Response to President Obama

The other day I received the following letter from President Obama via my email. You can read it below.

I decided to respond with an email. You can also read it below. In the news the next morning I was suprised by what I read -- that voting on the health care reform has been postponed. So I thought to myself, hmmmm, now it is very unlikely that anyone really read my email. But, but, but look at what is in the news, today he's not pushing it through. Somehow I believe that all of us offering up prayers intentionally and unintentionally through the Spirit's groanings are vital, critical. I am inspired to continue my contact with Mr. President. Here we go!

The White House, Washington

Dear Friend,

If you’re like most Americans, there’s nothing more important to you about health care than peace of mind.

Given the status quo, that’s understandable. The current system often denies insurance due to pre-existing conditions, charges steep out-of-pocket fees – and sometimes isn’t there at all if you become seriously ill.

It’s time to fix our unsustainable insurance system and create a new foundation for health care security. That means guaranteeing your health care security and stability with eight basic consumer protections:

* No discrimination for pre-existing conditions
* No exorbitant out-of-pocket expenses, deductibles or co-pays
* No cost-sharing for preventive care
* No dropping of coverage if you become seriously ill
* No gender discrimination
* No annual or lifetime caps on coverage
* Extended coverage for young adults
* Guaranteed insurance renewal so long as premiums are paid

Learn more about these consumer protections at Whitehouse.gov.

Over the next month there is going to be an avalanche of misinformation and scare tactics from those seeking to perpetuate the status quo. But we know the cost of doing nothing is too high. Health care costs will double over the next decade, millions more will become uninsured, and state and local governments will go bankrupt.

It’s time to act and reform health insurance, drive down costs and guarantee the health care security and stability of every American family. You can help by putting these core principles of reform in the hands of your friends, your family, and the rest of your social network.

Thank you,

Barack Obama


--------------------- My email response ----------------------

Dear Mr. President,

Greetings. Not sugar coating it, I am disturbed by your impatience. You must slow down. You must not run this through at this pace. We are becoming a nation of fast-made decisions that will and are destroying us. Wisdom is found in thoroughness and in time.

Go to the wise men, find them, search high and low and don't be surprised by who they are. How can anyone make decisions based on such a sizable document, the Health Care bill,within the time frame you have allotted? They can't. You must take the time, you will benefit, our nation will benefit from time. Your daughters need for you to slow down.

Make sure that you take the time to educate the American people about this reform, don't rush it through. There are so many creative ways to help the situation, look for them.

My husband and I understand the health care crunch. We own a small business. Our deductible is very high -- almost like we don't have health care insurance. We have had to go directly to the Billing Department of the Hospitals our children have been in to arrange payments. Both hospitals have worked with us. We have made decisions to not do doctor visits sometimes because of the money. But, we are healthy, we are grateful and socialism is the last thing we want in the health care arena. My husband's mother almost died in the hands of Canadian physicians because of a laissez faire attitude. Take your time, President Obama, take your time. I hope you don't parent this way!

We have discovered that our medical savings plan would likely be eliminated under your new plan. This does not bode well, Mr. President.

We will not be going to Martha's Vineyard this summer and would never be able to afford what you possibly will be able to afford there. But we will be paying for your vacation. This doesn't go down real well. You need to lead by example. Because of the tightness of money we have not had a family vacation in years. We are trying to pull off a wedding on a budget of $5000. My husband had to sell his share in a group airplane that he has been a part of for the past twenty five years.

There is money, President Obama, but where is it being spent? We, the American people are getting the picture. It seems like politics is a good money making venue. Lead by example.

I am still praying for you, you are an important person, worthy of prayer and you have my prayers! I know that in a social setting we would have much to talk about and much to laugh about. Please know that I deal in directness, let's just get it out there, but my directness is not a lack of respect.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Lynne Burkholder

Lucia Whalen - Have her over for tea...........

Breaking News: Go to Drudge Report and read "Three Amigos Get Suds"
http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0709/25592.html

Dear Mr. President,

Good morning, Mr. President. Another great day. Nothing to do with the weather, just another day to be alive~! We can't take anything for granted. I was glad to see on Thursday morning that you have decided to not rush the Health Care Reform through in the abbreviated time period but that in fact you are taking more time. I was talking to a friend the other day whose husband has not sold a new home in months and they just lost their health insurance. She said even though they are not covered currently she still doesn't want anything rushed through without giving time to our elected officials to fine comb it.

Necessity is the mother of invention, this is a time to go deep and look at the obvious ways we can change with upholding our capitalistic ways and means.

But let's move on. I think it was a great effort on your part to have a beer with the "boys" who were in the news this past week. We are all human, we all lose our cool, and I believe this is what happened to your friend. He was tired, he just wanted in, and he was vulnerable. The very thing that he has been known to uphold, an embracing view of all races, was challenged and it just so happened to make the news for whatever reason. For you to want to have them come together I think was a good move on your part. But let's talk about Lucia Whalen. Did you invite her and she declined? Or did you not think of it? Listen, all you need to do is call me and I'll help you walk through some of these issues. Sometimes you need real "common" folk like myself to help you think around the block.

Lucia Whalen now needs for you to encourage her efforts. This is not a time when someone like Lucia should be vilified and I can not imagine this is your intent. However, your silence is speaking volumes.

This is how I see it. Lucia notices two men trying to force a door open. She thinks to herself, why don't they have a key? Her brain clicks into gear and she comes to the conclusion that it is because they don't belong there. Most home owners have hidden keys on their properties, you don't often see homeowners forcing themselves into their homes. It has been reported that she did not make mention to the 911 dispatcher anyone's race. C'mon! This needs your attention. We, the American people need to be encouraged to look out for one another. Lucia needs to be thanked for making that call.

I know you will do something for her, you must. We need to be encouraged to be eyes for each other. There are Neighborhood Watches all over this nation. By your silence people might be reluctant to look out for one another. She did the right thing and because of the publicness of this event you have to do something to honor her courage and to dispel the racist comments flying her way. But don't have her for a beer, have her for a cup of tea.

Blessings on your day and remember there is no problem or situation that God does not know about, that God does not care about and that God does not have the answers for to help you make wise decisions.

Ask for wisdom like Solomon but just keep to one wife, alright?!

Sincerely,


Mrs. Burkholder

P.S. You can view our family on this website. http://authenticyouphotography.com The Burkholder Family

The Addiction-It's a Hard One to Break!

I could not bring it to bed with me last night. I had to leave it downstairs. It would have competed. I wasn't going to bring it home. I was trying to be strong. I stayed in the car keeping myself from temptation. "Girls, go ahead, I'll just wait for you out here, I'm tired." The girls left, I layed back the car seat. My eyes fluttered when I tried to keep them shut. So, I caved. I opened the car door and bolted.

I furtively looked for my daughters as I walked through the doors, good they were in another part.
It is the side room that I visit now and it is there that I give into my addiction. I can not help myself. They call, I answer. I put fifty cents into the red box affixed to the wall and it was mine. The Library is meant for borrowing but ever since this side room I often leave with a stack I will never return.

What a "find!" The title was not so much the lure, "One Man's Meat." Can you guess the author (only if you don't know, don't answer if you do) Would it be the local butcher writing his memoirs? Is it a jewish chap lamenting his dietary restrictions? No, not even close. It was the author that made me break.

