Tag: death

Fear not

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Remembering this day, 25 years after the event that changed our country. Here is a bit of what I experienced.

We were living in a rental in a very small town in Iowa. My husband was at work, and he called me to say, I should probably turn the television on and watch what was happening. I did.

I know that I made a flag etiquette error in choosing to put the flag under the shadow of these old acreage trees. It is my goal to find a new home for the flag pole where the flag can be”stand alone” in it’s cry of freedom amidst the home of the brave.

Really, it was probably not the best thing for my young children to see in live footage. My girls were only eight and six at the time. My father in law had colon cancer, with but three of his treatments following surgery completed. My niece had just died unexpectedly in July. And my grandmother had just moved into a nursing facility with end stage life taking her on the journey towards her end. Life was full of death and woe at that moment in our family. My husband had also just finished a few weeks off after an unfortunated accident at work that put him on bed rest for a time.

Watching death happen in real time was not exactly what we needed to see on the day that we all know as an emergency number. It’s hard to believe that there are kids who were not born yet, who now think they can text nine one one. Really? Really?

In these past twenty five years, much has happened to reshape the family and the people that are now my circle. My children are grwon and married. My daughters in full fledged motherhood are looking forward to giving me grand child number six. My in laws are now passed on along with my father. Several uncles and aunts have gone ahead of us also into eternal life.

How do we teach the history in a way that helps our children, grand children and our newest citizens to be properly reactive and to fear not. It is such a learned behavior to whine and fuss about all things rather than react in confidens and wisdom. Some children are little nuclear reactors to everything they experience whereas others are calm and peaceful, brave and stable. Helping children to be winners during any moment through the day is a never ending constant parenting. Leading a child into life in ferocious confidence, is key to one’s survival when life happens in a way that is unexpected.

Fear not.

Teaching fear not means being fear not. Some days I wonder why my body is reacting to life in the way that it does. I am studying health and nutrition in a deep dive like never before because there is not much life left for me to live. I want to live the rest of my life, not just survive whatever happens to me in the next many years. I want to live life, really LIVE.

So many moments in time are frozen in time as the attacks of terrorists took the future from them. Living through the terror there are so many who learned fear that they could never have considered. Knowing cruelty and horror. There were many who afterwards, not being part of the recovery or emergency response, who would feel guilt for going on living.

That day, we went right out and bought a flag. We had left our pole and flag in the country of the house we just sold. Living in a rental house was not our “dream life.” But the day changed us. We decided to do a couple of “living” choices. We took a family trip on a train in Wisconsin about three weeks later, and then chose to purchase a modular home to put on the family homestead . And here we are.

How is it that in the face of death many fear life? Yet we did. Then it became evident that fear is what the enemy wanted for us. NO! I began to tell myself and my children we will fear not, I will not fear. I will live and live life to the fullest.

Today the news in just the past year has been dark. A mother of three innocent children in her intense fear of the day and morrow took their lives with her own. bare hands and has lived to be acquitted of this hideous evil. How is it that others will now follow in her lead and take the very lives they so labored to birth? This is vain and abominable sin. What right has she to go on breathing after taking such horrid actions? And then also is the talk that a man who spoke truth deserved to die for his speech that offended others.

What makes people fear mere words and take such offense at the expressed word? Has the darkness that took down the towers twenty five years ago entered the spirit of this land that once claimed such freedom? What freedom is there if one should fear lest he or she say the wong thing and be shot?

Fear not.

In twenty five years the darkness has grown more menacing and cruel. Sin has not been called such. Yet God is light and in Him is no darkness at all. (I John chapter one). I shall fear only the God of Light who alon can turn his back leave a land in utter darkness.

Oh, that I would not be Jonah and run the opposite direction when I see the land of Nineveh in such need. I will fear not to share God’s light and be the hope in the midst of this dark night.

Fear not

Psalm 23:4. “Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear evil; for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff they comfort me.”

The Crochet Corner

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Today the moment of complete disrepair was my loss of a crochet hook. And I’m pretty fussy about changing hook brands during a project. The length of the shaft from hook to flat makes a big difference on the stitch tension. The whole item can get crooked or simply loose it’s comfort or softness.

This morning, the day after my mother in law’s birthday, I thought that I was doing okay emotionally. Until… until the I lost the crochet hook that I was using in my current project. After tearing apart the basket of yarn, the corner compilations of things, the blanket on the sofa protecting it from the the visiting dog slobber, and gernerally moving everything to and fro, the hook is still not united with the project.

