quite a feeling to be so convicted by your own words!

And then Matthew 7 came along...

“Do not judge others, and you will not be judged.  For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. “And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own?  How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye?  Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.

Matthew 7:1-5 NLT 

Jesus fleshed it out a good bit more than John did, but it seems to me the bottom line is really -- Go get busy caring about other people. Stop nitpicking and judging and trying to prove how good you are. Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. And how do I do that? Start laying up some treasure in heaven!

This past week I determined to intentionally do just that. I chose to do at least one thing especially for my household, at least one thing especially to the household of faith, and at least one thing for someone or something outside of my little circle. It was so good for me. I want to take up the challenge to refocus once again and do it some more... and keep doing it... until it becomes a permanent part of my life. 

Those are my bunny trails. I hope if you got lost, you find an exit soon. 

A Snarky Crucifixion Of The Enneagram

Disclaimer: I apologize to all of you who have not jumped on the Enneagram bandwagon; I'm sorry if none of this makes any sense. Feel free to just click on by to something more interesting.

To those of you who are into the Enneagram, I hope I gave you a little something to smile about.

Carry on.

      ******************************

Dear Enneagram,

I don't know who the know it all was that had so much time on their hands they felt the need to sit down and dissect the human race on paper. Probably someone with so many degrees behind their name that their friends called them Fahrenheit. I don't know who you thought you were but I'd just like to thank you for several things.

First of all, congratulations on your ability to write detailed descriptions of all the worst characteristics of humanity. Seriously, you nailed it over and over -- "That's her!" and "Oh that's totally him!" Personal kudos for pin-pointing every single one of my weaknesses, even though I denied them all the first time around. You've got talent, I have to admit. You must have been an eight is all I can say. I mean obviously, the rest of us have opinions but you? You have facts.

I like how you deliberately take every one of us apart and then, when we're completely shredded and helpless, you try to tell us how good these things can be. I will say this -- you treat every number equally, so maybe there is hope in that. I have yet to hear someone discover their number and promptly declare how much they love it, so again, I have to give you the fact that you've been fair.

I do, however, have a bone to pick with you when it comes to number nine. I just have to say, if you were trying to be helpful you failed miserably on this one. And I quote:

"Nines can have the strength of Eights, the sense of fun and adventure of Sevens, the dutifulness of Sixes, the intellectualism of Fives, the creativity of Fours, the attractiveness of Threes, the generosity of Twos, and the idealism of Ones. However, what they generally do not have is a sense of really inhabiting themselves—a strong sense of their own identity.

Ironically, therefore, the only type the Nine is not like is the Nine itself."

I just have a question -- how is that helpful? 

You've just described what a nine is like and then you turn around and tell them the only person they're not like is a nine itself. Say what? If a nine takes on the characteristics of all the other numbers, would it not follow from simple logic that that persona is, in fact, a nine? What, may I ask, is 'the nine itself' if it is not that? For someone who is so good at slicing up humans into tidy little categories, you sure are confusing me on this one. 

Thank you for upsetting my world and making me think; it's my least favorite thing to do. You have forced me to spend days on end ruminating a question I have never in all my years found an answer for: Who Am I? I understand now why I've never known.

Congratulations.

Sincerely,
A Nine

PS. You have to know that tomorrow I will feel terribly about being so insulting; please forgive me. I really do like you a lot. In fact, I've been recommending your amazing work to numerous people, so there's that to soothe your feelings.

PPS. I forgot that you are, undoubtedly, an eight and therefore my snarkiness only served to amuse you. I take none of it back.

Dear Mom

I was taking a break from my sewing this morning and made an innocent little stop by facebook. Two minutes later I was reaching for a Kleenex and swallowing around a lump in my throat, wanna know why Mom?

It started with a simple little notification: "Genice Motes Cardenas has a birthday today." It ended up with me in tears, thinking about you.

The fact is, I cannot think about Genice without thinking about you, Mom; there's no way.

Mom on the left, Genice on the right, 

Wilma Hochstetler in the back

From as far back as I can remember, you always had the best friendships with your neighbors, Mom. As a little girl, I remember Sunday afternoon visits to Lillie Tuttle. I remember sitting in her tiny living room, playing quietly with a mesh bag full of plastic Easter eggs. I remember once climbing carefully up the steep steps to the teensy upstairs under the sloping roof in her little house and looking at old quilts she had made. I remember clearly, seeing you wipe tears the day that Lillie passed away and, with the innocence of a little girl asking, "Why are you crying, Mom?" Your simple answer was, "Because we will miss her."