E.B. White! How can you pass an E.B. White book. Just reading his sentences is an English class/Writing Seminar all lumped in one book. His writing is music.
His reason for this book intrigues me:

"One Man's Meat" was not a premeditated book, it was an accident. Two days before I left town for good, Lee Hartman, editor of "Harper's Magazine," asked me to lunch. Before the meal was over he had invited me to contribute a monthly department. He offered me three hundred dollars a month, and I accepted on the spot. This last-minute, unexpected job as a columnist was the genesis of "One Man's Meat." It turned out to be one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me. I was a man in search of the first person singular, and lo, here it was- handed to me on a platter before I even left town.

Once in everyone's lifetme there is apt to be a period when he is fully awake, instead of half asleep. I think of those five years in Maine as the time when this happened to me. Confronted by new challenges, surrounded by new acquaintances-including the characters in the barnyard, who were later to reappear in "Charlotte's Web"- I was suddenly seeing, feeling, and listening as a child sees, feels, and listens. It was one of those rare interludes that can never be repeated, a time of enchantment. I am fortunate indeed to have had the chance to get some of it down on paper."

I can not wait for free moments to s-l-o-w-l-y savor every word in every sentence. I'm gonna need a designated driver..........

Boomerangs

Love is a challenge.

I reread what I posted maybe two weeks ago, wow, good stuff.
Love, love, love, love. I set myself up didnt'I? Absolutely.

I've learned that when I pontificate on something that has just inspired me, challenged me, and equipped me for good works I place myself in the middle of a pond as a decoy duck ready for the first shot!

I call them boomerangs out of nowhere. You look to see who shot it? You can't find the thrower! You know the mechanics or physics of a boomerang right? You throw it and it comes back at ya and if it is wood, watch out!

You through out the affirmation that God is amazing, you praise him, you declare your desire to serve him wholly and back at you with lightning speed comes something that causes you to duck!

Church related issues are the absolute worse. You don't expect it, you don't plan for it and out of the blue you see it coming and you don't have time to duck.

I propose that the thrower of the boomerang is none other than the evil one, I know a little fanatical sounding but true non the less. The evil one is never out in the open , it usually stands behind your best friend, your pastor, your confidant, your husband, your children. It puts someone else in front of it to take the blame.
You know those words spoken to a person by none other than Jesus, "Stand behind me Satan."

Love, still a clear message even for a boomerang from out of nowhere!

How to be successful in just one word........

Love. A four letter word that battled the other four letter word...Hate.
Love took care of hate, destroyed the power of it.
Every time we choose love we are thanking God.
Every time we choose love we are piling up a mountain of profit that has a return rate never to be matched!


Love. A word that uses four letters.
Those four letters have the power to turn situations into memorable, life changing, exhilirating experiences never to be forgotten or underestimated.

Hate. A word that uses four letters.
Those four letters have the power to turn situations into miserable, life changing, exhausting experiences never to be forgotten or underestimated.

Hate is a harsh word but every time we choose not to love we choose to hate.
We are faced with situations daily. We are all faced with comments, looks, situations, how do we respond? Do we love or do we hate?
If we love we will be full of knowledge, full of gifts, full of profit, full of full with no failures on our record.

If we hate we will experience nothing, have nothing, know nothing, and be nothing.
A thirteenth chapter in a book in the Bible states and confirms that.

There is nothing that can be boomeranged our way that can not be handled by Love, nothing. Love endures ALL things, bears ALL things, hopes ALL things, believes ALL things. Accomplishments fail, disentigrate, dissolve, crumble without love. What you do, your college degree, your spiritual accomplishments will get you no where without love.

Love fuels, love propels, love wins ALL the time, love remains positive ALL the time, love rises above, above, above, every cultural standard of success. Love is uncontainable, love NEVER FAILS.

Do you want success?
Do you really want success?
Then for every situation that comes your way.........LOVE.
To endure, to believe, to hope, to bear ALL things because of love, that is true success.

So,instead of asking a person, "What do you do?" We should be asking, "How are you loving?"

Ain't She Something!

Sarah Palin waits for the crowd to stop clapping. She begins and I am smitten. Though I am a woman I am often annoyed by a woman's voice from a podium, either too Tammy Fayish or too clip clopish. Sarah's put my criticism mode to rest, I am free to listen. I am free to be impressed.

Look at her, look at them, her children watching their mother give an historical address. Their mother is the closest to the presidency that any woman has ever been. She crosses the political lines and reaches into the woman's heart and says, "I understand, trust me." She reaches into your heart and makes you feel like a cup of tea and chat are in order.

Her speech is clear, direct, nononsense, compassionate, inspiring, and hopeful.
She let her chef go, what??? It makes me rethink my want for a chef.
I just need to buck up.

There is something that does frustrate me about her. Her juggling act, her amazing juggling act is more than I want to see. I'm always looking for rationalizations to explain my not so organized life, not going to find them around with Missy Sara. They were pulled right out from under my fanny as I listened to this sharp chick!

I'm hers! I want to do what needs to be done to get her elected. McCain is going to have to get use to this woman taking the thunder and the lighting, she's superwoman. I want to see this woman in the White House!

Missed The Mother of the Year Award Again!

Last Monday I travel to New England with my three younger children and a teenager in need of a ride. Tuesday I find myself with my father at his regular breakfast haunt. My husband calls and I roll my eyes. "Uh, Lynn, I'm, huh, having breakfast with my Dad... Can this wait?"

This husband of mine calls me all the time, we talk all the time, we see each other all the time and lest you think I mind this, I don't. It's just that when I am with someone else who I am rarely with then I'm frankly, bothered.

Lynn waits on the other end and begins, "Kathryn has been up since four in the morning with pain on her left side, it's probably not appendicitis. She says it is also near her bellybutton."

Everything stops. The breakfast table floats off, the people blur, the moment halts.

"Let me talk to her, Lynn."
"Kathryn, what hurts?"

I am a six hour car ride from home. My three younger children are clueless as to what is brewing at home, all they know is that soon they will be going to a football size island with their cousins facing a week of water fun. How am I going to face them with the news that their vacation is pending. How am I going to get to my daughter in pain with the lightning speed my insides are screaming for?

It takes me five seconds listening to Kathryn and I say to Lynn, "She needs to be seen by our pediatrician quick." The man moves into action and fully operates in his most fatherly maternal mode. He is known for this!

I call Kathryn's sister, Robyn, who is at West Chester University, forty minutes away, and she assures me that as soon as she knows where her dad and her sister will be landing she will be there. Chris our son is at Reading Area Community College for his first day of classes. But He prepares to kick into action.

I am six hours away from my daughter and my emotions are pulled. I want to just hop in the car but I am assured by Robyn that they can handle this.

We travel to the Island and get the children settled, my mom will keep them if I must travel home. My mind is lumbering down a hospital corridor with the sickest of sick. I am imagining the worst uttered from a doctor's mouth. Not Kathryn. I am wishing for it to be appendicitis. These are the unknown moments, anything is possible, the options are strewn randomly over the table.

So many families have a day in particular when all changes and nothing will be the same. Lynn keeps me updated with each step being followed. The ultrasound is not conclusive, not enough liquid or body fat to compress to reveal. (Another reason to put off the diet) She endures a CT scan that brings her to tears. Robyn is with her during this process providing the missing female/mom component .

