August 16, 2013

  • Ordinary Days with a twist of God . . .

    Thursday morning started entirely too soon.  On Wednesday night, we had gathered at our country church to clean.  There were helping hands and willing hearts and we moved a BUNCH of dirt.  We’ve been in the process of remodeling and painting, moving church benches around, getting rid of a large number of benches (does anybody want some, cheap?) and the basement really needed attention.  When this illustrious event happened to fall on the fourteenth of August, the wife of Certain Man thought it well pleasing to celebrate Certain Man’s 60th birthday.  (What with it actually being the exact day.)  So there were people called, a cake arranged for, and other refreshments planned and when the work was mostly done, friends helped to celebrate.

    But the hour got late, and CMW needed to stop by the store on the way home to buy some sausage.  Certain Man’s office had planned a breakfast and he had promised to bring sausage gravy.  By the time CMW got to bed that night it was quite late, indeed.  And then, come morning, it was “up and at’m” pretty early so that the gravy could be finished before Certain Man left for work at seven.

    Everything got accomplished in fairly good timing.  Blind Linda (BL) and Our Girl Audrey (OGA) got on their buses, and CMW was getting on with her day, when she remembered something important.  Our Girl Audrey’s wallet.

    CMW carries two wallets in her pocketbook that belong to the individuals who make their home at Shady Acres.  Linda’s is white.  Audrey’s is an electric purple.  They are the modern hard cased, hard to open things that contain the many cards and identification items that CMW needs for them from time to time.  They are probably the most important item in the lives of these two ladies because it holds their access to health care, savings accounts and family information.  CMW never treats them lightly.

    However, on Tuesday night while CMW was taking friend Torre for some items for school, she had stopped at the bank to withdraw some much needed funds for OGA just before taking Torre home.  CMW had enjoyed a great time with Torre, and the buys they had found were beyond good (actually, incredible!) but the hour was quite late.  CMW told stories about ATM’s and people coming out of the bushes when Certain Man was depositing the church’s offerings, and there was much exclaiming and shivering while CMW searched frantically through her purse, trying to find OGA’s wallet.  She finally discovered that it had slipped through a rip that was behind a zippered compartment in her purse and was floating around in the darkness beneath the lining.  Once she found it, there was a hasty withdrawal, and a stuffing of receipt and money into the wallet, and the two gals headed home.  It was 10:15 until Torre was home and her mom talked to and then CMW headed home.

    Some time during the day on Wednesday, while CMW was out and about with her Sweet Mama, she realized that OGA’s wallet was missing again.

    “It probably slid down through that rip again,” thought CMW.  ”I really need to do something about fixing that.”  And she put it towards the back of her mind.  But then she would think about it and wonder if it really was there.  She made a few perfunctory passes through the purse and didn’t see it, but her purse is notoriously unorganized and so she thought she just must be missing it somehow.  She finally decided that she really needed to look for it in earnest.  That would have been Thursday morning. In her (ahem!) spare time.

    The thing was, it was the last day for Youngest Daughter to have the three kids that have been part of her summer job.  They were heading out for some fun things to do.  CMW was hoping to take her rental van home that morning because she was sick of it.  Well, actually, sick of paying for it and homesick for her own van that was to be finished by Friday. There were deposits that needed to go to two different banks and several canning and household chores clamoring for attention.  And the man at Enterprise said the van needed to be back by 11 o’clock to avoid being charged for another day.

    But then she remembered that she hadn’t found OGA’s wallet yet and it just might (probably was!) somewhere in that van.  She had to find that wallet before she took the van back.  So she first dumped all the contents of her purse out on the counter and methodically went through them.  This was an exercise in futility.  There was no bright purple wallet. Not even slipped down under the lining.  Then she went out and went through the van.  She carefully looked and looked.  Nothing.

    She came back into the house and spoke sad words with Youngest Daughter.

    “Boy, Mom,” said Youngest Daughter sympathetically, “you’ve not been having the best of times with your ladies the last few weeks, have you?”

    CMW murmured assent, but thought ruefully that she hadn’t been having the best of times with a number of integral parts of her life the last few weeks.  And grumbling didn’t help.  She went back out to the van and looked again, including places that just weren’t likely.  Then she came in and called Sweet Mama.

    “Mama, is there any chance that I inadvertently dropped Audrey’s wallet into your pocket book yesterday when we were in Lewes? ”  she asked hopefully.

    “I don’t know,” said Sweet Mama, “let me look.”  She returned to the phone with another negative answer.

    “Do you remember seeing it?”

