The weekend at Shady Acres has held so many happy moments.  The table is down now, and the chairs are back to where they belong.  I took every chance I got to grab a wink of sleep this weekend, and we made it through!  What a blessing our adult children are to Certain Man and me.

And now, for a story from the weekend.

On Saturday, I realized that I needed to pick up a prescription for Certain Man and then grab some lemons for lemonade.  It was the middle of the afternoon, and people were pretty much scattered, doing what they wanted to do.  We had company coming for supper at 6:30, and I realized very late that I also needed to order the refills for Our Girl Audrey and Blind Linda so that I could pick them up by 3:00 when the trusty Pill Box Pharmacy closed.  I called the six scripts in, speaking to the pharmacist himself, just to be clear on what was expected, and then flew about the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, ordering the usual Saturday lunch for the ladies since the rest of the family had brunch and were not expecting me to provide it.

I procured the lunch, quickly fed the ladies, and then saw, to my dismay, that Certain Man was traversing around the deck and front lawn with his walker.  At my gentle remonstrance, he said that he was just fine, in fact did better when he could do something.  Since it looked like he was going to work on some issues with his one bird feeder, and I was seriously running out of time, I decided to leave him to his folly and grabbed the stuff I needed and headed out to my trusty mini van.

Certain Man had bought a lovely new wagon for his beloved granddaughter for her fourth birthday, and it had been greatly exclaimed over and brought into the house (even though it was too large an outdoor toy for indoor use!) and then it had been returned to the garage where it had been lodged in the rainstorm that passed through the night before.  Before I left to pick up the ladies' lunches, I had carefully taken the wagon and parked it out in the pavilion so that no one would run over it.  When I came back home from that, I had carefully closed the garage door, as is Certain Man's expressed desire for all persons to do every single time.  This is because the barn cats like to come inside when the door is up to "mark territory" causing no end of loud protests, not only from Certain Man, but also all the inhabitants of the house.  When a male feline decides that the garage is included in his domain, it is not a welcoming aura that rises up to greet arriving family and friends.  Therefore, I truly make it a practice to close the door. 

With everything going on, the time had been slipping away, and it was almost 2:30 when I finally was in our mini-van, ready to go.  I pushed the button to open the garage door, fastened the seat belt and started the engine, turned on the headlights, adjusted the seat and began easing the van out of the garage.

CRUNCH!!!   Rumble, rumble!!!  I stopped immediately, but something continued to rumble a bit.  I eased forward and leaped out of the driver's seat, certain that someone had decided to ride the wagon during my short venture inside.  I was positive that I would see Love Bug's beautiful new wagon, crumpled upon the driveway directly behind the garage door.

There was nothing there.  At all!

I knew that I had hit something.  I couldn't figure out.  I peered about, puzzled, even tried to see if something was under the van.  Wait!  What was wrong with my garage door?  It was hanging at a very strange angle.  Oh, no!  I must have caught the garage door with the luggage carrier on top of the mini-van.  My heart sank as I saw that it looked pretty out of commission.  It was up, though, so I backed the van out of the garage and tried to close it.  It went about a foot, caught on something, ground away and jiggled and shook, so I quickly stopped it, and put it back up.  Then tried again, just to make sure that it hadn't fixed itself.  It hadn't.

For crying out loud.  I was late, my garage door was broken, my husband was gallivanting around the front yard with his walker and I was so irritated with myself.  I HAD to go get the meds, but I also had to tell Certain Man why the garage door wouldn't go down.  And then he was going to try to fix it.  I know this man.  I was sure he was going to try to fix it.  And I should help him.  But I was late.  I looked at that miserable old garage door and I felt like my spirit was wailing.  But I had to tell him.

I stopped the car. I climbed out, and went back into the garage, up the ramp, through the entryway and out the back door to the side deck.  I saw Certain Man working on his bird feeder.

"Uh, Sweetheart, I kinda broke the garage door."

"You did what?"

"The garage door.  I kinda backed into it.  It seems like it's been going up slower and slower, and I guess I just didn't think and backed out before it was all the way up."

Now that sounds really lame when I read it, but the truth is, the garage door HAS been going up slower and slower for some reason.  Usually I remember, and give it some time, but I just didn't think this time.  

