The Bleeding Heart that Died--and Rose Again!

Our pastor's wife purchased a bleeding heart plant last year and planted it in her prayer garden, in a little nook surrounded by white lattice. But in the heat of summer it died. 

 

She thought it was gone forever. No sign of it that fall and winter. But this spring, the plant poked through the soil, and within a short time, it was surprising her! Already in mid-May it was blooming! 

The plant that had died resurrected, just like many hopes and dreams and relationships that might seem to be dead. 

Summer's heat of difficult circumstances, frowning providences, hard diagnoses claim the life of what we had hoped would be. The plans fall to the ground. The hopes are discarded.

 

We languish in a hospital room when we had hoped to attend a beautiful celebration. We listen to diagnoses and assume we won't live to see the grandchild or the wedding or the graduation. A relationship is on the rocks or worse. We are sure it is dead. It won't recover. 

But against the background of the black-burned trees down by the river in sight of our house here in South Dakota, where the prairie fire swept through last year, fresh new spring flowers are blooming this month. The grass and plants are so green!

The blackened scar will be there probably as long as we live. But there is resurrection of new life and hope. We can lay our hopes in the dust, but maybe, just maybe, as we simply leave it alone, hidden in the dust rather than dug up to fuss with, it will yet live and resurrect again when it is the right time.

If your bleeding heart has literally died, let it lie quietly in the dust.

In His own way and time, God will raise it up again.

Veteran Pastor Prays at Memorial Day Service

The aging pastor of Lakota Community Chapel is an American veteran, and proud of it.  

Yet he never flaunts himself or his own service. Rather, he chooses to continue to serve his country by first serving God, and then taking God and His Son Jesus to his country, including the reservations where Lakotas are also proud of their veterans' service in the different wars.

We watched this humble servant of God and servant of his country pray, speak, honor our flag, and smile this Memorial Day weekend, a weekend that is passionately and unwaveringly celebrated in this neighborly community.

First, Pastor Ambrose led the Sunday service behind flags at Lakota Community Chapel, sharing from the gospel of John, reading a poem and a reading, and praying.

While he often struggles to speak well now and his voice needs a microphone to carry at all, his prayers are heartfelt and meaningful. He was the pastor asked to have both opening and closing prayers at the Memorial Day service conducted at the school Monday. He was also responsible for the prayer a few blocks away at the veterans' memorial at the cemetery.

He led in prayers of thanks for those who have gone on before and for the freedom we enjoy because of their sacrifices. And he always finished his prayers with rejoicing in the Lord.

A seven-gun salute was fired by members of American Legion at the veterans memorial. My camera wasn't cooperating for a better picture.

The women's auxiliary for the American Legion had created these patriotic wreaths for this year's occasion. I couldn't help remembering the many times my original Morley family sang and played bells for American Legion groups in Pennsylvania or Florida. We shared the gospel in song and testimony along with patriotic songs. 

Now 40 years later, I attend a packed-out band room where Pastor Ambrose leads in prayer and later leaves after the potluck meal to head to a family cemetery on the reservation where he was also asked to pray as the family remembered an Lakota family member who had died only weeks ago. 

Those here in White River in attendance brought in dish after dish for a potluck meal. We took BBQ pork ribs and deviled eggs while others brought many other dishes, including a whole table of desserts like rhubarb pies, a staple this time of year!

It's a treat to be involved in a patriotic community here in South Dakota.  

When Ditches Cave In and Radiators Are Smashed

Today a deep ditch caved in. 

Last week, Danny had dug part of the ditch as the guys working in Winner were searching for the water line and sewer pipe while avoiding the fiber optic line and the electric line. (They forgot the electric line till too late, but thankfully, there was no arc or shock when Danny hit it.)

Today about 15 feet of the ditch (which had been dug deeper today by a bigger excavator) caved in.

Last week Jonathan had been down in the deep ditch trying to find sewer line, and the ditch was so deep that he couldn't get out on his own.

So Danny's excavator shovel came to the rescue. Thankfully today before the ditch caved, Jonathan had been wise enough to not have anyone in the ditch, including himself.

They are putting plumbing in for two new restrooms in the fellowship hall at Winner for the SIM church there.

A worker drilling 

I think this is a picture of the guys repairing the electric wire.

Plumbing pipe to go in.

Well, our son Tim was not having a good day either. The loader at the mill wasn't watching his mirrors, and he accidentally crunched into the front of the logging truck Tim had been driving. The radiator had just been replaced new two weeks ago.

This was not a good day for Tim, either. The mill is paying for a hotel room for him and someone will be going to pick him up tomorrow until the truck is repaired--again.