    “No.  Not at all,” replied Sweet Mama.  ”It is something I think I would have noticed because it is so unusual.  I don’t recall seeing it all day.”

    CMW returned to the van and looked some more.  The situation was looking more and more hopeless to her.  How in the world would she ever recreate all the information that was in there?  And since the medication error of a few weeks ago, she has tried really, really hard not to draw any attention to herself in any way whatsoever when it came to her ladies and the State of Delaware.  There was over a hundred dollars in there, too, as well as two very important receipts.  She had been murmuring some desperate prayers as she muddled about, but it was time for some serious praying.  So pray, she did!

    The one thing that kept nagging at the back of her mind was whether it had maybe fallen out on the back alley at Torre’s house.  She knew that Torre would never have taken it, but since she hadn’t seen it since that night, she began to wonder if she may have dropped it somehow when she and Torre were unloading the car.  However, the last thing she wanted Torre to think was that she was suspecting her.  The dilemma about whether or not to call Torre waged for quite a while, but as the morning passed, she decided that she should at least check and see. 

    “No,” said a surprised Torre, “I didn’t see anything out there on the drive at all.”  I wasn’t surprised.  That alley is a pretty busy place and if a brilliant purple wallet had been lying there, it would have been eye catching.  CMW began to resign herself to the fact that it was gone for good.

    Unknown to her, Youngest Daughter was busily entreating Heaven on behalf of her troubled mama.  CMW noticed that she was unusually busy around the kitchen and unusually quiet, but was too besot with her own troubles to wonder.

    And then CMW decided to look through the van one more time.  It seemed futile, because she had opened every compartment, looked under every seat, opened every door and snooped through places she didn’t even know were there.  She had cleaned out all the trash in preparation for returning the rented vehicle, and collected all the things that had accumulated over the course of the nine days that the family had the vehicle.  There really was no where else to look, but an almost compelling force drew her back out.  Discouraged, she opened the door, and there, right on the passenger seat lay the familiar purple wallet.

    To say that there was great astonishment would be an understatement.  To say that there was great rejoicing would also be an understatement.  

    Dancing on a garage floor, 
    Hands raised to my Father.
    Tears of relief.
    Giddy with grateful joy.

    Mystery of mysteries.
    How could this be so?

    I do not know why 
    The God of the Universe
    Concerns Himself with me –
    Careless, unobservant, and human.

    I don’t know why.

    But this I know.
    A miracle came today
    Out of the blue
    In the color of purple.

    And my heart gives Grateful Praise.

August 15, 2013

  • My Book is printed . . .

    book front      Book Back

    We are still working on the marketing strategy and have a few things that need ironed out –

    But I held the very first copy in my hands this afternoon and still cannot believe it is real.

    There are mistakes, as I’ve already found.  But I expected that.

    I will be posting how to get one once the big order gets here and I know a little more what I am doing.

    Whew!  

    Now I need to come back down from my “high” and go clean my refrigerator.

    And steam some grapes for juice.

    And blanch some lima beans for freezing.

    And cook some tomatoes for pizza sauce.

    How’s that for a dose of reality on this Glorious Delaware Afternoon?

August 11, 2013

  • I feel like I can’t settle tonight.

    I’ve often asked my friends to pray for “our kids” that live in such disarray.  (see http://buckeyegirlie.xanga.com/774405088/item/

    Today the doorbell rang, and on the platform at the top of the ramp stood the mother, disheveled and teary, of these precious kids.

    Please pray for this family.  They are truly in desperate straits.

    Pray especially for “J” the oldest boy who is 11.

    This is not the avenue to say what has gone so wrong.  I’m sorry.  But I cannot say here.

    But I can ask you to pray.

    James 5:16

    Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man (woman) availeth much.

     

August 3, 2013

  •  

    Love Bug had a big day.  Blue Play Doh (Who’da thunk that Grammy could make play doh???) and weeding in the garden with Grandpa.  Riding the Golf cart and cutting and pasting and coloring.  Watching the movie “Madeline” for the first time, and “Milo and Otis” twice in one weekend.  Taking a bath and making a glorious mess with the colors for the bath and the tablets to make the water a funny color.  A story and a prayer and the songs from Mommy’s childhood, “You’re Something Special” and “Jesus, I heard you had a Big House” and “Good-night, My Father, Put Thoughts of Jesus in My Head.” Torre, here to spend the night, listened from her mattress on the floor, while Grammy prayed that the words would sink into her hungry heart and take root.  Love Bug was asleep before the last song was done, and Torre turned her light out soon.  Two girlies, both so precious.  