Lynn calls, he's worried. He's beginning to wonder. Are they telling him everything. This could be it, the dreaded moment in time when everything swirls, the foundation shifts and the landscape is unfamiliar.

The day took longer than twenty-four hours, I'm sure. The cell phone rings for the millionth time and if it were human it would have been kissed a thousand times over and embraced. "Her appendicts was swollen, it needed to come out and the surgery went well."

Chris, Robyn, and her father were there for her recovery, I was not. Three little kids waiting for the news were relieved, of course for Kathryn but in their kidway, mainly because they didn't have to hop back in the car for six long hours.

Maybe I wasn't even one of the contenders for the Mother of the Year Award, but if I was, I missed it!

Free Falling Forgiveness

I have friend, Bill Gnade, who has a blog called "Contratimes." He has asked for a response to his blog posted on August 20. It would be beneficial to read his entire post but here in essence is his question:

"Do I, as a person who seeks to be approved of God by His grace and mercy and love, forgive others ONLY if they are repentant and contrite: do I forgive them ONLY if they ask for it? Or do I just forgive liberally, without condition?

If I do forgive without condition, do I forgive like God forgives? But we already know God forgives conditionally: He will not forgive those who do not forgive others. Does God forgive those who do not want to be forgiven? Does He forgive those who do not believe they've done anything wrong or that they have any debts?"


Here is my response:
To all of the questions that you ask, I would answer with a resounding yes. Yes, I forgive those who are repentant and contrite, that’s a beautiful thing, Yes, I forgive them if they ask for it, this makes one smile. Yes, I forgive liberally and without condition. This is tough but yes, I forgive! I am free to forgive and the focus is on the freedom.

We have been offered freedom. We are free to operate in love that enables us to cut an ugly cord of bitterness that desires to strangle, kill, and defeat.

Freedom to forgive offers me the opportunity to view the world, a group, a family, a person, a situation with a perspective that allows me freedom to love. The bondage of bitterness inhibits my ability to move freely through a given day.

The mechanics of forgiveness are beyond me as is the mechanics of the car I drive, the air-conditioner in my home offering me relief, the computer that I use to communicate. I marvel at how the internal workings of my person can shift and move in a new direction with the utterance of these three words: I forgive you. I am awed that I am free to utter these words, the very words that change the internal structure and inner workings of my being and allow a complete perspective change within myself. The mechanics are all about the life hid in Christ…

There was one day in history when Jesus offered me freedom. The significance of that day is beyond beyond and the freedom of that day is tsunami like. Overwhelmingly encompassing, grace like and endless as a roaming field bathed in the setting sun.. He loved me that day, loves me this day and my love for Him is expressed by using my gift He offered me, the freedom to forgive.

His weakened body on that curse-ridden, God-awful tree powerfully created peace. That one day in history everything changed. I’ve often wondered what amazing light show beyond light show those with spiritual eyes were able to witness on that day. It was that day our physical eyes spared us from the spiritual blaze and reality that occurred. Two men were morphed, melted, fused into one and peace resulted. Up until this point in history no one had been able to accomplish this, life waited for this moment. (Eph 2:14-17)

The result of His death ushered in peace. He had forgiven all. We continue to fight forgetting peace has been created, we worry forgetting peace is here. We refuse to forgive because we are waiting for perfect alignment of circumstantial specifics completely forgetting peace has happened. There is peace and this peace allows us the freedom to forgive.

It is no longer a pursuit of peace it is the presence of peace and the infusion of peace which allows us to actively practice the forgiveness that Christ offered through reestablishing peace.

When everything is boiled down to its essence you ask yourself what is it that makes a life, a year, a month, a week, a day, a moment a good one. It is this, freedom to love, the freedom to offer forgiveness.

The freedom to love, to offer forgiveness is truly a gift. I did not work to accomplish this feat; I have no impressive degrees to dust off to show anyone the work it took me to get to this status. I can only point you to the one who accomplished what it took for me to operate in freedom, the freedom to forgive.

He loved me, he created peace for me. When I forgive I am only doing what falls in line with the biggest event in history, I am only doing what makes the most sense as a result of His tragic, forgiveness forging death…I am loving Him by forgiving you. To God be the glory great things He has done! I am free to fly above circumstantial evidence, I can forgive you.

Relationships Reigns Over Tasks

Peeking in a farmhouse kitchen window last night and caugth a glimpse of a high level meeting. You would have seen six women hunched around a kitchen table a little after eight o'clock at night discussing important issues, Children's Sunday School. We're serious about this, it's the future leaders of the local church we're concerned about. We'll be members of their congregation someday soon and we want to have a part in that.

We're discussing a curriculum that is right up our alley. Our goal has nothing to do with entertaining but instructing. This curriculum fits the bill. Our goal is intruction in the foundational truths of Christianity we refuse to bore them, that's a sin!

I'm awed by the women, their main question is, can I tweak this curriculum, can I add to it. Many teachers just want something handed to them requiring little to no work. Not these women. I have the priviledge of rubbing shoulders with them!

We have projects to lead these children though, we have mini-lessons to include, we have the church members to introduce them to, we have missionaries that we want to interview in front of them, we have church life to explain!

This is high level conversations with consequences eternal. If more people thought like this a Sunday School teacher would the most sought out after. To have a chance to make a difference in one child's life that will make a difference in a number of lives, well, I can't imagine a better pursuit!

An Amazing Woman Named Ruthie

"Jesus wants me to talk to you."
She says staring down at me.
Ooooookay.
I might think wackpack but instead I am looking at
an adorable teenager on a bus coming home from
a Bible Quizzing event in Ohio.
She sits down and relates to me her seventeen year old
brother's tragic bike accident that has left him mentally impaired.
He was influential in her life, an amazing christian
pursuing God relentlessly, now taken out of the active game,
or so we think.

This begins the give and take relationship with Ruthie.
We meet, we connect, we say goodbye and we don't see each other
for sometimes years. A time back we met again at a Bible quizzing event
and I push myself on her, "let me come over and let's do a bible study, Ruthie?!"
God had just told her she needed spiritual parents, I fell right into that one.

This is a young woman who has lived through hard times, knows them well, has grown from them. She is priceless. We meet for a number of months and again fall out of touch while she falls into love. Last night she walks in my kitchen door with her young missionary led husband, Michael. Can we find more apt names for the two of them- Ruthie willing to go where she is led by her husband Michael who shares the same name with the archangel.This couple is a couple to know and remember.

Last night they share with a room full of teenagers, grandparents, and children their vision to the Muslim world. Their perspective revs my spirit, fills my soul, inspires my imagination. They are headed to India. This is a couple who know what life is all about. They are seeking His kingdom, pushing aside the need to eek out a happiness from the American Culture they are immersed in. These are the laborers Christ passionately seeks.

I listen to Ruthie and feel as if I can literally see her maturity etched into her forehead and around her eyes. She has been through and seen much. She talks of persecution in a way that scares me but with a profoundness that rivels the woman concerned about her next manicure. She is a saleswoman and you want to buy what she has, she will lead many into missions, the writing is on the wall.

The little girl, Leah, who shares the blood of these two remarkable people is a blessed girl. I believe we'll hear about Leah. These are people worth knowing! Let's fill our homes with these gatherings inspiring all age groups to go and make disciples.