I had been praying for each one in my family and others, extra today, walking and sitting quietly up the road at the cemetery where robins like to come, and flags wave at the veterans' memorial. I don't have the energy to clean houses like my daughters were doing or dig ditches like my men were doing.

And I had no idea my men were all going to be facing unusual challenges today.

But could a mom fast and pray for her family for deeper needs than caved-in ditches and punched-in radiators? 

Yes, a mom can do that.

And oh, may the One Who feeds the sparrow and clothes the lilies hear the deeper and the bigger prayers.

Dreary Day, Bright Testimony

As soon as I opened our bedroom window blind today, I knew it was going to be a dreary day--one of those days when you don't want to look outside too much, and enjoy more the photos sent by a sister or a son.

The one from my sister Dorcas was of a double rainbow at their place!

The one from my son Tim was of the sprawling rose bush he discovered in his back yard of the house and property he just became owner of recently in Colorado. I told him I thought that was a clematis plant to the left of the roses. I want to make a trip to his place in Colorado just to see his back yard and the flowers in it! He said he even has grapevine!

Me, I'm just peering out the window, and grabbing my hubby's phone to take a picture of the miniature rose in our mudroom window, beside the angelwing begonia--because even if our place isn't lush with rose bushes and clematis yet, there are roses and angel wings inside.

Giving my hubby back his phone, I rushed to get sandwiches made for his and Danny's lunches. They were having to push off again to work, despite the soggy day. Yesterday they didn't get home until after 10 at night, mud caked on Jonathan's shirt sleeves. 

They had been ditch-digging at the SIM property at Winner, preparing to install new restrooms and remodel an old fellowship hall. 

It had been muddy, nasty work. 

And they were returning to it today. They had to return the excavator and do more work. 

 Now we were having to hurry to get him and Danny off on time, but Jonathan put on his audio Bible to listen to the first few verses of Hebrews 11. 

It told about Abel and Abraham and Sarah--and Enoch.

Enoch, the man who walked with God, and then just disappeared, because God took him. 

But before he disappeared from the earth, the writer of Hebrews noted, he had this testimony,

that he pleased God.

What does it take to please God?

Is just doing what you are supposed to be doing pleasing God, or does it take extra special deeds that are more and better and higher and holier?

This week I got another cancer drug infusion at Monument Cancer Care Center. And Jonathan met with the board of Society of Indian Missions.

 And our family attended the SIM staff picnic and visited and I wrote down more notes for a missionary biography I'm beginning to write the manuscript for.

Crystal Lucas met Krystal Becker, the wife of Mark Becker who has come to South Dakota to fill in for a few weeks at Martin Lakota Chapel.

And at home I kept making meals including a custard rhubarb pie I made a few days ago, one whose innards you blend in a blender and then pour over rhubarb in a pie pan, and it makes its own crust.

Tasbah Lavery had decorated the front of Hope Family Chapel on Mothers Day with this unique display of what moms are noted for. 

Does baking homemade bread please God? What about serving bought bread when a mom is too tired to make homemade?

Does looking out at a dreary day and then going to my room when the guys have left for work, and kneeling at my bed to just pray to be pleasing to God count?

Lord, as goat cream swirls in our steaming coffee cups in the morning, may our morning prayer to You be accepted. 

Help us to please You, too, like Enoch did, even if you choose to keep us serving You here

rather than us disappearing from the earth,

something we may at times envy Enoch for!

Yet, as Paul wrote, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's. 

On a dreary day, whether kneeling at a bed or going about our work, may we have this testimony before You, that we please You.

Meeting God in a Cemetery--Do I Really Want God's Way to Be My Way?

 Today God went walking in the cemetery. 
I know, because I was there, too. 

The cemetery was not in Wisconsin, where Crystal drove some Amish today and found this covered bridge, but it was just up the hill here in White River.
I like to walk there every once in a while when I want a quiet place to walk and pray. 

Today after listening in on the funeral service for our old friend Jacob Miller yesterday, the song his children (now mostly parents and grandparents themselves) sang together kept coming back to my mind. 

"I want God's way to be my way as I journey here below,

For there is no other highway that a child of God should go. 

Though the way be dark and rough, if He leads me it's enough,

I want God's way to be my way every day."

And Jacob Miller had wanted God's way to be his way. He had raised his children for God, first placing them in a Mennonite school and then moving to Kissimee, FL, to a school there, and then on to Hobe Sound to school his children there. He had served on mission boards, flown planes to missions, and traveled with his wife to Papua New Guinea. And when he was old and too weak to stand behind the pulpit to preach sermons, he retired at a little cabin at Camp Freedom near Pinellas Park, FL, where every day he could be found reading his Bible and praying. Once he had to heat his oatmeal up three times because while it was heating he would get lost in prayer. He savored the rich times of closeness with God. 