    Oh, Lord Jesus.  ”Put Angels all around all our beds.”

July 20, 2013

  • Children of the Heavenly Father

    When our family got together for our reunion about a month ago, it was the first time I was even remotely aware that our nephew’s six month old daughter, Ariel, was possibly affected by SMA,(Spinal Muscular Atrophy) a genetic disorder that, in infants, is usually fatal within the first year.  I’ve watched the faith journey of Jeremy and Cheryl in the years since they began their relationship, and have come to realize that God has chosen to do extraordinary works of Grace in their hearts and lives.  They have yielded to Him in ways that speak of unusual trust in a God who makes no mistakes, but is always leading them on adventures that are challenging, scary to contemplate and volatile in nature.  And it seems to happen with such consistent regularity that it cannot be a coincidence.

    It was with a heavy heart that I realized that this much desired, greatly loved and precious daughter of a much loved nephew and his incredible wife was in need of a miracle.  ”A miracle of such magnitude,” I thought, but was immediately corrected in my spirit.  A miracle is by definition always “of magnitude” or it isn’t a miracle.  My thoughts were scrambling over themselves as I thought about this young family and their unwavering commitment to believe God for what seems (and is, by human standards) impossible. I decided that I would also pray for that miracle for Ariel.  And that when I pray for her by name, specifically, I would also pray for Jeremy and Cheryl, and Max and Boaz, Ariel’s devoted brothers.

    I shed some hot tears that evening after the reunion, and that feeling of heaviness, that something just wasn’t right woke me and followed my steps in the morning.  I got my ladies ready for church, prepared lunch for family members who were passing through, and went to church.  Our talented and animated song leader, Abi, was in charge of the singing for worship that morning and she did her usual exceptional job.  We sang through several hymns, and then she announced #335 in the Mennonite Hymnal.  I flipped the pages and read the title.  ”Children of the Heavenly Father”

    My heart caught in my throat.  ”What an appropriate song,” I thought, “for little Ariel. How like The Father to lead Abi to lead this song this morning.” 

    Children of the Heavenly Father
    Safely in His bosom gather.

    Suddenly, it was like the Spirit of the Lord spoke to my heart and said, “This song isn’t for Ariel.  It’s all about Jeremy and Cheryl.”  I began to listen more closely to the words.

    Nestling bird nor star in Heaven
    Such a refuge e’re was given

    I suddenly got at picture of this young couple, gathered close to God’s heart as the storm raged around them. It was an incredibly safe place, and a refuge that was theirs alone.

    We began the second verse:

    Neither life not death shall ever
    From the Lord His children sever –

    The tears began to prickle behind my eyelids, and the words stuck in my throat. 

    Unto them, His Grace He showeth,
    And their sorrows all He knoweth.

    Although my voice was clouded and I could not sing, my heart was singing.  God is showing and will never stop showing and giving Grace.  And He knows their sorrows, and their sorrows that have become ours as a family.  ”He knows!  He knows!  He knows!”  The words permeated my heart.

    Our congregation moved quietly and reverently into the third verse. 

    Though He giveth, or He taketh
    God His children ne’er forsaketh

    Precious promise!  They (and those who love them) will never be forsaken.  I knew this in my head, but on this uncertain day, my heart needed to catch up.

    His the loving purpose solely
    To preserve them, pure and holy.
       

    The tears were more than prickling now.  Coursing down my cheeks, but with no angst, no bitterness.  I bowed my heart before the Sovereign Lord.

    I will continue to pray for the miracle.  I know that God does the impossible.  But the thing that is clear to me is that God is working in the lives of this young couple (and in our lives as a family) in ways that go far beyond the here and now.

    Ariel’s family rejoices over her.  They celebrate who she is and what God is going to do through her.  

    This story is far from finished. 

    God is to be trusted.

    My heart gives grateful praise.

    Image

        Ariel Joy Yoder with her Mommy, Cheryl Heatwole Yoder
     
     

July 18, 2013

  •             It is a blistering day on Delmarva.  Certain Man’s chickens are big old lard buckets — scheduled to go out tonight and Monday.  (Great are the protests from the Chicken Farmer, also know as Certain Man) It was time for my yearly GYN appointment in Lewes.  Before I ever left for the doctor’s office, the chicken house alarm went off.  Then, before I could actually make it out there, the alarm had reset itself.  I was sorely tempted to not even go and see, but Certain Man allowed that he would feel better if I checked what was going on, so I went.  And for some strange reason, I could find nothing.  Not even a current alarm notification as to why it had gone off.  So, Certain Man placated and, in fact, my own heart reassured, I headed out.

