The Aftermath

I am a pretty lousy housekeeper. My good friends who have helped clean my house many times will attest to this. They love me anyway. I'm always thankful that a clean house is not the basis of good friendship, or I could have ended up a real loner. In spite of the fact that there might be a measurable amount of dust on every horizontal surface in my house and things are not perfectly in place all the time, and while my threshold for clutter is pretty high, the one thing I cannot tolerate is dirty dishes. So, it is a rare thing  for me to go to bed with dishes in the sink as was the case on Thanksgiving night. After a very wonderful day, I succumbed to the lure of sofa and "The Hobbit". After about a half hour, I succumbed to sleep.. To no great surprise,  the dishes were still waiting for me when I woke on Friday morning. In a hurry to meet Jessica for some mom and daughter time on Black Friday, I made a cursory attempt of shoving a few of the big pots and pans in the dishwasher and hitting the start button before flying out the door. Getting home late from our excursion, I decided to wait until today to really tackle the job of cleaning up the aftermath of our Thanksgiving festivities.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I love the anticipation of seeing everyone, decorating the house, cooking a delicious meal, gathering together at the table to give thanks to God for his many blessings. It is good and rich and it fills my soul. And then, all too soon, dinner is over and everyone leaves, and the house is quiet.

 It is in this quiet of Saturday morning that I now find myself. As I look around, it is as if everything is in suspended animation from Thursday night when I waved Jess and Justin and the kids goodbye, warning them of icy roads and pleading for Jess to text me when they arrived safely home. Now, as the sunshine streams in the morning light, I begin to assess the stark reality of the aftermath that was previously softened by candlelight on Thursday evening. The dinner table, once regal with centerpieces, (one made by our sweet Bailey) tells its own disheveled tale. Scattered about are dessert plates with remnants of pumpkin and apple pie and whipped cream. Coffee cups linger, evidence to the loud, crazy good conversation and fellowship that transpired. The floor is splotched with orange color that I recognize as yams that didn't quite make it all the way to Caedmon's little mouth. Pink and yellow tulle ballet costumes that Brooklyn and Bailey enjoy each and every time they visit G'ma and Gpa's house are scattered about the bedroom, reminders of my daughters who wore them when they were young. Bunnies, building blocks, cars and trucks peppered about each room are sure tell-tale signs that children are welcome everywhere in this home..

There is a comforting ritual in cleaning up the aftermath. I have no other noise in the house. No TV or music. Just me and memories to savor of family and friends. I pack the crystal glasses back in their boxes and put the china away in its place to await Christmas when once again they will grace the table of fellowship and witness our family gathering once more. .

Christmas 2012

Christmas 2012


Dear Family and Friends,

I sat at my desk on a Friday afternoon a couple of weeks ago and began my annual ritual of filling in all the important dates on my 2013 work calendar. I have to admit that I feel some pressure to give up my paper calendar and use Outlook calendar exclusively, but so far I have resisted. I like that which I can hold in my hands. I like to fill in the dates with my meetings, project deadlines, and appointments. I like to draw big X’s through my planned vacation days and holidays using a variety of color highlighters to emphasis important events. The other plus of using a paper calendar is I don’t have to share it with anyone. It is mine to mark up and no one can mess it up or add to it except me. I know, some would say I have a control issue. My family can probably verify that.

