Jonathan's Mother in Heaven

Yesterday afternoon, Jonathan's mother finished the good fight.

She had just gotten home from a visit to her oldest son in New Mexico where she also got to hold her first great grandchild for the first time. 

The picture above is one that Dave and Ruth took of her and Daddy Lucas there. 

Mama was 83 years old, the same age her mother was when her mother died.

In the last week and a half since Daddy took Mama to the hospital, we've been quietly taking steps just in case Mama didn't make it. One of those steps is gathering photos.

The one above is one I found of the day Mama and Daddy Lucas were both baptized along with three of their grandchildren and others at a lake near us.   

 Because of the hope Mama Lucas had in Christ, her family had hope yesterday afternoon after Jonathan arrived first in the morning to discover his mother very, very low. We had hope as Jonathan and his father sang "Amazing Grace" outside the window pictured above at a little station in the hall between two rooms.  Jonathan took a picture of this to send some of us so we could picture in our minds where he was going to visit his mother.

They had hope when Jonathan's dad and his oldest brother took turns dressing up in full c o v i d gear, goggles and all, to go in and say their final goodbyes.

They had hope that even when Mama's double vac ci nation hadn't saved her, God was still there for her.

They had hope as the family was finally permitted to gather in the hall by the station phone by the window and to sing "My Jesus I love Thee."

"I'll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death," sang the quavering voices, 

while nurses' eyes filled with tears and another patient down the hall expressed the wish that the singing group would come to sing for them, too!

 We had hope after Hannah and I arrived, only a few minutes before the nurses came to the family gathered in the guest room of Penrose Main Hospital to let us know that Helen Lucas had passed away. 

We had hope when the hospital chaplain came to bring a necessary paper to sign and asked if we would desire to pray. 

We had hope when Rose texted, wondering where we were. She had found Grandma's room where the nurses who had been with her had already slipped away, and she wept in my arms, and Jonathan's. 

Hannah sat with her Bible in her lap, open to Psalm 23. 

Grandma had just been to our house about two and a half weeks ago, after coming home from New Mexico. We had helped her out of the house because her knees hurt too badly to step down alone.

She didn't seem her usual self.

And God saw that He didn't want Grandma to suffer any longer, and took her Home. 

We were glad we had no regrets over how we'd treated Grandma. We'd had her to our home different times recently, and gone to hers as well, always helping her and doing our best to be kind and loving, knowing this day was coming.

This plaque was hanging in the elevator at Penrose Main hospital as we came down from third floor yesterday.
"The Lord is a merciful and gracious God; slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity."

No one in the family gathered had eaten lunch, I discovered, forgetting that I hadn't had any either, except two rice cakes on the way to the hospital. Jonathan hadn't had breakfast either, except for a powder shake.

I ran to the grocery store about 4 p.m. and picked up a few things to make supper at Daddy Lucas's place for whoever might end up coming there.

Jonathan had to take care of a business issue, but by the time I was arriving at his folks' home, he was just arriving, too. 

Together we walked past his mother's flowers, still blooming in October, to the door that usually opened to see her inside.

This time she wasn't there.

Tears filled both our eyes as we paused to admire the flowers still blooming along the sidewalk.

I especially noticed this one, an unusually beautiful snapdragon, growing wild right near the front door in the lawn grass, among the leaves that had just blown down. A snapdragon with colors so golden white that they had to be a gift dropped down from heaven to remind us where Grandma had gone.

Old "Beehive" Coke Ovens--and the Furnace of Affliction

While Jonathan and I were back in Ohio a week and a half ago, we wanted to do something with Timmy Saturday morning. I had hoped to take the tour of the Underground Railroad (since Salem, OH, used to be full of Quakers who helped fugitive slaves escape, and many old homes on main streets used to hide them, and tunnels ran underground various places). But the museum and tour wasn't open on Saturday. So I read about the Leetonia Beehive Coke Ovens only minutes away, and we decided to check those out.

No, those coke ovens weren't for Coca-Cola! They were for heating coal and turning it into better quality.

About 100 or so years ago, railroad tracks ran through here, loading and unloading coal that was put into these "ovens."

There were dozens of these brick ovens covered with mounds of dirt.

It was amazing looking inside those and wondering what it was like a hundred years ago when they were operational.

When all that freshly mined and poor quality coal was shoveled into these ovens to bake the impurities out of it and turn it into good quality coal for people to burn in their homes and stoves.

God uses the imagery of a furnace burning impurities out of gold to explain what is happening when He allows or perhaps ordains afflictions in our lives. The heat of those afflictions is not to destroy us, but to purify us.

 These coke ovens only cooked that coal for a certain length of time at a certain temperature, and then that was all. That coal was good to go out in the train to be used.

"When He has tried me," Job wrote in the midst of his affliction with loss and grief and pain and boils, "I shall come forth as gold."

"In this you greatly rejoice," Peter wrote, "though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, (or coal that is burned up) though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ."