Certain Man didn't shout or anything.  He got that grin on his face that he gets sometimes when his wife does something really stupid. He took his walker around the end of the deck that is towards the road, and came through the sun room, out the other side, and then into the entryway, out into the garage, and down the ramp.  Grinning the whole time.

I went out and got back into my van.  I shut the door, but I rolled down the window.

"Sweetheart," I said, and I heard the pleading in my voice.  "I really need to go, but do you want me to do something?"

He stood under the door and looked it up and down, then said, "Yeah, just try to put it down."

So I pushed the button and it went about a foot, caught on something, ground away and jiggled and shook, and he waved his hand in my direction that meant "stop it" so I stopped it, and then put it back up.  "Do it again," he said, so I did, and he grabbed ahold of the one side and pulled it down past where it was catching.  When it was about half way down he waved his hand under the descending door to indicate that I was to stop it again, and when I did, he leaned his weight upon it and gave it a mighty shove.  I was almost frantic, because I was sure all that jarring about couldn't be good for his poor knee, but he did it another time or two and then waved under the door again that I was to put it back up.  So I did, and went right up almost as good as new.

"Put it down again," he ordered.  So I put it down again, and there was a few more banging noises where he put some convincing pressure upon something, and then said, "Try it again."

And this time it went up, pretty as you please, and then down again, pretty as you please.  He grinned at me through the windows in the door and made motions that made me know that I was to get on my way.

And so I did.  Flew into the pharmacy with his prescription, went down to Pill Box, where my prescriptions weren't ready and they offered to deliver them, then scrambled over to Wal-Mart to get the lemons I needed, stopped at Wal-Greens for Certain Man's now finished prescription, and then went hurriedly back to Shawnee Road, where my garage door opened smoothly up to receive me safely home less than an hour after I had left.

And I got ready for supper guests with lots of good help from my family, and we had a lovely evening together.

And believe me, when I went to bed last night, I slept the slumber of the very, very tired.  But even that is a blessing, I've discovered.  It is far better than restless insomnia.  

And that's the news from Shady Acres, where the quietness tonight feels peaceful, yes, but it is not without a sad missing of the many feet that have pounded through this house the last four days.  

My heart gives grateful praise for the beloved family that God has given Certain man and me.  How very blessed we are!

Our whole family  -- as in every. single. one. of. us.  
Is home for the weekend.  Because of legal ramifications
there are lots of pictures that I cannot post.
Pictures that would melt your heart, and make you laugh.
Pictures that make a familiar burning behind my eyes.
Our family has been enjoying three little guys
from the bottom to the top of our brimming hearts.

Certain Man,  
whose faithful friend, Gary, took yesterday off,
was blessed by the offers of
Beloved Son in Law and Youngest Son
to do the evening "Chicken Run."

Aren't they the handsomest pair you've ever seen?
Their wives thought so, too!  (NOT!!!!)

They went out and together made short work
of picking up the dead and combining the results for composting.

Lem carries a dead chicken bucket to the composter

And Jesse fetched the tractor and loader
to top off one of the composter bins.
Another job, well done.
(I don't think either of them is hankering
to give up their jobs for farming in Slower, Lower DE!)

Lem insists that this is what
he and Jessica
would look like if they had stayed home to farm:

Yes, well . . .
(I honestly never thought that was a possibility!)

Charis is enjoying cousins and fun times.
(Sometimes we can't go straight to "enjoy".)
We decided to celebrate her birthday as a Yutzy clan last night.

What fun!
Our love bug is growing up.

The lawn needed mowing at Shady Acres.  Certain Man had been thinking that maybe he could do it, but of course, that wasn't happening as long as CMW was standing guard.  So a young friend, Dwight, came to mow for him.  Certain Man ordered his chariot (the golf cart) brought, and he rode upon it with a chauffeur's assistant (that would be CMW) to the inner sanctum of his shop and got the mowing job started.  

Then he wanted to ride about his kingdom to peer with watchful eye upon the various thing that could (and sometimes DO) go wrong.

AHA!!!

An electric fence was messed up.     Whether a calf or a steer or a deer plummeted through it, they couldn't tell.  But something had to be done, of course because the electric wasn't getting through. The half dozen steers just might escape.

