Tennis, touch football, swimming, sailing, horse-back riding . . . if it involved action, the Kennedy clan, including our 35th President, were at it! Though President Kennedy suffered from severe back pain, he was often photographed participating in sports.
Through Kennedy’s Council on Physical Fitness, Americans in the 1960s were challenged to become more active and physically fit. In these days of remembrance of President Kennedy’s assassination in November 1963, this post pays tribute to that part of his legacy, a call to shape up!
Decades later, I’m still at it, trying to avoid canes, walkers, and wheelchairs in the near future. And so, fitness classes at the gym have become a metaphor for my life in general: Pilates / PowerPump = hard / harder.
Lift it up!
Step it up!
Roll it up!
Quiet zone, low light, deep breaths, ready for Pilates . . . ah!
My mother and I are waiting in Doctor Garber’s examining room, which always has a sharp smell of rubbing alcohol. She’s the patient, and I’m with her sitting on a chair eyeing the metal tray holding at least a dozen tiny vials, so cute they look like they could fit in the kitchen of my doll-house. But they are vials of venom, possible culprits. Nurse Becky Longenecker carefully fills little syringes with each fluid, which puncture the skin of Mommy’s extended arm trying to determine whether it is house dust, hay, mildew, turpentine, or cat dander that is causing her frightful asthma attacks. I watch as some injections leave a puffy patch or a bright red spot. She leaves the office with a paper packet of pills to try. Maybe these will help.
But I guess they aren’t working either. Once again, Mother is propped up on feather pillows gasping for breath, her face blanched white with the effort. It’s scary for Daddy and my sisters too. We feel helpless. But Daddy knows about Ordinance # 7 in the Statement of Christian Doctrine of the Lancaster Conference of the Mennonite Church: “Anointing. According to James 5:10-18 we encourage our members to call for anointing with oil accompanied by the prayer of faith for healing.”
Olive Oil in a Vial of Healing
So my dad has called for Pastor Martin R. Kraybill and Deacon John R. Kraybill, brothers, to come to Mom and Dad’s bedroom upstairs for the anointing of oil as prescribed in the New Testament passage of James 5:14 & 15.
Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church: and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him.
As Pastor Martin prays and reads the scripture to Mother and to the family assembled around her bed, Deacon John anoints her forehead with olive oil, an outward symbol of the healing that is transpiring within. Mom later describes a tingling sensation like a warm, electrical current radiating from the top of her spine to the bottom. “It felt wonderful!” she says. She has been healed immediately—and by the power of the Holy Spirit.
No more doctor visits for asthma ever again, the vials of venom to test for triggers, a thing of the past. Praise God!
Have you or someone you know had an experience similar to this? We’d love to hear your story.
We have a winner! The winner of Valerie Weaver-Zercher’s Thrill of the Chaste: The Allure of Amish Romance Novels is . . .
Gwen Witmer
Congratulations, Gwen – happy reading!
The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth by Jennie A. Brownscombe (1914) Courtesy Wikipedia
PRAYER
A holiday celebrated primarily in the United States and Canada, Thanksgiving invites us to pause and give thanks as we pray, that mysterious communication between one’s heart and the mind of God. Writer C. S. Lewis declares his attitude before prayer: “The prayer preceding all prayers is “May it be the real I who speaks.” British author W. H. Auden expresses the mystery of prayer in a haiku: “He has never seen God, / but once or twice, he believes / he has heard Him,” quoted in The New Yorker, November 14, 2011. And the British author John Baillie implores of God as he prays:
Let me use disappointment as material for patience.
Let me use success as material for thankfulness.
Let me use trouble as material for perseverance.
Let me use danger as material for courage.
Let me use reproach as material for long-suffering.
Let me use praise as material for humility.
Let me use pleasures as material for temperance.
Let me use pain as material for endurance.
Children in our church’s 2-year-old class learn that prayer is talking to God, and then they do just that when they clasp their fat, little fingers as they sing “God is great, and God is good” before snack time:
“Keeping company with God” is the title of Part One of Philip Yancey’s book with the arresting title Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? He discusses also the language of prayer and the dilemmas of prayer including what one should pray for, the enigma of unanswered prayer, and “un-prayed answers.” (220) Ah, the mystery of talking to God.