The Hammerstein Cinderella movie from my early childhood was not something I ever saw as a child. My girls were gifted with the VHS cartridge of the movie and we watched it nearly as many times as they did Mary Poppins. The song, “In my own little corner” could easily have been my theme song from childhood and through adult years. I find the comfy corner in just about any setting I find myself

At church, it is generally at the piano, and yes, it is nearly tucked into the corner, only just displaced by the drum set next to it. Many times throughout my life in significant events, I was the one who used the piano in the corner to “entertain” or lead the singing. Growing up church, I was just stage left of the pulpit. Only because the back office and old stairway were far left, did the piano not truly sit in the corner. In high school, I found myself also often tucked in the stage left of all of the happenings on the stage, pounding out the accompaniment for the choir or the jazz band. Then on I went through college, playing for the interfaith fellowship weekly, local church choir, or other happening. After marriage, my placement did not change much. I did try center stage music ministry for a time, but it was not meant to be. The music that I composed still floats about in my head often crashing upon the shoreline in a tidal wave of memory and private worship times.

Crochet pattern kaleidoscope shawl just looked up a tutorial video and followed the pattern

My daughter’s growing up years found me also in the corner on the sidelines of their accomplishments at the piano. That also eventually failed, as their ability soon became beyond mine. They had other hands at the piano and I was happy to hear them become such very good musicians. I also had a chair or two that kept me “cornered” through their home schooling years. It was my “old school ma’rm” chair and I really have not sat in it much after they went to college and got married. Though it is comfy for me, I do not move my crochet projects about the house to sit in different chairs.

So in my own little corner of the living room, I set up a work station complete with baskets for devotional time, pottery cup with hooks and scissors, table for drink cup, and anything thing else that I might desire is within reaching distance. It’s not that I can be anyone I want to be there. I pretty much feel like “ME” most of the time. It is my creative corner both to use my hands and my brain and stay active in my sedate position!

The phone rings and from my corner I am still a wife, a mother, grandma “Oma,” a sister, a daughter, a niece, a sister in law, a crochet artist, a writer, and so much more. God has gifted me I know with a creative spirit. Sometimes, the old projects are ripped apart and made new. Somedays my ideas of who I really am get ripped apart also as God works on renewing my heart to be His child.

Today as I moved all of the items in my corner searching for my hook, I wondered once again…. What lesson is God trying to teach me in this?

The hook and project are still not united. Our family going the grief process in our recent loss of my father’s brother is also not united in physical form. Though we are united in our wonderment of why 66% of people do not have a will when death is such a guaranteed outcome of living? Yet there is the statistic and we all fall into it. Most of us do not plan for our death.

Okay, maybe these thoughts are all too morbid, but why do we ignore the inevitable? Meanwhile, loss and grief are all so common to us all. Yet some people take it upon themselves to think they are somehow “special” in their own experience and believe that no one else could ever have it as bad as they have. Really? Yes, everyone has their own set of life’s experiences, but should not these help us to relate to others going through similar life happenings. Death is not a singular event. We all have the loss of loved ones, parents, siblings, or children. Living involves loss.

The crochet hooks is still no where for me to find it. I finished one lovely kaleidoscope crochet shawl last week, and enjoyed the process so much I started another. There it sits. Without the correct size hook, it will be left alone for the day. When I have nothing other than crochet I literally feel LOST. I run about with my head chopped off wondering if cleaning is all there is to life I’d rather not live. Okay, it’s not that bad. But my husband would say “Yest it is.”

Books are my imagination escape. If it weren’t for books I would also be lost. I subscribe to an audio book app and that keeps me occupied most of the time. I finally got the BAARD set up on my phone also, and those are free. Then I can download four or five books, and just keep trying them and deleting until one peaks my interest. Sometimes I am not so discerning and pure entertainment is preferred to somehting more historical or educational.

This past month I came across “Mrs. Pargeter’s Mysteries.” While I do not give the books high marks, they did keep me entertained while I crocheted for the better part of two weeks. The final thought that I had after considering why I had spent my time listening to criminal mafia type comedy mysteries was – so that is what a “docier” is… french word maybe for keeping a list of someone’s wrongs towards a person or group that when reaching a certain said sin load would result in the call made for a hit or death wish. I decided that indeed a docier is what a lot of people keep for other’s whom they hold life long grudges and family enemies. I refuse to hold a docier of anyone in my mind or in my heart. Forgiveness has to be the rule in my relationships.

While maybe we are human and we have a difficult time forgetting how others have wronged us, If God can forgive me through Jesus, surely I ought to forgive others. Perhaps forgetting is not always wise, if we can remember without animosity and let it spur us on to be better and do better, that is good. Remembering the past mistakes of others is a lesson learned. And it should make us want to repay evil with good. So that was how listening to those books helped me. And when I mention things my moms said to me, it is so that I can respond with empathy and compassion to my daughters when they tell me things.