Today is Monday

Today is Monday morning, my schedule already is askew. My mind is swirling with ideas, visions of big events. My children are yelling butting in front of the visions. The yard is desperate for attention. My garden is mocking me with weeds. There is a benefit concert in the backyard on Sunday. This event is ordering everyone to put their mind to it! Am I happy or overwhelmed?

I know this one thing; I am not experiencing what another young family is going through this week. This family waits for their dad on Friday to arrive in the Adirondacks for summer fun. He doesn't and he won’t. Instead he is found dead in his home.

They drive home never to enjoy vacation fun with their daddy again this side of heaven. The mother faces dreams without him. Life brimming, waves crashing, is now a still pond.

Am I happy or overwhelmed? I will this week do one thing, I will be content.
Swirling events indicate life. I will remember that.

Scene to Avoid

“Kathryn, give me the keys.”
“Mom, I want to drive.”
“Just give me the keys.”
I come close, I hush to her,
“I don’t want to wait outside the car door
with her yelling.”
The keys are given to me.
I go to the other side of the car where underway there is a scene. I want to avoid it. I unlock, slither in, and hope I’m unnoticed. I unlock the driver’s side.

A young mom is pleading, yelling, crying for her eight to nine year old son to get in the car. He is standing in front of a woman in a wheelchair.
The woman in a wheelchair, by now I’m gathering is the grandmother. She is trying to reason with him. He seems to be seeking moral support from her.

As I struggle with my moral dilemma, do I pray with her or pray to God, all I want is Kathyrn to head for dodge, inside I’m screaming for her to bolt. I’m looking like a ninny, a whimp. Hopefully I’m the only one who is noticing.

NOT! Kathryn, my sixteen year old, suggests I pray with this lady.

I take a deep, yoga, long held, breath. I know what my Savior calls me to do. I read about this in his Word. I talk about this to my Sunday School Children. Now a real life application confronts me and I go and treat it as if I am in a Cafeteria a la carte line. Maybe another situation will present me with an opportunity, hopefully hypothetical, but for now Kathryn really should get out of this parking lot so that she can get to work on time.

I roll down the window.
“Mam, Can I pray with you.”
She’s at my window in no time.
I put my arms around her and pray.
She is melting in my arms. Her son, the woman in a wheelchair, the other older woman sitting in the car are watching, quietly.

“Thank you so much. That is the nicest
Thing anyone has ever done for me. I am so sorry
For the scene.”

I look at her with my eyebrows apologetically raised and
Point to my sixteen year old.
“It was her idea.”

She looks beyond me and thanks Kathryn.
She tells me her name and her son’s name and we share
A few more words. She does go to church.
She is a beautiful young mom with challenges that
Today seemed overwhelming.

As we finally drive out of the parking lot
I thank Kathryn for pushing me.
I feel like a real live Anne Kiemel from the ‘70’s.

Oh, the opportunities I have missed
and Oh, today the opportunity seized
because my sixteen year old pushed me into it!

“ A little child will lead them.” Isaiah 11:6

Soundman, Ben

My son, Geoffrey, is THE gift giver, especially for his female friends. Yesterday is no exception. He arranges with his friend, Lauren, who turned fourteen last week, to pick her up. He’s taking her to see Wall-E for her 2008 birthday present. I have learned that in this arena Geoffrey, all of eleven, knows best and it behooves me to follow his lead. However, much to his dismay I invite his sister, Nicole. She and I over the past month have been discussing our need to see this flick. He will live.

We pass between the four of us popcorn and soda. After the previews we’re looking at emptiness, thank goodness for free re-fills. We sit back in our seats, ready for entertainment. This film is no exception; Pixar, again, takes us to a place where the line of reality and animation are blurring.

I come home. I have to read about the birth of this film. Relationships, love, a craving for leisure and it’s ill effects, need to care for our surroundings are obvious thoughts fueling this film. But what is in Jim Morris’ head or Andrew Stanton of “Nemo” fame? What is their message? I read a polished newsfeed and I’m distracted from my pursuit. I am rabbit trailed down another path- the creation of the sounds for the film.

Sounds fascinate me and my boys as well. My older son, Chris, marvels me with his depiction of sounds indicative of keen listening. His brothers are following suit. There’s a lot of sound in this household of eight.

Though sounds intrigue me, when I watch movies I think nothing of them. The sounds accomplish their goal in augmenting, highlighting, and supporting the message of the film. While watching a movie I could care less about their origins. Sound happens. Or so I thought.

Have you heard (pun intended) of Ben Burtt, the sound man? Of course you have not and if you have your one of those interesting people who I need to invite for dinner. Most of the “iconic noises” in Star Wars and E.T. were his creation. I read this about him and I envision him in front of a computer pushing buttons. I am a product of Suburbia. Milk comes from supermarkets, sound comes from computers. Sad state of affairs.

E.T.’s “guttural grunts," are from Ben recording his wife, suffering from a cold, sleeping! Did she know this? Fun Beans! For R2D2’s bleeps he enlists the aid of water pipes and whistles. Ben huffs and puffs into a scuba diving mask and unlike the wolf doesn’t destroy but creates Darth Vader’s heavy breathing.

This man amazes me. He has recordings from his childhood that he uses in every Sci-Fi film, recordings of his grandfather’s shortwave radio. Oh, for a world of curious children. We benefit from a little boy’s fascination and exploration of sound. Oh, for mothers who allow their children to follow their interests.

Ben Burtt, for all the bizarre, sci-fi sounds he creates would be passed by on a street. There is nothing about his persona, his look that would attract attention. Listening to a YouTube interview of sounds from StarWars made me smirk at this average guy. His speech was close to monotone. But his sounds intrigue, inspire, and I need to find out more.

Burkholder 2008 Reunion

Gas prices rising, too many people you will not connect with on the level, not enough time, this all seems to lead to one conclusion; staying home looks like the better option. Traveling out to Ohio to the Burkholder 2008 Reunion seems pointless. The words are flying out of my mouth right into the ears of my in-laws. This is traitor material, this is a killjoy daughter-in-law.

I cheerlead constantly. High road, let's travel it, grumblers all end up at the same spot and here I am heading in their direction. This is not a cheerleading moment for me now, I am the designated downer!

My mother in law sadly looks at me. She reminds me of the value of family reunions. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I grow concerned at my cynicsm, what is happening? I love meeting people, I love discovering other's lives, I know how to question, I enjoy ferreting interesting facts from people. If it weren't for those rising gas prices I would be persuading, "C'mon we'll make the trip fun, this is family..." But my faith is tested, as the gas prices rise my faith is going down. You know the song.

Then He hits me between the eyes, the clarity of vision is 20/20. He will not allow me to see from hindsight the benefit of the Burkholder 2008 Reunion of twelve siblings with their families and extended families. He wants me in the front row and He will bless our efforts to road trip in hard times.

We are the host family this year. The flow of the reunion lies in our hands. Big events are what fill me with energy, lots of energy, here is a big event of a lifetime. The reunion is small and only 160 or so are registered, small??? I begin to research the name of my eighty year old father-in-law's father, David O. Burkholder. Jackpot, he is successfully goggled.