When a Pennsylvania Girl Hankers for Elderberry Pie

I didn't know that my husband had never eaten elderberry pie before, but when we were back in Amish country last weekend in Ohio, I decided that one thing I'd love to have was a piece of elderberry pie! When I was growing up in Pennsylvania, we'd often have elderberry bushes where we lived, especially the one country home where lived near Grove City, PA. Every year I'd go out with a sister or two, and we'd pick enough elderberries for hopefully two pies--because one pie would never be enough for eleven people.

I

I didn't know if we'd find anything elderberry or not. There was this big store in Walnut Creek where we stopped, and it had pyramids of jars of jam and jellies. We hunted and hunted and finally found elderberry jelly.

It's possible, but I rather doubt it was made in an actual Amish kitchen like this one in a little museum we skimmed through quickly.

All we bought to eat for lunch that particular day was a pint of black raspberry icecream and boysenberry jam to dab on top!

Mmm!

But Monday on our way back to the Columbus airport, we had one and a half hours to spare going through Sugar Creek. And while I was shopping for greeting cards at a Gospel Shop, Jonathan peeked through a bakery across the street, and look what he found for me--even though we had to wait quite a while in line!

Someone kindly took a picture of us sharing our single slice of elderberry pie in Sugar Creek Amish country!

Mmm! I was transported back to the bushes of berries we enjoyed so much so many, many years ago. So many tiny, delightful, seedy berries in that pie!

I wondered if those elderberries were actually picked by Amish children or not. Who knows?

I just enjoyed that slice of pie, and reveled in the joy of sharing it with my dear husband at a black and white checkered table in Amish country. A little slice of heaven in a weary land. 

Lord, it was years since I'd gotten to enjoy a slice of elderberry pie. How long has it been since I've enjoyed a little slice of heaven in my quiet time with You? Do You delight me as much as elderberry pie does? Tomorrow is Your day, Lord. May I revel in the luscious taste of a bit of heaven in Your sanctuary and in Your presence!

 

And Now Just Who Was Rooming Next Door?

As Jonathan and I were shown where to find our guest room at the "old farmhouse," as it is called there at AWC, we had a surprise. Up there in the second story where there were three bedrooms, the room right next to ours had another guest--the lady with whom I worked 28 years ago in Kiev, Ukraine, before either of us got married! What were the odds of that happening?

She was back in the States to spend time with her daughter who just had her first baby a few weeks ago! Boy, is it ever a good thing that we are on good terms with each other! Because we keep running into each other literally all over the world and all over the United States--since both of us married young men from Colorado, both of us have been in missions for about 30 years, both of us attend IHC sometimes, and both of us end up in the same place over and over again! (For her privacy and because of where she and her husband are serving now, I won't say a name here.)

And Sunday morning, we were both in the service in Salem,OH, where her grandson was dedicated! 

We keep running into Jonathan's good friend Ken Lefever, too, who sang with his wife and sister-in-law Sunday morning in church. 

And didn't we run into Joanna, too, (younger sister of Joy Albertson in SD), who is attending AWC now. She is such a dear, sweet girl, about 24 years old or thereabouts, who really deserves a wonderful young man--

but before I go off on that tangent.... 

It's amazing the people the Lord brings across our paths. We don't always know the whys or the purposes, but He just lets our paths continue to cross sometimes. 

Maybe it's for the laughs.

The day after I had spoken for the alumni service, we returned to our guest room to discover a paper stuck to it with sticky tack.

"Congratulations!" the paper read in the unmistakable writing of my former coworker in Ukraine, who must have been listening to my wee speech the night before where I told about getting two pink slips for my dorm room when I was a student at AWC.

"You have successfully passed room inspection!"

I stood there in consternation as I debated whether to believe that she had actually checked our room or was just teasing!

"She is just teasing!" I told myself. "Remember all those times in Ukraine when you took her too seriously?"
Maybe I have learned a lesson or two down through the years.

At least I hope so!

Longest Covered Bridge in Ohio--"Bridge of Dreams"

 On our way Friday morning to Salem, OH, we visited the longest covered bridge in Ohio, which was only 500 feet off the road we were traveling.

It was called "Bridge of Dreams."

 Some sort of rubber matting was along one side apparently for horses and buggies to use. The leftovers from horses trotting through this bridge were easy to see!

Mennonites or Amish on bikes passed us more than once as we walked along the straight path a ways.

 

"Bridge of Dreams," I pondered as we enjoyed our walk in the autumn air,

with enormous sycamore leaves piled up along the side of the road, and more leaves floating down every time a breeze rustled through the trees. (Sorry these particular photos of me and aspen are in Colorado, where Jonathan was trying to get a mug of me for the author blurb on the back cover of my next book.)

And I marveled at how God had allowed another dream of mine to come true--to write and publish books.

Here are three versions of the front cover of the next book--trying to decide which colors were best.

That took hours for Ezra to work through different colors and fonts.

 While I, meantime, tried to get a nice mug with yellow aspen, "sunshine and shadows," for the author blurb photo.

That one was from the side and too shadowed.