I suppose because I was the youngest, I got in on visits with your neighbor friends more than my other siblings. I remember visits to Ina Cannon, Marilyn Myette, Ava Baker and a string of Motes relations. There was always someone that you wanted to visit and you almost never failed to take something along to either give them, or show them. 

I loved going with you to visit Ava, the dear sweet lady with the name that she declared "You can't even spell backwards!" She had the best sense of humor and 'lived in the house that Jack built', as she always liked to tell people. Her little house was a museum of her paintings, with full wall murals that she added to when the notion struck and many, many framed pieces that each had an intriguing story. Even after I was married, you would pick me up and take me along to show off your grandchildren. I remember clearly, the day I went with you to Ava's funeral and held your hand as you said good bye. 

Last summer we stopped by Ava's 

daughter's house and I got to show my children some of Ava's paintings 

There were other special neighbor friends, but I think Genice was almost more like a sister to you than anything, Mom. You told her things that you couldn't talk about with just anyone and after a visit with her, you almost always had a story to tell us at the supper table to make us laugh. You would try to imitate the drawling, southern accent and the dry sense of humor and we could all just hear Genice saying it. To me, one of the most special parts of your funeral will always be the tribute that Genice wrote for her daughter to read. You were a friend to many, Mom. And you deeply shaped my view of people outside of our Mennonite world. 

That one little innocent stop by facebook brought back all these memories, Mom. And suddenly I missed you desperately and decided to talk about it. Some memories are bittersweet but I am still so very thankful that I have them. And, all in all, I reckon I'm glad that Genice had a birthday today and facebook reminded me of the fact.

Love, Bethany

Because Of Lincoln

Nearly eighty thousand people have followed the story of little Lincoln Arrow Schrock. Two years ago, Lincoln was diagnosed with stage four Neuroblastoma at the age of three. This past Thursday, September 19, he slipped into the arms of his Jesus.

I too have followed their journey from afar. I've quietly traced the rollercoaster life they have lived. I have wept with them when they wept and rejoiced when they rejoiced. I didn't know them personally, but across the many miles from Wisconsin to Ohio, their story touched mine.

As parents, it's impossible to hear stories like Lincoln's without being impacted in some way. You can't hear about a three year old being diagnosed with cancer without looking around at your own four year old and imagining "what if". It's only natural to wonder, What would we do? How would we respond? How would something like this impact our lives? It's impossible to imagine the agony of decisions, the physical weariness, the brutal ups and downs, the intense pain of your heart.

I don't pretend to know exactly how we would handle a diagnosis like little Lincoln's. I doubt that we would do everything like Matt and Kaitlyn but I'm not here to talk about any of that. What I'm here to talk about is the most important part of any story: God's Glory.

I am in awe of the impact of Lincoln's story.

You couldn't be on social media this past week without seeing his name pop up somewhere. More than one blog has mentioned his story; many individuals have talked about his influence; a group of over two hundred moms has formed to keep each other accountable to treasure their children because of Lincoln... and more. And everywhere his name is mentioned, you hear people who have seen Jesus.  This is the part of following along with Lincoln's story that gives me goosebumps.

A three year old diagnosed with cancer and battling a monster for two long, grueling years is heartbreaking. Everything within us cries out at the unfairness; the awfulness; the anguish and sadness. I don't know a parent who wouldn't be willing to trade places, rather than watch their child go through so much pain. Nothing about such a story is pretty. It is hard, dark; something we would go to great lengths to avoid. No, nothing about it is pretty. Nothing except the beautiful redemption of Jesus.

Lincoln loved his Jesus.

Lincoln's family loved his Jesus.

The light of Jesus shone forth in every tiny detail of Lincoln's story. Not one of those eighty thousand people following his story could help but see it. That one detail takes a story with so much pain and heartache  and turns it into a beautiful one. Does that take away the pain? No. Does that make us glad for the heartache? No. But oh, the glory Jesus has received from the story of little Lincoln Arrow! I am in awe of what God can do when we hand Him our stories, ashes and all.

"Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God's story never ends with ashes."

 ~Elizabeth Elliot, These Strange Ashes

Book Recommendations

Happy Friday! I'm back with the promised post telling you about books that I recommend. Instead of four, I'm going to tell you about eight; how's that for a bonus?

Some of these books I've listened to, and some of them I have read. I now own one of them because it was that good; the rest have been returned to the library, either physically or online. Which brings me to this -- did you know you can get audio books from an 'online library'? My local library uses a free app called the Libby App; other libraries use different ones.

We have the App on all of our phones now and have listened to lots of books, at home and on trips. You can't always find what you're looking for and often you have to place a hold on a title and wait awhile but we sure have enjoyed it! 

So, without further ado....