David O. Burkholder is a man to know. I start to print from a Beachy Mennonite site about my husband's grandfather. I am ticked, why doesn't Lynn,my husband, know this stuff, our children need to know this man. I am pulled into a stream of history awed at my lack of initial insight and grateful to God for pulling me up short. (my status in life in more ways than one)

Today there is a Youth event still in existence from sixty years ago David O.Burkholder had a significant part in birthing . His name is everywhere on this site. I spot a catechism written by Peter Burkholder from a time zone that seems so far away. This too is a relative of my husband. My interest, my excitement mounts.

We travel to Ohio where we will host the Burkholder 2008 Reunion at Rosedale, a place I hear so much about. Our trip is tandem with Lynn's sister and husband. Jim, my brother-in-law winds our way to a park for a lunch break. We eat, relish in each other and talk reunion. We are traveling out a day early to be in front of the power curve, it's about time.

Rosedale is peace, a presence of God is inhaled. The flat lands are vast, endless, expansive and all I see is a picture of God's grace. Big Al who runs Rosedale with the most kicked back buisness savy I have ever seen is showing us our welcoming accomdations. This is going to be a weekend that will last beyond the earthly time restraints of forty-eight hours. We have front row seats.

We unpack, laugh, talk constantly amongst ourselves, no one feeling vanclempt.
We hop in our suburbans to seek out the best pizza place in town. To have customers, and a lot of them, hailing in near closing time has to be quintessentially bitter/sweet. They are gracious pizza makers and good at it to boot.

The next morning we set up "Headquarters." Reunions have hit the techno stage and ours is no exception. Two computers and a printer and we are ready to register. We discover we love this, is it the power of telling people where their rooms are? Is it the thrill of scheduling events for over 160 people, we are in the lead? You bet! This was too much fun for a family to have on any given weekend.

No one could ever guess my pathetic intial reunion thoughts as I learn to know my husband's amazing family. I have questions that my father-in-law and I have created enabling the children to know their grandparents. I am Master's of Ceremony for Burkholder Sibling's Reminiscing. How did I get this priviledge? I grabbed it, no hiding that.

I come away from that weekend, an entire week later I am still running on the fuel that I refueled with at the Burkholder Reunion. You want to know something crazy? This was the weekend the gas prices dropped! Again I learn that circumstances are not the directors, the Living God directs despite them!

Tradegy Strikes Again

Smoke is billowing in the valley and Lynn tells me it is Andy's produce shed. Fire engines are racing towards the smoke and I know why. I rarely know why. Fire engines howl past our home all the time leaving me curious,oh for a scanner. But I know now,not again! This family....I start to make calls.

Andy is young, in his late sixties (I'm guessing), has had some bypass surgery (don't quote me,medical stuff I always botch)and suffers with diabetes. He moves slow, he talks slow but don't let that fool you! His insides are that of an eager twenty year old ready to tackle new ideas, new means and ways! His humor is intack and he sees life through that lense. Talking with Andy is a savored pleasure, he is honest, silly, serious, and loves Jesus with deeds. There is always someone living with Andy and his wife Lucille, always.

Later in the evening, around nine, I drive up their lane to their newly built home (wonder how long it's been built). Andy with two other men are sitting at his kitchen table. He smiles, it takes him a while to direct his face to do what his insides are commanding. I ask what in the world. He answers, "God is trying to slow me down." Is that what first came to you I ask him. He shakes his head smiling, not the first but maybe the second....

Slowly this man races through a day with a todo list that would scare a vibrant young man. He comes home at nine after grading peppers. This day he was in Hershey. His wife didn't want him to go, but he did anyway. He wanted to hear about the latest pepper and cantalope varieties. This is one of the most innovative farmers in the Twin Valley region. If I were a farmer I would be asking Andy many questions grabbing any information I could.

In the morning hours delivering peppers to an auction he stops along the way and purchases flowers for his wife. His grandson, soon off on a mission trip, asks him why he does this. Andy tells him it's good to scare up flowers for your wife. Little does Andy know that these flowers would come to her at the end of a very bad day.

Lucille, his unique wife, is a chaplain at a local retirement center, a missionary's child spending more time in Africa in her formative years than America. Her day has been spent relishing in God's goodness. Acme accepts their peppers, her faith mounts. The hail the day before has blemished them slightly,they have put a lot of money in this crop, and she was nervous!She ends her day at a tent meeting,it is here word comes to her of the fire.

The kitchen table is now filling up with more people. Lucille returns home from her day with her dear intercessory friend, Becky. Glenn whose daughter has married Andy and Lucille's son sits down, the pastor leads us in prayer. Church, pure church. I am priviled to be in the midst of a couple with a community represented by hands holding one another's hands honoring God in the midst of the rubble.

This is not the first fire that this couple experiences. This is not their first tradegy. They are veterans, polished sufferers and they know what comes first. Prayer. Lucille utters her understanding that the decisions they face in the morning will be varied and difficult but she and Andy know who will guide them and first comes first, prayer.

Who are the people of substance in your life that offer hope in the midst of a fire? They don't have time to seek you out, they are busy walking the road Jesus laid out for them. Find them and with the love of Jesus they will welcome you in their life and allow you front row seats to see hope mount from tragedy.

Why the Game?

Yadayadayada, sugarysweet, sugarysweet,yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk! "Friends are like a garden, full of variety........you'd never believe what my child did, put my big shoes on and pranced around the house, my four year old decided to write with a big magic marker on our freshly painted wall, but knowing that time is fleeting I decided that this was a memory and not going to be a scar".................can I read another word without hurling? Was I ever able to read without highly criticizing? Was there a time when I could read and enjoy? Oh, please why can't I be accepting? And who made me the literary critic,the potential publisher?

I am pathetic, have always been and always will be. I don't give an inch and yet require miles. But what is actually behind my criticism is an intense need for "REALNESS." Can we all just be honest, must we play this game all the time. "Youhoo, look at me over here, let me tell you about what an awful day I had and let me tell you about all my yukky feelings throughout the day and then let me tell you about how it ended so well, you're gonna really love it, and then you're gonna suggest to your publisher friend that they publish my 'honesty.'"

We dance, we prance, we move like we're the best thing going in a humble pie frolic and all of this in front of hurting people who know far more than those of us who continue to play the game. Can we let down our guards and just admit to one another, "don't have it together, but let me tell you what I like about you!" We truly and really are not "something." In our need to draw attention we try to disguise it so that we can look modest, demure, not self-seeking and yet if the blowhorn that we are really blowing would sound, our eardrums would be history.

I am a mom. Yesterday I was on the computer and on the phone more than I was talking with my children. My twenty year old was home and I wasn't, so to speak. I rummaged through the refrigerator and fed myself. I did not make a main meal for my family, regularity is not my forte. My son calls our home a "hippie home".....ummm O.k.?! I hopped on my bike and rode to a meeting. It felt so good to be at this meeting with the children at home doing who knows what?

I went to bed not feeling as if the loose ends were moored to a sturdy dock and woke up knowing it even more. And you know the sad thing about this? You're thinking it! Maybe I'm doing exactly what I am outraged by, do you hear my blaring blowhorn?! Help me Rhonda!

Road Trips

Tomorrow I head to a retreat in Virginia. I have no idea where the retreat is, not even sure of the town's name, something "Hill...." I am intrigued by the location, the hills of Virginia, and that is why I'm going. I plan on taking a plethora of reading material,look forward to sitting and staring, and eventually meeting new people. I'm sick of the same old same old, I just need a break.