So the two entrepreneurs went over to the shed and turned off the electric.  They got three tools that Certain Man deemed necessary to fix the fence from the seat of the golf cart.  Yep, he was going to fix it.

They went out, through the gate to the corner of the pasture, and he did his thing, and fixed that fence "temporarily" but pretty good, considering the state of the man's health, and then went back out and closed the gate, and put the tools away properly and got themselves safely back into the house.

"Oh, Hon!" said Certain Man, from the advantage of the kitchen.  "We forgot to plug the fencer back in!"

"No problem," said CMW, "I'll just run out there quickly and plug it back in."

"That's probably a good idea," said CM.  "It's probably okay, to be honest with you, but it would be better to get it plugged back in."

So CMW hopped onto the chariot and headed back out to the shed where the fencer is located and plugged it in.  It began clicking away like it was supposed to.  And CMW checked to see if she could see the light blinking on the panel that said, "fence working."  Certain Man had told her that it was too bright to see it as a rule, but she thought maybe she could see it if she got in close to it and cupped her hand around it.  

Which she proceeded to  do.

Alas and alack.  Will she NEVER think???  Just about the time she ascertained that the fence light was indeed, blinking, her nose came into contact with the red post that was directly below that little light.  

Zap!  A sudden tingling made her jerk back with purpose.  Ouch!  That really smarted!  That fencer was really working!  At least at the source!

CMW, feeling chastised, backed away, got back on the chariot and made her way back to the house.  Reported to Certain Man that the fencer was working.

Nursed her pride, but hoped that maybe a good shock to that face would help heal whatever it is that has made it so numb these past few weeks.  No scientific data on that one.  Yet. Perhaps CMW could be part of a control group on such things. 

And that is the news from Shady Acres, where Certain Man's first physical therapy session is history, and the physical therapist voiced great delight in the degree of bending (already at 106!!!  I worked for five weeks to get that!) and the progress that has been made.  Where CMW is tuckered out from trying to keep CM safe, and all the children are planning to be here this weekend.  (Yep, even Youngest Daughter is coming, after all!)

The house at Shady Acres holds people with grateful hearts!

The days continue to pass.  As I watch my husband recuperate, the memories flood back and I am so grateful for a husband who is not a whiny-pest.  He just doesn't complain, doesn't cut himself any slack when it comes to self-pity and has been saying things like:

"I think I really could mow.  If I could just prop my foot up somehow, I have that zero turn mower, and it just uses hands.  I think I could mow."  

'NO, Daniel.  You cannot mow."

"I need to go out to the chicken house with Gary tonight.  There's some things I ought to check out . . ."

"NO, Daniel, You cannot go out to the chicken house."

"I should go upstairs and check on that towel rack that came loose in Deborah's bathroom."

I didn't say anything.  He will probably do that.  He's been going up the stairs and down the stairs.  He's been winding his clocks.  Twice a day, at least, he goes out and walks around our driveway circle.  "I'm sure glad that we have blacktop," he says, smiling.  "If this wasn't paved, I probably couldn't do it.

His grandbaby is almost beside herself with concern.  

Yesterday, she and her Mommy came while he was trying to catch a nap on his chair in the sunroom.  He had asked me for a blanket, but, as sometimes happened, I hadn't fetched it yet, so he asked her if she could "Grandpa his blanket."   She, knowing all about his favorite blanket, trotted in, drug it out to him and helped him cover up.  She hushed us with her famous finger to the lips, "Sh-h-h-h-h-h!  Grandpa is sleeping!"   He dozed off, but his head was listing kinda' starboard, so she decided that he needed a pillow  She found a small throw pillow on the other chair in the sunroom, and she put that (all askew) under his head.  He must have been seriously dozing by this point because he didn't remember anything after the blanket.  Christina and I were working on some other things, but I heard her in there, talking on and on, and then she came back into family room and announced, "I was reading stories to Grandpa."  Her book lay discarded on the middle of the area rug, and Grandpa was blissfully sleeping.

She has been quite interested in his walker.  