It’s been a rough day, but once again I am reminded of my own mother’s “someone always has it worse” stories and bad news reports anytime I felt like I had a bad day. She could always find some negative news item to make me feel like my day was sunshine and roses. Comparing my own happenings to the floods in Napal or the Grand Canyon, or the fires in Nevada just doesn’t make me feel any better, mom! Yeah, I know someone else might have it worse, but could you just say, “I’m sorry, you are having a rough day?” I learned at an early age that my feelings would never be validated. If I was ever looking for someone to weep with me, laugh with me, or just care I best be going to Jesus.

Oh, and the crochet hook is still lost. I have spent well over three hours moving things and looking for it. At this point in the day I am about to say the devil ate my crochet hook. I mean, he probably does not like my crochet and pray hours. So unless I go and buy another hook, the current project will ramain unfinished.

Conclusion of lessons learned from my crochet corner hooks and books already accomplished. However, today is another rough day for some of my people. So many prayer requests laid down at the foot of the cross, it is time to start the praises for what great deeds God has already done in our lives. The first being that I found my hook! I dug through my hook collection and found that the size I needed was “I” not “H” and begin working. I finished one color addition and grabbed the scarlet skein and there was the I – hook that I lost, embedded in the center of the skein that I handled nearly four times trying to find. Wow! Now Lord be the provider in all of these other prayer requests that I lift up to you now, and Thank You for being our supply!

The one uncle

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Sometimes it feels necessary to sum up one moment in life with a statement or feeling, or overwhelming conscious thought. This past week is one of those moments in my life. A dear uncle of mine passed away rather expected but shockingly so it happened, alone and without the knowledge of anyone in the family for a matter of days. The week for me began with a rather inconspicuous heartburn problem that seemed to have no digestive cause. The “heartburn” lasted until exactly the hour that I learned of my Uncle’s passing. Why was my spirit so vexed within me?

I was on a ten day streak of shortened sleeping hours for no apparent reason also. Some nights no more that two or three hours of actual sleep found me wondering just what really is going on here. We had a lot of phone conversations among family for the first week of the news until the decision was made that some of us do feel the need to honor his life and the contribution that he gave to each of us in our life’s journey.

Just because someone does not ever acknowledge the Maker of heaven and earth publicly, does it mean that we should no less be thankful to the maker for their influence in our lives? Or rather can we be thankful for the the difficult people in our lives just as we are grateful for the everyday people that help the world go around? Yes, scripture tells us that we are to be thankful in every thing. In all circumstance’s giving thanks always for all that God does in our lives and through the people around us that we might give God the glory. Even if they do not.

Before I share some of my favorite memories, I first want to share some of my dad’s favorite memories that he shared with me those last weeks before his passing.

Once when he and his brother were just pre-teens, they and a couple of neighbor boys were put in charge of driving some cattle across a number of miles to new pasture land. They seem so young to be on such a big mission, but for both of them it was a real highlight of their growing to manhood. At one point, my dad fell asleep while telling the story again, and then began muttering that he was trying to find his brother. They would often be out all day on horseback bringing cows home, or moving them to different pastures. They truly were the American cowboys that one sees in the picture books.

Another story is about boxing gloves that one of their friends or cousins was given as a gift. There was many a rowe with their friends as the boys dug into each other to beat one or the other in a boxing match. At one point, one of the older boys goaded my dad into fighting him even though there was quite an age, height, and weight difference. My dad was fiesty enough to land the boy a hit to the gut that took his air away and he caved in letting my dad take the win. Hearing him tell the story was quite hilarous as the exaggerations improved upon each telling.

My earliest memories of my Uncle were as a little toddler standing up on the seat of the pickup cushion with my arms reaching out to touch either shoulder. At one point I could hold it in no longer and my dad says I rubbed my Uncle’s head and said, “You don’t have any hair up here.” He replied as always on his baldness, “Hair is like grass, It does not grow on a busy street.”

My uncle had a self confidence that outshined his stuttering speech. His ego and male magnetism was not always a positive trait. And it often rubbed people the wrong way. Late in his life many of the relatives believed that he may have had autism or some other smart brain social disfunction. But for those of us that did visit with him occasionally his intelligence made for easy conversation.

Of all my uncles, my dad’s brother is the only phone number in my phone, in which HE actually called me. That does make it seem rather special that we have this ability to honor him with a memorial service and spend some time celebrating his life.