Jacob was a father who lived in God's presence and loved people rather than always trying to fix them. How he raised his family was an obvious clue to how he believed people ought to be and do.

But when his children came to visit, what he wanted to talk about was what he had been reading in his Bible and about the good time he had been having with God.

Leaving my husband and son working on the deck railing and sharpshooting at prairie dogs in the field below our house, I hurried to the post office to ship off a card and gift for Jonathan's dad whose birthday is coming up next weekend. Then I stopped at the sunny cemetery and started walking and praying. I had decided to add fasting to my prayer time today, as my heart was burdened. I remember that we used to sing that song, "I Want God's Way to Be My Way" at the Evangelical Bible Mission church in Summerfield, Florida when we attended there years and years and years ago. I am assuming it was one of Jacob Miller's favorite songs, or perhaps his lifelong testimony. Nothing was said about it at his funeral yesterday; his family simply gathered up front and sang it.

 That was enough. 

"All the choosing and the planning I must yield to Him all-wise

For whatever His appointment 'twill but good for me devise.

If it is God's will for me, 'twill no disappointment be

I want God's way to be my way every day. 

And there I was, walking by the gravestones or sitting by the veteran memorial on a little bench, praying that my children and my husband and I would want God's way to be our way.

That He would lead our steps.

That He would give us victory over sin and temptations.

That He would help us to look to Him and not focus on other people's faults (or our own). 

That He would show us plainly the way in which we should walk.

I myself was walking barefoot for a while, way back far from the road, on the smooth dirt paths with just little bitty pebbles that even tender feet like mine could be comfortable on. And I thought of the song sung at my sister Kezia's wedding,

 "We are standing on holy ground, 

And I know that there are angels all around. 

Let us praise Jesus now,

We are standing on holy ground."

I stood on holy ground today--barefoot--not because I was holy, but because God was there.

Not because robins were serenading me, or sparrows alighting nearby, or even doves coming to see who was intruding on their peaceful space.

But it was because a lady wanted to pray that she and her children and her family would want God's way to be their way--every moment of the day--and God came near to walk with me. 

And I know that there were angels all around.  

In Memory of Jacob Miller

 Today I suddenly realized I'd forgotten to log on to the livestreamed funeral of Jacob Miller at 3 in the afternoon EST. I managed to access the service shortly before it ended! To my great relief, the service seemed to have been immediately archived, and I was able to start at the beginning and watch the whole service. It was short and sweet--just 50 minutes. Here it is if you would like to watch. 

https://m.youtube.com/@easleybiblemethodistchurch1617/streams

One of my favorite parts was all of his children singing together, and I'm guessing his youngest daughter Esther was at the piano, but I'm not sure. 

These two pictures are ones I took on the screen, so they are not the best quality.

The other favorite part was hearing how Jacob Miller responded, after saying a short time ago that he felt he would not be around the next time his son and wife came to see him. "Are you ready?" the wife asked, as if it was necessary, but just wanting to hear. 

"I'm ready," Jacob Mlller responded, "and secure.' 

That was precious to me. What a beautiful assurance to his family! How beautiful it is that a person can know he is saved, that he is saved to the uttermost, and that he will be saved forever. 

 

I enjoyed Jacob's oldest son's memories, and Jacob's grandson Steve's message and memories. And the brief but heartfelt prayer by Jacob Martin at the end. 

"If anyone is here with a gap between them and You, Jesus," he prayed, "let that gap be closed today."

 Following are a number of memories I also posted on the memory wall of the funeral home, (make sure to page all the way down) though I don't know if they actually posted or are still up for review. The link for that is this. 

 https://memorials.standardfuneralcenter.com/jacob-miller/5593065/index.php

One by one, little memories of Jacob and Elma Miller and their family keep filtering in to my mind. My Morley family first met them when we moved to Summerfield, FL, and stayed a few months at Evangelical Bible Mission when I was 12 years old. During that time, I would sometimes go to visit the Millers, taking my little sister or two, to sing for their grandma whom they cared for and who was having trouble with alzheimers. The Miller family was so loving to the grandma, although more than once the funny things she said would have them in gales of laughter. Jacob's daughter Rhoda worked in the EBM office, and she even found a little job that my older sister Dorcas and I could do--sorting file after file of metal plates with addresses on them that were used in the EBM print shop for sending newsletters, etc. It was a tedious job, but something even young girls could do, and we were paid all of about $2 an hour for helping, but when we had no other income, $2 was pretty special at that time 47 years ago!