Some years ago, Daniel's father, Ralph, had purchased a "Cadillac" walker, with brakes and tires and a fold down seat, large enough and sturdy enough for a man with some substance.  When Ralph passed away in November of 2010, his widow, Sue inherited it, and used it every day (that she was walking) until she passed away in February of this year.  The family didn't want it, they thought, and were just going to donate it to the church.  My own Sweet Mama was having a terrible time right then, having had a bad fall that bent both of her feet back under her, and so I asked about taking it home for her use, and Daniel was more than happy for us to do that.  And Mama, though impressed with the walker, isn't old enough for a walker.  Yet.  so it has been sitting in her bedroom, totally unused.  So, the other day, when the hospital wouldn't release Daniel unless he had a walker, we decided we knew just the thing for him.

When Charis was here yesterday, Daniel came walking out to the kitchen, and then stopped and sat down on the walker to chat with her.  Her eyes lit up and she said, "Grandpa.  I want to push you!"  She got behind and heaved and hoed and couldn't budge him an inch.  Then he stood up and she got on the seat, and away they went.  Grandpa and Charis, with Charis giggling herself silly.  She thought this was the life.  And Grandpa was having a pretty great time, too.  Around and around the kitchen they went.  Charis getting a ride and Grandpa getting therapy of the best sort.

He has had some trouble with his knee swelling up.  I tend to think it is because he is on it more than he should be.  It is and always will be a struggle for him to hold still and heal.  He somehow thinks that it is helpful to the healing if he keeps moving it somehow.  I am reminded that when the doctors say things like, "You can do anything you want.  Your pain will be your guide," they are usually talking to people of a totally different caliber than this Certain Man.  And I think if they knew him they would have a whole list of "DO NOT DO!!!"  I remember that when I was in therapy, one of the things I heard over and over again around me was the encouragement to try harder.  And much of the time, the response was "It hurts too bad.  I just can't.  I just can't.  I just can't."  I have had reason to think that most of the time the problem is more getting people to do MORE rather than less.  This man changes the rules about everything.

We are eagerly looking forward to the weekend.  Our family plans to be together (minus Rachel ).  It will be the Ohio Grandchildren's first trip to Grandpa and Grammy's farm, and we can't wait!  Raph and Gina plan to come in on Thursday evening, and Lem and Jess will come on Friday, Lord willing, and I am pretty much planning to just enjoy the time without trying to cram the schedule too full.  Food and shelter and raiment.  Therewith to be content.

Daniel's first "in-home physical-therapy" visit is scheduled for today.  It will be interesting to see what the therapist has to say about his progress.

Top of the morning to you all, and what a glorious morning it is, here in slower, lower Delaware.

My kitchen,
Spring Flowers from our yard,
and a bottle from the grand old Lewes Dairy.
(It's one of my favorite vases of all!)

Certain Man is safely home.  The day has gone well.  He has wound his clocks, checked on his azaleas and bleeding hearts in the front garden.  (Don't have a hernium.  He just walked out there with his walker and looked at them.)  He has done some word puzzles and talked on the phone.  He was hungry tonight.  My sister, Sarah, and her daughter, Joni had brought us a five pound box of some gorgeous portabella mushrooms, so I used my Pampered Chef grilling pan with the heavy grill press and grilled him a hamburger with some Canadian steak seasoning on it.  Then I plopped one of those huge portabellas into the pan drippings, and grilled that, too, compressed by that heavy grill press.  When everything was layered on a piece of bread, I put some swiss cheese on top of it all and melted that down a little.  He ate it all up and said it was wonderful!  It did look pretty stellar.  When you've got good mushrooms, it's hard for something not to be good.

He is sleeping now.  He decided that one of the family room chairs will be the best for sleeping right now, but he is doing well enough that I think he could sleep upstairs if he needed to.  We shall see.  When I had gotten my knee replaced, he slept downstairs on the la-zy-boy many a night and that was a blessing.  He doesn't think he actually needs me, but I think I would feel better if I were where he could wake me if he needed me.

And so, the first afternoon has passed.  I feel like I am on auto pilot, but I'm still so grateful for the fact that the day has gone so well 

Lord Jesus, my heart gives grateful praise!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wOhVh2bct8

I'm ready to call it a night.  This day has been a wondrous mix of almost unbelievable answers to prayer, even while I am reminded that sometimes the answers to prayer bring special challenges to families.

