My Heart's Dee-Light

Jumping into the Meme: Letter C

2012-01-24T03:24:00.000-05:00

I've decided to jump into Patty Wysong's meme, a 2 z: Take 2. The meme works like this: we post a topic that begins with C and then link back to our posts at Patty's place. If you'd like to join in, feel free!

I have the perfect word for the letter C this week: Contract! I signed my Contract with Kregel Publishers this past weekend! Kregel signed me to write a three book Amish fiction series. I am very excited, but I have to admit, I'm a bit scared, too.

The responsibility of writing well, and on time, is a Challenge, but I know I can rely on the Lord to aid me. What a Comfort to know He will guide me and provide me with all I need to accomplish the goals. Psalm 37:5 says this:

Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.

So...for the next three years, I will have projects to work on, standards to meet, and deadlines to reach. I'm up for the Challenge and looking forward to fulfilling the terms of the Contract. And even more than that, I'm praying my books will reach hearts and inspire prayers for the Amish.

I'm holding on to God's coat tails as He takes me on this adventurous journey! Can't wait to get started!

Fall on the Earth: Jewels of Encouragement Post

2012-01-14T06:10:00.000-05:00

I'm posting at Jewels of Encouragement today. Can you believe the Bible has something to say about snow? Join me there!

We Have a Winner for A Basketful of Broken Dishes Book Giveaway!

2012-01-10T16:51:00.000-05:00

We have a winner for A Basketful of Broken Dishes! Congratulations, Amber! Enjoy the book! Naomi graciously signed it on the inside page, too.

Thank you to everyone who participated in the book giveaway. If you want to purchase a copy of this wonderful book, just click on this link!

Book Giveaway: Naomi Stutzman's A Basketful of Broken Dishes

2012-01-03T15:35:00.000-05:00

If you'd like an inside look at how the Amish react when one of their own leaves the Amish community, this book will give that to you. Naomi includes powerful insights into her account of her parents' life as Amish and what happened to them after they left.

About "A Basketful of Broken Dishes" (Published by AMBASSADOR INTERNATIONAL):

This true story demonstrates God's faithfulness to an Amish couple. Simon's refusal to submit to the Amish rules stresses their marriage. The bishops demand that Susan, his wife, must obey the rules she promised to keep and to shun her rebel husband. Who was she to obey, God or man? Together they become a perfect team to set their family free from the bondage of "religion". The story is told ...by their daughter, Naomi, born to them after they leave this close-knit community. These heartbreaking and joyous stories are life-changing and proclaim the mighty truth that God continues to care for and work in the lives of the simple, the wounded, and the brokenhearted. Naomi shares how she came to see the rich, deep, powerful beauty and value in the "silent years" of her mother's life, who courageously lived a broken life for the sake of her divine inheritance, hidden in her earthly inheritance, a basket full of broken dishes.

About Naomi Stutzman:

Growing up with an Amish background, Naomi experienced "shunning" first-hand and saw the devastating effects of leaving this close-knit community. After sharing her powerful story at speaking engagements for over 16 years, Naomi finally responds to the ongoing pleas to write a book. Naomi and her husband of 40 years live in Twinsburg, Ohio. They have four children and ten grandchildren.

Want to contact Naomi? She can be reached here:

Email NaomiMulletStutzman@gmail.com
Website: Naomi Stutzman

To be in the running to win a copy of A Basketful of Broken Dishes, be sure leave a comment on this post. I'll draw a name from the comments next Tuesday, January 10th (which happens to be my birthday, too!). You will truly enjoy this book and will learn much about the Amish and their relationships with those who have left the Amish community.

Why Did They Cry?

2011-12-19T06:29:00.000-05:00

I finished reading Naomi Mullet Stutzman's book, A Basketful of Broken Dishes, tonight. Several passages gave me food for thought, but one in particular really struck me.

Her mother had died and she and her siblings were discussing with their father memories they had of their mom. Naomi brought up the story of how her mother was given a basket of broken dishes which had belonged to Naomi's Amish grandmother. I won't reveal that conversation in its entirety so I don't spoil the mystery of those dishes, but one thing her dad said gave me an enormous aha! moment.

As Naomi's sister lamented over her mother's Amish sisters's reasons for crying at the casket of Naomi's mom, her father explained:

"Actually, they might have cried because they were sad that their sister was not Amish when she died."

I re-read the sentence to be sure I understood and then put the book down as I thought through the statement. They weren't crying because they would miss her. They weren't crying because they felt guilty for shunning her all those years. They weren't crying because of lost opportunities to know their sister. It was that she wasn't Amish when she died.

Yes. It made sense.

To many Amish, knowing a former-Amish had died outside of the church meant no salvation was possible. Several Amish communities believe if you are born Amish, you MUST die Amish in order to go to heaven. No amount of good works after you leave the Amish fold will help you. No grace from Christ's shed blood alone will help you. You are condemned as soon as your foot leaves the threshold of your Amish home to venture forth into the sinful English world. Unless you return to the Amish and make a confession, and rejoin, you are doomed to hell.

So many reproving letters have been sent to wayward former-Amish in which parents and other family members beg their children to return home. If threats don't work, some resort to promises. If promises don't work, some Amish families resort to more threats, fear tactics, shunning for life, and other means to try to persuade the doomed loved one to return.

I have always struggled to understand the mentality of this kind of thinking, but as I pondered Naomi's father's explanation, it suddenly made sense. To the Amish, a former-Amish person is a dead man walking. Death row is a certainty. The die is cast. The judgment is made. The severity of the coming punishment cries out for desperate measures to be taken in order to snatch, pull, coerce and shame the former Amish to be former no more.

The complexity of these relationships built and formed by the hands of religious man-made rules can't be stressed enough. There is nothing simple about being Amish and there is nothing simple about being former-Amish. In each, the devout Amish and the seemingly condemned former-Amish, a host of cultural demands and spiritual guilt wrestle daily.

The families suffer. The wayward one suffers. The community suffers. And in light of Christ's sacrifice for all sin, I am forced to ask why?

Why do they not understand the Gift?

We'll celebrate Christ's birth soon. We'll celebrate because we know His birth led to His path to the cross. Our "dead men walking" souls were released from death row when He died and rose again.

No more guilt. No more condemnation. No more hopeless attempts for perfection.

We don't have to be Amish. We don't have to be Baptist. We don't have to Presbyterian. We don't have to be anything but washed in grace.

Join Me at Jewels of Encouragement Today!

2011-12-14T01:56:00.000-05:00

I'm posting at Jewels of Encouragement today. What is the best gift you ever received? Take a minute to read what mine was. And, what was the best gift ever given?

We Have a Winner!

2011-12-08T19:02:00.000-05:00

My son drew the winning name from the entries for The Spirit of Christmas book, and the winner is...Mary S.!!

Mary, please let me know where you'd like the book mailed and I will get it to you right away.

Thanks for participating, everyone! And later this month, I will be giving away Naomi Stutzman's Amish book, A Basketful of Broken Dishes. Watch for that! You won't want to miss this true-life Amish story.

Congratulations, Mary S. Merry Early Christmas!

Meet Linda Glaz: Author of Polar Bear Plunge

2011-12-06T07:02:00.000-05:00

I've had the privilege of working with author and literary agent Linda Glaz when she helped me edit my Amish fiction book, The Miting. I then met her this past summer at the Faithwriters conference in Livonia, Michigan. She is, without a doubt, one of my favorite writing friends. She's direct, honest and filled with a wonderful sense of humor. She's also the author of the newly released book Polar Bear Plunge from White Rose Publishing.

Linda shared this about her life and her writing:

I’m a wife and mother of three. I balance being a child of God while also being older than God. Hmmm, scary, but almost true. I’ve been blessed to have had an amazing life so far: Air Force meteorologist during Vietnam era, teaching karate and self-defense along with soccer for 25+ years. I sing and direct in church and community theatre musicals where this little old lady sounds more like the guys than the gals. Also scary, but true. I work in a physical therapy clinic three days a week to earn money to keep my writing afloat. My writing life is a 24/7 proposition. When not writing my own stories, I am an agent for Hartline Literary Agency. I wear so many different hats I’m surprised I wasn’t invited to the Royal wedding. Blessings to everyone, may your writing dreams all come true.

It's exciting to have a new book published and Linda's book, Polar Bear Plunge, is a great read. Here's a peek inside the story:

Striving to put meaning back into her life after her husband’s death, Aleni Callan immerses herself in hospital work. Angry with God, she finds herself even angrier, when hero, Brice Taylor, author of The Human Shield, arrives in the Emergency Room with a concussion and hypothermia after participating in the Polar Bear Plunge. Aleni wants nothing to do with a man who willingly takes chances with his life.

Brice doesn’t understood how God could bring him through being a captive in Iraq, when he failed his troops so miserably. Writing about his escape brings fame he would rather avoid. And by meeting widow, Aleni Callan, his feelings of failure only increase.

Megan Callan with the help of her three-year-old grandson, Ty, scheme to bring Aleni and Brice together. And while the best laid plans often go awry, Megan isn’t one to accept no.

Sounds like a wonderful book to have on hand for the coming winter reading season. And a great gift for Christmas. In fact, the Kindle edition is available for 99 cents at Amazon.com through the month of December! Can't beat that for a bargain!

Congratulations, Linda, on your new book!

Thursday Drawing: The Spirit of Christmas!

2011-12-05T17:26:00.000-05:00

Don't forget to enter the drawing for a free Christmas book, The Spirit of Christmas! I'll be drawing the winning name from comments left here so add a comment and get in on the chance to receive this cozy Christmas treat.

Did you know there are only 20 more days until Christmas? What shopping adventure have you had? Is there an elusive gift you still have to find?

Thinking we would have plenty of time to shop, we have been driving our son (who is still learning to drive) to his first quarter of college classes 15 miles one way. On Mondays and Wednesdays, he also has night classes. We thought "No problem! We'll have time to get our shopping finished while we wait for his class to let out. It'll be great! We'll be done with Christmas by October."

Wrong.

The class has let out early nearly 3/4 of the time, so instead of leisurely shopping sprees, we've done a lot of hanging out in the little college town at the drug stores or the only grocery. Let's say this: the choice is very limited. When we have chosen to drive back to the major shopping area about 20 minutes away, it never fails...the class lets out early and we end up making a mad dash to the checkout.

Suffice it to say we have more than half of our shopping yet to do. Our son will not be the only one glad to have this quarter over with. His last finals are this week.

Maybe I'll have time to do the Christmas gift-buying thing now. Maybe.

But if you need another gift or two, leave a comment. Maybe a lovely book will be mailed right to your door--no shopping--no fuss.

And watch this blog for tomorrow's great deal on another fabulous book by Linda Glaz.

Stay warm!

A Child of Christmas

2011-12-04T00:51:00.000-05:00

Tonight we drove to my mom's house and picked her up to take her with us as we looked at Christmas lights. We scouted streets and neighborhoods well known for "good" displays and chatted about times past.

As we drove through neighborhoods I have known since I was a young girl, memories returned of long summer days and crisp autumn nights. Childhood friends and bullies houses still stood, unaware of the emotions each pulled from my heart as we cruised by.

I had a sense of time travel--zipping backward to the years my memory was most active and fertile. Sights, sounds, smells, and feelings strongly wrapped among places and buildings and homes. On a few streets, Christmas decorations from ages ago still blink along-side modern LEDs and inflatable snow globes. The older citizens own the former and the younger citizens own the latter, yet they celebrate with equal enthusiasm.

As someone who normally eschews gaudy, I can't get enough of it this time of year. I don't really care anymore what color, style or design the lights create, I'm just childishly happy to see them.

I remember the last time we took my ninety-something-years-old grandmother out with us to see the lights. It was bitter cold. She was frail. Very fragile. I worried she would not be able to safely come along. But she wanted to go!

We bundled her up and carefully pulled the van as close to her apartment complex sidewalk as possible, venturing onto the concrete even, to shorten her walk on the snowy path.

I can still see her huddled low in the front seat--her shoulders hunched, body leaning precariously forward, ears encased in her favorite scarf. As we drove slowly through the tunnel of changing lights at our town's fairground Christmas display, her eyes shone as the colorful reflections lit her cheeks. She was plagued with cataracts, but she could still see the lights and she could still feel the emotions of Christmas.

She was always the first one to want to check her stocking on Christmas morning. The delight of opening gifts and eating a special Christmas dinner never waned with her. The story of the Christ child's birth remained magical and breath-taking.

She left her lonely apartment each Christmas eve to sleep at our house so she could wake Christmas morning with us as we ran to the family room to see what Santa brought. And she loved the thrill of games and family and noise. She gave her grandchildren a dollar in a card and repeated the same thing each year: "I couldn't give you much, but here's a little something."

One year, she gave me a favorite old dress she used to wear in the thirties. Another year, her apron, which I still wear as I prepare meals. That apron brings her alongside me as I cook and bake and care for my family, just as she did all those long years ago when she was young.

I am a child of Christmas like my grandmother, too.

After we took my mom back home, my hubby went in the attic space to bring down some Christmas lights for her, and while they worked, I browsed the garage. I stumbled across my dad's bowling ball bag. Immediatley, all the days and nights of seeing him and my mom bowl flooded my mind: the smokey alleys, the loud chatter, the fried food and the gaudy Christmas lights among the tinsel swags and garlands.

I unzipped the bag. There was Dad's dark blue ball, neatly resting on its little stand, just as though he had used it yesterday. I put my fingers in the holes drilled especially to fit his hand. I spun it, a tiny bit, and there was his name: Ray.

Something turned over in my heart. "Can I have this?"

Mom glanced my way. "Dad's old bowling ball?"

I nodded.

"Sure."

I told her how I remembered the day they got their professional bowling balls: names on and everything. The ball bag under the tree...a Christmas gift.

I plan to spiff up the bag and put a big red bow on it and place it ever so carefully under our tree. And I pray I will always be a child of Christmas, even when I'm ninety-three.

Makeover Complete!

2011-12-01T09:03:00.011-05:00

I've wanted to makeover my blog for quite some time, so when my friend, Patty Wysong, offered to help, I jumped at the chance. She did a fabulous job! I think this new look is very me.

I'm excited to offer a book giveaway, too. Just leave a comment on this post, and you'll be entered to win a beautiful Christmas book, The Spirit of Christmas, by Cecil Murphey and Marley Gibson. This is a collection of inspiring true stories.

My writing friend, Cindy Thomson, has an autographed story in this book, also. Her contribution, along with many others, will certainly bring Christmas spirit to your house this year.

In the forward by Debbie Macomber, she writes "You're going to love this book...The minute you start reading the first story, you'll find yourself unable to put the book down."

Don't hesitate to jump in on this fun Christmas giveaway! Please be sure to leave an email address where you can be contacted should you win the drawing.

I'll draw the winning name one week from today on December 8. Good luck!

So what do you think? Is the blog makeover a success? Please contact Patty if you'd like her to makeover your blog. I can guarantee she will work wonders for you, too!

Jewels of Encouragement: Loose Threads

2011-11-14T07:18:00.001-05:00

I'm posting at Jewels of Encouragement today. Join me there!

Journezine: My Article

2011-11-11T12:31:00.000-05:00

Journezine has posted an article I wrote about the Amish. I'm honored!

Faithwriters Member Showcase: My Short Story: 364 Days to Go

2011-11-08T23:34:00.000-05:00

I'm honored to be featured on the Faithwriters Member Showcase this week with my short story "364 Days to Go". If you'd like to read it, click here.

Hope you enjoy reading it!

Dee's News: the Former Amish Newsletter

2011-11-08T15:20:00.000-05:00

One of the writing projects I have is gathering information for Dee's News--the former Amish newsletter. It has been a privilege to get to know my former Amish friends, from near and far, through Dee's News. I love reporting their life experiences and the joys, and sometimes sorrows, of life through this newsletter. It's a great way to keep in touch!

I'm already gathering news for the January issue, so if you have anything you'd like to contribute, just go to the tab on my blog here that says Contact. Click and send me an email.

In the meantime, click here to read the November 2011 issue of Dee's News.

And the Winner is...

2011-10-27T14:07:00.000-04:00

Thanks for leaving comments on the Her Safari post! The winner of the Starbucks Coffee Gift Card is...Rae! Congrats! Enjoy!

Curious About the Amish? Read This Review!

2011-10-25T15:15:00.000-04:00

I just read an awesome review by Tim Challies of Ira Wagler's book, Growing Up Amish. If you are curious about the Amish, I highly recommend you read Tim's review AND Ira Wagler's book! Both bring insights into this lifestyle that are awesome and rare.To read both, just click the red links on their names. To buy Ira's book, just click the red link of his title.

Her Safari by Lisa Mikitarian: A Great Book!

2011-10-24T07:00:00.004-04:00

Les, our driver has just pulled the bus up to Dee Yoder's Blog in Ohio, our next stop on the blog tour for Her Safari, by Lisa Mikitarian. Mari’s cranking out the caramel macchiatos as fast as her machine will allow. The caffeine is perking up the gang. We have the latest scoop from Lisa, herself!

First let me tell you about this wonderful collection of short stories: HER SAFARI - Snapshots Along the Way

Life is a mix of love, humor, faith, ingenuity, and tragedy—sometimes all in the same day! No matter how different we are as individuals, our lives are made up of seasons, circumstances, and turning points. In Her Safari, you'll find women of varying ages and backgrounds—each at a life juncture—some more critical than others.