A road trip appeals to me. You drive and pass through towns that carry on without you every day and that fascinates me. I mentally travel everywhere during the day and to actually travel, can't wait.

It's the road trips taken as a child that's created this. I love night traveling. The pulling up to a gas station and drowsily looking out the window at the lights so insanely bright. The listening to your mother paw through her cavern of a purse, the sound of the plastic as she touches everything trying to locate the cash to hand to your dad waiting by her window. The smell of gas intoxicating and obnoxious all at the same time. You could just take it in because you are sprawled out in the backseat with no expectations to pump.

The lights of a town or city during the night are so enchanting. The lights indicate life yet no life to be seen as we pull in for gas at 2:00 a.m.

How about the place you've never been to which looks interesting in the night because of a lack of light. You wake up and the mystery is revealed, so different than imagined. That's what I enjoy about nighttime arrivals.

You finally arrive, the sound is consistent every time as the keys are extracted . Your mother collects her plastic purse which again squeaks with a predictable sound and the security of coming home is topped off by your dad carrying to your bed.

Tomorrow, I travel as an adult,I will not be carried in, Dad will not be there but the memories will travel alongside me all the way to the hills of Virginia.

The Dream

Last night in my dream my father was driving us in a oversized station wagon to go tubing. This was not tubing on a lake, not on a river but tubing on the ocean. As dreams often lack sense, there was snow on the ground and we were heading in the wrong direction. He decides to turn around on a train track. We're fearful that the car is going to get stuck on the tracks in the distance we see a train coming. I feel panic, we're going to be hit by a train. Finally my Dad skillfully manuvers us off the tracks and rescues us out of that dangerous spot.

The house by the ocean where we will tube is on a cliff, you have to walk down to the shore to put in your tubes. I am nervous about this entire set-up, tubing in the ocean, it does not seem safe.

I wake up, I am elated, my dream has ended.
I have a sinking feeling, and the thought hits me, there are too many people who will wake up minus the elation. The unthinkable, the nonsensical has become reality. One beautiful Sunday afternoon a Tsnami has crashed in on their dreams and made their safe world a surreal nightmare.

Schedulesnedule

Fall is here. Clear, humidity-free days, bright sunshine, gorgeous sunsets and my adventurous friend is back in town.

Janet, along with Deb, went to West Chester with me tonight to pick up two tickets for Lynn and I to see the President tomorrow morning. Sacrificial love is what I call that!

Janet and I have traveled many miles together. I love to drive, she loves to navigate (nice way to say “back seat driver). When she was in California she navigated me around West Chester from her lap top computer. That day, though miles separated us, I felt like we were in the same car. Pure fun.

My life would go a lot smoother if I would stick to a schedule. I would say no to the opportunity of hearing the President of the United States because tomorrow is one of those killer days with very little margin. I had to call and make arrangements for three of my children. When I wake up, my feet needed to hit the road running. Lunches, baby bag to pack, children to distribute, food to purchase for the women who are casting this year’s play.

This day is no picnic and I have just begun to list the tasks to be accomplished. I should say "no" to a friend calling, asking if tonight is all right to hang out and then staying to watch the season finale of the “Amazing Race.” It would make more sense to just say no. But I said "yes."

Some people can actually manage a scheduled life and still be flexible. I can’t seem to swing that. I would rather go to bed with a messy house, exhausted from good fellowship and enduring memories.

One thing makes my life go smooth and only one thing. It is this…waking up at a decent time and crying out to God, “HELP!” Lately I feel at the end of myself. My resources have long been used up. My natural good nature has run dry. My six children have given me a clear mirror to look into and it’s not pretty. This woman is in need, we’re talking bankrupt.

I know this is the “sweet place.” This is the place where Jesus smiles and shines. Lynne is gone ‘cause she can’t keep up and Jesus takes over. Why do we try to clean up to come to Him? Our soap is just rank. There is nothing that we can use to clean us up. It is only Jesus who can do the clean job. It is only Him that can take my conscience and make it clean.

The thought that has captivated me these past couple of days is this: This is the “now” when my children need me. This is the time to snuggle, to talk, to listen, and to give, and to be. This is the easy time. If I don’t do it now, this time will face me again and I will have to look at it with regrets that will last a lifetime. The damage takes more work in the cleaning up than the preventative sacrificial love of now. Putting aside what I want to do to be with my children is like a good low risk investment.

Going to bed early with teenagers in the house is like sticking my head in the sand. They talk at night. Why? I don’t get it. But I'd better be losing some sleep over this because there will come a time when I will be able to sleep endlessly. At that time I want to enjoy it rather than be hounded by regretful memories.

Church

Sundays are effortless days. We rest and relish in people on these days. Today is no exception. We accompany my in –laws to my mother-in- law’s home church in Intercourse where she grew up. The day is clear and the town of Intercourse is one of ceaseless farmlands.

The church is a Beachy Mennonite Church; the women on one side, the men on the other. I have wondered how this arrangement works itself out. Are the men sitting comfortably with no distractions on their side while the disgruntled-worn out women are caring for crying babies on the other side? Not at all, the scene is endearing. Little girls are sitting on their daddies' laps and I see a small infant sleeping soundly on one man’s shoulder.

There was a pervasive persistent peacefulness in the church. The hymns are sung using shape notes in four part harmony. The bishop asks the congregation to kneel. In a flash I am faced by kneelers in the row in front. This is orchestrated better than synchronized swimming. This is community and the fellowship meal in the basement nails that point home.

Reflections on 9/11

The anniversary of September 11, 2001 is coming. The three older children and Lynn and I watched a documentary on PBS tonight. This was well done. The footage of the twin towers burning is chilling. I remember the day well when it happened three years ago. I was on the “john.” It’s true that a mother can never go the bathroom in peace!

I hear my husband racing down the stairs and yell for me to come into the T.V. room. (I hate calling it that, I want a more euphemistic word, like library, sitting room, thinking chamber etc..) A friend called to alert us. Thank you, Cindy Swartz. There we all were huddled on the couch watching the events on a ten-inch television set.

“Those towers are going to come down,” I said. Physics is not my forte and my husband quickly informed me that those towers were built to withstand pressure and force. But intuitively I knew they were coming down.

To watch, actually watch, those buildings crumble was something my mind will never forget. We have all watched such horrendous things on TV that I believe we are desensitized to tragedy. But watching them crumble, there was nothing desensitized in my body then. Watching those buildings fall was as surreal as surreal can be. (Surreal: one of those words that when asked to define you wished you wouldn’t have used it) I remember thinking, ‘I can’t believe this, they came down, Oh my goodness, Oh my goodness.’

Such a sunny beautiful September day, it made you wince. It was like a fast ball coming out of nowhere and before you knew it was coming it was there. We were stuck. We couldn’t move. We were together watching the events unfold. We were sitting ducks. The planes were flying near. We were in the middle.

Just three weeks earlier we had picked up our daughter coming in from a trip to Ireland at the Newark Airport. Three weeks ago. You spend countless amount of time talking yourself out of hounding thoughts such as; What if the plane goes down, what if someone harrasses her etc. Then you realize something far worse could have happened.