As I finished notating my calendar, I was surprised to find how full each month seemed to be even though I hadn’t even stepped toe into the new year. I flipped the pages back through to January, and as I ran my hand over each page, I wondered what God has planned for me in 2013. Actually, what I think will happen, what I anticipate will happen, will have little relation to what will really happen. I anticipate that there will be things that will rock my world--just like in 2012. There will surely be joys, disappointments, encouragement, blessings, illnesses, the making of new friends, and the passing of old ones. These aren’t the kind of things a person plans out on the calendar. They come upon us unsuspecting, for whether or not we think we would like to know what 2013 holds for us, one thing is for certain, we do not. As I sat there looking at the calendar before me, I thought back to 2012, and what God had brought into our lives. Among the greatest was the blessing of adding three wonderful guys to our family. Little did we know that in February Jenny would meet a young man in Alaska named Derrick Honrud, and on December 1st they would say “I Do”, expanding our family to include this incredibly fine man. At the start of 2012 I had no idea I would need to add multiple doctor and test appointments on my calendar. I did not know that I would have the joy of adding two little grandsons, Galen on September 23rd and Caedmon on October 17th. There would be a day when I would hear that my good friend’s daughter, who is Jessica’s age, and who had just given birth to a preemie little girl of 2 lbs. 12 oz., would also in the same breath be given a cancer diagnosis. Surely in 2013, there will be such days of joyful pleasures and days of heart-wrenching pain, and in both the revealing of God’s grace and mercy. As I consider what the new year may hold, fear could consume me if I let it. The fear of the unknown is a fearful thing in itself, and I would grow weak-hearted if it were it not for the fact that I know the One who has ordained all my days. God in his infinite wisdom and sovereignty knows all that is unwritten on my calendar, and he is the one who is in control, not me. He owns my calendar—in fact all my days.

Proverbs 16:9 says “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.”

Psalm 112:7 says “He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD.”

I pray that 2013 will be a year of opening my heart up to his plan for he is a good God who knows far better than I what is for my good and his glory. May you join with me this Christmas worshiping the One who is the Ancient of Days and has all our days in his hands.

Christmas Blessings,

Linda & Randy





Jenny & Derrick's wedding December 1, 2012



People have repeatedly commented on how much Derrick looks like he belongs in our family—a cross between Randy and Jeremy. Aside from looks, we know Derrick belongs with us, confirmed by his love for food, especially bacon! Thanks to all of you who celebrated with us at their wedding!


Jeremy and Jennifer decided to add a little excitement to their lives in the form of having a baby, changing jobs and moving into their first home all within a span of about two weeks. In September Jeremy and Jennifer gave birth to their third little boy, Galen Ryder--another little red head! He joins his brothers Ezekiel (EZ) (4) and Virgil (3). What an awesome three-some these little guys are! Jeremy accepted a new job with Shepherd’s Grain www.shepherdsgrain.com

This job involves contact with wheat growers and chef’s and bakers. What’s not to love?

Galen Ryder Bunch

Caedmon John was born to Jessica and Justin on October 17. He is a laid-back baby who will have to deal with two sisters, Brooklyn (5) and Bailey (3), who are very much into dressing up in ballet costumes and anything that has to do with pink or purple, Rapunzel or Hello Kitty.




Caedmon John Ubel

It was great that Todd was able to come out for Jenny and Derrick’s wedding. He and Amy are busy parents of Ellie, Lily, Thomas, Kate and Sam. I am so thankful that Amy regulary posts on FB so I can keep up with the adventures in Midtvedtland!
Randy continues to keep his truck rolling down the road. He is a hard-worker and appreciates being home for a couple of nights during the week. We look forward to our weekends together, but they are way too short.

Hitting the big 60 this year was apparently a tipping point for my body and it got the message that I am getting old. I continue to work full-time at Benton Hospice Service until I can realize my dream of being a full-time grandma when I grow up! 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all,