Among them is a single woman who distrusts men, yet flirts with her doctor while under the influence of Percocet; a wife who considers divorcing her husband over Christmas décor; and a widow who's ready for bridge but not community living.

Despite their differences, whatever leg of the safari these women are on, and however successful they are in navigating the conflict in their lives, one thing becomes clear—most are genuinely doing the best they can. This captivating collection makes a wonderful gift for women of all ages.

On this stop of the blog tour, I thought it would be fun to find out what’s currently happening in Lisa’s writing cave where you will also find her dog, Dorian Gray, playing the role of Lisa’s muse.

If you haven’t visited Lisa and Maddie’s Connecting Now blog, you are in for a real treat.

Lisa talks about Connecting Now:
"It’s an offbeat advice blog called Connecting Now. My publisher told me I had to have a blog, so I thought long and hard about something I could keep up and enjoy. I didn’t feel under pressure to have all the right answers because one—it’s offbeat, and two—the Readers chime in.
While at the Faithwriter’s conference, I asked my oldest, Madeline, if she would sub for me on the blog. She did; everyone loved her, and when I returned, the masses demanded she stay—especially Timmy Boyle. The rest is, as they say, history. The blog is approaching its second birthday, and looking back, there’s no way I could have kept it up without her.

People write to us about all sorts of things—some utterly ridiculous (we love those), and some profoundly serious—we love those, too, though a few have been heartbreaking. Often our Readers have better advice than we have—and we’re a-okay with that because the blog reflects our belief that no man is an island, that God created us in communion for a reason—to help one another out."

Her Safari is a huge success and Lisa gracefully reveals what we can look forward to in the near future:

Lisa and Maddie

“Heart of my heart.”~Lisa Mikitarian

"Maddie and I are currently editing our novel The Devil to Pay. It’s set in a time where a DNA scan can tell parents about their child’s complete genetic make-up in utero. That scan is referred to as the Projections. The Projections include a four-gene combination which predicts the likelihood of a person accepting the Creator.

The story opens with the main character discovering she’s pregnant and that her own Projections are a complete forgery bought by her parents. The novel asks questions like: Can we ever thwart the will of God? How much knowledge about ourselves is too much?

I’d also like to put together one more collection of short stories from the male perspective called That’s What He Said. For some weird reason, I love writing from the male POV."

Thank you, Lisa. Can’t wait to read The Devil’s Play and That’s What He Said.

How can you order Her Safari, by Lisa Mikitarian? To purchase Her Safari, click here. Remember to check out the fabulous gift basket available. Lisa has partnered with Heart of God International Ministries, so that they’ll receive the proceeds from books bought on their behalf. If you wish to benefit HGIM with your purchase, there’s a special button on the Her Safari publishers site at the check out (HGIM).

ADDED BONUS!! FREE COFFEE!!
If you leave a comment on this blog post, you are automatically entered to win a $5 Starbucks card! Check back—The winner will be drawn and announced on October 27th.

Posting at Jewels of Encouragement Today!

2011-10-14T16:03:00.000-04:00

I'm posting today at Jewels of Encouragement! I hope you get the chance to pop over and read, and get a sneak peak at who I used to be. ( ;

Guest Posting at Jennifer Hudson Taylor's Blog

2011-10-13T21:54:00.000-04:00

I'm guest posting at Jennifer Hudson Taylor's blog today. Pop over and read my post about my son's challenges with Asperger's Syndrome.

Please Don't Ignore this Video

2011-10-11T16:52:00.000-04:00

Please, watch this video. Make time for it and think about what you see.

God Looks at the Heart

2011-10-07T10:08:00.003-04:00

A couple of years ago, we were privileged to witness the first of several weddings of two of our former-Amish friends. The bride was beautiful and the groom was handsome. They began their service with their pastor asking the wedding guests to give the bride and groom the best present ever: a heart that is turned to Jesus!

It was very unusual, but very touching, since this couple knew there would be many former-Amish friends attending the wedding who needed to hear the gospel and may not have not yet given their heart to the Lord.

It's funny, but when I saw the bride, gorgeous and shining in her white satin with sprinkles of sequins and bows, I thought about how I'd not recognized her once when I saw her in her Amish clothing. She looked so different. My brain super-imposed more than just clothing on her and I didn't recognize the person hidden beneath the Amish Ordnung's rules of dress.

One former-Amish friend said since she has been wearing her Englisher clothes, she walks among her Amish neighbors at farmer's markets and they don't even know her. While she shops, she is careful not speak to the Amish vendors too much for fear they will recognize the hint of Pennsylvania Dutch accent that still remains in her speech. But it is evident her outward change in appearance has shadowed her true identity to those who used to know her.

When we look first at the outward garb of people, we often see what our brain thinks it will see: Amish clothing brings images of purity and simplicity. The more I know the former Amish, the more I realize the Amish world is often complicated and filled with layer-upon-layer of issues that sometimes create chaos in this simple seeming lifestyle.

We have to learn to not let the outwardly appearance of order and plain living in this multifaceted culture blind us to the needs of the people who are donning the apparel. The Amish are humans beings with all the foibles and troubles the human race encompasses. Their souls ache for unity with their Maker, just as any person's soul does.

The best thing we can do for the Amish is to support them in prayer and be a friend when they are in need. As Believers let's be open to offering the bread of life and living water for parched Amish souls, just the same as we would to anyone else who shows signs of spiritual hunger and thirst.

We need to remind ourselves of God's words to us about judging others (good or bad) only by appearance:

1 Samuel 16:7
But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.”

John 7:24
"Stop judging by mere appearances, and make a right judgment." (Jesus' advice to the Jews with Him at the Temple)

Galatians 2:6
As for those who seemed to be important—whatever they were makes no difference to me; God does not judge by external appearance—those men added nothing to my message.

Colossians 2:23
Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.

And finally, let's consider how our Lord Jesus, the Coming Messiah, was described in Isaiah 53:2:

He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

Nothing in His appearance that we should desire him. That speaks volumes about human ability (or lack thereof) to know the heart, the soul, the spirit, and even the deity of our Savior, simply by outward appearance alone.

Let's purpose to see each person as God sees them: souls that need to be reconciled to Him. Let's open our eyes to what may lie behind the simple dress of the Amish and be willing to bring the Good News to them, as we would to any neighbor or friend.

My Heart's Dee-Light!

2011-10-03T14:18:00.000-04:00

The name of my blog fits right in with the title of my post today because I'm thinking of a group of people who ARE my heart's delight: my former Amish friends. They are truly a treasure.

I smile when I hear about their accomplishments. I cry when I hear they're sad or feeling rejected. I cheer when one of them goes after a big dream, and I want to hug them all when I see how stoic they are in the face of much trouble.

There is nothing that pleases my heart more than when one of my friends makes me laugh--makes me proud--makes me know Who made them.

To all my former Amish friends: you inspire me! What a blessing to have each one of you in my life! Here are just a few of them:

Who is My God?

2011-09-14T14:24:00.000-04:00

Join me at Jewels of Encouragement today where I am writing about who my God is!

Give Me Joy!

2011-09-09T14:11:00.001-04:00

Please
Can't we smile?
Does holiness mean
Dour
Sour
Barely alive
Hour
by
hour?

Why show
Flat unaffected
Wasted
Faces
Straight mouths
No lilt
No tilt
No lips that shout "Glory!"

Where's the joy of salvation
Where's the happy to be alive
Glad to know the Lord
Bliss to have the angels
Sitting on our shoulders
Joy of Christianity?

See the God of heaven
Bounding over the hills of Home!
Full of vigor!
Full of Strength!
Full of joy!

We are
Too serious for words
Dark podiums
Dark faces
No sparkle
No hope
No...joy.

Let me outta here!
Give me joy!

Join Me at Jewels of Encouragement Today: Bugs Do a Lot of Nothing

2011-08-14T12:40:00.000-04:00

I'm posting at Jewels of Encouragement today! Join me as I chat about bugs and how they make me think of my relationship with God. (Really--they do!)

Meet Ira Wagler, Author of "Growing Up Amish: A Memoir"

2011-08-05T16:43:00.003-04:00

Ira Wagler, like many former Amish, had a story to tell about his journey with his heritage. He always knew he had a desire and ability to write his personal story, but even he was happily surprised with how his book came to be published. The result, his book: Growing Up Amish: A Memoir.

In a recent phone interview with me, Ira shared he was compelled to write about his growing up years as an Amish young man when his “world imploded” in 2007. He began with a blog. Over the course of time, his writings were noticed by a friend which led to a meeting with an editor at Tyndale House Publishers. One thing led to another, and he was offered a contract.

Ira is no stranger to literature and writing. He earned a degree in English, but his inspiration for writing comes from reading classic books from authors such as Thomas Wolf. He later went to law school and earned his law degree.

Ira acknowledges that “having the right people around me, helped me be published.” He feels he received his gift of writing from his father, who was a contributing writer to the Amish magazine, Family Life, but he feels his sensitive heart comes from his mother. He dedicated his book to her.

One of the most surprising aspects of being published, Ira states, is the “absolute professionalism of Tyndale House.” He is especially grateful to his editor, Carol Traver, who was able to keep Ira’s writing voice intact, while offering edits that made his story stronger.

There are three particular sections of his book he found difficult to write, but are powerful elements of his personal journey: his older brother’s accident, his younger brother’s leave-taking from home, and his relationship with an Amish young lady. All three incidents had a profound impact on his life and carries emotional memories he will always retain.

He is satisfied with the results in his book and feels the story is told with a balance of both the difficult and positive aspects of growing up Amish. He made a concerted effort to tell his story with fairness, and yet still bring out the strong emotional elements of each situation he describes.

When asked if he had any advice to others who have left their Amish culture behind, he offered confidence that with the work ethic instilled in the Amish, he knows any former Amish will be able to apply that urge to work toward anything they are willing to try. He said that he entered college “scared to death”, but he was able to succeed. He entered law school just to “see if I could do it”.

When asked if he is planning to write another book, he replied “the market will decide that”, but he wouldn’t mind writing a sequel and/or a novel.

His writing routine is anything but routine (which gives hope to a routine-less writer like me!). He thinks he works best under deadline pressures.

Advice to writers? “Just write! Just produce!”

And that is just what he's done. Beautifully. I highly recommend his book to those who enjoy Amish stories or to anyone who wants to read an incredibly honest and touching account of his journey.

Ira’s book can be purchased at:

MAP Ministry: (419) 962-1515
PO Box 128
Savannah, OH 44874
OR:

Amazon.com

Here’s a sample from Ira’s book:

“One fateful, starless, April night, I got up at 2:00 a.m. in the pitch black darkness, left a scribbled note under my pillow, and walked away—all my earthly belongings stuffed in a little black duffel bag.

Seventeen years old, bound for a vast new world. In my eager mind, the great shining vistas of distant horizons gleamed and beckoned. A world that would fulfill the deep yearning, the nebulous shifting dreams of a hungry, driven youth. And it would be mine, all of it, to pluck from the forbidden tree and taste and eat.

I could not know that night of the long hard road that stretched before me.”

My Facebook Author Page is Up and Running!

2011-07-25T01:28:00.000-04:00

Though I am yet learning how to use my Facebook Author Page, it is finally a reality! I'm glad to have this page to post up-dates about my manuscripts, any new work I finish, and of course, announcements about the status of my book, The Miting, as it is being shopped to publishers by my agent, Terry Burns.

I will also be posting some of my favorite blog posts, devotionals, and links to my short stories at Faithwriters.

I would love for you to stop by my Dee Yoder--Writer of Christian Fiction page on Facebook. And don't forget to hit the LIKE button!

Family: Sometimes They Hurt You

2011-06-30T03:06:00.005-04:00

Recently I've discovered a truth that I've tried for years to keep from myself: family can sometimes hurt me.

Maybe it isn't so much that I've not known it, but I haven't wanted to admit it. Admitting it means I may have to take steps to do something about it and that's what I truly was trying to avoid admitting in the first place.

Family comes in many packages. There are the blood relatives, and then there are family groups that originate outside of genealogy, like church family and friends who are like family. Writing groups and play groups. Work groups and neighborhood groups. In all these examples of family, one thing is certain: one or more of the members of the family groups are going to do something that will hurt me.

My reaction to that hurt is what is important. Here are three ways I can see myself reacting:

1. I can curl up and try to stop breathing. Not very likely as my body will not let that happen. My autonomic nervous system will kick in and make me breathe. Whether I want to or not. Probably a good design on God's part.

2. I can lash out with the same kind of anger and retaliation which was directed at me. Somewhat likely...if I can remember the next day what caused such hurt. I have a tendency to forget things like that rather quickly anymore because my menopause brain just doesn't hang on as strongly as it once did to things that happened yesterday. But those little "forgotten" hurts tend to pile up and can come crashing down to cause damage through repressed resentment and anger.

3. I can freeze the hurter out of my life. Very likely. This is my nature. I have a weird little gauge inside me that tips the scales to the had-enough side of my brain, and once it is tipped, there is no going back. It is amazing how long it takes me to reach that point, but once I have, it is equally amazing how easily I can hit the eject button on a person and forget they ever lived.

I don't recommend any of the above reactions. None of them are healthy and none of them reflect Christ. So what does Christ say about those who hurt us? Simple. We must forgive them:

"In prayer there is a connection between what God does and what you do. You can't get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others. If you refuse to do your part, you cut yourself off from God's part.
Matthew 6:14"

I notice that He doesn't say we have to be with them all the time, especially if it's someone who habitually hurts us, but we do have to forgive.

I've discovered that if I try to view my offenders as they were as children or as hurting souls the way God sees them, it's easier for me to forgive them.

Now it is up to me to demonstrate what Christ asks of me the next time family hurts me. But I'll first have to get rid of the wish that an eject button was part of His plan!

I'm Posting at JoE Today!

2011-06-14T01:39:00.000-04:00

Join me at Jewels of Encouragement today and read about my passion, or lack of, for exercise!

Something's Perking

2011-06-07T00:28:00.000-04:00

It's been awhile since the writing urge hit me. I've written newsletters and done some edits, but nothing new has come from my laptop in a long while. However, the last few days, something's perking.

I have a couple of storylines pinging around inside my head and that's exciting. Only trouble is I have little time right now to do anything about them. Knowing how elusive storylines can be, I hope to jot them down somewhere (preferably places I'll find them again) so when a couple of minutes are free, I can get cracking with real writing!

This past year has been a tough one for me and my writing. Not that I haven't written anything, but that I've had a lot of trouble thinking of myself as a writer. With the dearth of ideas came insecurity. Shouldn't a REAL writer have a great idea more than once or twice a year? If I were a REAL writer, wouldn't I be chomping at the bit to get something new in Word?

Well, I have had a lot of voices in my head telling me I must not be a real writer since I've been struggling for very long. So it came as a surprise--a pleasant one--to have those two little germs of ideas pop up out of nowhere.

I just hope they'll keep perking until I have time to put them into words!

So You Wanna Be in Pictures?

2011-05-22T19:32:00.000-04:00

Today I'm lazily relaxing in the comfy swing on my back porch. The sun is shining (for once), birds are singing (I'm too close to the Cardinal nest so it's more like screeching--I make them nervous), and a gentle breeze is blowing the wind chimes from time to time. And I'm thinking back to what was happening at our house a little over a week ago.

It was raining and gloomy, but inside, a bee hive of activity was going on. We were excited at our house because a PBS film crew from Boston was here to shoot part of a documentary with one of our former Amish young men. We had already met David Belton, one of the producers of the documentary, The Amish, in February when he came to check out the Bible study my husband hosts. I guess he thought it was okay since he came this time with another producer, Callie T. Wiser, Tim Cragg, the cameraman, and John Cameron (I hope I got that right!), the sound recordist.

As we sat around in a circle, I watched the crew get ready. First we were asked to shut off the furnace (too much noise). Then they situated the camera, put mics on Joe Keim and Levi (two of the former Amish in the documentary, and asked if they could unplug our fridge and freezer (also too much noise.)There was a lot of tinkering with this and that with both the sound and camera equipment. But I had come with my little camera ready and asked if I could take pictures of them as they filmed.

<--- Tim posed for me in my family's school room.

John, boom mic and all, posed there, too. --->

<---I caught David at the helm, looking into his camera to approve the shots.

You know what? It's just like you see on TV. The Bible study got underway, and as we talked, John slowly inched the long boom mic into the circle. It hovered over us as we spoke and most of the time, it was pretty easy to forget it was even there. But I saw a few of the former Amish young fellows cast their eyes upward, some with trepidation, as the boom mic crept ever closer.

It sure was an interesting and fun event! One of the documentary subjects was having his birthday that day, so the PBS crew had planned to meet us that night at the home of Johnny and Miriam Keim to film game night. We got a birthday party together and made our way to Ashland. It had warmed up quite a bit by then so my hair, never easy to manage on good days, totally flopped on top and frizzed in the back. Of course, I didn't plan on being filmed, but I have a feeling, unless God answers my prayers about that portion of tape ending up on the cutting room floor, I just might be seen on national TV next spring with the worst hair-do ever. *Sigh*.

Isn't that just how it goes? You get a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, like MAYBE being in a documentary and pfffttt...the hair flops big time. Since I wasn't the star, and the film crew were all guys because Callie kept disappearing, no one from PBS cared if I looked like a dork, and there were no make-up people along to fix anything.