                I happen to like our seaside town of Lewes.  I have found good doctors there, and it is picturesque and bustling.  There was no leisurely shopping or dawdling, though, today.  I got done with my appointment (all is well!) and headed home.  On impulse, I slipped onto the side road where “my kids” lived, just to see if maybe they were outside playing or to see if I could catch a glimpse of them.

                They were gone.  Certain Man was pretty certain they were when we drove by one night last week, but it was dark, and I needed to be sure.  The house sat neatly, without trash and broken screen door.  The vehicles, though not necessarily in good repair, were unfamiliar and parked outside — Something Dee and Big Sensei NEVER did.  Secrecy was a trademark of their lives.      

                And no, I was not surprised to see that they were gone.  Judging from past experiences and court records, I am quite certain there is no forwarding address.  I do happen to have Dee’s mother’s cell phone number, so I called her.

                “Has Dee moved?” I ask her.  

                “Yup, she’s moved.  I don’t know where, though.  I hear that they’ve been homeless, but she won’t tell me where they are.”

                “They’ve been homeless?”  My heart stops as I think of the four kids that I haven’t seen for over six months.  I feel sick.

                Iva seems uncomfortable.  ”You never know,” she says, “that’s what I heard.  You never know.”

                “Have you heard from her?”

                “Only when she needs something,” she says.  ”July 4th was my birthday and she called me.  She said, ‘I need help.  I have to have four hundred and fifty dollars.’  Didn’t say ‘Happy Birthday’ or anything.  Just that she needed help.  I told her, ‘I can’t help you.  I don’t have it.  I gotta’ live, too.’  And I ain’t heard nothing since.”

                “How long has it been since she moved?” I ask her.

                “Oh, she been gone a month or two.  But I don’t have any idea where she is.”

                “Do you think she might have gotten into the new low income housing that she was approved for last fall?” I ask hopefully.  ”My husband is the state plumbing inspector and he said that unit recently opened.  Maybe she was able to get into there.”

                “I don’t know anything,” she said again.  ”Like I said, I heard they were homeless, but I don’t have any idea where they are.”

                “Is she still with Sensei?” I ask.

                “Yep.  She is still with him.  She told me that she was going to get rid of him, but they’re still together.”

                We talked a bit more and then I hung up the phone.  I have been thinking about the kids over these last months, praying for them, and wishing that I knew what was happening in their lives.  Last summer, we had so many happy times together.  Browns Branch park for a picnic, Milton Public Library for a Rehoboth Summer Children’s Theatre presentation, Pizza at a hole in the wall restaurant, even visiting their grandpa’s grave in a large cemetery on the edge of a historic Delaware town.  I saw them often, and the relationship evolved into something that was pleasant and easy and so, so sweet.  As I look back, I realize that it was when the kids and I were the most entrenched into each other’s lives that their mother moved in with demands and unreasonable expectations, effectively causing distance and disruption in any relationships that we attempted with the children.

                The six months since we have seen them have been full beyond measure.  Sometimes I wonder how we ever would have managed the intensity of their needs in addition to the church and family issues that we have had — Oldest Son and His Ohio Heartthrob’s three little guys, Certain Man’s knee surgery, the death of my mother-in-law, my own Sweet Mama’s health issues, dear friends with serious health crisis, Youngest Son and his Girl with a beautiful Heart’s move to Alexandria, VA,  family reunions and various other gatherings, a beloved nephew and his wife facing the challenges of a baby born with a serious genetic disease — just on and on and on.  Some things directly mine either to grieve or plan or come to terms with.  Others sit on my heart with the pain of those whom I love and care so deeply about and yet feel so keenly my primary role as pray-er.  And even when it doesn’t feel like it, that is still the best of all,

                Which brings me back to “my kids.”  And once again, dear Father, I relinquish them to you and your watchful care and keeping.  You hold them in your tender embrace, because you love the little children. Your hands can reach where mine cannot.  Your eyes can see where mine are so limited.  

    Your love knows no limit.

     Your Grace has no measure.  

    Your power has no boundary known unto man.

    For out of your infinite riches in Jesus,

    you give and give and give

    And then give again.. . 

     

    My heart gives grateful praise.

July 16, 2013

  • I’m stepping out . . .

    I have started a new blog site:

    http://maryannyutzy.wordpress.com

    My user name is DelawareGrammy.  