Love,

Linda and Randy

The Mothering

The Mothering

by Gwendolyn Bennett Pappas

I watch her mothering
Her nest at the top of our tallest porch pillar is even with my bedroom window.
She carefully prepared for the arrival of her young and now, at a time soon come, she readies for their leaving.
Is it easier, I wonder, for bird-mothers?
I watch her chirp and flutter about, but for all this outward cheerfulness, I believe she is sad. See how she peers anxiously at her teetering babes? Holding back even as she lets go.
I know so well this holding and letting go and the hurting that is surely there beneath the feathers of her tiny chest.
She mothered well, hovering, protectingly, until each wetted wad of wing arched with strength enough to safely leave.
Yes, she taught them to be free of her, but how now to free herself of them?
They are eager to leave, it is right, of course, this eagerness and time for their adventuring, but even so she droops a little and her sheen is less in the bring orange sun.
She knew they would leave with a sureness borne of her own flight from another nest when she was just as young and eager.
She cautions with last minute chirps they do not hear, poor little mother, delaying them the only way she can and then for such a little.
She misses them even before they leave and knows they will not return--not really return--not ever.
They will fly past, even light at tip-toe edge but posed always to leave again, and this is not returning. Now it is a loved, familiar place, but soon it will be a twig and thread of memory with "home" somewhere else.

They do not know this but I am sure she does. Again the lights go out of her and her chirp is more a croon of early loneliness.
The good mother she is, she would not hold them if she could--their going just as much a part of life as their coming. The last part is much harder than the first, with greater pain than birthing.
Her young, in their excitement, do not see the shadow nor hear the different sound.
Her usual perky chirp is back now and busy-sounding: "Good-bye....God bless..take care..." These things I said with smile as bright as her call. Is she saying them?
Mother birds being mothers after all--the words are probably the same. Her little ones are gone. Her little ones, not little ones anymore, have flown beyond my eye to follow. She watches still as if the air that moved to take them from her will bring them back. It does not. She turns back to the emptied nest, searching for the babies near and needing, but that time is gone and there is only dull-colored thread and worn twig to remind. Her chirp is silent. No need now for gay pretense or lifted wing. She is alone and all the loneliness can show. Soon she will wonder, as even now I wonder and all mothers must sometimes wonder, was it ever? Did it really happen? Where they ever hers--so little and warm and needing--or was it all the most perfect dream the heart could design? Real or imagined, dreamed or not, a beautiful thing happened to her. Listen....it is there in her song.

British Medical Journal Urges Fewer Children

This article from the Chicago Tribune last week caught my eye. When I showed the headlines to my boss, she blew it off as if this could never happen in a free society. This is not China talking with their one-child policy folks, this is Great Britain. With our government already funding abortion, it would be quite an easy step to enforce them.