"Daniel," "Certain Man," "Mr. Daniel," "Mr. Yutzy," or even "Dan" (as a very few call him) has had a positively glorious day!  He walked over 300 feet in one stretch, steady, straight and exultant in his new knee.  He has nurses and doctors and therapists and CNA's alike singing his praises, giving him gold stars for performance, (no, really!  He has an actual gold star on his physical therapy paper!) and vying to have him as their patient when they come back on the shift after being off for 12 hours.  The thing is, he is doing so well that he very probably will be released a day early.  It is amazing!  I have literally been flamboozled by this chain of events.  But then I told him tonight that I really shouldn't be so surprised.  It's EXACTLY what I have been praying for -- almost ever since I talked him into going and having this done.  I am just so relieved and grateful and elated and excited.

I know that things can change.  I also know that tomorrow should be the day of the most pain.  But there are some really strange things going on here.  First of all, the block that should have lasted almost 24 hours lasted less than 12.  He could push his foot off the therapist hand with surprising strength last night, and could feel pressure all up and down the leg with the replaced joint.  He was a bit lightheaded from the anesthesia, but if it weren't for that, the therapist said that he was obviously capable of walking.  And the knee didn't hurt, he insisted.  Just ached.  And he could lift that leg and move it over the bed from one side to the other.  The professionals insist that doesn't happen.  He likes getting up to go to the bathroom "because it feels so good to walk!"  His pulse, blood pressure, respiration rate and color are all very good. 

(And I really don't think he is showing off.  ) 

I do believe that a Heavenly Father has given us a gift of inestimable value, and I am not taking it for granted.  He isn't either, though in all fairness, I have to say that he probably has no real concept of how bad this could have been or of how good he has it.  But after working so hard to get him to get it done, and overcoming arguments of all sorts in these last months, I think this gift benefits me as much as it does him.  I intend to fully enjoy it.

And thanks for all the good wishes and prayers on his behalf.  These are also gifts of the best sort, and we don't take these for granted. either.

Certain Man had his left knee replaced today.  (Actually, yesterday, when I look at the time!)  I've watched the ongoing pain and the way he has tried to cover everything up for the last few years and my heart ached for him.  We've waited for this day as a family for a long time.  It took a long time before he was ready.  When he was finally ready, the doctor had a long waiting list.  When the day was finally scheduled, it seemed like such a long way off.  And then, all of a sudden, there was a cancellation.  Not much of one, but enough of one that it suited our family schedule exactly.  And finally, this day came.

6:45.  How in the world did it happen to be so early?  I've had three major surgeries over the last three and a half years at Beebe Medical center.  My two knee replacements were both later in the morning, and by then the schedule was off and I had a rather long wait.  Last spring, when I had some repair work done, I waited over two hours past the scheduled time.  

Waiting is hard.

And when someone you love is having surgery, you wait a lot more than they do.

But the waiting today was well worth it.  Dr. Choy came back from Daniel's knee replacement and almost danced in the waiting room.  Grinning from ear to ear, he said, "Everything went just perfect.  It was just beautiful.  He is going to be so happy with his new knee.  His bones are so good, and I was very confident that the pivotal joint would work just fine.  His ligaments and tissues are healthy, and I am so happy with how things went.  Just perfect!"  He laughed and then thanked me for the card that our granddaughter had written last evening.

Dear Dr. Choy,
Please help my Grandpa feel better.
Grammy loves him very much.
Love Jesus,
Love, Charis

Daniel had some trouble in recovery, when his heart rate went down to 30 something and his respiration rate was only 5.  Then when he got back to his room, his blood pressure shot up to 193/103, and his heart rate kept falling below 45, causing some grave consternation on the part of his nurse.  But when they gave him pain meds, his blood pressure stabilized and then his pulse got a little better.  His heart rate is often in the high 50's or lower 60's so that comforted them a bit.  Daniel is one of the strongest men I know, and he is pretty healthy except for this knee problem  The nurses tonight kept going over his medical history and exclaiming over his abilities.  Because his blood pressure was so high, they were sure he was having extreme pain, but they kept saying that he didn't act like he was in pain.  He said that the pain was more of a dull ache, and his hip was hurting him from being on his back.  They got him up and had him sitting on the side of the bed this afternoon.  If he continues to progress the way he has so far, they are saying he may even be able to come home early.