    (Which, to be honest, fits me far better than “Buckeyegirlie.”  I am hopeful that my new name might weed out a certain segment of society that I never considered when I took that name, whose attentions I am not seeking. . . but who persist with a tenacity that I wish they would use to seek Jesus!)

     

    I don’t know if it will become my favorite or not — but I will admit to trepidation, anxiety and loyalty issues.

     

    Feel free to visit me there and let me know what you think.  

     

    It is by no means finished, but the evolution of this site will take some time.

    Thank-you, dear friends, who have blessed me so often over these happy years with Xanga.  I’m not going away.  And for now, at least, I will try to post on both sites.  I suspect the time will shortly come when that will fall by the wayside.  Maybe more by the choices of the owners of this site than mine, but we shall see.

    Happy Tuesday to you!

    .  

July 9, 2013

  •  

    My Xanga site won’t let me upload photos — So here are some of the first ones in my photo storage.

    I don’t know what Xanga is going to do.  I haven’t been able to upload my other two sites.

    Trouble is, I haven’t had time to decide or develop another site.

    I guess time will tell what will happen.  To be honest, I’m disenchanted with Xanga.

    But not these people from my long ago postings:

     
     
     
    (Looks a LOT different now!
     
     

    (The same could be said) 

     

    Eldest Daughter and Beloved Son in Law at a supper with Lem’s Reach team at Suicide Bridge in 2005

    Middle Daughter helps with potato salad Day in 2006

     

      

    Oldest Son and His Ohio Heartthrob in one of the first pictures I had of the two of them.

     

    The Girl with a Beautiful Heart and Youngest Son
    two and a half years before they got married

     

    My three girls  – what a long time ago!

     

    And a four generation picture with our Love Bug!

    It’s a good feeling to look at the old pictures.

    It is a blessing to be able to do so.

     

June 29, 2013

  • I know that it has been quiet in Buckeyegirlie’s Corner.  I’ve been really, really busy, with many things demanding my attention.  Not the least of which is that I have been working hard on editing this book so that it can be printed in time for sale at our Anniversary Bash on August 24th. 

        

    The published book will not look the same.  For one thing, we plan to publish in paperback, and I need to decide how many to run on the trial run — just to see if it actually sells or not.  But beyond that, I am enjoying the editing even though it is taking lion’s share of my time.    

     

    It’s yard and garden time, too, and I am quite pleased with how the garden and flowers are growing.  Even the house plants are doing well. When Daniel had his knee replaced, the women’s group at our church, known as Women in Christian Service, gave him a gorgeous plant.  (I actually said that I thought that gift was one that I enjoyed as much as he did.  And he loved it very much — far better than cut flowers.)  It was on his bookshelf for most of those recuperating weeks, and if not there, then the middle of the kitchen table.  We both thought the birds on the planter it was in was so appropriate for our house.  It was just so cheery.

     

    But it was crowded in that pot.  For some time, I’ve been casting about for a different planter for it, but never found one that really satisfied me.  Finally, yesterday, I found a pot that I thought I could live with, and I brought it home.  Last night I repotted it.  Daniel and I are so happy with the result.  It seems to have grown over night.  (I put the original pot beside it so that you can see the comparison.  It is just so, so beautiful.  Thanks, ladies.  It is a reminder of our church family and how lovingly they care for us.

     

    It is just so, so beautiful. 
     Thanks, ladies!  
    It is a reminder of our church family and how lovingly they care for us.

    We are so blessed.

    My heart gives grateful praise.

     

     

June 12, 2013

  • Is Xanga dying???

    So, is everyone fleeing from Xanga in great hordes?

    Or is it just that it’s the summertime and everyone is busy?

    Or are we all frantically trying to preserve what we’ve written over the last decade (more or less?) and don’t feel like investing more energy and time into something the future of which we are uncertain.

    Maybe it is just time to let this thing die.  I mean, who is getting that $60,000.00?  And if they do get it, why should we have to pay for ongoing usage?  (I’ve been a premium member for years for my main account.)  But beyond that, if Xanga isn’t worth $4.00 a month to us, doesn’t that say something about us?  I enjoy Xanga so much, find it a healthy outlet for expression for my soul, and $4.00 sounds pretty paltry to me for the opportunity to continue with the online blog that I am comfortable with.  For crying out loud, I pay more than $4.00 for a single woodpecker’s block for my birds.  And usually don’t complain too much about it.  But then there is the thing that some of us have more than one Xanga space.  I happen to have three.  I plan to archive two of them, and just keep this one that is my main one.  That is, if they let me keep it.  

    What do the rest of you think?