"There are plenty of ways to cut your carbon footprint, whether it’s driving less or buying an energy-efficient refrigerator. But the British Medical Journal, in an editorial last month, urged a more controversial one: having fewer children.With 60 million people already living in one of the most densely populated countries in the world, the journal said, British couples should aim to have no more than two children as part of their contribution to worldwide efforts to reduce carbon emissions, stem climate change and ease demands on the world’s resources.Limiting family size is “the simplest and biggest contribution anyone can make to leaving a habitable planet for our grandchildren,” the editorial’s authors said.Family planning as a means to reduce climate change has been little talked about in international climate forums, largely because it is so politically sensitive. China’s leaders, however, regularly argue that their country should get emission reduction credits because of their one-child policy, and many environmentalists—and even a growing number of religious and ethics scholars—say the biblical command to “be fruitful and multiply” needs to be balanced against Scripture calling for stewardship of the Earth.Europe’s rates diving Increasingly, “a casual attitude toward global warming ought to be viewed as a sin,” argues James Nash, director of the Churches’ Center for Theology and Public Policy, a Washington-based research group that studies the relationship between Christian faith and public policy.The appeal to have fewer children sounds a bit odd in Europe, where one of the biggest worries these days is plunging birthrates. German women today bear an average of 1.3 children, fewer than women in China, where the one-child policy is fast weakening. Even British women are giving birth to just 1.9 children on average, a level below that needed to produce a stable population.But each child born in a rich country like Britain or the United States is likely to be responsible for 160 times as much carbon emitted as a child born in Ethiopia, said John Guillebaud, a British family-planning doctor, professor and one of the authors of the British Medical Journal editorial. With efforts to cut emissions likely to go only so far, cutting births may be the best option, he said.“We’re not Big Brother. We’re not for pushing people,” he insisted in an interview. “We just think deciding how big a family to have should take into consideration our descendants.”Reaching 9 billion by 2050At the current projected rates of growth, the world’s population, now at 6.7 billion, is expected to reach about 9 billion by 2050. Environmentalists argue that a population that large will dramatically overtax the world’s resources and lead to growing conflict as well as potentially crippling climate change, particularly as poorer parts of the world develop and begin using more resources.Most of the expected growth in population is projected to come in less-developed parts of the world, particularly Asia, where 60 percent of the world’s people live, and Africa, where birthrates are the highest in the world.Worldwide, population growth is declining, and even in much of Asia and Africa “the drop in fertility rate has been quite amazing,” said Werner Haug, director of the United Nations Population Fund’s technical division. Despite falling international investment in family planning, Thailand today has a European-like birthrate; Kenyan women, who once averaged eight children, are now having five.Overall, Asia’s birthrate, excluding China, is 2.8 children per woman, and Africa’s is 5.4—well down from the past, said Carl Haub of the Washington-based Population Reference Bureau, an independent organization that analyzes demographic data.Asia set for boom But because a birthrate above 2.1 children per couple -the approximate replacement level, allowing for some untimely deaths—will produce ever-expanding growth, even Asia is still set to “grow like wildfire,” Haub said.The problem is worst in places such as northern India, where literacy, education and access to birth control are poor and poverty levels and population numbers are already high. If those conditions continue, runaway growth could push India toward a population of 2 billion people, Haub said. Sub-Saharan Africa, at expected growth rates, is likely to nearly triple its population by 2050, also to about 2 billion people, he said.Even in the United States, birthrates, which had fallen to around 1.85 children per non-Hispanic white woman, are now about 2.1 children per U.S. couple, thanks to Hispanic migration.In a nation where Texas’ 23 million people account for more greenhouse gas emissions than all 720 million Sub-Saharan Africans, even small rates of U.S. population growth may have a disproportionate impact on global warming, said the UN’s Haug.Experts say the best way to cut the world’s birthrate is simply to push ahead with what has worked best in the past: education, access to information about birth-control options, and better health care to give parents confidence that children born will survive to adulthood.

The First Sign of Denial is Denial

I admit it. I’m sick. While my friends and family have pretty much acknowledged and accepted this fact, I can live in denial most of the year. But twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall, I have a self-revelation that is pretty ugly and hard to ignore. Each of these seasons inspire me to dig out the boxes of clothing for the new season and I do the ritual cleaning out of my wardrobe and shoe closet. First of all, let me explain that in the spirit of sharing all things in our 35 year marriage, my husband and I share a walk-in closet. I use the word “share” pretty loosely as I have taken the liberty to use up a full 6 foot span of the closet and for reasons unbeknownst to me cannot, no matter how hard I try, squeeze one season’s worth of clothing into it. And then there’s the pile. I’ve got a stack of jeans that I can’t fit in stacked so high in the back of my closet that, if I were to lose a mere 10 lbs. and keep it off, I would never have to buy another pair in my lifetime. As for my husband, I’ve begrudgingly allowed him a 2-foot section in which to cram his modest three shirts and two pairs of pants. Good thing he’s not a clothes horse.

The far bigger issue however is trying to figure out what to do with my 41 pairs of shoes, most of which I can’t wear anymore now that I just bought a $300 pair of orthodics that will only fit in a pair of old lady’s shoes. But there is no way I’m ready to part with my little white leather slings, my blue iridescent flip flops, or my 3-inch dress heels. Afterall, orthodics or no orthodics, I do have some womanly dignity left, even if a protruding bunion and plantar fasciitis are bent on destroying any remaining trace of it.

