Middle of the Night Pipe Burst

Last week I wrote a letter to my family.

Dear family,

About 2:00 last night Jonathan and I were roused awake by Crystal rushing to our bedroom door gasping that a pipe had burst or something and water was pouring into the storm cellar and storage room. Jonathan (who had already gotten to bed late after attending a wake 80 minutes away) swayed groggily out of bed, grabbed his glorious striped bathrobe, and rushed downstairs to see what was the matter. There he discovered that a plumbing joint had suddenly come apart. 

Jonathan turned off the appropriate valve and got the water stopped, but many gallons had already gushed into the back room, all over the floor where two extra mattresses were on their sides, and into the closet and even out into the basement kitchen area. Crystal threw down a big towel to stop the water flooding past the refrigerator and Jonathan found a shop vac and spent the next 45 minutes vacuuming up water. Now we have to find and set up fans, fix the pipe, meanwhile toting 5-gallon buckets of water to the barn for the thirsty chickens and goats. 

This morning everyone was tired and grouchy. But we reminded ourselves of how much worse it would have been had the pipe burst the night before when Crystal and Hannah were gone. They got caught in the snowstorm while delivering a puppy all the way to Spearfish to the northwest of Rapid City to a Montana customer. The girls ended up staying overnight with our friends the Woodards in Rapid City. coming home yesterday morning. 

 

But just imagine if the pipe had burst while Crystal was gone and wouldn't have heard the gusher and come running up to tell Jonathan. Our whole basement would probably be flooded all night while we slept blissfully on.

So our grumps were replaced with gratitude.

To overcome the grumps, it is always good to look for and find special mercies, and to thank God for them--even in the middle of a flooded basement.

Stooping Through Low Doorways Does Not Keep You Humble

I loved the emphasis today of the sermon at Beavertown church, taken from John the Baptist's words about Christ, "He must increase, but I must decrease."

"The grace of decrease," Pastor Plank called it.

He shared a fascinating story about Ephrata Cloister which a person can still visit near Lancaster, PA. Pastor Plank had once visited this place that served as home to a communal group of German Baptist Brethren led by Georg Conrad Beissel from Germany. Men and women lived celibate lives in separate dormitories, grew their own food, ate no meat (except lamb during communion), and celebrated the Sabbath on Saturday rather than on Sunday. 

I was rather disgusted to discover that in the "Sisters' House," beds were narrow board beds with a small wooden block for a pillow. So what about the brothers' beds, I wondered. But then, that was a paltry thought, right?

AND the doorways, Mr. Plank mentioned, were built low so that one had to stoop to enter another room. This was to keep the members of the commune humble. The only problem was, did it work?

I was intrigued by this story and searched online for more information, finding some in the following article at https://www.cob-net.org/cloister.htm 

Low doorways did not seem to keep the leader humble, as he could not get along even with his own brother who was an astute businessman and whose efforts caused the community to thrive with their own orchards, mills, and print shop which printed their own hymnals with hymns their own people wrote. The brother had to leave, and during his absence, Georg burned the hymnals the brother had printed and the sawmill he had built himself.  That brother was not happy when he returned, which led to more bitterness between the brothers and relationship schisms among followers.

Neither low doorways nor board beds nor celibate lifestyle had kept Georg humble.

 A good question the writer of this article asked was this: "If this ascetic faith journey was so historically momentous and spiritually impactful, then why are these buildings now empty museums?"

Pastor Plank had one rather obvous answer. Since most of those involved in the commune lived celibate lives, Mr. Plank told us listeners, the group died off one by one until there was no one left. The men and women never got together, and so when the last one died, the commmunity died, Mr. Plank observed sadly. No one to carry on the supposedly wonderful, religious, mystical beliefs of the leader and all those who followed his magnetic personality.  

I thought of another answer. The mystical, ascetic, celibate, hermit lifestyle didn't work.  It didn't keep leaders or people either one humble or teachable. It didn't cleanse their hearts from sin. It didn't make them holy. 

It just looked good. Maybe it felt good (beds of planks and board pillows aside). It sounded good while listening to a dynamic leader with a lot of charisma and beautiful five-part harmony singing their own hymns.

"The grace of decrease," Pastor Plank said, "is not about self-deprecation, but about joyfully making room for Christ to be everything and all."