But I told David I promised to be nice to them in my blog so I won't complain too much. In fact, he and John agreed to pose with me for a picture. I said they were nice for doing that but David insisted he wasn't usually nice to people. He asked John to verify that fact but the sound recordist, who seems to know which side his bread is buttered on, remained mute. His sly grin, however, answered for him.

Poor Tim was outside in a muddy field, in the rain, while we had this conversation. Next time you see a fancy and ephemeral shot in a TV movie or show, think about what the cameraman had to go through to get that. I'm sure if we see that scene next spring in the documentary, it will present the outside of the house, panning inside the windows, to a warm glowing gathering. From the looks of Tim's sodden shirt and hair when he finally got to come inside, I doubt he felt a warm glow.

Funny thing though:David kept an eye on what Tim was shooting with a device he held close to him all day. Seems David could view what the camera was filming from the inside--where he stayed nice and dry. I swear, though, at one point, after David had been on the porch waving
directions to Tim for another view, he came bouncing back in the door with a wicked grin on his face and a little chuckle on his lips as Tim moved to a new location outside in the rain. Must be nice to be the head honcho.

It was one of the most interesting days I've ever had, to be sure. I would do it again. But next time, if there is one, I'm going to the powder room right away to fix my hair.

She's Found!

2011-05-17T04:24:00.000-04:00

Here is a blog post from Lisa Mikitarian, Katalina's mom:

Thank you for your prayers!

Katalina must have been completely covered in your prayers of protection--because it seems she is safe in the care of a "good Christian family". I say seems because we haven't actually seen her. She contacted the mother of a friend she made in the program. She said this family was helping her to find a job and become independent. She wants to make us proud of her--not come home under a cloud of embarrassment. Until today, she had no idea anyone was looking for her. She felt bad for putting people through all that worry, yet was deeply touched at the same time. She really couldn't believe it. (I'll have more on that tomorrow.)

All of this is more than we could have hoped for. Sometimes a child is ready to become independent but can't do it under the watchful eyes of parents. And yet they aren't ready to be tossed to the wind. We couldn't ask for a better situation--if everything we've heard is true. We say that because if Katalina wanted to allay our worries, there's nothing better that she could tell us. Fortunately the Richmond Police Department won't close the case until they do a "welfare check" and get eyes on her. She didn't leave her number or location with her friend's mother--but she said she'd try to call again tonight--maybe even call home. We'll let her know then that she needs to reveal her location so this can be put to rest.

So, if you could pray a little longer. I feel 80% sure of what I've heard, but won't completely have peace until someone sees her and where she's living. I was overzealous when I called Jan--because in that moment it felt like she had been "found," and I felt the euphoria reflected in your comments. But technically we have just a little further to go.

You all have made this bearable. When the news hit the web, it exploded in a way that touched not just the heart, but the soul. Friends of friends of friends--no strangers as the Holy Spirit moved. Biblical concepts came to life. And when we were at our lowest, someone always came with the right words or video or verse. When my faith flagged, you took over and I experienced exactly what "standing in the gap" is.

As always, in good times and in bad, we give all the glory to a gracious and loving Father.

With Much Love,
All the Mikitarians

Please Help!

2011-05-15T16:25:00.003-04:00

My friend, Lisa Mikitarian, has posted a page on Facebook to help find her 21 year old daughter, Katalina. Please take a minute to read her post here, and then follow the link to Facebook and LIKE her page so we can help spread the word about Katalina. I can't imagine, were this my son, how I would handle such a terrible mystery. Thank you for anything you can do to help Katalina come home. The following is Lisa's post:

Our daughter, Katalina, has been missing since Monday, May 9, 2011. She was in a program in Richmond, Virginia. She broke their rules, and when it was discovered was dropped off at the Richmond Greyhound Station with $1.58 in her pocket and a voucher for a bus ticket to Charlottesville, VA--the station closest to home. She had no cell phone. It was 7:30 at night.

The program counselor left a message on our phone at about 7 to call her. We didn't get home from work/meetings until after 8:30 PM. By the time we were able to send someone to the station for us (we live 3+ hours away), Katalina was gone. We were unsure for several days whether she had even boarded the bus to C'ville or not, as she was emotional and unsure she even wanted to come home.

On Thursday surveillance tapes showed she had boarded the bus--which meant she intended to come home--but because the program hadn't made contact with us, there was no one there to meet her.

Did she meet someone on the bus? What did she think when she got off and didn't see her parents waiting for her? Where is she? Is she safe? How could they drop our daughter off at a bus station at night with no money and send her to a place where she knows no one?

These are the questions that plague us.

The Charlottesville Police Department is doing everything it can to find her.

Any help you can provide through prayer or the sharing of this page would be truly appreciated.

If you see her, please tell her that her family loves her, is worried and just wants to know she is all right. Please tell her to call home.

Thank you very much,
Sam and Lisa Mikitarian
540 335-5765

Katalina has short brown hair and brown eyes. She's 5'5" tall and weighs 135 lbs. She wears glasses. She was last seen wearing jeans, a brown blouse and flats.

Link to Facebook page FINDING KATALINA

Join Me!

2011-05-14T02:48:00.000-04:00

I'm over at Jewels of Encouragement today. Why don't you slip on over and join me? I'm Rattling On.

To My Daughter Rachel

2011-05-01T20:29:00.001-04:00

Rachel came into my life in a very unusual way. She was already a wonderful young lady and I knew her through other former Amish young ladies I met at Joe and Esther Keim's prayer meetings. I tutored Rachel for a little time, and through that, we became good friends.

One evening, just as I was leaving her apartment, she asked if she could chat with me. She asked if my husband and I would become her adoptive parents. Since she is not allowed to have much contact with her Amish family, she had no one to support her in her adult life. We were honored and thrilled! My husband and I became Mom and Dad to her and then in-laws to her new hubby, Eli.

In the short amount of time we have been family, she has grown in my heart like my own daughter. Her sweet temperament, shy smile, (and sometimes ornery grin) have blessed me in many ways. I love her laugh and her sense of humor. She is a smart gal and has fantastic skills as a young wife.

She sends the most wonderful cards, shares the most wonderful smiles, and each time we are together, a great contentment grows in my heart in her presence. She is the "little" girl I never had. How beautiful that God brought us together!

Rachel is proof that love knows no boundaries and family has more than one definition. So Rachel, thank you for asking us to be in your life. We love you (and Eli) very much!

I didn’t give you the gift of life,
But in my heart I know.
The love I feel is deep and real,
As if it had been so.
For us to have each other
Is like a dream come true.
No, I didn’t give you The gift of life,
Life gave me the gift of you.
– Unknown

Rushing Wind

2011-04-25T02:54:00.001-04:00

Rushing Wind

by Keith Green

Rushing wind, blow through this temple,

Blowing out the dust within;

Come and breathe your breath upon me:

I've been born again.

Holy Spirit, I surrender; take me where you want to go.

Plant me by your living water,

Plant me deep so I can grow.

Jesus, you’re the one who sets my spirit free;

Use me, Lord; glorify your Holy Name through me.

Separate me from this world, Lord;

Sanctify my life for you.

Daily change me to your image,

Help me bear good fruit.

Ev'ry day you're drawing closer;

Trials come to test my faith.

But when all is said and done, Lord,

You know it's been worth the wait.

Jesus, you’re the one who set my spirit free;

Use me, Lord; glorify your Holy Name through me.

Rushing wind, blow through this temple,

Blowing out the dust within;

Come and breathe your breath upon me,

For I've been born again.

It's Raining, It's Pouring..I Wish I Was Snoring

2011-04-19T18:10:00.000-04:00

Today is one of those dreary spring days when it's cold, wet and windy. I didn't want to get out of bed and I didn't want to go to my doctor's appointment. I think we should be allowed to call off life if the day is too conducive to sleep. I want nothing more than a soft pillow, my snuggly jammies and cozy bed. How I long to sleep and sleep and sleep!

That won't happen, of course, even if I do go back to bed. Murphy's Law makes it clear when a person goes back to bed, even on a perfect day to crawl back under the covers, said person is NOT going to sleep. Said person will instead lie there wide-eyed and awake, whining for rest that never comes.

So okay--scratch that idea. Maybe I should write. Yes. Good idea. Open Word...pull up blog article that is due May 1st...ummmmm...hmmmm...huh?...yeah.

Okay. Scratch that until later. Maybe I could plan Easter dinner. Yay--good idea!

Stack the recipe books...scan the variety of potato recipes...boy--look at all those ingredients...keep original idea of cheese potatoes...close books.

So, okay, scratch THAT notion, too.

Gee, my bed looks too cozy. Back to that original idea. Somebody pull down the shades and wake me when dinner's ready.

Reading Charolotte

2011-03-28T09:03:00.002-04:00

I have a Nook and one of the best things about having a Nook is the access I have to Project Gutenberg. This is a website which offers classic books in e form. This means I can download, for free, my beloved Charlotte Bronte books!

I first became aware of the Bronte family after I read Jane Eyre while I was in Junior High. I'll never forget the impact the surprise "in the attic" had on me. Boy! Talk about conflict. Was there ever a better hook written?

Since then I can't count the number of times I've read that book, and I have also read all of Charlotte's novels. I am currently reading Shirley and I just finished The Professor, thanks to Project Gutenberg.

I highly recommend this site if you are a lover of classics and would like to download an ebook.

Ahem...now you'll have to excuse me while I turn on my Nook, curl up in my bed and go back to 1849 with Charlotte.

Mountains Bow Down by Sibella Giorello

2011-03-16T01:14:00.003-04:00

Looking for a good suspense novel? My writing friend, Tim George, is featuring author Sibella Giorello on his sites today. Check out her new book and watch for a chance to win an autographed copy of her suspense novel Mountains Bow Down.

Visit Tim's site here:

Unveiled

Or here:

Fiction That Dares to Look Beyond the Veil

Visit Sibella's site here:

Sibella Giorello

Thanks for the introduction to this new novel, Tim!

Jewels of Encouragement

2011-03-14T03:07:00.000-04:00

Join me at Jewels of Encouragement today! If you've ever had trouble with self-image, then you'll know what I'm talking about in my post titled "My Big Ear!"

Vanilla Wafers of the World: Thank You!

2011-03-04T01:00:00.001-05:00

I like to watch human behavior. Maybe that's why I'm a writer: several "units" of inspiration are walking around me constantly. One aspect of human behavior I notice is how much we're impressed by flash and glam.

We can't seem to help ourselves: the latest and greatest gets us revved up and ready to roll! We like to be the first to view the new fashions, drive the new cars, invest in the big house with the pool, buy the fancy cookie. But there is something that has consistently captured my thoughts through the years, and that is the everyday, boring, trust-worthy thing.

No one notices the white shirt. It's simply wearable. Every day.
Going ga-ga over the old plain Ford? Naw. It just starts. Every day.
We sure don't rush out to invest in that ordinary cottage. It's livable. Every day.
Vanilla wafer? It makes the banana pudding what it is. Every time.

None of these things are exciting. They each plod along...one step at a time...one year passing into the next...showing up...being responsible...and getting ignored.

Reminds me of some people. I like to look around in a church service, school event, or social gathering and try to guess who the quiet, responsible vanilla wafers are in the crowd. It's easy to spot the double chocolate nut-filled raspberry confections: they're usually at the front--at a podium or a pulpit or a microphone. But those vanilla wafers, they blend right into the gray linoleum.

Servants. Encouragers. Busy bees. They're the ones who get called at the last minute because you know they'll say yes and jump in to help. The ones who find out, somehow, that someone needs a hug. Someone needs a loan. Someone needs...and they try to fill the hole of that need. Every time. Every day.

Without these vanilla wafers, ministries would fail, school events would be cancelled, and social gatherings would be filled with self-seeking bores who wouldn't lift a pinky to clean-up.

So this post is for you, Vanilla Wafers! Keep up the good work...and remember this:

"Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.” Luke 13:30, NIV

A Smiley Message to Mother Nature

2011-02-24T16:43:00.000-05:00

Forecast: 6-7 MORE inches of snow:

There will be more of this:

And this:

She wants us to:

But I have a message for Mother Nature...

"Look into my eyes":

"You will bring SPRIIIING..."

It's Official: I'm an Author!

2011-02-14T23:03:00.010-05:00

As any writer can tell you, there are milestones along the path of writing which help us feel like a real author. Sometimes it happens when a writer sees a first-time published article or short story. Sometimes it's that first check--written to your name--that makes a writer say "Eureka! I'm an author!"

I've hit a few of those fore-mentioned milestones, but nothing compares to having my name signed to the bottom of a literary agency's contract. I finally reached that milestone! I have been signed to the Hartline Literary Agency, and will be working with agent Terry Burns.

It's my eureka moment! I'm hoping for that future signing, of course, when my novel will be published, but for now, I'm celebrating this milestone.

As soon as my bio comes up on Terry's website, there WILL be a link here on my blog! Thanks for your continued prayers and support.

Now, on to the next milestone...

This One's for You, Honey

2011-02-04T09:32:00.005-05:00

I was joking with a friend on facebook this morning about how my husband will probably never retire. This conversation led to think about what a hard worker he is. He is always ready to go to work! He prays about his clients and his co-workers, and does his best when he is at work.

Sometimes, I become blase about the ordinary things my hubby does. But really, he is extraordinary. Because God made him just the way he is, he is unique. Even his daily work habits are unique to him and a blessing to his co-workers, his employer, and to his family. I never have to worry about his eagerness to work. He blesses me with stability and a feeling of being safe.

I think that's what God intended for him to be to me and to our son: someone for us to lean on and someone for us turn to when we feel vulnerable. He is a God-fearing man and honors his commitments to God, his family and his employer.

So thank you, Arlen Yoder, for being the hard worker you are! I love you, honey!

The Ants Go Marching...

2011-01-25T20:16:00.004-05:00

A few days ago I spied an ant. It was on the door to the kitchen pantry that holds the wastebasket, of course. It was a teeny tiny ant and it was by itself. I thought "Uh-oh--are there more?" But I didn't see any. Still. An ant. Could that be a good sign?

Lest you think I've lost my mind, I was thinking maybe this was a sign of spring. I glanced out the window...snow was still there. Glanced at the thermometer...cold was still there. Didn't look a thing like spring. But if the ants are out, could it mean they know something I don't know? Could it mean they know spring is going to be early this year?

Tonight, we ate fast food, and a french fry dropped on the floor, unseen by any of us. But the ants saw it and when we went back in the kitchen, the french fry had become an ant buffet. They were all over that poor potato.

I have to admit I was a little grossed out, but my first reaction was excitement: it must mean something that a horde of ants showed up! It MUST mean spring was sprung down under--deep in the ground where the little beasties live, perhaps?

Well, hubby decided it was time to act so he hurried to the store and came home with ant traps. Those poor dumb ants. They feasted on that trap like hogs at the trough, then staggered, sated, back to their nests dragging the poison with them.

Ah well...though the ants are living on borrowed time (24 hours, in fact, according to the package insert), they could still symbolize my soon release from winter.

Right? Just agree with me, please. I need to hang on to my spring dream.

Doomed?

2011-01-12T22:54:00.007-05:00

I have acquaintances who are constantly concerned and worried over the Church. Some seemingly spout nothing but gloom. The church is doomed...it is steeped in disobedience...some say we are not spiritual enough...not dedicated enough...not praying enough...not living holy enough...not sorrowful enough...not sorry enough...not DOING enough...not being good Christians enough.

And you know what? They're right!

And isn't that why we are covered with grace?

Lord, I beg You to keep my eyes fixed on You and how much You fulfill me...how much You teach me...how much You give me the ability to do Your work. Help me not to bow under the weight of well-intentioned peer pressures. Help me not to lose sight that I am nothing, and can do nothing without You to begin the work in me. Help me to recognize every breath I take is the breath You give me. Help me to remember my soul is only TRULY alive through You. I ask in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who has washed away every stain of sin I carried with His blood.

Mother's of Young Children

2010-11-30T14:50:00.007-05:00

When my son was small, I had this poem copied and printed, framed it, and put it by my bed. I'd like to share it with young moms. (If anyone knows the author's identity, please let me know so I can give credit.) No truer words about motherhood have EVER been written.

MY HANDS WERE BUSY

My hands were busy through the day.
I didn’t have much time to play.
The little games you asked to do,
I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook,
but when you'd bring your picture book
and ask me, please, to share your fun,
I say "a little later, Son."

I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
and hear your prayers, turn out the light
then tiptoe softly by your door.
I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

For life is short, the years rush past,
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at your side,
his precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,
there are no children's games to play.
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear.
That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands, once busy, now lie still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
the little things you asked me to do.

Anonymous

My Life in a Nutshell

2010-11-23T08:41:00.006-05:00

As I was looking over my profile page on my Facebook account this morning, I realized there were a lot of things about me missing. I haven't added any of my interests, favorite movies, TV shows, books, or anything else that makes me who I am. I have my mom listed as my mom, and I listed my brother, sister, husband and two kids, but what about Dad? Since he went to heaven last year, I'd forgotten to add him. So I corrected that, and then, to let people know where he was, I listed he was in heaven since May 2009.

I was thinking: so much is on that short list, yet it is basically my life in a nutshell. All the people I've loved, relationships, events, memories happy and sad...and it fit on the side of a facebook page.