A few years later, our family moved down to Summerfield, FL, again for three or four winters in a row. Once or twice, our family would be invited to the Millers for a meal, and that was so special. Not very many people had the nerve to take up the challenge of having our family for a meal when they knew how strict Dad was with our diet. They were very welcoming, and Jacob's daughter Esther was, in the words of a sibling today, a "hoot." She always had something to laugh about, or make us laugh over. One time she came to visit us and brought along a musical instrument we had never heard of before. It was an "aquaphone," she explained. Who would like to be the first one to play it? Well, I was always ready for a challenge, so I placed my lips over the mouthpiece, like a trumpet, and blew into it, as Esther instructed. There was just one problem--I got a whole bunch of water sprayed into my face! How did we not catch on about an aquaphone? I don't know. While Jacob Miller was cheerful, he was sober, but his daughter Esther made up for his seriousness.

When I left to go to Ukraine to teach Bible and English in a school there, I felt I needed to let go of my vibraharp that I had used in deputation services. It was a large instrument and I decided to sell it since my family did not have room to store it. Instead, Jacob Miller offered to buy it, and he paid me $500 for it. Several years later, when Jonathan and I moved back home from Ukraine, he wanted to give it back to me. I wanted to pay him back the $500, but he let me know that he wanted no money. "I bought it so that you could have it back when you came back," he said. That was the kind of generous and thoughtful man he was, and it took my breath away. He cared about us Morley children. All of us loved him.

A memory from my sister Joella Morley Bradford: I remember one time when my dad disagreed with something Jacob Miller was doing in the Christian school he was administrating. Dad called him and really told him what he thought about this thing, but Jacob Miller did not kowtow to Dad. He defended his decision and let Dad know why he was doing what he was doing. Despite the disagreement, Jacob Miller continued to remain friends with our family. He did not let that or any disagreement come between him and our family. That was just the kind of man he was.

AL

Anna Lucas

Posted May 14, 2025 at 04:32pm

Memories from Dorcas Morley Barth as she and I reminisced on the phone: (Dorcas) I remember one time in particular when Jacob Miller came to visit our family when we lived in Mifflinburg, PA. Dad was worrying out loud about us children and the direction we might take in the future, while we children had to listen in and were feeling condemned. Jacob MIller listened without saying a word, just listened. But he was an amazing person who could absorb what was said and understand Dad, yet at the same time understand how we children were feeling, too. Without saying anything, he made us feel understood, too. We heard him preach more than once, but I can't recall his messages. He was not a "stand-out" preacher, but a steady one. His daughter Esther was always fun and cheery to be with, an outstanding pianist. It seems to me that all his children are doing well. That speaks well of him.

Anna Lucas

Posted May 14, 2025 at 04:13pm

Memories from my sister Iva Morley Miller: I didn't feel like I knew Jacob Miller very well, but I did know he was a trustworthy friend of our family. That was enough. He also was such a kind, pleasant man. Oh how I wish more of us could be like that! Paul Miller his son was much like that, and Julie Miller, Jacob's granddaughter who was a college classmate, was also dear and pleasant like that. Now Debbie, Paul's daughter...she was a close friend and she was full of mischief! :) I dearly loved her too. It is wonderful to see a family be full of good people for generations. God bless Jacob Miller and his memory.

AL

Anna Lucas

Posted May 14, 2025 at 03:48pm

Memories shared by my brother Gabriel Morley:
Brother Jacob Miller early befriended our family, probably first at Evangelical Bible Mission, and then at Kissimmee, Florida, while he served as pastor there. I know as a teenager and part of a singular, strange family, his warmth and acceptance helped make me feel safe and loved. His own large family during the era he raised them, no doubt, helped him feel less intimidated by our family than most looking on.
Jacob Miller loved to ask us to sing when we visited his church, and we ministered at several Christmas eve services at Penns Valley God's Missionary Church during the five years he pastored there. I never dreamed that I would follow in his footsteps as pastor of that church starting in 1994. Brother Miller helped make a smooth transition when he left the church and even left a fair amount of furniture for bachelor me to use. He visited numbers of times during my 16 years there at Penns Valley, and I tried to welcome him as he always had received me.
Later on, I served on the World Mission's board while Brother Miller was the Mission's Director for the conference. I always enjoyed his friendliness and optimistic enthusiasm and thankful, cheerful spirit.
I remember one time hearing him preach at Penns Valley as a college student, and Brother Miller tried to demonstrate a grouchy person. I could tell it was excruciating for him to scrunch up his face into a miserable frown because he exuded such happiness all the time. Another memory I have of him was his playing his melodious vibraharp during congregational singing. Brother Miller's children carry on his legacy. He, though human he was, set a good pattern for them and all of us that missions and ministry need not turn our children off from the path we endeavor to establish.