I noted in the article at the above link, that not all "religious communities have gone out of existence but some are thriving. The Amana Colony is one such community and their history points back to Europe during the exact same period of time as Conrad Beissel. In the early 1700s in northern Europe, people were becoming dissatisfied with the intellectualism of the liturgical churches. Pietism and Mysticism flourished because people wanted a personal experience with God. Many groups started breaking away from the established state-churches. One such group was the Community of True Inspiration which held that God still communicated through devout followers in the same manner as with the prophets of the Old Testament. In the 1840s they left an economically depressed and war ravaged Europe for America. Ebenezer was the name of their first settlement near Buffalo, New York, and it was an immediate success. Farms and industry were very successful, perhaps too successful because it soon outgrew the available land. They then moved to eastern Iowa and became the Amana Church Society, a word taken from Song of Solomon 4:8 which signifies fidelity. 

This one colony eventually grew into seven separate colonies. Their farms were fruitful and their industry was productive. In fact, their products were so dependable that they were able to secure government contracts to build refrigeration units during the Second World War. You can still buy an Amana refrigerator in most parts of the nation. These people originated from the very same time period and cultural background as Beissel. Now here is the salient question which tips the scales. Do you know the name of any one of their present leaders? Do you know the name of any person involved in their founding? Most people cannot name even one person, and understandably so, because the success of the Amana group continues even to this day on principles - not personalities. Their religious experience overshadows their leadership.

 The answer to our question of empty buildings may simply rest in the counsel of the wise educator Gamaliel who advised the members of his own community that the works of men are doomed to failure without God’s interaction and providential guidance. For if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought, but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it, Acts 5:38-39.

Even today we make decisions about asceticism versus comfort, mysticism versus practicality. Decisions have to be made about whether to keep having camp meetings in worn out, un-airconditioned tabernacles versus more modern facilities. Some feel there is something somehow more spiritual about gathering for special meetings in hot, buggy, miserable conditions despite that we make our own homes as comfortable as possible. 

There must be decisions about getting rid of hard wooden church pews and bringing in padded pews, or worse, padded folding chairs. Padded folding chairs have to be the ultimate desecration of a sanctuary, right? Even though in our homes we have the nicest sofas, recliners, padded rocking chairs, and even massaging recliners imaginable.

We also make decisions daily about how to worship and pray to our God. Do we have a hard bench in our home just for praying at (on our knees hopefully) or is it okay to sit in a comfortable kitchen chair or recliner sipping coffee while we read our Bible?   

I've found it comforting to go to a sunny window and stand in the warmth of the sunshine and soak it in as I pray and worship. My husband sips coffee while we listen together to an audio reading of the Bible that is making God's Word more alive to us than it has been in years.

Neither sunny window nor coffee sipping makes us holy or humble, but low doorways and board pillows don't either.
Choosing simple comforts in our everyday walk with God does remind us that a relationship with God can be warm, close, comfortable, comforting, and wonderful. And should we someday languish in a prison cell for our faith, God's grace will be sufficient to keep us faithful and joyful in tribulation--even as we remember what it means to be warm, full, and comforted. 

God will be there for us, even as He is now--at our window sill, in our warm bed, sipping coffee in the kitchen, and resting after chemo in a soft recliner.

Sunday Garbage--Our Best Efforts Without God

Today my family went to church without me. I stayed home with the garbage. 

But let me explain.

I overdid myself earlier this week and have been trying to recuperate. Influenza and other illnesses have been sweeping the countryside, and I am trying to stay well after chemo and before other cancer treatments--despite one daughter's having a terrible cough right in my own home (hence being somewhat banished to her room for the worst days of it. I hold my breath when we have to cross paths, and then breathe out any germs before inhaling, if I can manage it without passing out! :) :) I have also been choking down slices of cloves of raw garlic with nearly every meal to try to help myself stay well, and so far, by the grace of God, I have stayed well.

But back to the garbage.

The last two Sundays while the family has been at church, I have tried to spend the hour praying while they are in worship service.