When my son's dad died (Jim Brown), I remember the day I had to go down to his office and clean out his things. He'd worked for Mansfield City schools over 15 years--his entire working career, yet when his co-worker brought his things to my car, it all fit in two small boxes. I looked at those boxes and memories of late nights working from home to fix people's problems, the hours he spent trying to figure out what program had crashed and why, scheduling headaches, grade cards, valedictorians, and all the minute details computer managers handle flashed across my mind. All that work...all that frustration...and it fit into these two little card board boxes.

Someone told me that when a co-worker dies, over time, it's like a finger is dipped into a bucket of water and then removed: no evidence is left behind they were ever there.

This taught me something. Work is necessary and work is often fulfilling, but work is never as important as relationships. Relationships with co-workers, relationships with friends, family, and church family is most important. And relationship with God tops the list.

Life lessons can't be described in nutshells since they create who we are. I learned that day with the boxes how I should live with the people I love. How have you learned to put your relationships in proper order?

Andrea Bocelli and Assorted Other Thoughts

2010-10-26T20:56:00.006-04:00

I'm not much of an opera fan even though I love music. For some reason, the opera-style voice sounds "fake" to me. I thought it was just my inexperience talking until my high school music teacher admitted she felt the same way. Hmm. But the minute I heard Andrea Bocelli's voice, I melted into a puddle. He has a wonderful style. I love listening to him. Except when he sings opera. Well, I can't change that personal preference, I guess. (Can't win 'em all, Andrea.)

I've been struggling lately with more blood sugar issues and migraines. Sometimes, I think I've completely forgotten what feeling well feels like. I hate that. But when I do have a good day, and more than four hours of sleep, I am elated! I wake up all smiles and am acutely aware of great health. I suppose that's a good pay-off.

NaNoWriMo is coming and I am not ready. The silly thing is that I'm not going to be working on a new project but will be attempting to finish last year's WIP. So all the preliminary work is ready: outline, characters, story line, etc. But I really should read the story again, don't you think--just so I refresh myself about what was written 12 months ago??

Winter is sneaking up on me. I feel it and smell it's nasty breath. If it weren't for Christmas, I'd fall into depths of depression with that willful weather wolf crouching just ahead.

I read all the time how Thanksgiving is some people's favorite holiday. It's not mine. It's a lot of work if you're hosting the big feast and I really dislike that gamey turkey taste I get after one bite of the designated holiday bird. I do, however, like the desserts, but having diabetes really puts a crimp in my dessert eating style. Oh well. It's all about planning...if I eat this and don't eat that, THEN I can have that pie. (Cream pie, please, not orangey punkin stuff or eggy custard pie. Eww.)

I have other thoughts in my noggin, of course, but my fingers want to go to bed. The rest of me wants to also. Thanks for reading my rambling and random ideas.

How about you? What thoughts are rattling 'round in your noggin tonight?

What Good is the Church...Really?

2010-10-02T23:20:00.004-04:00

You may look at my title and think: Well, we know she'll never say anything negative so that title is just a teaser. Or you may say: How dare she even suggest there's something wrong with the church!

I guess I feel both ways. There is something wrong with the church, and there's nothing wrong with the church. I have times when I think about the church...a lot. Sometimes I shake my head at something bad that happens in the church. Sometimes I get misty-eyed about something good that happens in the church. A few things of both kinds have happened to me.

I've been the recipient of a minister's confession that he doesn't want a mentally ill person messing up the new white caddy that "his" church bought him. That made me sick to my stomach--literally. I've known people who played church really nicely...then went home and did despicable, evil things to their families. My church family has told me off, told me I'm weak, told me how to grieve, and told me I'm being punished by God because I've had two husband's with cancer. I've seen a lot, too. I've seen manifestations of God that have mirror images performed by those who listen to the "fallen-angel-from-down-under". I've had a Sunday school teacher who told me I'd go to hell if I kept chewing gum in church. And women who make it their business to check out how many times I show up in church--I wonder if I should just punch a time clock and get it over with?

Well...so, the church ISN'T perfect. It has swindlers and cheats, gossips and brow beaters among it's folds. The flock, sometimes, surely can smell.

But I've also seen a miracle healing or two. Or more. I've known sweet ladies who gave and gave and then gave some more and never asked for anything for themselves. I've had a minister sit by my bedside, long into the night...reading a story book to me as I recovered from surgery when I was a kid. And how about the pastor who talked to my late husband about things in heaven when hope was over for this world? He gave comfort like I'd never seen before. Then there was the family who'd lost a son...they insisted on serving my family a dinner when we were grieving our lost loved one. They knew what it was like. And they gave out of a heart of compassion. How about all the Sunday school teachers who gave hugs and comfort? Who taught hope and Christ's love? Oh boy--and those moms who made cookies and punch for VBS...they loved it, though it wore them down. I've seen people open their hearts and their checkbooks to help others...more times than I can count.

So what good is the church? It shows love and hate...bitterness and compassion...God's forgiveness and Satan's condemnation...and all the things and emotions that make people bad, good, ugly, and holy. Wow.

And underneath it all, is Christ and His GRACE. We only have to look at the church to see proof Christ is needed AND proof Christ was given. The church is a microcosm of the world's people. Maybe the best thing about the church is this: it is an example of all things hoped for and all things covered by Jesus' grace. It is an example of, and a history of, us.

1 Corinthians 12:25-26 (The Message)
The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don't, the parts we see and the parts we don't. If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance. You are Christ's body—that's who you are! You must never forget this...

Pardon My Slump

2010-09-15T01:40:00.005-04:00

This has been the long, hot summer for me. Very long. Very hot. Very lethargic. Only now have the temps begun to be in the normal summer range and not the skull-charring 90's they've been the last few weeks. (Hey, this is Ohio; it's not supposed to compete with the arid, scorching West.)

Seems that when the summer temps began to soar, my writing urge began to dwindle. It trickled, like a creek bed under the relentless Mr. Sol until, finally, nothing even remotely refreshing was moving from my brain to the laptop. The Slump was on.

It's not over, either, but I'm trying to prime the pump, so-to-speak. I hate this slump. It's the longest one I've ever had. And worse, it has come with friends. It brought Ms. Despair, Mr. You-Are-Boring, and Miss Pack-It-In along to help me stay slumped and miserable.

But I have a ray of hope, slim as it may be: I read my Powerful Odor of Mendacity manuscript, and I was cracking myself up. I actually had to convince myself I'd even wrote it--it was THAT good. Excuse the bragging, but I have to give in to a smidgen of self-praise just to hold on to the hope that The Slump will end--one of these days.

I was worried, at first, but now I've become eerily content to ride it out (or maybe I'm just still lethargic.) I have faith The Slump will pass, and until then, I'll keep priming.

He's...He's Getting Ready to DRIVE

2010-08-20T14:02:00.005-04:00

I just waved good-bye to my son. He is going with his dad to the Driver's License Bureau to take his written test to obtain his driving permit. Yikes! When did he become old enough? I've already blogged about how quickly he grew up, and now, I'll have proof he is no longer my little boy.

If he passes his written test, this will be a huge step forward for him. He has Asperger's Syndrome and doing anything of this magnitude is a big deal for him. It's been a bit of a struggle to get him to this point. And actually driving will be another huge step. He is reluctant and worried. But one thing I've learned about my son is he has a great ability to push onward, and once he makes up his mind to do something, he will follow through beautifully. I have no doubts he will learn to drive well.

I'm just not gonna be the one to teach him, okay? That journey will fall to his dad...after all, I've done the home educating...right? Fair is fair.

Neighborhood Caliopy

2010-08-14T07:07:00.004-04:00

I'm beginning to spend time re-acquainting myself with the main character and settings which are part of my second book titled The Powerful Odor of Mendacity. I love the story, characters, and time period I'm writing about.

I recently wrote a short story for the FaithWriters Writing Challenge and the theme was "hear". I decided to use the setting from my second book to launch my story. This story will be modified, possibly expanded, and added to the book. I want to post it to give my potential readers a taste of what's in store in my second book. I hope you enjoy it! (By the way, I won fourth place!)

Neighborhood Calliope
By Dee Yoder
07/10/10 ~4th Place

I lean my head out the window and watch curiously as Henry’s mom, barefoot, chases him down the street. She is screaming at the top of her lungs while waving a neon orange Hot Wheels track. Henry, his blond hair bouncing with each step, glances over his shoulder. His wide grin belies any fear of his mom and her weapon.

“Henry! You stop right now, you little brat! If I catch you, so help me, you’ll know you’ve been caught! Do you hear me? Stop! Now!”

Her cigarette-touched voice croaks out the last word as Henry leads the parade through a couple of driveways before doubling back to his own yard. Just as he approaches the front door of his house, he pretends to stumble over a rock, allowing his mom to set upon him with orange-blurred blows. He guffaws with each whack, as though the flopping race track rains love taps against his head and ears. They chase into the house and silence returns to the street. I wait a second or two and then give up; there will not be any more excitement from their side of the road.

Later, summer puts away her heat and shakes the cool out of the day as night approaches. I shoogle into my p.j.s and pull the light blanket off my pillow. I sigh as my head rustles against the scent of lemony clean sheets, and my eyes grow drowsy as my ears tune themselves into the night frogs’ choir. Their bee-rup bee-rup song signals my brain that all is well. Muscles put away their desire to tense and stretch, tense and stretch, as my body lets go of its daily plan. I drift into surrendered sleep.

Suddenly, angry shouts snap my brain to attention as adrenaline calls the troops to order along my unseen nerve highway. I sit up, barely breathing, heart pounding, as I listen for the source of the din. My ears scan the air waves until they pinpoint the recognizable sounds of the neighbors’ voices.

“Why do you always let him come home like this? Every ding-dang night he plows in here, drunk as a skunk, hollering and stumbling—stinkin’ up the house. I’m sick of it! You hear me? Sick of it!”

A crash of breaking glass accompanies the roiling angry words. I jump.

I peel the covers back slowly and crabwalk my way to the window, keeping low so my reconnaissance remains undetected. I peek over the sill, the gentle night breeze blowing filmy curtains against my face. I huff the fluff away and eye the neighbors’ kitchen window. It is lit with yellow light and the light flows out of the window to spill its weak color over the darkened drive that separates our houses. I shiver as I spy an ominous shadow looming large in the kitchen next door. The shadow lurches jerkily as other shadows join it, wrestling together with grunts and groans and slaps. Shrill cries and sad sobs accompany the dreary sight. My knees shake.

A woman begins to keen.

“It’s the war, Philip! You know it is,” she wails. “That stinking jungle and those bombs—shaking him all night long--he weren’t like this before he went over there!”

“I don’t care anymore what his excuse is. It’s got to stop! You hear me? I can’t stand it no more! I can’t take it!” and a man’s gravelly voice launches into loud sobs.

Silence walks in and sits down at their table. I almost think I can hear the trio breathing. My heart beats in pity and sends out its own waves of sound. The thuds hurt, they are so hard against my chest. I feel prickles of tears crowd the edges of my eyes. Despair seeps out of their open window and snakes its way to where I’m hiding. It joins hands with my soul’s sorrow, settling a dark cloud, heavy and thick, over me. My body trembles under the weight.

“Jesus, You know their pain. You know what poor Alan has suffered in Viet Nam. Bring them comfort, Lord.”

My ears cock and turn toward my parents’ bedroom. The whispered prayer is barely heard and my ears fine-tune to catch the meaning. “Love them, Jesus. Love them.”

The prayer stops. Hope and peace sprinkle their cures over my spirit. I sigh and lift my hand toward the neighbors’ kitchen.

“Jesus, love them,” I echo as I fling imaginary grace against their window panes.

Shake Me to Wake Me!

2010-08-06T01:27:00.004-04:00

"Shake Me To Wake Me"
by Steve Camp

I was born in a religious town
That had a very good name
Everybody wore their faith around
Like a ball and chain
People living so carefully
Trying to keep the image clean
But underneath all the sanctity
Things were not what they seemed, oh no

Salvation was nice and neat
It had four little laws
And that arrangement was fine with me
Cause it didn't really cost nothin'
But something that I read in my bible one day
Really shook my world
Jesus was talking 'bout Pharisees
He was talking 'bout me
So I fell to my knees and said

Shake me to wake me
I've been living too long in this fantasy
Shake me to wake me
Got to strip this man of mediocrity

Sometimes, when my heart is proud
I get full of myself
Self-righteousness will bring you down
I ain't better than nobody else
Other times, I drink the wine of complacency
I get comfortable, lackadaisical, so cynical
So I call to my Lord and say

Shake me to wake me
I've been living too long within this fantasy
Shake me to wake me
You've got to strip this man of mediocrity

You were born in a religious town
That had a very good name
You were wearing your faith around
Like a ball and chain
You've been living so carefully
Trying to keep the image clean
But Jesus is talking 'bout Pharisees
About you and me
You better fall to your knees and say

Shake me to wake me,
I've been living too long within this fantasy
Shake me to wake me
You've got to strip this man of mediocrity
Shake me to wake me
I've been living too long within this fantasy
Shake me to wake me
I been sleeping too long, put some fire in me

Put some fire in me
Oh, you got to shake me
Oh, you got to wake me, Lord
Lost in a fantasy

Wasn't It Yesterday When They Were Small?

2010-07-30T21:40:00.007-04:00

"Sunrise, sunset...sunrise, sunset...quickly fly the years." That line comes from the song "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. I sang it, along with my sister, at a friend's wedding many, many years ago. But today I'm remembering it because my son is soon going to be 18. I can't help thinking of the yesterdays when he was little...and we did a lot of complaining as parents, when we stepped on LEGO blocks or I had to clear Hot Wheels cars off my kitchen island yet AGAIN before I could cook.

I remember turning to my husband, at one point after a tirade about little toys under foot, and saying: "You know, one of these days we're going to miss these little cars." But even as I said it, I wasn't sure that day would ever come. And yet--mysteriously, it did.

Being the parent of one, I knew from the start that everything I did as a mom was for the last time. When I put away the crib, it was for the last time. When I gave that final little boy bath, it was for the last time. When I let him dress alone, helping him choose was for the last time. So knowing this, I haven't been completely caught off guard as my son grew up. And yet...there's no way to prepare for the last times of childhood.

It can be imagined, but never known until I look back one day and say to myself "Hmmm...he hasn't had his LEGOS out at all today." Then that day grows to several weeks and then months and then years.

Never is the bittersweet moments and milestones of being a mom ever more present than when childhood waves goodbye and goes out the door for the last time. I feel sad, and a bit glad, but mostly shocked that time has not warned me it was tick tick ticking away while I worked or cooked or cleaned or gardened. And there's no bargaining with time to bring back some of those days that seemed so routine, but have instead, been discovered too late, to be a treasure that was not even recognized in the moment.

Sigh. And that is why it is so much fun to think about being a grandmother someday. Then, I assure myself, I will fully recognize and acknowledge the unstoppable power of time. And I will sit and ponder and play with and treasure my grandkids. I will never again take time for granted for now I know how quickly childhood races into the future and disappears. And I will savor each minute.

Summer, Summer Everywhere! Except in the Stores

2010-07-10T23:25:00.004-04:00

Summer is passing swiftly. When I see things in the stores that signal fall, school clothes and supplies, Thanksgiving items, fall foliage decor, I get antsy. It means the long, slow days of summer are beginning to fade. How can it happen so quickly? For those of us who live in areas where climate changes, the dark, dreary days of winter are never far from our minds. We are always looking for signs of the end of warmth and the beginning of cold.

I haven't seen changing leaves yet, but it's enough just to see the stores changing out their merchandise. Ugh. I don't want to be reminded! I want to sit on my porch and watch the fireflies come out. I want to smell the flowers and the fresh, warm air. I want summer to last, well, forever...except for two weeks before and a week after Christmas. If snow happened three weeks a year, I'd be a very happy camper.

In the mean time, bring on the sunshine and the flowers!

Transcripts and Edits and Newsletters...Oh My!

2010-06-29T10:13:00.004-04:00

I should be used to the summer pile up by now, but somehow, it always takes me by surprise. I can't seem to erase the romantic notion that once school is over every year, and summer is here, my work load will ease. Riiiight. Dream on, Dee. I think I can blame my die-hard idea of summer "freedom" on those halcyon days of youth when the end of school signaled total kid irresponsibility.

Every summer has its own stack of "must dos" and mine this year include edits to my book, The Miting, pulling out old grade cards to create those all-important transcripts as my son nears the end of his homeschool career, and making sure I gather the materials needed to have a newsletter ready by its deadline. Somehow, I thought I'd have more time.

But never mind. I can still enjoy my summer. I can take time to sit on the back porch swing and watch the fireflies rise from their cool hiding places as dusk falls. I can mosey out to the little garden and pick some onions or pull a few weeds and encourage the tomatoes to turn red. I can spy on the hummingbirds from my front window as they steal nectar from the sweet flowers nodding in their beds. And I can still feel a twinge of excitement when I hear the ice cream truck's song from far off. Summer is still here! Work has not stolen all my time...yet. Happy summer!

My Little Garden is Growing!

2010-06-02T09:10:00.004-04:00

My tiny garden is growing! We've been having hot weather here in Ohio and that has spurred the tomato plant growth. I already have a few green onions to pull and the peppers are looking nice and strong. It's amazing what the right combination of elements can do for a garden. No wedding needs done yet, so I'm at the perfect place: not too much work and lots of results.