Memories

The tea would go on. My friend was fighting for her life, there was nothing any of us could do but simply wait and pray, wait and pray, wait and pray. The reality of Janet’s struggle hour by hour for life was foggy for me. Had I totally grasped it I probably would have been immobilized. Shock is an interesting state of being, a buffer zone so to speak. I should have been howling, bawling, heaving but instead I was looking around the room and assessing what needed to be done.

The air was electrified. Women who before the news were there to just provide company started rolling up their shirt sleeves and getting to work. The decorations were coming together. Janet was indeed the reason. This was irony at its best. The woman is not present but present. The behind-the-scenes-decorator is still behind the scenes decorating.

Finally it came time to leave the church and go home. As I was driving away from the church so many memories came rushing to me all looking for a spot, a place to relive. I had to think of the countless times Janet and I had driven away from the church after a function long after every one else had left. Would there be more times like that or was this it? Was the party officially over?

My son,Geoffrey, who is a rough and tumbly fellow with a heart he wears on his sleeves, hopped in bed with me that night. I decided to read the birthday/book card that Janet had sent to me just two weeks earlier. He was all ears as he snuggled up to me. This book had made me cry the first read through and now I wondered if this was the last birthday card I would ever receive from her. If it was, what a winner!

When I finished I looked down at Geoff. He looked up at me and said, “That was really sad.”

On any other given day that book/card would not have been sad but I knew what my little man meant. He said, “ I have had some special times with Janet. She can’t die. She’s so far away, Mom. Remember she would come and pick me up and not even bring Johnny?”

This little guy was feeling the feelings, no denial going on here. We cried ourselves to sleep that night, Geoff and I.

When Tragedy Hits

What do you do when tragedy hits and there is an annual tea with one hundred and fifty woman signed up to attend and it is tomorrow? Do you cancel it? Do you go on as planned though it feels a bit insensitive to carry on as normal? What to do?

We had all learned what to do from a couple years back. There was once upon a time when just a couple days before the tea a woman who normally attends had her own share of tragedy. Jeannette Blank woke up early in the morning to find her husband unconscious. For twenty minutes she did CPR on her him and kept him alive till the paramedics were able to take over. He had suffered from a brain stem stroke. Few survive this kind of stroke.

We on the committee were confused then as to what to do with the tea. Someone brought to our attention the opportunity that it provided. The opportunity to gather in one place and with one voice cry out to the only Physician who could perform a miracle. It was decided, the tea must go on. And it did.

I had spent the day of the tea preparing a mini tea for Jeannette and her sister, Sherilyn, a close friend of mine. We wanted them to have their own tea in the waiting room. An antique shop in town provided pretty teacups and we packaged up the tasty tea food and sent it down to Philadelphia. There was sweet spirit that night of the tea. I will never forget how electrifying the air felt as we prayed collectively with one voice asking for one request, "Heal Ivan, Lord."

Ivan was healed, miraculously. Today he works, is a father to his children, and husband to his wife, and has an amazing testimony. He went to sleep a carpenter and woke up a preacher. There is a sweetness about him, an unearthly sense that is refreshing.

From our experience with Ivan and Jeannette we knew what we were to do.

Priorities

Somebody walked by Lynn and I sitting on the couch. I don’t remember who it was all I remember is telling them, “Janet has been in an accident and she might not make it.”

It wasn’t long before we were all huddled and Dale Cupo had us praying. The prayers were all focused, all the same. “Lord, please spare Janet’s life. And please spare her leg. Please restore her."

Deb Kurtz came in and joined our prayers not knowing that we were praying for her dear friend. She was shocked, stunned.

The imminent tea was suddenly on the back burner. The decorating that was in desperate need of attention was still desperately in need.

The reshuffling of priorities when tragedy hits is surprisingly refreshing. The expectations of life return to a nonstress status. The nonessentials remain nonessentials. People come into focus. You count your blessings. Your material possessions count for nothing. You squeeze your children a little tighter, kiss your spouse a little longer, and love your God a little deeper.

Our prayers stopped and everyone began the networking process that technology afforded us. Everyone who knew anyone was on their cell phones to California asking their friends if they knew where Santa Clarita was. Overnight a town in California became a household word in the Morgantown area.

Brenda Goss came close to me and put my face in her hands and said, “It’s going to be all right, Lynne." That was it. The plug came out and the tears poured.

“She can’t die. She can’t die," I uttered helplessly.

There was no control factor with the sobs. From the depths my cry came. But there was also a knowing that came. The knowing that God was going to spare her. She wasn’t going to die. This was Janet. Janet would fight. She wouldn’t let go of Him pulling her through.

California seemed like Mars. So far away. The boys needed comfort, Jerry needed comfort, so far away.

The Announcement

The decorating of the room for the Spring Tea was not coming together. I knew it would, but right now it was not.

My husband walked in a side door and sat down beside me. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary until he started to talk, “The Oberholtzers have been in an accident.”

Everything stops. Everything. If everyone in the room only knew what I know right now they would stop, they wouldn’t be so carefree, so energetic, so unaware.

He talked slow. I wanted him to speed up, give me the bottom line. Who’s hurt? It’s got to be someone because he was looking at me funny and it was taking him long to spit it out.

“The boys are not hurt.”

Thank goodness. My children would be devastated. But he only said the children. I’m waiting, seems like forever.“

Jerry is fine.”

Of course I’m very happy that Jerry is not hurt but Lynn is sadly looking at me and my mind knows that something is desperately wrong and I’m not able to put it all together.

I creep to the thought…is She dead?

“Janet might not make it…” my husband finally says.

There it is, the gavel is raised, but the gavel has not been struck. I swivel on my heels to God, “God she can’t die in California, we have to be able to see this woman."

Janet, hold on!!!

Settlers vs. Pioneers

There are settlers and pioneers in every generation. Some have put ruts in the ground with their covered wagons and others put tire tracks on the pavement with their rubber-covered wheels. Janet and Jerry definitely have the pioneer blood in them, a desire to travel to new parts.

For the settlers left behind, it just stinks. You want to be adventuresome but you’re not so you end up feeling like a wimp. Now to the pioneer all of the settlers’ thoughts are just crazy. The pioneer doesn’t need company, they are not trying to sign people up to follow them. They are fine with the settlers staying put, leaving wouldn’t be leaving if everyone was following…

They left and we all were sad but we were also interested in their sojourn. I knew Janet would keep me updated along with all her other close friends. She’s good at that. Their adventures were going to be interesting.

Now had I been the one leaving, not much contact would have happened. I’m present minded. If you come to my house I’ll serve you tea and sit down and drink some cups with you. But if you are not in front of me, writing a letter requires me to schedule time to write and scheduling is not one of my finer points.

Bring back a stone

Any time any of my friends go away on trips I ask them to do something for me. I ask them first to say my name in the wind and then to bring back a small colorful stone or a seashell. My name has been spoken in many foreign places and that’s just fun for me to know. I vicariously live through their fun; but this was not fun for me.

I had told Janet that it would have been easier had it been a job transfer. A job transfer is something you can’t control at least if you want to keep your job. Whereas selling your business and leaving the community is actively choosing to leave.

The actively choosing to leave left me feeling not just sad but also empty. What could I have done to make this community more attractive, more exciting, more what Janet wants?

They don’t like it here and we do, are we missing something? Call these crazy, insecure, neurotic thoughts and I would have to agree. My insides were jumbled.