It's been quite awhile since I read this book. I know I got it because of seeing it recommended somewhere but I can't remember where? I wasn't planning on sharing this one but this post reminded me of it. This is not my typical read. I don't like books that you have to wade through but this one was so intriguing and so good that it was worth some wading. 

This was a fun read. If you're into behind the scenes history type of stuff, you'll enjoy this book for sure. 

If you like marriage books, these are both good ones. It was summer time when I got these in on Libby, which isn't a good time to listen to books. I didn't quite get them both listened to before I needed to send them back so I have "For Women Only" on hold again.

I got this book on audio from the library a couple of years ago and it is incredible. Each of the main characters has a different reader and I honestly felt like I knew each of them personally after listening to this book. This probably isn't one you want to listen to with your children, at least not young ones. There's some language and explicit scenes that wouldn't be appropriate. I listened to it again on Libby in the past year.

These next two books are by the same author. I'm not sure which I would recommend that you read first? If you're a parent, and you only read one, I would highly recommend "Raising Grateful Kids In An Entitled World". I cannot say enough good things about this book. This is the one I decided I needed to have on my bookshelf so I could re-read it and mark it up and lend it out. I love "Rhinestone Jesus" too. It stirred me deep inside and made me wonder what would happen if we all pursued our 'God sized dreams'?

And then there is this one. Have you gotten on the ennagram bandwagon? If you're interested in the ennagram, this is the book you want to read -- in my opinion, of course. I haven't listened to all of it yet, mostly just to the numbers that describe me and my family members. We listened to some of it together as a family and it was very entertaining. When it began to vividly describe my eleven year old, she got a peculiar look on her face and protested,  "Just shut it off!!" Spoiler alert: You will find it amazing when it begins to describe your insides better than you could yourself but you prooobably won't like [at least some of] what you hear.

That's all for now.  Another time I might share some audio books we've enjoyed as a family. Have a great weekend!

On Book Reviews

I really hate writing book reviews.

The truth is, I really hate writing when it takes a lot of work. Incidentally, that would explain why I've written so little in the past months but that's not what we're talking about. For me, writing a book review is a lot of work. 

I refuse to tell you how long these

blocks have been on my

dining room floor, 

stacked in various creations. 

I just keeping moving them to the wall

and sweeping and mopping around them. 

I love to read. As a young girl, I used to read voraciously. I almost forget how much I used to read until I watch my eleven year old and then I'm reminded. I'm a fast reader and if I start a good book, it's almost impossible to put it down until it's done. Somewhere along the line, when duties and responsibilities became a bigger part of my life, I all but stopped reading books. Occasionally I would have an all day/ late night fling where all of my other duties would suffer and time would stand still but mostly, I just didn't read.

In the last year or so, I've been trying to read more.  There's probably several reasons for that. It's partly just because I have the time and I've gotten into audio books but also because I know it's so good for my mind; so much better than the mindless other things I do instead. Most of the books I've been reading are ones I saw recommended by someone else. So, of course, you know what that made me think I should do.

I love the creativity so much. 

They're all crossing the street 

in the crosswalk....

But oh, dear me. Writing a book review is so much work! And I really hate writing when it takes a lot of work. 

Here's the thing. I am not good at taking a whole conversation with someone or a whole story or a whole book and relating it to someone else. My husband can come home from a meeting and, nearly verbatim, repeat to me what every person there said and did. I love it. But I don't have that ability. Of course, it probably goes back to the fact that I read too fast and can't remember half of it by the time I get done. I'm not sure how that corresponds to conversations but I have the same problem remembering those. 

We had a birthday girl last week...

And she got to have some

 friends over after school.

They had a little "tea party"...

A n y w a y.

There are several books I have read recently that maybe some of the rest of you would enjoy. I am not your typical 'book review' kind of person. I don't know my authors, I hate looking at books at thrift stores, I don't know genre and literary so forths and what have yous. We own very few books, especially when compared to a lot of readers that I know. Somehow I just never felt the need. I can get practically any book through our library system and if I buy it, there it will sit on a shelf after I've read it, and for what purpose? You book buyers feel free to argue with me and keep building bookshelves, I really don't mind; that's just not me. 

We've got our second

teen-age driver in the house. 

Those firsts don't really get less terrifying. 

I have at least four books I'd like to tell you about -- four books that I'm going to 'recommend'. I like that word better than 'review'. I don't think I'll even try to write reviews, as such. The very thought gives me a headache. And now that I have wasted all your time meandering around the subject, I think I'll leave my book recommendations for another day. 

Back soon!

PS. I don't know why I like sticking in random pictures that have nothing to do with the post. I hope you don't mind.