Someone said to me last week, "Are you kinda' dreading having your husband home all the time for the next month while he recuperates?"

The thing is, this man really is one in a million when it comes to things like this.  Several years ago, he needed rotator cuff surgery, and he had heard so many terrible things about it -- how painful it was, how limiting it was, how long the rehab, and many dismal predictions.  When I talked to Dr. Rowe after surgery, I was afraid it was going to be one of those same stories for Daniel because Dr. Rowe was very uncertain about how successful the surgery would be.  The tear was right up by the shoulder, and there was almost nothing to attach to.  Dr. Rowe used a cow dermis to patch things up, and he wasn't at all confident that there would be a positive outcome.  Daniel came home from that surgery and the pain was so intense he sometimes fought back tears.  But he hung that arm down from his shoulder and started to do small circular motions the day he was told he was allowed to.  And he worked like crazy to return to normal.  Walked that arm up and down the wall by climbing his fingers one over the other slowly inching his way up and then back down.  He seemed to make up his mind that his job for that particular time was to get better, and he undertook it the same way he goes after making fence or shoveling dirt or planting his garden.  I will never forget that when he went back, his range of motion was astounding.  He was easily able to wash his own hair and do things that other patients took months longer to work their way up to.  

And because he was so focused on getting better, regaining range of motion and keeping his strength as well as mobility, I can honestly say that he was not difficult to have at home.  I hated to see him go back to work.  Another plus was that his example before me of staying positive in the pain, pushing through when therapy was tough and doing all that you could possibly do was an incredible motivator for me when I had my knees replaced.  And I think it will hold him steady through this.  The nurse told him today that Rotator Cuff Surgery is more painful to have done, and harder to rehabilitate from than knee replacement by a long shot.  I don't know if I want to believe that, but it certainly pleased Certain Man!  I know that he doesn't expect a gravy train recovery, but he is feeling optimistic, buoyed on by almost everyone who comes in contact with him exclaiming that he is doing exceptionally well, splendidly, wonderfully, etc.  

I am so grateful in this whole thing, because this is all an answer to some pretty specific prayers over these last weeks. When worry wanted to rear its ugly head, I tried to pray that God's will would be done -- in every aspect of things.  Timing. The surgeon's hands.  Recovery room issues and the experience he would have on the floor itself. Daniel and I , together or separately, could never have orchestrated some of the things that came together today.  And along the way, there were many things that could have stopped this from going forward.  But they didn't.  And I sense the Hand of the Father all over this.

And I give grateful praise.

"She's struggling a bit right now,"
I say to Middle Daughter.
While reading a blog/post, I catch a worry line in my heart.

Middle Daughter, reading over my shoulder, says,
"Everyone has days.  But when you're a blogger, everyone finds out."

Dear Friend.  Tonight I pray for YOU!

We are heading to a funeral today.  Middle Daughter will hold down the fort at home.  This is the first of my Sweet Mama's siblings to pass away.  Uncle Harold was one of her favorite people growing up.  They ran trap lines together, fished together, and shared happy moments together.  I caught this picture of them at the last reunion that their cousins had, back in 2011.  It looks conspiratorial, doesn't it?

Here is the obituary.  I learned things about my uncle that I never knew before.  But I wasn't surprised.  The people in my Sweet Mama's family are an unusually gifted and resourceful bunch.

Harold William Wert, 87, went home to be with his Lord and Savior on Thursday, April 4, 2013 at Landis Homes, Lititz, PA. He was the loving husband of Mary F. Hepner Wert of Lititz, for over 66 years. Born and raised in McAlisterville, PA, he was the son of the late Michael W. and Alma G. Lauver Wert.