Now I am as dull, sleepy, and off-focus as anybody, I suppose, and praying for a whole hour is a little bit beyond me, especially when I am already worn out from cancer and chemo. (Kudos to the greats who have gone before us who have spent whole days praying inside hollow logs, feats followed by God's amazing outpouring of conviction, conversions, and revivals. God bless their souls, truly, and the souls of those who benefited from those long prayers.)

I am just saying, or confessing, whatever the case may be, that I am not, nor claim to be, ultra spiritual right now, anymore than at any time in my life. But I just try to bring my weak and off-focus self to the Lord in prayer, grasping any straw of help in staying focused in prayer and bringing our church and congregation and community to God for His help and moving and convicting and transforming.

But when I stop moving long enough to be still and try to pray at the same time, I nod off.

I start to go to sleep! 

Grr. 

Grr. 

Grr. 

So much for being spiritual and praying for one hour. 

So I have to stay moving. I wipe the counter and pray for God to clean our hearts.

I sweep the floor and ask God to sweep the dirt out of our lives.

I pace the floor and hold my hands up to God and lift the congregations to God and all our problems.

And then I look at the garbage. Do I pray or take the garbage out?

Well, I decided to do both.

I prayed for God to take the garbage out of our lives and our church--but then I thought of something else.

I was taking this garbage out to the chickens--the half a dry tortilla, apple core, cabbage leaves, potato peelings--but to the chickens, that stuff we threw away was a treat.

One hen came running as she saw me with the garbage bucket. She loves apple cores and potato peels. To me, those are garbage, but to the chicken, it is food.

I thought of the message we listened to online this morning that Pastor Jim Plank preached at Beavertown--"He must increase, but I must decrease."

I thought how in ourselves we are nothing. "Without Me, you can do nothing," Jesus said. We can play a gorgeous prelude, lead singing magnificently, sing a super amazing special, preach the most eloquent sermon people ever heard.

But our best efforts, apart from the Holy Spirit's anointing and power, are worthless.

Even "all our righteousness is as filthy rags." 

Today my bucket of garbage inspired a prayer that broke my heart.

"God, our best efforts are garbage.

Without You, we can do nothing, be nothing worthwhile.

Please, God, turn the garbage of our best efforts into food for the people of Your pasture." 

Just as my bucket of garbage will be transformed, by the miracle of the way God made our backyard hens, into food for them and then, in turn, beautiful eggs and food for ourselves, so God, by His grace can turn our feeble efforts to pray, sing, play an instrument, share a testimony or preach the Word into food for hungry hearts--including our own.

As we surrender the garbage of our best efforts to God, He will transform them into something that will nourish both others and ourselves.

 "Come Holy Spirit, we need You.

Come, sweet Spirit I pray. 

Come in Your strength and Your power,

Come in Your own gentle way."

Jeremiah Smith's Memorial Service--and Poem

Today the rest of my family traveled the hour to Valentine, Nebraska, to attend the memorial service for Jeremiah Smith, son of former SIM missionaries. His body has never been found after the kayak accident in the Allegheny River where he had jumped into a kayak to cross the river in PA. 

I felt bad to miss the service, but after this last chemo, I just haven't been able to do much. I was terribly exhausted by the time the rest of the family left about 11 in the morning.

A friend sent me pictures from Jeremiah's memorial service back east. And I wrote a little poem to put in a card for the family.

Jeremiah Smith, just one  of eight
Of a family grown up in a prairie state,
Out in all seasons on the prairie sod,
Tending his work and reaching for God.

He had a face that was often a-smile
With a grin that reached at least a mile,
"The life of the party"--he was full of fun
Until his earthly life was done.

Whatever he did, he did with his might--
Whether work or play, whatever was in sight.
In his service to God as a bright young man,
He'd say, "I'll give the Master the best that I can."

A missionary pilot he felt called to be,
And his family supported this faithfully.
Flying lessons and studies went under his belt
As he aimed for the north where the arctic is felt. 

Jeremiah was baptized one day at Spring Creek,
With a testimony, determined God's will to seek.
He was buried under water with Christ crucified,
And he rose--wet but happy--Christ living inside.

Buried in Christ's death, whether river or creek,
Jeremiah left us a treasure to seek--
A heart that is set to follow the Lord,
To believe all His promises, trust in His Word.

The boy with the mile-wide smile on his face
Was buried in a river of God's love and grace.
God reached and took him to the Sweetest of Springs--
Not in an airplane, but on angel wings. 