Sacred Music for Public School Baccalaureate

After service Sunday evening at Hope Family Chapel, Hannah and Jonah Musser posed for Tasbah Lavery for pictures with the star quilts with which the church honored the 2025 high school graduates.  

The next morning, we learned that our pastor's wife in White River had volunteered that Crystal could play piano for the baccalaureate service at White River High School on Wednesday. Crystal had less than two days notice to practice! The last two years, after covid, there had been no music whatever, and if the local pastors don't step up, there might not even be a baccalaureate service. The school does not do a baccalaureate service (probably because it is religious), but this particular school allows local pastors to do a service if they wish. 

Well, our local pastors do wish to do so.

Could Crystal play a prelude, a special song, and music during the time of prayer for each of the graduates? She hunted through her stash of sacred music and tried to find arrangements suitable for this occasion. 

"Shine on Us" is an upbeat song perfect for a prelude; "Be Thou My Vision" would serve for the special, a hymn that prays for wisdom.

"Dona Nobis Pacem," with a simple and beautiful arrangement, would work for the prayer time which took place after a Pastor John shared a message. Local pastors laid their hands on each of the students in turn, taking turns praying for each one. One of them was the son of Crystal's boss at Sweet Spot Hotel.

Most of the graduates had family present who went up with that graduate at their prayer time, but two of them had no one. One young lady graduate went up with each of those two, so they would not have to go up alone. It was very precious. 

I told her so afterward. When a young person steps up to be kind, it is worth an onlooker's notice and encouragement. 

The local Nazarene pastor shared a gospel message at the end, laying before the graduates the importance of choosing God, believing in Christ, and counting the cost of how one can gain the whole world, but if he loses his soul, is it worth it?

Afterward, the pastors and graduates insisted that Crystal join them for the photo shoot that will go into next week's local newspaper. 

I was so thankful that Crystal's hard work at music practice through the years enables her to minister in music in unexpected and meaningful ways and venues!

Who would have thought that this week Jonathan and I would be attending a baccalaureate service for graduates we don't know 

because our daughter is playing music?

 

Relax--Nothing Is Under Control!

This.

Rose sent this the other day.

Today Crystal was supposed to leave at six in the morning to take a van load of Amish to Iowa and then on to Wisconsin. Jonathan woke up at 4:30 to hear rain, and he knew the van might not make it up the driveway if it's too muddy. So he got up and drove the van up to the top of the drive where Crystal could later bring the all-wheel-drive Honda--and then sat there in the pouring rain--until I woke up and couldn't find him anywhere in the house. 

"Where are you?" I texted, wondering if an emergency had taken him somewhere. 

I dressed, too, and drove the Honda up to get him, and we got back in bed, but not back into much sleep. Crystal left in the Honda sometime after 6, transferring her stuff to the van, and went on her way--all the way to Winner, SD, where the van suddenly started misfiring. When she stopped to buy something to coax the fuses to work better, per a mechanic's instructions, the van would hardly even start. 

She parked and--long story short, got a ride to Mitchell where she rented a 15-passenger van to bring back to pick up the Amish passengers. It will be a late night for her tonight, driving to Iowa through rain and wind with an extra tall van blowing in the wind. 

But we are just glad the van broke down in Winner, where Jonathan and Danny were working today, and where she could limp over to the SIM church and spend a while visiting with Judy Sherman while waiting for her ride.
God was in control. 

Two days ago I was supposed to have surgery--but it was cancelled and postponed. It's a good thing, because  last week I was sick with a terrible sore throat, and the bug keeps trying to settle in my lungs. I'm just glad I'm not going into surgery right now--and I doubt the doctor would have proceeded anyway with me still not completely well. 

So although I am not in control, God is. 

(and that puppy picture is a couple months ago--before God providentially helped us to sell the last puppy on our way down to Colorado for Rose's baby shower). Because even when we wait and wait to sell puppies, God is still in control. 

And He is still in control even when the price of meat sails right through the roof like a rocket to the moon. Rose sent this photo yesterday. Steaks were almost $15 a pound on sale, so this package was $87.20 after being marked down significantly.

Prices are out of control, but God is still in control

Hannah planted these flowers in the wooden well Danny built, only to have a big rainstorm come up this evening. We had to bring the flowers in, but we are grateful for the rain. God is in control of that, too. Jonathan's allergies aren't so miserable after it rains.

So we may as well relax, since, when it is obvious we are not in control, 

God is.