As a child I had lived in many different communities. I had chosen to move to this area from Rhode Island after college in 1985. I eventually married and settled in the Morgantown area and have now lived here the longest. This community was by far the best, hands down. This area is definitely child friendly. I love raising my children here with peach festivals, apple festivals, corn mazes, fresh fruit stands in every direction, rolling hills, etc.

Janet was a fixture in Morgantown; born and raised right in the same place. She had not chosen this community, it was chosen for her. If you know Janet, you learn quickly, she likes to do the choosing. She was akin to a racehorse in the gate waiting to be let out to run. Sure she enjoyed this community but her and Jerry wanted to explore. When the offer was right for their property, I gotta tell you, they sold it with seemingly no regrets.

Sun Chasers

December fifth, 2003 they left. I told people that they were sun chasers and rain dodgers. They were looking for warm weather and it clearly was nowhere to be found around December in Pennsylvania.

I honestly didn’t think they were going to return to live here. I knew they would return to visit but to live, no. Other people thought Janet and Jerry would return but I never did.

My friend was gone and it was work for me to be joyful. I didn’t want to be a killjoy but I was seriously getting close to being a good one.

Good Bye

Maybe could they just put their dreams on hold, wait till retirement?! Not them. They didn’t want to be like those couples who put off their dreams till their children are gone. They wanted their children to tour America. Janet fetched information from who knows where and she had places for them to see and things for them to do that were unique and memorable. So off they went on a snowy blustery day like geese who were headed south, but really late. It was two weeks before Christmas, a lousy present to say the least.

If I could have stood in front of that motor home and begged them to stay I think I would have. I did not want to see them leave. My son Chris was trying to be tearless saying goodbye and my heart was breaking. He was saying goodbye to his best bud, Joe, Janet’s son. My little boy, Geoffrey, was saying goodbye to his second family and my little girl, Nicky was doing the same. I had told Janet earlier that I wanted her to intentionally say goodbye to my children. I had known how she hated saying good-bye but these children needed to know from her that she was leaving.

Boy did she ever say good bye to the children. As I was listening and having a hard time holding back the tears, I was regretting having prompted her. It felt like she was taking forever. I hadn’t meant for her to make it so sad. Little did I know then what I know now, it almost was her last goodbye to them.

Weeks before she had left she had gone to a restaurant with three other very good friends and me. She gave us all beautiful teacups to remember her by. In my card she was thanking me for having been a very good friend. I told her it sounded like she was leaving and never coming back or that the friendship was done. The never coming back is what she almost did, the friendship was far from done.

Summer

This summer has been one amazing summer. It all started in the spring. Something happened that totally redirected any plans, any schedule, any goals that I might have had for this summer.

Every year I am involved with a "Spring Tea." The night before the annual tea we were all busy working at preparing the tables, decorating the room, and organizing ourselves for the big night. It was May 20, a day I will never forget. I had just plopped down on a nearby love seat that we had placed in a corner for effect. As I took the time to nurse my baby, I was looking around the room. The pulling together of the room that happens when you decorate was just not coming together. I was frustrated. I called out and said, "Janet, where are you??? I need your eye to pull this all together." She didn't answer. She wasn't there. Little did I know where she was.

I knew this much, my friend Janet was on a trip around the United States. I also knew that she was in the Los Angeles area. But where exactly, at that very moment…I didn’t know. Janet and Jerry had sold their Garden Center and purchased a motor home. This was a dream of a lifetime. Their three boys were not as excited about this dream, but after a few theme parks, tours of interesting factories, paint ball wars, the boys had turned the corner, they were having fun.

For well over two years, I knew my buddy was leaving. Talk about a long goodbye. It was too long. The month before she left, all she would have to do is walk in my house and I'd start to cry, bawl, sob. It didn't come at a good time. I had just had my sixth child and my hormones were doing gymnastics inside of me. I didn't want her to leave. Of course I wanted them to follow their dreams but...

Doing Corn

What to do when someone offers you two hundred ears of corn to freeze and it has to be done now, tonight?

Freezing/canning food and death are related -- the timing is never right. Going to bed early was what we had in store for our family tonight. But freezing corn is what we really did. Or at least some of us did. Maybe just two of us. It should have been all. But there were two watching television.

Oh to be Laura Ingalls...The upside about two doing corn...we achieved our goal within an hour and a half. The downside...I'll get back to you on that.

I keep opening my freezer and looking at all the neatly stacked freezer bags. Lynn loves to put the corn in the bag because he can do it flat. He doesn't prefer my round, random bags of frozen corn. They are not stackable. Who cares? They are eatable.

Speaking of round and random, it reminds me of someone I see every morning when brushing my teeth. Lynn, don't tell yourself this but I really like your flat bags. And you do do it so well. You're just one amazing corn bag filler.

Claustrophobia

Life just got claustrophobic. I was wishing my father a Happy Birthday with an attitude of never ending horizons until he told me what he will be turning next year????? All of a sudden at the sound of the age seventy, I was in a four walled compartment that was getting smaller by the minute. Wait, I want to go to Europe with my father. Wait, I want to do this and that with him. Seventy. I'm not having a hard time with me getting old, I'm having a hard time with everyone else getting old. So, am I having a hard time with me getting old????...

My children, will they really know him? I hardly knew my grandfather who died at the age of seventy-seven, but that's way different, right? My son, Jesse, age nine months, oh no, the math is depressing. When he is twenty my father will be eighty-nine. Oh, Lord, please grant my father good health right up to the end. It really is not all about here, because there is just not enough time here! Eternity.

All right, now I think I can breathe. I've just been let out of that compartment. The moments with my Dad and my Mom in heaven will be heavenly. The chat sessions with them along with Abraham, Moses, Sarah, whomever we can have an appointment with. Jesse will be able to hang with his grandparents forever.

It truly is true that all you can bring with you to heaven is your loved ones. Lord, please save my children and my family members who are not a part of your family!

At The Movies

Last night we went to the movies. We saw "The Notebook." Lynn asked me if I knew what it was about. I couldn't remember. A few minutes into the movie I leaned over and said that I did know what it was about -- a couple's enduring love while suffering from Alzheimer's. Yikes, who's suffering??

I once was playing the piano and singing for an Alzheimer unit in Reading. I had been playing about a half hour and was having a hard time finding songs. I finally landed on one and commented to the audience that I knew they would appreciate it. It was special to me and I hoped that they would enjoy it as well. Half way through the song I had a niggling suspicion. At the end I discovered what was niggling me. With any other audience I would have been mortified. But with this audience I figured it was par for the course. This song was the first one I had played for them that day. Pathetic.

We brought Jesse to the movie last night. He loved the movement on the screen and after a discreet feeding fell fast asleep till the end of the flick.

"The Notebook" is excellent. It seemed non scripted, so natural were the conversations. The acting was captivating. It felt like you were a fly on the wall. I should remember Allie and Noah's real names but I don't. I don't think I've seen them in anything else. That doesn't mean they haven't been in others, I just haven't seen them. I was caught up into their summer romance. The scenes of love were sweet and refreshing. ( I can't believe I'm saying this..) I told Lynn today that I want to see this again. He surprised me, he does too.

Tonight, no movie, but I'm hankering for popcorn and a good coke. Where are you Maggie?