Now, if only I could get to that place in my life! I know God must sometimes wonder when I'm going to settle in and let Him shine in my soul...water my seeds with kindness and His word...and show some results from having just the right elements nourishing my spirit. It doesn't take much, but it does take a little consistent time. I have to let my soul rest, be nourished and warmed before I have the strength to help others. I pray I make the time to let the Master Gardner work in my life today!

I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
firm muscles, strong bones.
You'll be like a well-watered garden,
a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You'll be known as those who can fix anything,
restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
make the community livable again. The Message, Isaiah 58:11-12

My Little Corner of the World

2010-05-16T20:21:00.004-04:00

I nearly got lost making way to this blog...it's been so long since I stopped in here! Today I wandered outside (yes, really!) and tilled the soil in my teeny tiny garden. It's a raised bed and has room for a couple of tomato plants, a few green pepper plants, a couple of rows of onions and a few little herb plants. I love it!

I used to fight the hard clay dirt of the yard in a much bigger space, but I finally had enough of that futile work. A few years ago, my hubby built a raised bed and we filled it full of nice, loamy earth. Its rich and fluffy soil gives me a great yield for such a small space. I can fence it in to keep the bunnies out and still lean over to tend the plants. Did I tell you I love it??

I always laugh when I place the tomato cages carefully over the tiny tomato plants. I mean, it reminds me of the song "High Hopes". The cages tower over the puny plants, but the tomatoes get to have the last laugh. By the end of July, they look like cousins of the giant Venus flytrap from the "Little Shop of Horrors". I would never lie down amongst them for fear they'd engulf me with their tendrils and shoots.

I'm happy to pluck the first fruits of the tomatoes, but by the time fall approaches, I'm ready to murder the monster plants. How DO those botanical wonders create SO many darn tomatoes??? For that reason, I limited myself to TWO tomato plants this year. I know I'll still have plenty of red orbs to eat and cook with and plenty to freeze for cold winter chilis and stews.

Speaking of monster plants, I made the sign of the cross as I passed the zucchinis at the nursery today. I have never planted zucchinis or squash or egg plant. Those things make no secret of their diabolical plans to take over the earth...I just wish other gardeners would do the same. Why help those treacherous veggies accomplish their goal of total world domination? *Shudder*

Anyway, it was a good day. I'm whipped, but glad I can look out my window and see that beautiful patch of dirt. And soon, there WILL be fresh veggies to pluck and devour 'cause I have hiiiiigh hopes...I have hiiigh hopes...I have high apple pie in the skyyyyy hopes...

Halfway to Normal

2010-05-05T09:38:00.005-04:00

Well, I think I got halfway over the writer's block. I wrote a Faithwriters Challenge entry first time in...uh..months??) and a Zest post written. I hope that counts with my Muse. I hope she hasn't packed up her bags and taken off for greener pastures yet.

I have edits to do, too. I'm about halfway through the Amish novel with the edits. I finished Chapter 8 and have 8 more chapters to go. Wheee!

Lessee...I'm more than halfway through homeschool with my son...so that means I'm halfway back to normal. I think.

But I still feel foggish. I still feel like I'm only using half my brain. I wonder if I'll wake up some day and feel fully THERE? Anyone know if that happens when you're past fifty? Give me some hope!

Anyway, here's hoping for a better week, writing/editing wise. If you're feeling like me, we gotta keep hanging in there! We can't give over to the delicious need for sleep and laziness...and staring at the TV with our jaws slack. We gotta get up and get at 'em. Right? Anyone with me? Hello...oh well. Rats. Time for a nap.

What Is WRONG With Me?

2010-04-30T08:56:00.003-04:00

I don't know if I have true writer's block, but I have something wrong with me. There's a heavy fog settled over the writing part of my brain. Nothing goes in and nothing comes out. Can you tell?

I haven't written much on my blog or anywhere else for that matter. I'm doing okay with editing my novel, but that's about it.

So...have you experienced this kind of writing drought before? What did you do to get over the block? I think I need to make myself DO something...but I have no idea what...and if I did know, I'm not sure I could DO it. I'm open to suggestions!

In the mean time, I might go read some blogs...another long neglected activity...but that's another problem for another day.

Stuff

2010-04-14T15:32:00.005-04:00

A bunch of random things are rolling around in my head. It's a been a couple of busy weeks at my house. Here's a few of my random thoughts:

Facebook is wonderful for reuniting old friendships! I "found" a couple of old friends from my single years and it was a happy surprise to get to visit with them again. I can't wait to renew our ties--even if it is just on the pages of Facebook.

I hosted a bridal shower for my adopted ex-Amish daughter, Rachel. It was fun! Many of the attendees were also ex-Amish and it was interesting to notice the way they interact and the way they have a naive expectation about all English events. They don't always know exactly what will happen, but they always laugh and have fun. Ladies can, when they get together, really let down their hair when they want to.

I get upset when my friends and family get taken in by medical quackery. I think it just happened to some of my friends. Just so you know: "Iridology" is not a recognized science, and once you understand how the body works, and that the iris DOES NOT CHANGE, you will know that it is IMPOSSIBLE to read people's illnesses by mapping the iris. Impossible!

I have been editing my Amish novel. It is slow going since I have a: gotten bogged down in the process, and b: gotten bored with my own writing. Many knowledgeable writers and editors have assured me this is "normal". But what a bummer. I took a week off last week and am back at it again. I did well last night and managed to wrestle edits out of 1 1/2 chapters. Onward!

Spring has truly sprung in Ohio and the daffodils are strutting their stuff. It is beautiful. I love that fresh renewed smell in the world outside my window right now!

There are many other random thoughts still in my head, but I have to get myself back to work. Until the next time: Happy Spring!

I Know How You Feel

2010-04-02T00:09:00.006-04:00

One day, when my late husband was drawing closer and closer to death, I was watching him and our son playing in the living room. Our little boy was just shy of three year's old, and he was oblivious to the inevitable future without his daddy. But I was seeing their play and hearing their laughter and watching my once healthy husband stretch out skinny arms to hold his son.

Suddenly, tears came and I had to work hard to choke back a long, heart-rending sob. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't sit by and watch this cruel destruction of our once happy family. I hurried from the room to hide my over-whelming emotions from both of them. I didn't want to ruin their most precious moment. Who knew, after all, how many fun moments were left?

I went to the bedroom I shared with this wonderful husband and father and began to make the bed. I struggled to control myself, but halfway around the bed, an enormous weakness hit me at the knees and I sank to the floor. I pressed my face into the blankets to keep my cries from reaching the living room and I finally let my fears and anger out to God.

I cried over and over again "Why, Lord? I see You're going to take Jim home soon. But why? Why destroy me and my son? Don't You know how much this will hurt my little boy? Don't You know how much You're tearing my heart out? Why?" The dam broke and all the repressed emotions rushed to the surface. My heart broke in two. My spirit and courage flagged and I was a spent being.

And then, He spoke to my heart.

"Dee, I know how you feel. I know. I gave up my own Son so that you will see Jim again someday. I gave Him up so you will never say good-bye to your loved ones again."

He reminded me that His heart broke in two the day he turned His back on His own Son. The day He let His Son know sin. The day the veil was torn and all of humanity was set free for the asking. The day His Son bled. Cried. Pleaded for mercy. The day humanity mocked and flogged and pierced His Son's frail flesh. In that moment, I knew He knew my pain. That moment changed me.

Today we remember Christ's sacrifice. Today we say thank you. Today we remember that our Father knows...He knows...and He understands.

When you were stuck in your old sin-dead life, you were incapable of responding to God. God brought you alive—right along with Christ! Think of it! All sins forgiven, the slate wiped clean, that old arrest warrant canceled and nailed to Christ's cross. Colossians 2:14 The Message

Stylish Blog Award

2010-03-17T15:38:00.004-04:00

Thanks to my dear friend, Sara, I have a new award for my blog: Stylish blog Award.

Thanks, Sara! With this award I'm supposed to tell five fun things about myself. Hmmm...fun things? Um...well, here goes:

1. I LOVE to watch old black and white games shows--or just about any old black and white TV show from the 50's and 60s'. It reminds me of my youth and some kind of innocence that was in life then. TV was never raunchy and you had to mind your p's and q's (no swearing on the air!). Men wore suits or tuxes and women wore evening gowns for TV appearances. Wow.

2. I prefer to eat crunchy foods. Mushy or smooshy foods (I call them non-violent) are no fun to eat and tend to make me gag. Especially hot cereals. UGH. Exceptions: cake of any kind.

3. I like to paint with watercolors. But I'm not very good. I wish I were a better painter.

4. I never realized how many books I made as a child until my son and I went through my school record book the other day. Out fell numerous little homemade books that spanned my school years. One was even sewn together to create a bound edge. Hmm. Guess the writing bug was in me early. I'd kind of forgotten about that.

5. I like politics more than I should. It gets me steamed up, though, so I avoid it these days. I like my opponents to play fair, but when they get all hoity-toity about their views, like theirs are FAR more urbane and "tolerant", I either want to laugh or punch them in the nose. Ha!

I'm supposed to pass this award on to five other bloggers, but I know how busy many of you are. So, if you love to blog, consider yourself "knighted" with the Stylish blog award. Please feel free to accept this award for yourself.

A Clean Desk

2010-03-09T09:16:00.005-05:00

I cleaned off my desk last night. I even got the vacuum cleaner out and swept the carpet in my study. I've been working on a book proposal all weekend and to tell you the truth, it got quite messy in that room, especially around the chair area. It's hard to believe all the crumbs and papers that can accumulate while a person is working diligently.

The book proposal is in so there's nothing else to do for that but wait. I'm ready to move on to other projects, but first I just HAD to get some of the clutter and mess under control. It's lovely to walk in here now and see clean space! I even gave The Beast a quick dusting.

As I cleaned, I talked to the Lord. I let Him know that I'm aware how much I need to be reminded to trust Him with all my work. There's nothing like hashing things over with Him. He listens, but also I have a sense of peace that He is looking out for me.

When I made a decision to serve Him all those long years ago as an 18 year old, I had a distinct impression that His call to me was simply: "Am I for you and you for Me?" That was it. Nothing profound or theologically deep, but the tug at my heart was strong and immediate. In fact, that phrase kept popping into my head and I couldn't ignore it.

When I said "Yes, Lord. I'm for You and You're for me" I had no idea how many roads we'd travel together. Some were hard roads and my heart was torn out and stomped on by life circumstances. But he has always been faithful. In fact the best part is, and always will be: He is FOR me.

Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you're there!
If I go underground, you're there!
If I flew on morning's wings
to the far western horizon,
You'd find me in a minute—
you're already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, "Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
At night I'm immersed in the light!"
Psalm 139:7-11, The Message

Removing a Blog From My List--Why?

2010-03-01T15:45:00.005-05:00

WARNING: This post will annoy fawning Englishers who love the Amish from the outside but don't care one whit for their souls. Read on at your own risk.

I've had a blog on my reading list for quite some time. The person who writes the blog is ex-Amish. Since she is using anecdotal stories about her childhood years growing up Amish, she has a huge following. She caters to those who don't want to hear the WHOLE truth about the Amish: those English who only believe good things come from the Amish culture, and any negative MUST be just sour grapes.

I understand her motivation, but she sometimes rankles me with her pure and sweet stuff day in and day out. I wondered: "If it was SO wonderful to be Amish, why did she leave?" I searched her old posts looking for her explanation for why she left. I could find nothing to tell the reader why. I finally emailed and asked her that question. She told me it would be in her future stories, but she wouldn't share it until then.

I got the impression that she is stringing along her readers...keeping them from knowing the reason why so they would keep reading. Very clever. But it kind of made me feel queasy. Not exactly honest, if you ask me. In the mean time, day after day, Pollyanna stories roll forth from this blog. And the English lap it up like sweet kool-aid.

Today I read her post from a few days back about how a man came to her family when they were Amish and "used" them for an article. He surreptitiously photographed her father--in the whole and not just his hands--as was promised, and then published the photos. Her father took the opportunity to teach his children to never trust someone who wanted to interview them unless they knew the person. You can imagine how UPSET this bloggers followers were after hearing that awful tale of betrayal. The comments they left were filled with sympathy for the Amish and anger toward the deceitful journalist.

Here's where my mouth dropped open: she then POSTED the pictures herself! I know she is ex-Amish now, but if it was an offense then, why isn't it an offense now? This is the kind of two-sided thinking that drives me crazy about the Amish. The rules are there, but when it comes to gaining something from the English, all rules are breakable. And guess what? Her followers didn't seem to notice that SHE did to her family just what the journalist had done years ago.

I feel this writer uses her audience, and their ignorance, to gain her own status. I finally just decided to stop advertising her blog on my own blog. She will lose nothing from not being on my little blog, but it makes me feel better that I'm not sending readers to her sugar fest anymore. By the way, she doesn't post her name either. (Mystery AND Amish love feast rolled into one.)

I have learned from my ex-Amish friends that there IS good in the Amish world, and their quaint lifestyle is amusing and curious, but like all people groups, THERE IS BAD, TOO! Many of the Amish groups do not preach the Gospel at all...they preach rules and obedience. Even their "forgiveness" is mandated, whether they mean it or not...whether they deal with their hurts or not...whether they continue to use and abuse or not. I am not spewing sour grapes here, but I am speaking from a broken heart. This group of people DESERVES to know the Gospel as much as any other group, and our blindness to their spiritual needs just keeps them further and further away from salvation.

Again, I am not speaking against the Amish, I am speaking to those English who want to only know the cute and entertaining side of the Amish world. Wake up! Many of those wonderful people will die and not see heaven because we don't care enough to bring them the life-saving Gospel of Christ. If good works alone got us to heaven, then why did Christ come to die on the cross? Don't assume that ALL of the Amish know Christ...don't assume that their bishops all preach the Gospel...don't assume that they are all Christians. Don't assume.

The fields are ripe to harvest: will you be simply another fawning Enlisher, or will you pray for the salvation of the Amish? And when you pray, ask the Lord if He wants to send YOU to help minister to the Amish. Mission fields surround us right here in the United States. You can help this beloved people hear the Gospel.

To learn more about the Amish, how to help spread the Gospel, and to hear and read personal testimonies about life as an Amish person, please go to Mission to Amish People.

Gummy Vitamins, Safflower Oil...A Health Mish Mash

2010-02-22T22:17:00.008-05:00

I've taken multivitamins for a few years now, and one of the major troubles I've had with them is how HUGE they are. I have problems swallowing pills that big, so I've tried other things: chewables for kids and chewables for adults. With the chewables, the trouble was the taste. They are sooooo sour, it would make my cheeks ache when I chewed them. I'd sometimes skip them just to save myself the misery. But guess what? I found GUMMY vitamins, and they are YUMMY. They have no yucky after-taste and they taste like candy. Now that's a good for me kind of "pill" I can swallow.

I was also thinking about the safflower oil. I'm still using it, but I haven't checked the ol' waist measurement to see if anything is happening. It really doesn't appear that it is since my clothes still fit the same: tight. But, I'm keeping to it and hope it helps in some way. Eventually.

I'm also still taming The Beast (aka treadmill). I try to walk on that thing at least three times a week for thirty minutes, but it is boring and tedious. I can stay on longer, and in a happier mood, if I listen to Sarah Groves while I walk, but I think I sound funny to my family when I do that. I wear my headphones, and sing along in harmony. But they only hear my part. He he he. I figure, if I have to suffer, they can, too.

One more thing: I'm getting a new glucose meter! Hoo boy, you might be thinking, this gal has nothing exciting in her life if that makes her happy. But if you saw my dinosaur of a meter, you'd know how glad I am. The old one is at least fifty feet wide and seventy feet long. Okay, so I exaggerate, but listen, the new one is promised to be small and compact--and--it self loads! Wooie.

So that's all my health news for now. I promise to keep you updated...I know you can hardly wait.

ACORN at My Door?

2010-02-19T12:00:00.001-05:00

I was concerned when I read that the group ACORN had been chosen to help with the 2010 census. I wasn't too keen on giving my personal info to that group. To find out if this was still a possibility, in light of the groups troubles last year, I wrote my representative, Jim Jordan. Here is his thoughtful and in-depth reply:

February 12, 2010

Dear Ms. Yoder:

Thank you for contacting me regarding the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now (ACORN). This organization has flaunted American election law and used taxpayer dollars for illicit purposes. I appreciate you taking the time to share your concerns with me, and I welcome the opportunity to provide you with an update.

For years, ACORN has been criticized for being complicit in voter fraud, particularly in the last Presidential election. But they have never truly been punished. Those of us who believe the right to vote is sacred, and free-and-fair elections guarantee our most basic American freedoms, recognize that systematic voter fraud committed by members of ACORN and their leadership causes our whole democracy to suffer.

ACORN's roots are deeply planted in radical socialism. The group's history is one of irresponsible and untrustworthy behavior, including corruption, embezzlement, cover-ups, and misuse of taxpayer funds. Their most recent scandal was revealed by two student-aged investigative reporters who used undercover video to expose ACORN workers providing advice on how to avoid federal tax laws in order to run a prostitution ring from an ACORN-sponsored home.

Since the release of these eye-opening tapes, the U.S. Census has cut ties with ACORN, and both the U.S. House and Senate have taken action to strip federal funding from ACORN in current appropriations bills. Congressman Darrell Issa, the top-ranking Republican on the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, and Congressman Lamar Smith, Ranking Member on the House Judiciary Committee have both announced plans for an investigation into ACORN's corruption.