He will be lovingly missed by his wife, Mary and his children: Jeanne M. Witmer, East Petersburg, Janice E. wife of Ernest Miller, Elizabethtown, H. Thomas Wert husband of Grace, Manheim, Stephen L. Wert husband of Kathy, Mount Joy, and John D. Stahl-Wert husband of Milonica, Pittsburgh; 14 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. Siblings: Orpha wife of J. Lloyd Gingrich, Richfield, Alene Yoder, Greenwood, DE, Gladys wife of Jesse Yoder, Dover, DE, Freda Zehr, Greenwood, DE, Alma Jean wife of Harvey Yoder, Harrisonburg, VA, J. Lloyd Wert husband of Beverly, Gap, and Ruth Ann wife of Allan Shirk, Neffsville. Preceding him in death is a son-in-law, Dale E. Witmer.

In 1943, Harold graduated from Eastern Mennonite High School, Harrisonburg, VA. Following their marriage, he and Mary moved to Lancaster. Harold was employed many years as a milkman for the former Queen Dairy, Lancaster. He then owned and operated a franchise of Archway Cookies and later worked for Horst Group in construction until his retirement. 

Harold loved the outdoors, fishing, hunting and spending time in the mountains. He was part owner of “Bushy Bungalow” cabin in Galeton, PA taking his family on wonderful vacations and going hunting there. He later enjoyed building a log cabin with a friend in Richfield, PA and spent many weekends there with his family and friends. These weekends always included his preparation and serving of his famous chicken barbeque.

Harold was a master craftsman in all areas of his life. He built furniture, retiled bathrooms, laid carpets, put on new roofs and did all engine and body work possible on his cars. He loved working with his hands and any job that needed doing he accomplished well.

He loved singing and music. He was a member at Erisman Mennonite Church, Manheim and participated as a song leader there and in other churches throughout his life.

Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend his funeral service at the Erisman Mennonite Church, 8 South Erisman Road, Manheim, on Monday, April 8, 2013 at 2:00 PM. Interment is in the adjoining church cemetery. There will be a public viewing at the Landis Homes Retirement Community WEST BETHANY CHAPEL, 1001 East Oregon Road, Lititz on Sunday from 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM with additional viewing time on Monday afternoon at the church from 1:00 PM until the time of the service. Those desiring may send contributions in Harold’s memory to Landis Homes Caring Fund, Development Office, 1001 East Oregon Road, Lititz, PA 17543.

This day was the culmination of a couple of intense weeks as we made an old, familiar trek to Baltimore to see My Sweet Mama's Cancer Doctor.

Ziv Gamliel, of St. Joe's Medical Center performed an eleven hour surgery on Mama eight years ago yesterday.  And through that day and the unbelievably difficult days that followed, he developed a deep respect and resounding affection for this diminutive little woman, pulling out all the stops when it came to his expertise as a doctor, doing anything within his power and within his intuitive acumen to help her through a disease that was, at least eight years ago, fatal in nearly 85% of the cases.  In fact, on one of the first visits to Dr. Gamliel, he told Mama and Daddy that if this had been only a few years earlier, his advice would be that she should get her affairs in order, that there was nothing he could do.

As it was, there were some things he could do, but they would come at high cost to her and there were no guarantees. 

Mama wanted to live.  She was willing to do almost anything that Dr. Gamliel suggested.  I remember her sitting in the cubicle that was his office, and the look on her face was hope and longing and even supplication.  She wanted that cancer out and she wanted to be well again.

On the other side of the room, my Daddy sat.  His face was an entirely different study.  Profound sadness and resignation were there as well as a strange set to the jaw.  I was surprised by the sudden realization that Daddy did not want Mama to have the surgery.  

I've thought about that day often since then, wondering just why Daddy felt the way he did.  I think that at the very bottom of it all was the fact that he really didn't think it was going to help.  He was sure that we would lose her.  And another factor that I am sure went into it was that he was always so proud of how pretty his wife was, and I really believe that he could hardly bear to think of her bald from radiation, sick from chemo and sliced up from front to back and up and down with an esophagectomy.

But Mama wanted to live and she wanted the surgery and she wanted to do it right -- first a staging proceedure, then five weeks of radiation, two rounds of chemo and then a "cooling off" period for a few weeks, and then radical, 11 hour series of surgeries.  And when Daddy saw that she intended to go through with it, he jumped on the band wagon, and drove her to Baltimore five days a week for five weeks for her radiation therapy.  He was as pleased as she was when her hair didn't fall out (Someone PLEASE tell me why!  This never has made sense!).  But when the day came for her surgery, April 4, 2005, he balked.  He didn't want to take her.  So my sister, Sarah and I were the ones who took her.  We came into our Daddy and Mama's house in the wee hours of the morning.  Mama was ready to go.  Daddy was in his long sleeved pajamas.  We stood there in the living room in a circle, and Daddy prayed for us, for Mama, for the day ahead. I wonder now what it felt like to him.  He told us later that he really didn't expect her to live through surgery.