This one did not have correct lighting, either.

I had to give up and use the same photo I used for the first book. 

Not every single dream comes true!

There are so many details to consider when you want to publish a book. 

 

It's not just about a great story that someone writes. 

It's also about the publishing details--the cover, the font, the headers, the spine, the author blurb, the mug of the author.

The back cover, the preface, the illustrations or photos, the foreword, or the preface. And do you know the difference? (I didn't. Not even until after I wrote my first book.)

It takes hard work and time nearly every day dedicated to your passion to build "The Bridge of Dreams Come True."

If you want your dreams to come true, you can't just sip tea in your little Teegarden Bridge like this one near Salem. You have to set a goal, then do something each day toward that goal. 

"Anya," my former coworker in Ukraine wrote to me a few days ago after I had gifted her with one of my books of Roses in Kiev, "Wanted to let you know that I am proud of you (in the right way). You sat down, wrote that book (and others), got it published, and there are more to come...God bless your tappings--yours on the keyboard and Jonathan's with a hammer."

Walking through two different covered bridges in Ohio, I ponder how I walk through dreams both unfulfilled and others come true, while I continue to tap away!

Speaking at My Alma Mater--AWC Alumni Service

Back in July while we were working up in Alaska, I was surprised when a message came to my phone, asking if I would consider going back to Allegheny Wesleyan College to speak for this year's Harvest Day and alumni service. This year the classes of 1961, 71, 81, 91, '01, and '11 were to be honored. My graduating class was 30 years ago--hard to believe! Jonathan thought I should accept the invitation, and three and a half months later, I could hardly believe myself to be sitting back in the dining hall of AWC with dozens of other alumni at the alumni banquet!

Here we are with Margaret Durfee and her daughter Jeanne who was registrar when I was a student there. The Durfees and I both ended up in Ukraine 28 years ago where they were the ones to urge me give Jonathan a chance when he wrote me his first letter! And don't we get to sit across from them at a table last weekend, along with Eunice Knight. (And Timmy, who drove all the way from Penn View in PA to be with us that night, took the picture for us!)

We hadn't expected to go riding around in a bright red Prius with an engine that hardly made any noise, but that is what the rental car company gave us to use. We had found a non-stop flight from Denver to Columbus, OH, which kept being delayed and the gates changed at least twice, until we wondered if our flight was one of those which the pilots were walking out on because of the unconstitutional mandates. But thankfully, although the flight next to ours seemed to be completely canceled, ours on Frontier left, just two hours late.

Our sweet niece Katie (Hoshea's daughter) gave us a place to stay overnight at Andrew's and her home, with their dear new baby Thursday night before heading up to Salem. 

This enormous new all-purpose building (D. R. Kaufman Memorial Building) was waiting to scare the wits out of me!

Except--I wasn't scared. 

I was just at home, that 's all.

Home with lots of people I knew, including my former pastor, Michael Marshal who was my pastor when I was student teaching at Indiana Wesleyan School in PA. He is the one sitting next to me on the platform, and he was a graduate 10 years before me, so he was the other speaker.

We each were given 5 to 7 minutes!

Jonathan got this picture just before service. The choir director, Don Quales is next to Bro. Marshall, then Seth Troyer, who is alumni vice-president, and Doug Strawn, alumni president. And I am sitting there on the end where Doug suggested I might be more comfortable rather than right in the middle of all the guys!!! At AWC, people are so kind, thoughtful, and considerate, and that is just one example of it. I told in my little "speech" how I could not remember a single unkindness the whole time I was at AWC. 

Bro. Mike Marshall shared how he came to AWC as a hillbilly from West Virginia with a strut that the Lord tempered when he was sanctified.

I shared memories of how the Lord called me to go to AWC, how my mom sensed the same call in her devotions, how I loved AWC, except for the night the masked monster knocked on my door in the dorm and I clobbered it over the head with an umbrella, only to discover it was just another girl in the dorm!

I found out after service that I was not the only one who remembered that story! Young girls in the service had been told this story by their mother, Eunice Rambo, at whose door the monster had first knocked. 

This story has gone down in history!

I also told about the "prophecies" the junior class did for my senior class, and shared how some parts of those prophecies had actually come true--including the one where they said Anna Morley would have a set of books published!

The choir sang several songs, and the ensemble played some songs, too.

Rachel Sanders took this photo of us three. Wish my whole family could have been there!

Just before service, a new young man at the college greeted Jonathan and me as we were seating ourselves near the front at the middle aisle. He seemed quite impressed with Jonathan's beard, saying loudly, with a flourish, "See here, folks! This is how a man is supposed to look!"

Here are three of us from my class--Andy and Shirleen Troyer and myself. One classmate of ours, Jill Riddle Miles, went to be with the Lord a number of years ago, from ovarian cancer. Another has been pastoring, and another I am not sure where she is.

Playing the trumpet is the son of Jonathan's friend Ken Lefever, Christopher, while our friend Eunice Knight's boy, Kenton, is playing the bass fiddle.

It was an amazing evening!