In other legislative efforts, Congresswoman Michele Bachmann of Minnesota has proposed a bill to prohibit the distribution of taxpayer dollars to any individual or organization that is under indictment for violation under federal or state law for election fraud. Along with Congresswoman Bachmann, Congressman John Boehner of Ohio has led the effort to block all government funds to ACORN until federal investigations are complete. As a supporter of this effort, I have become a co-sponsor of the bill and will continue working toward its adoption.

Our assessment of the current situation is that, while all of the efforts to de-fund ACORN are welcome, it is imperative that we continue to keep a watchful eye to make sure the politicians in Washington D.C. don't somehow sneak the money back into the bills. Remember, Speaker Nancy Pelosi and her House Democrat leadership has ignored or outright defended ACORN through all of their previous scandals, only recently buckling to public pressure to act once the undercover investigative videotapes were released.

As your Congressman, I will make sure that I do everything necessary to protect our freedom to vote in an untainted and impartial election. Be assured that as the continuing investigation into ACORN progresses, I will make sure to closely monitor the situation.

I hope you will find this information helpful. Please do not hesitate to contact us with any other concerns or questions you may have. You can reach us by phone at (202) 225-2676, or by e-mail through our website at http://jordan.house.gov.

Sincerely,Jim JordanMember of Congress

Sincerely,
Jim Jordan
Member of Congress

Humble Pie and Ice Cream

2010-02-18T15:17:00.005-05:00

I have a friend who recently went through some tough times. She had to eat a little humble pie, as she called it. It was hard on her, and as is true of all of us, caused her emotional pain and a little embarrassment, too. Who hasn’t been there?

What struck me about my friend’s attitude was the statement she made after all the stress had settled. She wrote: " the beauty of Christianity and fellow Christians-in the world when we eat humble pie, people want to keep dishing it out to you-but our brothers and sisters in the Lord, want to take your "humble pie" and give you ice cream instead".

I love that! I think it shows a heart that is willing to learn and grow from mistakes, and more than that, a heart that understands the beauty of forgiveness.

It made me think of myself. Have I been willing to serve those who’ve "wronged" me the ice cream of forgiveness after they’ve had to eat a slice of humble pie? Or do I continue to want to serve up pie until my own feelings of retribution and revenge have been satisfied?

I want to be a servant who dishes out ice cream. How about you? Here's a parable Jesus told us about forgiveness:

At that point Peter got up the nerve to ask, "Master, how many times do I forgive a brother or sister who hurts me? Seven?"

Jesus replied, "Seven! Hardly. Try seventy times seven.

"The kingdom of God is like a king who decided to square accounts with his servants. As he got under way, one servant was brought before him who had run up a debt of a hundred thousand dollars. He couldn't pay up, so the king ordered the man, along with his wife, children, and goods, to be auctioned off at the slave market.

"The poor wretch threw himself at the king's feet and begged, 'Give me a chance and I'll pay it all back.' Touched by his plea, the king let him off, erasing the debt.

"The servant was no sooner out of the room when he came upon one of his fellow servants who owed him ten dollars. He seized him by the throat and demanded, 'Pay up. Now!'

"The poor wretch threw himself down and begged, 'Give me a chance and I'll pay it all back.' But he wouldn't do it. He had him arrested and put in jail until the debt was paid. When the other servants saw this going on, they were outraged and brought a detailed report to the king.

"The king summoned the man and said, 'You evil servant! I forgave your entire debt when you begged me for mercy. Shouldn't you be compelled to be merciful to your fellow servant who asked for mercy?' The king was furious and put the screws to the man until he paid back his entire debt.

And that's exactly what my Father in heaven is going to do to each one of you who doesn't forgive unconditionally anyone who asks for mercy."
Matthew 18:21-32 (The Message)

I Tawt I Taw a...Robin?

2010-02-08T00:12:00.003-05:00

There's snow everywhere...I mean EVERYWHERE. It's hard to believe that spring might be anywhere near Ohio right now. So imagine my surprise when I THOUGHT I saw a robin today in the huge old tree across the street! Wow. I ran to get the binoculars, but by the time I got back, the elusive robin was gone--if that was indeed what it was.

Even if it wasn't really a robin, it did give me hope that perhaps robins are on their way...maybe they've filed their flight patterns already and are thinking they might as well head north since there's snow in the south anyway.

I have to have hope, y'know. Otherwise, I'd be tempted to crawl under the covers and hibernate for six more weeks.

Happy spring! Soon.

The New Fridge is Here

2010-02-02T15:40:00.004-05:00

Well, it's here! And guess what? I LOVE it! Tons more space for storing foods. I love the freezer on the bottom because now I don't have dark recesses for the fridge part that I have to bend in half to see. You wouldn't believe some of the things I found WAY back in that section of my old fridge.

Habits are hard to break, though, so I still tend to walk to the fridge and try to grab the door handle on the left, where my old fridge opened. But I'm getting used to the new appliance and liking how quiet it is and especially all the lights! I can SEE in my freezer--actually SEE. What an awesome concept.

I'm a happy camper--and pleased with my new kitchen appliance. It may be the ONLY new thing I get this year, but it's a good one.

Controversial? You Decide!

2010-01-28T20:47:00.005-05:00

If you've read many of my past posts, you know that I'm involved with mentoring and supporting ex-Amish folk who have come out of the strict, and sometimes oppressive, Amish world. As an ex-Amish, everything is difficult:learning to drive, getting a GED, filling out the paperwork for job applications, Social Security cards, etc. It's like walking up a VERY steep hill, one tiny step at a time. Add to this burden the fact that family and friends may shun the ex-Amish (often do!), and life is VERY hard sometimes to navigate. Many ex-Amish have help from Mission to Amish People. This group helps the ex-Amish learn how to live in the modern world. The director is Joe Keim. He and his wife are also ex-Amish, so they know first-hand what these young people are facing.

This past summer, a young man came to MAP for a summer volunteer project. He created a touching and very moving video to promote the ministry that MAP does for the ex-Amish. But guess what? True to our Christian ways, some are flat-out against this video because...(hang on to your seats): THERE IS CHRISTIAN ROCK MUSIC USED IN THE BACKGROUND. Gasp!

To me, the beautiful testimony in this video is far above any style of music that the young man chose to put in the background. God has touched LIVES...and we complain about the music?!

You decide. Let me know what you think about this testimony and how MAP ministers. Here is the link to the video:

Mission to Amish People video.

Freezer Stuff

2010-01-27T16:02:00.005-05:00

I'm getting ready for the new refrigerator to join my kitchen this Saturday. And in the process, I'm cleaning out the freezer of my old refrigerator. I'm looking through containers and reading the tape on top of obscure packages to see what might be cooked into dinner each night. Sometimes, I can't believe what I've saved. I mean, how many meals can a tablespoon or two of tomato sauce create? Why did I save that?

There are meals in there that were leftover and saved for future use, but when I think about whether my family and I liked that original meal, I have to admit that sometimes, we didn't. I mean, that's why there's so much of it in there, right? So...why freeze it to serve again? Hmm.

There are one or two frozen waffles, a few pieces of chicken fillet, a couple of hamburger patties--not enough for an entire meal, but maybe someone would want it for lunch? Yeah. Right. In my household, neither of the guys ever look in the freezer to make lunch. It has to be right in front of their faces before they eat anything that I don't prepare and hand them. Alrighty then, let's pitch those things. Or wait! How about mish-mash night? A little of this, a little of that for dinner...that'll work. A few more packages cleaned out. Check.

This may not be a good week for company to come for dinner. I'm just saying...

Is It...gasp H1N1?

2010-01-19T19:54:00.004-05:00

I've been a fanatic about using those little alcohol towelette thingys at the grocery and everywhere else this past sick season to keep from catching the nasty H1N1 virus (or any other virus), and so far, it has worked. None of us have gotten sick--but tonight, right after dinner, I had a sore throat and headache and runny nose... and I was tired...sooooo very tired, and of course, right away, I'm thinking: Is it H1N1?! Naw, but I do feel kind of sickly and weak. I wonder if this means I can NOT do revisions tonight? Maybe it's revisions virus and I'll have to take a few days off. Anyway, I hope it goes away--I REALLY do have too much to do to get sick now. Sniff. Pass the Kleenex.

Message Board About the Amish

2010-01-18T17:41:00.004-05:00

Do you have questions about the Amish? For instance, why do the Amish have to drive buggies? What happens when an Amish young person, who is from a strict sect of Amish, leaves the family and community? How can ex-Amish be helped to get a new start in life? And, what about head coverings? Are they necessary?

These are just a few topics and forums that can be found on the Amish Forum and Discussion Board. A unique perspective about the Amish can be gained on the boards. Many of the posters are ex-Amish, and bring the questions and opinions about their people to the forums.

For a unique and personal look into about the Amish, the Message board is a great place to start. Non-Amish, as well as ex-Amish, are welcome to post and become members! Questions are encouraged and many of the posters will do their best to answer honestly and from their own personal experiences.

Here's the link: Amish Forum and Discussion Board.

Happy Birthday, Arlen!

2010-01-16T01:21:00.004-05:00

My hubby's birthday is today, and in his honor, I'm reposting a story I wrote for him. He's a wonderful husband and father. A good man. Happy Birthday, Honey!

A Kiss for Her Baby
© By Dee Yoder

The piping hot water in the sink is turning my hands a lobster red. I pull a casserole dish from the sudsy water and run the sponge over and around the rim and surfaces. My shoulders ache from the tension and stress of the day, and I can’t wait to finish this last chore.

As I rinse the glass under steaming water, I suddenly remember where the dish came from. I examine the gold rim and the bright red flowers that are centered on the creamy white middle. She held this dish…and she washed it clean, just as I’m doing…maybe one hot summer evening like this one, after a supper of tuna casserole or, maybe, home-made macaroni and cheese. I place the glass container carefully on the drainer board.

The darkened window above the sink reflects my shadowy face, and I stand still and stare into the past for a minute, trying to imagine my tall husband as a little boy. Did he help her set the table? Would he remember the food she’d prepared in this bowl? Did he laugh with her; stand beside her as they washed and dried the dishes together?

I look around my own modern kitchen and take a swipe at a bead of water on the countertop. The floors are swept, and the dishes are done. The house is quiet at last and I smile at the neatness and order that I know will disappear again in the morning. I turn out the lights on another hectic day and amble down the hall toward bed.

When I come to my son’s room, I stop and peek in. His dark head is snuggled deeply into his pillow, and his blanket is stretched tautly over his long body, one foot sticking out, as usual, for “air” at the bottom of his bed.

Where did my baby go? I can’t resist bending over him to stroke his hair. I used to do this every night. I smile at him and place a kiss on my fingertips to transfer to his cheek.

As I turn to go, I think about whether she did this, too. Did she stand over the bed of my husband in his teen years, watching his lanky form while he slept, regretting the passing of time and wondering, like I do, “Where’d my baby go?”

The question remains in my head as I slip into bed beside my sleeping spouse. His face is pressed tight into his pillow, and his snores are yet on the gentle side. Though I’ve seen many photos of him as a child, it’s difficult for me to imagine this slumbering giant beside me as her son, her boy, and her baby. I sigh as I watch him rest.

My husband had not been my favorite person today. We’d argued and disagreed over every little thing. I’d thought he was too bossy and he’d thought I was too nagging. He’d gone to bed in a huff and I’d been glad he was finally out of my hair.

His hair is ruffled and sticking up and I reach out to smooth it down, but I hesitate. I’m still miffed with him, and the anger I harbor makes me turn my back to him instead.

The devotional I meant to read this morning is lying face-up on the bedside table, so I grab it and open my Bible to Isaiah.

“… you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandied on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you…”*

As a mother…comforts her child…. Hmmm.

I glance back at my husband and think about his mother. I’d never met her; she’d died long before he’d married me, and I’d often wondered if she’d like me. I notice my husband’s eyelashes fanned gently on the bend of his rough cheek. Their soft texture is all that remains as a testament of his little boy face; the face she stroked and kissed at night; the face she loved so much and held so dear.

I feel tears come to my eyes as I remember the harsh words I said to him today. Would I want my son’s wife to say those things to him? No, of course not. She wouldn’t want her son treated this way, either.

I quietly lean down to kiss his cheek as he sleeps. Twice.

“That one was for your Mama. And this one is for me,” I whisper.

Isaiah 66:13, The Holy Bible, NIV

Thanks for Your Support!

2010-01-11T15:15:00.002-05:00

I feel blessed to have gotten so many comments of support while I was doing the safflower oil experiment! I saved all of your comments in my email so I could come to your blogs and thank you personally, but I'm getting so far behind on the emails that I'm afraid it will be next month before I get to that! (Not good--must get a grip--or a system.)

So, in order to be sure I thank you properly, I decided to write it in this post. Your comments blessed me and encouraged me greatly! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

And I sure do plan to get to each of your blogs before February--I just need a system for blog reading. LOL. (Any suggestions?)

Have a great week!

Final Day! The Great Safflower Experiment

2010-01-10T22:41:00.003-05:00

Today is my birthday so it is a perfect day to give results of my 14 day experiment with safflower oil. I guess, considering how short the test was, it was a success. I lost an inch and a half off my waist, and a total of 3.5 pounds. Not bad. I wish it were more dramatic, but I plan to stay with the oil. It is painless and has given me reason to think it will help.

I think it has helped me to see that small changes CAN be effective if done consistently, and that was a good thing for me to discover. I plan to keep on with the oil, and keep on with the exercise. I think a little every day of each will be beneficial to my health. I've always wanted to see dramatic change, but I think I can now deal with incremental progress, too!

How about you? Have you tried the safflower oil? Let me know how it worked with you, and keep tuned to this blog. I plan to post, from time to time, how the oil is helping me to reach my health goals this year.

Hey--Three Pounds Down--No, Really!

2010-01-07T02:33:00.004-05:00

Honesty alert: I REALLY want to report that I have lost seventeen inches and fifty pounds. That's what I really want to report, impatient gal that I am, but the reality is that I have lost THREE whole pounds. I did mention, didn't I, that I have a hard time telling if I've lost weight until the scale is consistently down at least five pounds? Well, I'm going to break that rule and report that my scale is consistently three pounds under my previous weight now. (Hey, I have to report SOME progress or I'm going to quit this thing, you know what I mean?)

Anyway, as far as inches, I still am down one inch (puh), but at least I'm not UP one inch. I have to keep repeating: OSU said it took four months for the subjects to lose 4 inches...(repeat a bazillion times). So, maybe 14 days of experiment with this oil is a bit presumptive, but I'm going to finish it out! Who knows what may happen in the next--uh--FOUR days? Wah.

Well, anyway...onward. Sigh.

Update: Still an Inch!

2010-01-04T13:16:00.005-05:00

Sorry I didn't keep up with my Great Safflower oil experiment on here. The weekend was busy, busy!

I did keep up with the 2 teaspoons dose daily, but I have not yet lost more than that first inch that I reported last week. But, again, this experiment has made me more aware of what I'm eating, and how much exercise I'm getting, so that's a good thing, right?

Today I decided to take one teaspoon of oil straight from the teaspoon--a feat I think is quite brave considering my easy gagging reflex on oily things (thanks to a dose or two of Castor oil Mom gave me as a kid--shudder). And guess what? I didn't gag! It was pretty easy to swallow and not a heavy feeling or tasting oil. The second teaspoon went into my lunch, though.

As far as weight loss goes, I've lost maybe a pound. It's hard to tell, though, with me, since my weight fluctuates up and down by at least four pounds daily. I'd have to lose a good five pounds, and stay there for a couple of days, before I'd consider that I'm losing any weight. I also read that one of the effects of this oil is that it promotes lean muscle growth. This would add weight, at first, until enough muscle was produced to begin burning calories on its own.

So that's the report! To those of you who are giving this a try, too, hang in there! Let me know if your experiment is showing good results--I'd really like to read your up-dates, too. Okay, back to reality; school, writing, and other normal things. Cheerio!

Day 5: An Inch Off!

2009-12-31T15:10:00.004-05:00

Yes--a whole inch is gone from the old belly! Though I can't say it is all from the result of adding safflower oil to my diet--I have been eating a LOT of salads, too--I'm pleased. I can't wait to see how much more change at the end of these 14 days. It's really TOO easy to do this, so what's stopping us all from trying this? I have had no trouble incorporating this oil into my diet. The amount is minimal and it is relatively inexpensive--and the it doesn't taste bad either!

So, day 5 is showing a little progress--hoping I will have more good news to report in the next few days! But for tonight, it is New Year's Eve and we'll be celebrating in our family with a quiet night at home. We'll play games, eat some good food, and watch the ball drop at Times Square at the appropriate moment.

My prayer for all of you is to have a blessed and Happy New Year!

Onward with the Experiment--and Other Things

2009-12-30T17:13:00.003-05:00

Day 3 was pretty much the same as day 2 and day 1: nothing new to report. Day 4 is turning out the same, too, and so far, I'm not seeing any loss of inches around my belly. I'm SO impatient!

One good side effect though: I'm eating more salads now--mostly because I fell in love with the lime vinaigrette that I made with the safflower oil. Yum. It has that sour/tangy/salty kind of taste that I often crave through the day, and since I discovered boxed spring mix lettuces don't have that icky "plastic bag" taste, it's easy to mix a salad up and put it in the fridge.