My Uncle was an engineer, a wood working hobbyist, a distance range management land holder, a political activist, a writer (dropping lines to new paper editors frequently), and so much more. When I was a little girl all I new was that he helped build airplanes. To encourage my love of math in early high-school years, he gave me a photo of prototype Boeing 737 and signed the back of it for my birthday.. I am rather sad the picture was ruined by weather a number of years ago. But I remember it clearly.

My Uncle was also one of the few people of my relatives that seemed to really enjoy asking me about my greenhouse and how things were going with it. We could discuss herbs, plants, bugs, and soil content with ease and it was always a stimulating conversation. He also loved music, and thoroughly enjoyed hearing about my daughters and their accomplishments through the years. I remember having a discussion about the purchase of their instruments and the makers of each after they acquired the violins, cello, and viola each. He was so well rounded in his knowledge.

My Uncle’s wood lathe hobby was also an inspiration to my father in law. And sharing some of the items that my uncle made often inspired my dad in law to try his hand at certain toy making and kitchen utensils. The coffee scoops that my Uncle turned out of cherry wood or apple wood are some of my favorite. I use them every single day.

What I learned most from my Uncle was how to encourage young people and listen to what they are interested in. I enjoy asking my grand kids or other children “intelligent” questions and getting them to express their thoughts in more than just one word answers. While there were times my Uncle seemed overbearing to others, or a little fixed on a particular subject that i knew nothing aboout, the good that he taught me out weights the bad. And while I never heard him acknowledge that the Supreme Intelligence is the giver of all knowledge and wisdom, I know that God is Him who makes one smart and another not so much. Yet we can learn from every day people just the same as we can learn from those far above our station.

In my coffee grounds jar there lies a scoop, a measure for my daily portion of caffiene allowance, it is the gift of my Uncle’s handiwork and I shall treasure it as I treasure the memory of his input in my life.

One cannot ever really find themself, one is only found by the Great Shepherd. We are all at our core lost sheep. Only by the grace of the Holy Spirit our ears are opened to hear the voice of the Shepherd calling out name. Isaiah 53: “All we like sheep have gone astray, each of us to our own way.”

Hearing that my Uncle was found a day or so after his summons to death was so sad to me. His spending so much of his life alone, and knowing his eyesight loss was similar to mine, it pained me to hear that he was discovered deceased by his good confidant and cousin. How hard it is to go through the personal belongings and try to find all of the important documents and such. How hard it is to make those calls to the officials and the relatives. In the face of death, life marches on and so much has to be accounted for.

What truth does God have for me in Christ during this moment as our family makes the transition to life without my uncle. Of course those who had daily interaction and weekly phone calls, and monthly business dealings, all find themselves making changes.

My life at such a distance will only be affected in the memories and the planned gatherings, and the many phone calls remembering. What matters most I think is how I feel like I did not get to share the truth about God’s gift of my Uncle, to him. I never told him that I believed God gave him an intelligent mind to stimulate those around him to do more and be more. I am also sorry that our visits never got into the spiritual side very often. It just seemed the moment was never right for me to share things along that line of conversation.

I am not without hope, though, as my Uncle was the one who orchestrated both of his parent’s memorial services, with daughters and I providing the music. Both of the services were Christianity based and the gospel message shared. He also attended my dad’s memorial service and told me how pleased he was of his nieces and nephews aftewards.

Threads of Faith

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Guest Writer Renae Kampa. Introduction by myselfl- Yvonne Annette. Phillipians 4:6-7 “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Trust God during troubled times is somewhat easier than during seasons of no wind. The last few months after my dad’s hopitalization and subsequent hospice care, some days it really did feel like God was literally carrying us in the palm of His hand. After the gatherings and celebrations, it seems harder to cling to the memories and know that God is just as close as He was then. Faith in the Father of Lights means that even when we are struggling with the dark thoughts of abandonment and feeling forsaken by our physical, earthly father, God will reach down into our dark feelings and remind us that He is still the Lord of all.

My father’s family has a history with the church that is typical worldly. The church is there in the early years, and used at the end of life bit presence during the in between years a bit lacking. Was God there during all the “dash” years? The Alpha and the Omega certainly does care about the middle years doesn’t He?

During the middle years, I spent many years trying to have an “Adult” relationship with my dad. For much of our history I had to hang up the phone or walk away from our visit because he would return to his old ways of behavior or speech. I spent twenty years trying to teach my dad that I was an adult, and he could not used language with me that was essentially trash. I am so thankful that I worked hard at those margins and asked God for patience.