But she did.

And Daddy, fighting his own battle with lymphoma and fatigue began to believe that she just might come home again.  That was a big battle, too, as things suddenly went downhill and Mama ended up in ICU on a ventilator for a few weeks and then ended up with a tracheotomy before being allowed to come home, feeding tube in place, restrictions and round the clock nursing care needed.  I suspect that Daddy lost hope many, many times over the next few weeks, but he would get up in the morning, fix her coffee the way she liked it, and tried to keep things as normal as possible.

She got better and better, and he was quietly going backwards.  I remember him coming into the kitchen one summer afternoon and sitting at the table and barely eating a thing.  Then he put his head down on the table and sat there for a long time.  

"Daddy," I said, anxiously. "Daddy, are you okay?"

"I'm just so tired, Sweetie," he said wearily.  "I'm just so tired."  And then he went to bed and slept.  My Daddy!  In the middle of the day.  In the Summer!

Somewhere in my gut a big old ball of ice began to form that day.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  We did everything we knew to do -- changed his meds, saw some specialists in Baltimore, tried to get him to rest more.  But it was if he waited until he knew Mama was going to be okay, and then he went on HOME.

Days like today, I give grateful praise for the miracle of Mama -- for Dr. Gamliel and his tender, watchful care over her, for his respect and love for her and affirmation and kindness. He readily says that it was not his doings that brought Mama through -- that he was only the tools that God chose to use to help her.  And I look at his smiley face, and the beard that is turning grayer every year and see his obvious delight in the fact that she is showing no signs of cancer.  I am so grateful.

But on days like today, I miss my daddy acutely.  It probably has something to do with the fact that the first of my sweet Mama's siblings (her oldest brother, Harold Wert) will be buried on Monday.  I feel the pensive weight of parting especially much right now.  It also is that trip to Baltimore, the memories that I cannot elude, the very voice of Ziv Gamliel and his gentle way of relating to Mama like she is his own sweet Mama.  He always catches her up on his five lively children, and who is doing what and he speaks of his wife and their Jewish home with a soft and appreciative tenor, making much of their traditions and family times.  (I think, "Daddy would enjoy this so much, but he isn't here!") But Mama enjoys the telling of it, her eyes sparkling, her smile genuine, and she goes away wavering in her resolve to not go back next year.  

And that is a thing to rejoice about as well.  She really doesn't NEED to go back.  She is clear of everything.  She has no alarming issues, and today when she suggested that maybe she wouldn't need to go through this anymore, we had reason to praise again when Dr. Gamliel said, "I cannot say if it would be okay or not.  We don't have enough Esophageal Cancer Survivors that survive long enough for us to compile accurate statistics.  If you want to know what I think, I think that you will never have cancer again, and that it will be fine for you not to come back.  I will say that it is very gratifying to me to see that I was able to contribute in a small way to another year of miracle for you.  It gives me great joy to see you.  It is truly a great blessing for me.  But I also realize that it is monumental effort for you to get these tests every year and to make the trek over.  So, I want you to know that I will not be hurt or take it personally if you decide that it is something you just aren't going to do.  We will make the appointment just like usual, and then see how you feel next year.  If you don't want to come, that will be alright."

Mama hugged his neck, told him again how much she appreciated him and all he has done for her.  And then he went into his office and shut the door firmly behind him.  And we got our papers and appointments and came home.

Whew!  Another year gone.  The last eight years seem like such a short time.  And when we are all finished for the year, it really does seem like it would be a shame to not go back.  We shall see what another year brings.

In the meantime, this is one tired gal.  But not even half as tired as my brave sweet Mama who got a clean bill of health for the seventh year in a row.  And not so tired as Certain Man who drove the car faithfully and well, and even now is out working on fence.  But still tired.  

Methinks a nap just might be in order.