I also found out that being on the treadmill with music going helps me stay on it and actually work harder as I groove to the music. (Well, "groove" is a relative word when used with me--I mean that I kind of move better and faster.)

Anyway, I' listening to old Christian rock bands and it is FUN. I love Greg X. Volz's music and his "The River is Rising" CD is AWESOME to listen to as I walk.

So though I'm not really seeing any results from the safflower oil yet, I'm doing better with eating and exercising. The key will be to see how long I can keep it up. A week is about all I usually can stand of "healthy" living before I slowly revert back to old habits. In the mean time, I am having a little more fun with watching our for my health. That's go t to be a good thing, right?

Day 2: Great Safflower Experiment

2009-12-28T20:10:00.003-05:00

Well, so far, it hasn't been difficult at all to incorporate the safflower oil into my diet. And the best part is that it doesn't have a flavor, so anything I put it in tastes "normal".

Last night, I made pasta salad and added 2 teaspoons of oil to the cooked pasta before mixing in the other ingredients. There was no oily taste--2 teaspoons is so small. This morning, I had my usual one egg omelet, and used 1/2 teaspoon of oil for the pan. Again, no problems. At lunch, I had a sandwich (no oil), and for dinner I made spaghetti. I added one teaspoon of oil to the sauce and brushed a little on the rolls before adding seasonings. I made a citrus vinaigrette using an orange and 1 1/2 teaspoons of safflower oil to use on my salad. Yum.

I think it's too early to measure anything, but I can't wait to see results. (Typical Dee response to any weight/inches loss plan!)

The funny thing is that just trying something is making me feel better and also giving me incentive to tame the Beast (aka--TREADMILL). We'll see how long that lasts.

So that's the report for day 2. Signing off until tomorrow!

The Great Safflower Experiment--Belly Fat Be Gone!

2009-12-27T18:02:00.003-05:00

I read results from a recent experiment at Ohio State University in which safflower oil was seen to reduce belly fat among women with type 2 diabetes. According to the report, the women added close to 2 tsp. of safflower oil per day to their diet. The oil seemed to help their bodies target the belly fat to be burned first, thus reducing the inches of fat on their tummies. This also helped to control their blood sugars.

I'm thinking as I read this: "Are you kidding me? For less than $6 I can try something that has been shown to work in a research project?" Yes. So today I bought myself a bottle of safflower oil and added 2 teaspoons to my pasta salad. I decided to create a ticker to keep track of how many days I'll be trying this experiment. I'm not going to tell you how many inches I'm starting with, but I WILL post any lost inches on here.

My birthday is exactly 14 days from today so I figure that will be a good time to report my own results. If it works, what an awesome b-day present I'll be giving myself! Stay tuned--I'll blog about any results--good or bad--that comes from this not-so-very scientific, but oh-so-fun experiment!

Rattling On

2009-12-26T01:13:00.004-05:00

Here's an observation that struck me tonight as I was looking through the book of Job: Job and his friends (if that's what you can call them) rattled on for THIRTY-EIGHT chapters about Job and his troubles! They were questioning and complaining...analyzing and exhorting...and God didn't stop them. On and on and on they rattled.

It made me think: I do that. I moan and complain and rattle on and on sometimes, and God doesn't stop me. But, when He does step in and take on a conversation with me, His words are ALWAYS right to the point and there's NO hiding from His truth.

I love this part when God begins His conversation with Job (chapter 38, verse 3): "Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me."

And then God proceeds to do just that (verses 12-13, 16-21):

"Have you ever given orders to the morning,or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?"

Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?

Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?

Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth?

Tell me, if you know all this.

What is the way to the abode of light? And where does darkness reside?

Can you take them to their places? Do you know the paths to their dwellings?

Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!

Oh boy. It's the Creator of the universe asking Job these things! Wow.

I imagine that Job shrank to his puny human form. When I'm reminded of Who God is, I do, too. When I read God's conversation with Job, I tremble at God's power. His words remind me that God is not about to be put in a box, or delivered up for inspection. Instead, I need to back down and relinquish the right to rattle on when it overtakes me.

But there is also a sense of relief in realizing once again that it is not all up to me. The power and glory of God is revealed all around me--at all times--and, even in the worst of times. I can "stand down" and let Him guide my life, and know that He has it all under control--and without my puny human help!

Christmas Fiction: Christmas Miting

2009-12-23T02:26:00.003-05:00

© By Dee Yoder

The early morning frost coats the branches of the pines surrounding them like thick sparkling sugar. Every now and then, a horse trots past their car, the ringing hooves against the blacktopped road announcing it long before they can see it. Each buggy is examined, and each time she sighs when the Old Order Amish family inside is not her own.

“How long do you want to stay?” he asks softly.

“Do you mind if we wait a bit longer?”

“We need to be at the Stevenson’s by noon, Honey.”

“I know…I was just hoping that this year…” her voice trails off as they hear another horse-drawn buggy approaching. She leans forward and presses her forehead against the windshield of their car. She watches closely as the buggy nears their parking spot at the side of the road. He wonders how many more Christmas mornings in the future they’ll be doing this same thing, but when he glances at his wife’s eager face, his bristling heart gentles.

“Not Daet and Maem, I’m afraid.” She eases back against the seat and looks down at her joined hands in her lap. She sighs again. “I need to see them on Christmas morning…just once more, Jacob. I know last year, it was hard, too…but after this, I promise, no more.”

He leans over and takes her left hand in his, wrapping it in loving comfort. “I know. I don’t mind waiting just a little longer. Bishoff Miller is very punctual with the start of church, so they should be coming along any time now, Leah.”

She reaches to click on the radio. “Let’s see what kind of Christmas music is on, Ok?” she asks brightly. The sound of a church organ permeates the quiet atmosphere of the car, and they both smile as they lean their heads back to listen. Leah sings along.

“O, come all ye faithful…joyful and triumphant…*” she breaks off as another buggy catches them unaware.

Leah immediately recognizes Sparky’s manner and she wonders how she could have thought that any of the other horses she’d been watching that morning were him: the way he trots...the way he lets the collar ride his broad shoulders…and the spark of excitement he shows in his prancing legs and bobbing head. Her hands ache to pat him and groom him. Then her eyes move quickly from the horse to the buggy. There’s Daet!

His beard is still nicely shaped—not jagged in its natural curve as some Amishmen’s are, though he never dares to trim it…against the Ordnung to trim his beard. His white eyebrows rise above his blue eyes like winged birds, and the soft expression on his face surprises Leah. She hasn’t seen that look in a long time. The shunning that she and Jacob received two years ago after they’d claimed to be “born again” had brought nothing but censured, reproach-filled looks from her Daet. But this Christmas morning, his face looks kind and gentle.

She swiftly scans Maem’s face. Tears form at the corners of Leah’s eyes as she takes in the graying hair and rosy cheeks of her Maem. It’s shocking how much older she seems, Leah thinks…have I caused that? “Oh, Maem…” she moans aloud. Jacob, still holding Leah’s hand in his, squeezes it hard.

Maem suddenly turns her head toward the spot on the side of the road where Leah and Jacob are sitting in their car. Leah sees her eyes recognize her daughter’s face. Maem’s calm expression suddenly changes as a look of longing passes rapidly over it. Leah raises her right hand in greeting…but Maem breaks the bond and looks away. The buggy passes by.

Leah begins to cry, her heart breaking anew over the harshness of the miting that she and Jacob are under. No contact…no simple greeting…no “Merry Christmas” from her family again this year. She watches the buggy until it disappears around a corner far down the road.

Jacob reaches across to her and pulls her tight against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat and its familiar sound eases the pain in Leah’s own heart. They lean against one another for several minutes while the music of “Joy to the World”** flows from the radio.

“Let every heart prepare Him room.” Leah sings it as a prayer. She wipes her eyes, and looks up at Jacob with a watery smile. “Let’s go now. We don’t want to keep our adopted family waiting…it is Christmas day, after all.”

Daet= Dad
Maem= Mom
Ordnung= letter of strict rules which govern each local church and the lives of the Old Order Amish. The rules may be added to or deleted from the Ordnung by each presiding bishop.
Bishoff= bishop or presiding church leader

*”O, Come All Ye Faithful” words and music by John Wade, 1743
** “Joy to the World” words by Isaac Watts, 1719; music by Lowell Mason, 1836

Christmas Fiction: Walnut Fudge and Christmas Secrets

2009-12-21T13:47:00.006-05:00

© By Dee Yoder

Mama and Daddy took the Studebaker into town this evening as soon as Daddy came home from the mine. Mama’s eyes held Christmas secrets, and Daddy laughed and kissed her cheek when she whispered what she wanted to get.

“Grandma said she had some pennies saved back, Daddy,” I told him before they left. “She wants you to get a peppermint stick for each of the little kids.”

“Ok, Son. Go get it from her and then we’ll be going.”

We waved them off, five pairs of eyes watching out the kitchen window as the old car lumbered its way through the heavy snow toward town.

“Well, let’s get cracking, Kids!” laughed Grandma as soon as the car disappeared from view.

Jason and me and Mary Anne went out to the barn and hauled the canvas sack of black walnuts out from the space under the loft. We’d collected them in the fall and hidden them away just for this night. The chores we’d done had earned us the money to buy extra sugar and all the fixings to make black walnut fudge. With the Depression dragging on, Mama had told us sadly that she couldn’t afford to make the traditional pans of fudge for Christmas Eve, but we were giddy with excitement to think of the surprise she and Daddy would have when they got home that night, and the sweet treat from our shared efforts was just the thing to make our Christmas complete.

Grandma and Susie had the milk scalding on the cook stove, while Tara buttered the pans and measured out the precious sugar. Grandma had fiddled with the Crosley radio while we were outside, and now the sounds of the Andrews Sisters and Perry Como cheered the warm kitchen with a happy rendition of “Winter Wonderland.”*

We poured the walnuts out on the hearth and started cracking the hard shells. By the time we were done, we had black hands and a few cups of shelled walnuts.

“Ok, Kids, the milk’s ready and the bowls are set out here on the table. C’mon around and lets get this fudge stirred up,” called Grandma. We gathered close and formed an assembly line. Grandma poured the hot milk, I added the sugar, and the little ones dumped in the walnuts.

Before long, the sticky sweet fudge filled the pans and the air with chocolately, walnutty flavors and smells. We sighed as we set the last pan on the windowsill to chill. Grandma went to her room and got her Bible, and we sat in a circle at her feet as she read the Christmas story.

“And it came to pass that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed…”** she read. We smiled as the familiar words filled our imaginations with scenes from long ago.

It was close to bedtime before Mama and Daddy came home. Their cheeks were rosy, and they brought a crisp snowy scent in with them as they unwrapped their mufflers and peeled off their gloves.

“What’s that lovely smell?’ Mama asked suddenly. Her eyes darted to the windows and she spotted the pans of fudge cooling on the outside sills. She and Daddy exchanged a glance and then laughed.

“So much for our surprise, right, Honey?” Daddy smiled. Mama brought the wrapped package they’d brought from town to the table. The brown paper crinkled as she unfolded it, revealing a small pan of Black Walnut fudge.

“Daddy did some work for Miss Pringle last week and she paid us in fudge!” Mama exclaimed. “But the joke’s on us--now we have fudge coming out our ears--think we can eat it all?”

To show her proof that we could indeed eat it all, we cut the fudge into large pieces and gobbled down the small pan full of chocolaty, nutty candy in no time flat.

“Time for bed, Little Ones,” Mama prompted.

Later, as the snow fell softly outside and the radio played merrily in the background, Grandma, Mama, Daddy, and me sat around the fire. I watched lazily as Mama filled the stockings with oranges, peppermint sticks, and pencils. Then smiling broadly, she dropped a few walnuts into the stockings and their familiar shapes made lumps in the rounded toes.

Daddy grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. “I think I could stand another piece of that fudge, honey,” he laughed. “Somehow it tastes better this year than ever before.”

*Winter Wonderland: Music by Felix Bernard and Lyrics by Richard B. Smith, 1934
**Luke 2:1, The Holy Bible, King James Version

Madison Community Christmas Concert--I Made It!

2009-12-13T01:28:00.012-05:00

Tonight was the Community Choir Christmas concert that I've been practicing for since November 1. I wasn't sure if I could handle it--NaNoWriMo was starting, and more importantly, the health problems I've been dealing with since October of 2007 made me feel very unsure of being able to stand and sing for a length of time without struggling with low blood sugar and dizziness. But, I've missed music in my life for SO long, and I wanted to give it a shot.

So I went to my first practice and it was WEIRD. Not because of the people or the director, but because of the location: my old high school music room. I hadn't walked in that school room for 35 years! Yet, within minutes, it all came back--sight-reading new music, learning my part (second soprano--or "slacker soprano" as one of my tenor friends calls it), and the art of blending my voice with others. Our choir was a mixture of folks older, and much younger, than me, but I loved it right from the get-go.

I didn't miss a single practice, learned my music, and struggled week to week to control the health issues that threatened my resolve. But finally--FINALLY--the night of the concert came and I was as ready as I could be! In my right pocket: glucose tablets to get me through the performance--and in my left pocket: Kleenex and lip balm. I planned my doses of quick sugar: one after the second song...one after the fourth...and one at the end...and a left-over tab--just in case.

Well, I used them all, but I made it through! If you've ever experienced serious health problems, then you can understand my feeling of victory tonight--I did something NORMAL! And not just normal, but soul-feeding. I took back a part of myself that had been missing for, oh, so long. I knew my Jewelly sisters were praying, and I knew my family (who was in the audience) were rooting for me, and I knew God was saying, "I know you can do it--I'll be right there with you. Let's go!"

I've posted a link to photobucket of one song loaded from our camera video (the real video camera stopped working, of course). The song is called, "Unto to Us", and the picture is a bit shaky because my poor son had to hold the camera up through the entire performance, but here's the video. (Click the link to hear the song.) I hope you enjoy it! By the way, if you look in the second row, middle, just beneath the choir director's arm, you can see me--once in a while-LOL)

Community Choir

Fiction Friday: A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to Christmas

2009-12-11T02:09:00.006-05:00

Welcome to Fiction Friday! I decided to post this Challenge entry story (the topic was Home for the Holidays) just for laughs. Most of the "adventures" really happened to me, but not all at once, thankfully. This story proves that getting there really is half the fun--Ok--whatever. Anyway, enjoy this seasonal salute to travel, and for more great fiction, check out Karlene's Homespun Expressions.

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to Christmas
© By Dee Yoder

My plane landed at JFK international airport at 11:30 PM. My inland flight to Columbus left at 11:55 PM...from LaGuardia…across town…in New York City…on Christmas Eve…and it was snowing. Right.

This was just another in a long line of travel mishaps for me that Christmas. It had begun in Bonn. I’d left my hotel in plenty of time to get to the airport, but when I’d arrived, I’d discovered that the Lufthansa flight was canceled due to a mechanical problem. Ok. I’d rather not be on that plane anyway. We passengers were directed to a waiting area and put on stand-by until the next available flight. “Stand by.” They really mean that.

I’d hustled to find a seat when someone got up to use the restroom. It was fair play, but the lone traveler like me was at a disadvantage. I’d waited until I thought my bladder would explode, but you know…there’s only so long. I’d hauled my luggage with me because, of course, without a plane, my bags were homeless. And when I’d come out from the restroom, my seat was taken. (If it hadn’t been, I’d have looked to see if the rapture had occurred.)

Finally we’d “queued” up to board our flight, and let me tell you something about Germans…they aren’t British. They don’t “queue”. The whole group had stormed the ticket counter en masse, and I was left fighting to get within arm’s reach of an agent. But I’d soon discovered that an elbow is a useful body appendage.

After I’d gotten on the plane, I was seated in the smoking section. I get migraines from cigarette smoke…the kind that makes me puke, so all the way across the Atlantic, I’d heaved my guts out. At one point, the latrines were all full, and I’d been desperate enough to use “the bag.” Later an attendant gave me a bottle of soda water to “clean” my sweater. Right.

After living through the migraine sufferer’s flight from you-know-where, I was happy to land on U.S. soil. Once in the terminal though, and told the good news about La Guardia, the stampede was on for all of us to get a taxi…in New York City…on Christmas Eve...in the snow. Right.

It happened that a priest, a rabbi, and I shared a taxi (Yes…we got one!) to LaGuardia. I was trying not to think about the fact that I smelled like…well, you know…and that we were crammed in this car with what luggage that wouldn’t fit in the trunk stuffed between us. The rabbi was sitting on the jump seat facing the priest and me and the pile of suitcases. We lucked out and got an aggressive (i.e. “crazy”) driver. He drove everywhere but on the road. At one point, while I was trying to convince myself that we weren’t REALLY riding on two wheels on the side of the highway divider, I glanced over and caught the priest crossing himself.

But we lived and made it to LaGuardia in time…we thought. We three struggled into the terminal, lugging our stuff, just in time to see our plane disappearing into the snowy sky toward the Midwest. It turns out the flight was overbooked (what else?), and we couldn’t get another one until morning. We were stranded in New York City…on Christmas Eve…whatever.

We decided to take turns watching each other’s stuff while we slept on the floor…oh man! And the cold bums off the streets that slept along beside us? Well, let’s put it this way…we napped with one eye open and our hands balled in fists.