Engagement Photos--"I Prayed for This Day"

Two sets of parents were praying for their children to find God's will in spouses. 

When Sam asked Caitlyn's dad back last year if he would give permission for Sam to date his daughter, Caitlyn's dad told Sam, "I've been praying for this day."

And without reservation, he agreed to let Sam date his daughter. 

Sunday our son Tim took some engagement photos for the happy couple before he set off to return to  Ranch Haven in western CO. I loved this one!

 And this one. 

And this one! I haven't seen Sam looking this happy in a long, long time. 

I think Caitlyn has done wonders for him. 

And did I mention that Caitlyn is one of my very favorite names? When I wrote stories for my children about themselves and their adventures, I sometimes changed their names, and I renamed Crystal as Kaitlyn, only with a K. And now don't we get a real Caitlyn (starting with C, which I like better) for our family!

When Sam was first telling me about this girl from his church and how he was starting to date her, I asked him what attracted him to her. 

Now my Sam, if you know him, (or even if you do not know him) is not into a lot of mush or gush. But since I really wanted to know, one thing he mentioned was, "She loves God and she loves people."

And I think, when it's all boiled down, isn't that what Jesus said was the most important thing? 

 

 

When Eggs Are Gold

Eggs was the one grocery commodity that President Trump mentioned in his State of the Union address Tuesday night. That was the night Jonathan suddenly remembered Trump would be addressing Congress and pulled up the live address--just in time to see Rep. Green brandishing his cane and shouting at the President! We watched as Speaker of the House struck the table with the gavel and gave a warning and then called the sergeant-at-arms to conduct the disorderly member of Congress out of the room. We gathered around and watched the rest of the address--grateful for both the Vice-President and Speaker of the House solidly backing the President from behind him, as well as the side of the Congress that backed him for such things as putting a stop to fraudulent and wasteful government spending, banning trans men in women's sports, and deciding that under his administration there will only be two genders--fancy having to be courageous enough to say that!

 

 One would think eggs are worth their weight in gold!

At the birthday party Crystal and I hosted yesterday afternoon for our pastor's wife, Mrs. Ambrose, one lady told me that eggs were $9 a dozen around here! We can be thankful we have our own chickens. Even the guineas are starting to lay--see the smallest, more pointed egg below.

So when I was thinking of party favors for the attendees, I decided to simply give each lady a choice of something home-raised--eggs or honey.

I purchased some 3-for-a-dollar cartons and packed four different colors of eggs in each one with a decorative rosette in the middle. The ladies loved them! After all, that was $3 worth of eggs right there. 

I took out to our chicken coop a girl who came to the party and let her gather the eggs from the nesting boxes. 

About ten ladies attended the party, and what an enjoyable time we had, reminiscing about favorite birthday memories. My memory was about how we sisters used to almost always sew each other new aprons and pot holders for our birthdays, and Crystal told about how Grandma Morley used to sew a new pair of pajamas for each of her 50 plus grandchildren's birthdays!

I had found strawberries and blueberries on a good sale at Murdo grocery store on my way home from a lymphatic treatment, and I made a fruit plate with them with an idea I got from Pinterest for the mandarin flower in the center. 

Just another golden delight in the middle of a South Dakota winter!

 

 

 

 

Sunday Blessings

Sunday morning we watched another wonderful service at Beavertown God's Missionary Church in Pennsylvania, something we watch online most Sunday mornings since with the time change we can watch the eastern service before leaving for ours out here in the West. 

I was carrying the laptop around with me, and ended up setting it somewhere so we could watch the special song by the Anthony family. Too weak to stand and watch, I sat down on the floor and Jonathan sneaked this photo! I've known Mrs. Anthony from my youth, and we've known the family for many years, watching their children grow up and marry. My son Tim worked for a year on a ranch in Arizona with the Anthony's son Daniel and his family. 

This time it's just the one daughter singing with them, the daughter who a couple years ago lost her soon-to-be-fiance, Isaiah Rodriguez, in the boating/swimming accident while he was on the PR group from Penn View. I watched as the three sang "As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after Thee. You alone are my heart's desire." 

It was a priceless testimony in song. May God bless these wonderful people!