My husband doesn’t have to worry about such things. Looking over to his little section of the closet, I see three pairs of shoes neatly lined up like birds on the telephone line. Brown casual, black dress, and white tennies. Ever so fleetingly, I sense some freedom in this simplicity. I wonder if I could live like that? Then from high on the shelf, the smart little red sandals I bought at the end of the summer sale last year catch my eyes, and I anticipate buying the perfect outfit to compliment them. And, its at that very precise moment that I know I’m sick, and probably incurable.

The Telling and Untelling

A couple of years ago Jenny received a wedding invitation from a friend with whom she had attended college. A few weeks before the wedding, she received another letter from the girl's father explaining that the wedding was postponed. Not necessarily cancelled, but postponed because there were some issues that needed to be resolved before the couple married. I felt horrible for this young couple imagining the disappointment they must have felt, but it spoke volumes about the wisdom of the couple and their parents. The "untelling" of life events is a very difficult thing to do. While you are trying to deal with your own disappointment or embarrassment, you have the added emotional burden of dealing with those who are also disappointed, embarrassed or feeling sympathy for you. In a sense, while you are the one who needs comfort, you are put in a place of needing to comfort others. In the case of this wedding, the "untelling" of the planned wedding was necessary or they were going to have a whole bunch of guests show up at a wedding that wasn't going to take place.

But let me suggest that we do a bangup job of protecting ourselves emotionally from having to "untell" many of the events of our lives. It is much easier to keep our lives secret so that if there is any disappointment we won't have to tell anyone about it. We will bear the pain all by ourselves. No embarrassment, no need to share the disaapointment and heartache.

As Christians this attitude should not be part of our experience. We should pray for one another and bear one another's burdens. We are commanded to "rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep." There is no place for keeping all of our hurts to ourselves thinking we can patch it all up without the help of our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Many of you know that our daughter has experienced multiple miscarriages in the past couple of years. The reason why you know that is because many of you have lifted her up in prayer, with words of encouragement and tangible expressions of your love. I am so encouraged that Jessica and Justin were able to ask prayer for these babies in the very earliest of their days. While it would have been much easier to keep the news of their pregnancies and subsequent miscarriages to themselves, they chose not to. Each pregnancy was rejoiced over and each of these babies were mourned, as they rightly should be. Yes, the pain of the "untelling" must have been excruciating for them, but I am so glad that they know the love of the body of Christ which is meant to bear one another up in times just as these. The Apostle Paul spoke of this sharing in 2 Cor 1:2 "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort."

Jessica is now about 7 weeks pregnant. Please pray for her and the baby. And, if by God's will there is an "untelling" that needs to happen, we will be strengthened by your prayers and the knowledge that you will mourn with us. We pray for a healthy baby, and if God in His great mercy grants us this request, our rejoicing will be ever sweeter because we have shared the tears of sorrow and joy.

Yesterday was National Life Chain Sunday, a silent protest agaisnt the atrocity of abortion. To our shame, 4,000 abortions occur in our country daily. So once a year I, along with other members of my church and a few others, stand on the sidewalk lining Hwy 99 with signs that say "Abortion Kills Children." How odd that one has to put that which is so obvious in print before passerbys. But, there is a blindness that has overtaken our nation so that the obvious is no longer obvious. What once was recognized as clear truth is now cloudy and obsecure taken hostage by situational ethics and sin. What once was a common understanding of right and wrong is no longer shared by the mass. The killing of children is taken on the same weight of any same day surgery. Nevermind the body parts that are disposed of--where?

The motorists pass by; some ignoring us with eyes fixed on the road straight ahead. Some express their hostility openly, and some give us the horn with thumbs up. Some go by and stare at us like we are animals in the zoo. They must wonder what kind of people are these that would waste such a beautiful Sunday afternoon when they could be up at the lake or taking a Sunday afteroon nap.

I wonder how much good it does holding the signs for all the passing world to see on a solitary October Sunday afteroon. That I will probably never know on this side of heaven. But I pray that those who drove by see common, ordinary people unafraid to hold up the truth that
"Abortion Kills Children."