Dawn came and we finally got on our flight to Columbus. We decided we might as well go the whole way together, but have I mentioned that priests and rabbis can be grouchy after sleeping on a floor all night? It didn’t help that the Santa we greeted when we got off our flight in Ohio growled at us and said, “What’s so merry about being in an airport at 9 AM on Christmas morning?” Right.

We three amigos said goodbye to one another at the door of the airport. The rabbi laughed and said he’d be able to tell “a-priest-a-rabbi-and-a-Pentecostal” jokes with impunity from then on, and the priest gave us each a blessing. I just said “Thanks for the memories” and got in my rental car.

Did I tell you that my family wanted to go cross-country skiing as soon as I hit the door? Right.

The Quill Contest: Second Place!

2009-12-08T15:53:00.004-05:00

I was honored to win second place in the Fall Short story contest for The Quill--a literary magazine that is distributed in the Toledo, Ohio area by Kevin Moore! I was very happy and excited to win! Today, I found out I also won a book for coming in second, "Writing Your First Novel" by Ann Rittenberg--glad to have it.

The story I entered has been posted in this blog twice--"Gonna Be a Mighty Fine Christmas". It was written to honor my dad and the kind of man he was--and the kind of boy he was, too. It's under Friday Fiction in my drop down menu above, if you'd like a chance to read it. I was SO happy that his story touched the judges enough to win second place. Thanks, judges and Kevin!

Blog Awards

2009-12-06T14:00:00.000-05:00

I have two blog awards to post today. One came from my friend, Andrea, and one from my friend, Lee.

Andrea gave me this Circle of Friends award. I hope you will check out her blog.

For this award, I'm supposed to tell you five things that I love to do. Here goes:

1) Read a good mystery all night
2) Bake when the mood strikes
3) Watch old black and white movies
4) Drive around with my family to look at Christmas lights
5) Get packages in the mail

Thanks for passing this award to me, Andrea!

The second award comes from Lee:

Thanks for passing along the Superior Scribbler award, Lee.

Loose Threads

2009-12-05T08:36:00.006-05:00

I woke up this morning and had strings of loose threads jumbling around in my mind. I have blog posts that I'd like to get written, a story sequel to write, more writing on my second novel, and revisions to be made on my first. And there is also the threads of the things having to do with Christmas...daily chores...cookies to bake and candies to make...people to contact and songs to be learned...the floating strings of thoughts in my mind are endless, it seems!

I can only take care of these kinds of strings by making lists. If I write them on a sticky note, and put them right on my laptop, then I find I can go down the lists, mark off what's finished, and empty my head of all those jumbled threads.

For instance, right now I'm thinking about the ex-Amish men that are downstairs with my husband and Joe Keim doing their Bible study. I'm thinking of how cool it is to look out my window and see their trucks--all lined up--construction gear loaded in the backs of their pick-ups, cars poised to take off and head out into the world on this cold Saturday morning...but first, they're filling their spiritual vessels with the Word. What an image: big tough workers...letting the Lord lead their lives and soften their hearts. That thought makes me smile, and also makes me glad I stayed up late to bake the guys a loaf of spicy pumpkin nut bread to go along with their coffee and the sweet Words of God.

Then my mind shifts to the writing projects that are drifting around waiting for me to make time to let their characters come back to life. I'm thinking of the tiny of island of Unst...and what will happen next to the widowed woman who is on Unst trying to discover what became of her husband...how did he disappear? What help or hindrance do the island people give her? She waits---just off stage--for her story to continue.

And what about Leah Raber, the MC in my Amish novel? Her story is finished, but she needs polishing, and I can imagine her standing off to the side, tapping her foot, impatiently waiting for her story to gel and shine.

And then, there is Annie...little Annie...the MC in my new novel. She is a child and has the enthusiasm and impatience of childhood oozing out of her pores...she wants to jump around and SHOUT her story...she's waited SO long for her tale to be told to the world--nearly a lifetime. She is anxious to pop out of my head and leap onto the page! She loves telling her story--just WHEN will she get to finish telling it? I mentally pat her head and tell her to be patient...I plan to return to her world soon...I hope.

Underneath all of these thoughts, as if that isn't enough, a song is rolling onward: "Sing! Sing joy to the world! Sing! Sing joy to the world!" This is the first line to one of the songs I'm going to be singing in the upcoming Christmas concert I'm doing with the community choir. It makes an interesting little under-note to all the other chaotic thoughts floating around in my head, don't you think?

If you're like me, thought-threads like these are never really gone, but are on the fringes of my mind every day. Taking care of each of them, one at a time, is an infinite chore because just as soon as one is finished and marked off the lists, another one pops alive to float and badger and add to the seeming chaos.

Whatever the many threads on my lists, I like to keep in mind that talking it all over with God should be my first priority every morning. I like what God is saying to me in this passage:

Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we're a free people—free of penalties and punishments chalked up by all our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free! He thought of everything, provided for everything we could possibly need, letting us in on the plans he took such delight in making. He set it all out before us in Christ, a long-range plan in which everything would be brought together and summed up in him, everything in deepest heaven, everything on planet earth. Ephesians 1:6-8
When I read that, then I know that all the loose threads that make up my lists can be a part of God's plan for me. I just need to ask Him which thoughts are in line with His plan...which thoughts need to go on my to-do lists in order to fulfill those "long-range" plans He has for my life. That's exciting--the God of the universe will help me tame those loose threads into lists that go somewhere and mean something in His world!

What are you making mental lists of? Is it story lines? School work? Household chores? Christmas happenings? Let me know how you tame the loose threads that make up your to-do lists. And in the meant time, let's think about how much God wants to use our loose threads to weave our lives together...a beautiful mosaic of thoughts and deeds to His glory!

Thanksgiving Thoughts

2009-11-30T02:37:00.010-05:00

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day! With family and friends around the table, it was a very special day. Here are a few of my favorite people: Tim (brother), Barb (sister), Joseph (son), Arlen (husband), Rachel (adopted ex-Amish daughter), Eli (Rachel's fiance), and Bernice (mom).

I thought of all the blessings we have: a home, PLENTIFUL food, decent health, and a Loving Father who is with us every day and whenever we gather as believers. In this photo: Joseph, Arlen, Matthew (great-nephew), Jarrod (nephew), Autumn (great-niece), Rachel, Eli, and Mom.

No matter how we celebrated the day, it's clear that God has blessed us as a nation, and stopping for one day to acknowledge those blessings is a great privilege. Around our table this year was Rachel, Eli, Bernice, and Rena.

How about you? Did you have a blessed Thanksgiving? Did you celebrate in a rambunctious and laugh-filled group, or did you have a quiet, peaceful gathering? Until next year, let's keep that thankful feeling in our hearts everyday.

50,000 Words!

2009-11-25T02:07:00.001-05:00

Well, I met the challenge and reached the 50,000 word count goal on my second book, The Powerful Odor of Mendacity! It is now one half finished. I'll keep writing until the end of November, and maybe I'll have a couple more chapters fleshed out by then. I'm happy to say that the writing for NaNoWriMo this time wasn't nearly as difficult as it was last year. I think having one NaNo under my belt helped me have confidence this time that I could finish and WOULD finish! Last year, I was choked with doubts nearly all the way through. This time, I knew it was a task I could accomplish.

So what now? Well, I have my first book to revise, and this second book to finish. Then there are other stories to write for the Faithwriters Challenge, and stories to write for The Quill. And classes to take and edits to do...the writing doesn't end with NaNo, but the chores are sweeter knowing that the base for another book has been built. It's a good feeling!

Here's the best part: I can wish you all a HAPPY THANKSGIVING and know that on Friday, the biggest part of the NaNo work is over!

Fiction Friday: Phyllis's Seeds

2009-11-20T00:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Fiction Friday! I'm posting a story I wrote to honor my best friend's mom. Her mother was a lovely, quiet lady who questioned how God had used her life. I hope you enjoy it. For more wonderful fiction, go to Sheri's at A Candid Thought.

Phyllis's Seeds
© By Dee Yoder

I looked at my watch as the pastor closed his sermon. I couldn’t wait to stand and stretch my stiff legs. With the last “amen,” I maneuvered my way out of the pew and over to Shelly and her mother.

“Hey there,” Shelley, my childhood friend, greeted me.

“Hi. How’s the job hunt going, Shelley?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not very well, but I’m hoping to get something soon.”

I glanced at Shelley’s mom, Phyllis. Her eyes were red, and she dabbed at them with a delicate lace hankie. As she saw me watching her, she laughed gently. “Oh, don’t mind me. I was just thinking about Pastor’s sermon.”

“It was a good one,” I responded a bit guiltily. I hadn’t focused on it as much as Phyllis had, obviously.

“Yes.” She grew quiet. Shelley looked at me and shrugged. We both knew something was going on with her mom, but we didn’t pry.

Finally, Phyllis looked at me with an embarrassed smile and said, “I guess I got to thinking about what he said. You know…the part about how many people we’ve led to the Lord in our lifetime.” She paused and glanced at her twisted hankie. “I’ve taught Sunday school here my whole life, been on the ladies’ committees, and attended revivals and services faithfully, but I don’t think I can say that I have ever led anyone to Christ.”

Of all the things I expected from Phyllis, that was the last thing I thought I would hear. “But, Phyllis! Think of all the seeds you’ve planted,” I was quick to reassure her.

She shook her head. “No. Somehow, that isn’t what I’m thinking about today. I mean, I know about seeds, but what about fruit? Where’s the fruit of those seeds and the fruit of my life?” Her eyes refilled with tears. “I think I’ve failed God somehow.”

I glanced at Shelly and saw quick tears form in response to her mom’s confession. “Aww, Mom,” Shelley patted her mother’s hand. “We all have days when we wonder if we’ve really made a difference or if we’ve ever planted a seed that will grow.” She shrugged. “Somehow, we just have to have faith that God is nurturing those seeds. He’s watering and weeding those tender plants.” Phyllis nodded, but I sensed that she was not content with the answer.

She smiled. “Well, it does no good to stew over it, I suppose. Now, what have you girls got planned for this sunny summer day?” Our conversation moved on, but Phyllis’s question stayed in my heart for many, many years. I often asked myself the same questions she had: where was the fruit? Would I ever know what became of the seeds?

One day, I got a phone call from Shelley. Phyllis had slipped into eternity. We cried together, and Shelley asked me if I would read a Scripture at her mom’s funeral. We went on to plan the next few days and I choose the Scripture I would read

The day of Phyllis’s funeral came. One by one, family members and friends stood to recall Phyllis’s influence in their lives.

“She was the best sister I could have ever had. Many times, I was lonely and she came and got me and took me to lunch. We laughed and laughed…I will never forget her.”

“Aunt Phyllis always had time to talk to me. If I needed her to pray, she did. She told me over and over again how much I was loved by God. I thought of that, and knew that if Aunt Phyllis said it, it must be true.”

“Grandma Phyllis never condemned me or turned me away when I had questions. She loved me unconditionally.”

“She prayed with me over the phone, and later, I thought of her smile and her tenderness and I decided to give my heart to the Lord. As a friend, she was patient and kind.”

My turn came to read the scripture. “Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like…? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade.’”

I closed my Bible and looked around. “You are Phyllis’s seeds. You are Phyllis’s garden. Today, I know God has welcomed His faithful sower with open arms.”

In loving memory of Phyllis Swaisgood, who planted many seeds for the kingdom and now knows what became of them.

Friendship Award

2009-11-15T09:31:00.014-05:00

My new friend, Lee at tossing it out, gave this award to my blog. I'm honored! Here's the gist of what the award means:

"This award is bestowed to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-promotion. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are gained. Please give more attention to these writers."

I have Jewely sisters who are wonderful, supportive friends, and their blogs are blessings to those who read them. I'm adding their names to this list of writers who should absolutely be added to all reading lists!

Here's my list:

Jo at An Open Book
Laury at In My Daddy's Arms
Vonnie at My Back Door
Sara at Fiction Fusion
Beth at Laughing at the Days
Peej at Patterings
(and Sunny--you're on this list, too!)

Fiction Friday: Summer of '64: Aunt Carol's Freckled Love

2009-11-13T03:19:00.008-05:00

Welcome to Ficrion Friday! I've missed the last three weeks, but wanted to be sure to participate this week. Thanks for reading! And to read more fiction, or to add your own ficiton, head over to Vonnie's My Back Door blog.

Summer of '64: Aunt Carol's Freckled Love
By Dee Yoder

In 1964, I was a knobby-kneed girl with glasses too big for my face and an ornery attitude in my head. I’d discovered that mouthing off was a fast way to make my mother implode. Interestingly, my parents chose that summer to take their first vacation ever—without me.

They packed me in the red Chevy Bellaire and dropped me off, my pink poodle train case dangling by my skinny legs, at the door of Aunt Carols’ house. The kisses and waves they threw my way as they drove off wasn’t enough to convince me that their hysterical glee wasn’t aimed at getting away from me. I watched the cat-eyed taillights grow dim in the distance before giving in to Aunt Carols’ pleas to “come on inside, Darlin’.”

Aunt Carol bulldozed her way through her clan of five boys, and led me to the den. She pointed to a pull-out sofa and instructed me to shove my train case into the corner, beside the ratty-looking floor pillows her boys crushed every night as they watched TV.

“Darlin’, I am just so happy to have a little girl in the house! I surely am! You make yourself right to home and don’t let those boys of mine get to you. If they bother you in the least little bit, just come tell me and I’ll be sure to tan their little behinds.”

She leaned down to hug me to her soft body, and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her cheeks. Up close, I could see just how many orangey freckles covered her face and the pearly skin of her arms.

“Aunt Carol, you have so many freckles!” I exclaimed.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t have these freckles, I’d be an albino for sure. C’mon in the kitchen while I get lunch on the table. You can choose the Kool-Aid, ‘kay?”

I followed Aunt Carol to the kitchen, and wondered why she had a Southern accent when she and her family had lived outside of Chicago all the years I’d been around.

As she took the Wonder bread and peanut butter out of the cupboard, I questioned her about her accent. She laughed again and gave my nose a tweak before going about the business of spreading lots of gloppy peanut butter all over the slices of bread she placed in rows on the counter top. My mouth watered as I observed how generous she was with the spread. At home, Mom strictly rationed the amount of “junk” I ate. It appeared that at Aunt Carol’s house, hunger was not going to be an issue. Gluttony, might, though.

Aunt Carol smiled at me. “Well, now I didn’t always live here in Chicago. I was born and raised in Memphis.” She licked the butter knife before plopping it into the dish pan. She put her hands on her generous hips as she thought about her next sentence. “Let’s see...I think I came here as a career girl in the summer of ’53. Met your uncle and got married a year later.”

She interrupted herself to point me to the Kool-Aid collection in the pantry. “Top shelf, Darlin’. I gotta keep the boys from gettin’ it, or they’d make Kool-Aid the live-long day. Now, what was I sayin’?”

I climbed on a stool and perused the stash of fruity powder packets and was happy to see my favorite flavor: lime. Aunt Carol got the round pitcher down and slid the sugar canister to me.

“Yes…I came up north to be an artist, Darlin’. I was good, too. But nothin’ could keep me from marryin’ your uncle, and so I ended up here, with all these boys…and well,” she shrugged. For just a second, she looked sad, but then she laughed and waved me out to call my cousins to the table.

I puttered around with Aunt Carol that day and the days that followed. She showed me how to draw, and tucked me in bed always with a kiss and a smile. Before I slept, she’d whisper, “It sure is nice to have another female in the house.” Her pronouncement each night made me feel that it was special to be a girl.

Imagine my wary parent’s amazement when they returned to take me home: their spunky girl was miraculously replaced with a sweet angel. As we drove away, I looked back at Aunt Carol standing in her door, and heard her call, “Come on back and stay with me again, Darlin’…real soon!”

Annie, Annie, Annie

2009-11-12T01:06:00.000-05:00

So much is happening to poor Annie Thomas, the MC in my latest novel, The Powerful Odor of Mendacity. I have a little over half of her story written, and she has had to deal with strange faces at the window, the eminent death of a teacher's child, the break-up of a very good friendship, and the teasing and taunting that go with being the new kid in school.

In all of this, is the Viet Nam war, which makes itself known to her innocent world through the TV news broadcasts. And soon, more unrest will come through that screen, too. She's seeing the mod scene and the go-go boots of her older sister and her friends. Her world is changing, and she's part of that, but is too wrapped up in childhood and budding adolescence to notice.

What will Annie have to learn next about herself and life? One thing is for sure, she'll do it with attitude.

What are your MCs learning? Are they facing conflicts and trials that seem impossible to avoid?

Let's keep rolling with our NaNoWriMo projects. I'm looking forward to hearing how your stories are growing, too!

Word Counts Are Taking Over My Mind

2009-11-08T03:08:00.003-05:00

I'm dreaming word counts, thinking word counts, and comparing word counts. What's happening to me? NaNoWriMo--that's what!

It's one of the side-effects of trying to write 50,000 words in one month...all that word count obsession. I was out doing a little early Christmas shopping and guess what was on my mind? I was thinking I sure hope I get home in time to add to my NaNo word count...how many words do I have banked toward Thanksgiving?...am I falling behind?

If you're working on NaNo, too, it's unavoidable to become obsessed with word counts. I have some advice: give in and let the obsession have its way! We only have to remember: in a few more weeks, the word count brain worm will retreat into history again and we'll finally be at peace.

Until then, hang in there and--Viva la count!