My husband’s family was the example for me in service and gifts of grace and mercy towards others. So when my father-in-law and mother-in-law passed away, one of the third or fourth phone calls that I made was to my dad. I did not hold back the faith filled moments that God graciously gave to us as we parted from our loved ones. It was after one of these calls that my dad offered up his first “I love you” that was not prompted. Of course, it was also during this time that my dad made the decision not to pursue more treatment for his cancer diagnosis.

This past month my family said goodbye to my dad. This is the third parent funeral in just nine months. Typically that’s not what one thinks of for nine months. Yet another descriptive phrase is fullness of time. The full measure of a persons life is not something often thought. Yet again God knows the “handbreadths” of a person’s life. And once again another parent (of my sister-in-law) has now passed on to eternal life.

When we know the end is near, we often cling to that mortal life, clasping hands and wishing for their suffering to end. But the battle for the soul is paramount and must be fought while the spirit, heart, and mind can still accept and choose Life in Jesus. So that’s what we did. We went to visit regularly and during the battle moments, to help our dad choose the peaceful process of letting go into God’s hands.

Photo by my brother Wade. This double rainbow was a beautiful ray of hope for my brother the day after the funeral. (Our family does not believe a rainbow has anything to do with pride but rather the rainbow is God’s promise to care for His creation.)

The following is a written testimony that my elder sister shared at the memorial service for my dad. I have changed nothing. So this week my guest writer is my sister Renae.

Threads of Faith – Love in Action

Threads of faith – God in His loving mercy created us to love and serve him.  We are called to love, to be love and to show love to others.  A thread, small and insignificant in its own way may seem useless, however, when that thread is applied skillfully together it becomes a master piece – a cloth useable for many things.  Such is faith.  It too, starts out simple, small and may seem so insignificant at times, yet, God in His wisdom created us to trust, to believe, to cry out when we hurt and seek His help.  He lovingly takes these threads, the times of our lives and creates his tapestry of love in our hearts because of His great love for mankind.

God created us to return His love, he willed His only begotten Son to share in the trials, temptations and cruelty of all life offers.  Why, because the Son Jesus Christ so loved us, he wanted to share our burdens; He shed drops of blood during the Agony in the Garden before his death on the cross where he willingly died for our sins and offered His salvation to the world.  He died that we might live eternally with Him in the beautiful Garden of Heaven.

Threads of faith – We learned that cancer had returned in our father’s body and began to pray for his eternal soul.  Yvonne so eloquently said that: “Dad is a soul beloved by God” that we needed to witness love, faith, forgiveness, patience, and salvation to him.  I began to pray that there would be a thread of faith in his heart.  A thread planted into his soul many years before that he could now hold onto and that God would use to bring him to a place of accepting God’s gift of the Savior and His salvation, forgiveness, and love. Threads alone are fragile but when woven by an almighty God they become strong.

I prayed that these threads would be used by God to comfort him in his suffering and be the strength to guide his soul to Christ.  I prayed that each time someone would be present to witness love, faith, and prayer that he could adhere to its truths daily and find what comfort he needed in this trying time.

As he lay in his bed, Yvonne, Gavin and Valerie as well as others, would tell him stories of Jesus, read scripture, play music, and pray which are all threads of faith in their own way, threads that Jesus could use to lead his heart daily.  What we witnessed is a testimony to this prayer.  There was peace, calm and even acceptance during the last month knowing that his life on earth was nearing an “I love You’s” said and then repeated to each family member was God’s way of telling everyone he found peace with his Creator.  He knew love, God’s love and those threads of faith began to weave the beautiful cloth of love given and received.

God’s Mercy knows no boundaries.  Those threads – the things once heard are used by a loving Savior.  The wisdom and guidance of the Holy Spirit convicts and comforts us to accept God’s ways.  God’s Mercy reaches the depths of the soul that seems unreachable.  The beauty is witnessed seeing lives that are touched and changed.  Miracles happen right before our eyes, prayers are answered.  Jesus is Lord and Savior.  God is Holy.

We children felt the love of our father when we needed it most and he felt the love of his children and an Almighty God in every breath he took those last days.  

The final thread was woven out of faith and love; we give our father over to the creator of all the threads in our lives and let His love heal our hearts.

From the Diary of St. Faustina of Poland:

“Let every soul trust in the Passion of the Lord, and place its hope in His mercy. God will not deny His mercy to anyone. Heaven and earth may change, but God’s mercy will never be exhausted..” —Diary # 72

Psalm 100:5 “For the Lord is good, his steadfast love endures forever, his faithfulness to all generations.”

Thanks again, to my sister for being the guest writer this week. I hope this small story from our family’s love in action will bess someone today.