PRAISE
Lately I decided to cheer myself up by reviewing the bounty of God’s blessings. When the machinery of life goes awry–the doctor has a dire report, the car breaks down, a friend misunderstands–how can it be that I overlook divine intervention? My memory for blessing is so limited, and so I record evidences of God’s faithfulness:
PETITION
Over the years, in fact since 1984, I have accumulated prayer cards, some printed with typewriter ribbon and later ones two-sided and computer generated. Most of what is on the card are names of family and friends who need help, but sometimes there is a condition humanly unsolvable that I pray God will remedy. The cards are speckled with dates recording what I regard as answers to prayer.
How soon we forget. How necessary to remember!
Denise Levertov, from Sands of the Well, expresses with clarity the “quiet mystery” of communication between God and [wo]man in two stanzas of “Primary Wonder” (vimeo):
Days pass when I forget the mystery.
Problems insoluble and problems offering
their own ignored solutions
jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing
their colored clothes; cap and bells.
And then
once more the quiet mystery is present to me, the throng’s clamor recedes; the mystery that there is anything, anything at all, let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything, rather than void: and that, O Lord, Creator, Hallowed One, you still,
hour by hour sustain it.
How do you practice gratitude?
During this Thanksgiving season do you have a story, long treasured in the family or a newly minted one to share? We’re ready to listen!
You have my word, and my word is stronger than OAK! Quoted in the movie Jerry Maguire
On Attitude
Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful! Annette Funicello
Courtesy Google Images
On perspective:
Have you heard of the 18/40/60 rule?
“When you’re eighteen, you worry about what everybody’s thinking about you. When you’re forty, you realize that it doesn’t really matter what they think about you. When you’re sixty, it dawns on you that most of them weren’t thinking about you at all!”
Daily Devotional: The Word for You Today, October 31, 2013 entry
On the Mystery of Life:
The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one’s own.
Willa Cather, The Professor’s House
Who am I? We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881 – 1955)
* Which quote resonates with you most in either a positive or negative way?
* What quote for the month can you add?
You comments are most welcome. I will always reply!
Are you thriving–or just barely hanging on? This is a close-up of the logo from a woman’s retreat I attended a few months ago featuring Leslie Nease, Mrs. North Carolina 2001 and contestant on Survivor China 2007.
A fitness trainer, she has written a book on physical, emotional and spiritual fitness called Body Builders. Leslie has had to overcome many obstacles in her life journey, but she shares these with touches of humor. Her new book Wholehearted: Living the Life You Were Created to Live (2013) describes how God transformed her from the inside out with an experience she refers to as a heart transplant. Her goal: to live every day with purpose and passion. To thrive, not just survive.
For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
II Corinthians 4:16
The desire to thrive, not just survive, is described in psychological terms as well. The book Love, Medicine & Miracles by Bernie S. Siegel, M. D. contains a description of the survivor personality traits. According to psychologist Al Siebert, there are observable indicators of self-motivated growth:
1. A sense of aimless playfulness for its own sake, like that of a happy child.
2. A child’s innocent curiosity.
3. The ability to become so deeply absorbed in an activity that you lose track of time, external events, and all your worries . . . .
4. An observant, non-judgment style.
5. Willingness to look foolish, make mistakes, and laugh at yourself.
6. An active imagination, daydreams, mental play . . . .
7. Empathy for other people, including opponents.
8. Recognition of . . . intuition as a valid source of information.
9. Good timing when speaking or taking original action.
10. The ability to see early clues about future developments and take appropriate action.
11. Keeping a positive outlook in adversity.
12. The ability to adapt to unexpected experiences. (Plan B!)
13. The talent for converting what others consider misfortune into something useful.
14. Feeling yourself getting smarter and enjoying life more as you get older.
What can you add to the list above?
Are you a thriver? A survivor? Share a story please.
Samuel Brinser Martin 1863 -1957 Victorians didn’t smile for photos!
Wiry Grandpa Martin, was a jolly little man. He had an Old MacDonald-type farm with chickens, a couple of cows, two horses, and maybe a pig though I never heard an oink-oink-oink either here or there.
Sycamore tree and bridge along lane leading up to the Martin farm Oil painting by Ruth Martin LongeneckerSamuel and Mary Martin
Theirs was a Jack Sprat-type union, with his wife Mary as generous as she was ample. Great Grandma Mary died before I was born, so I never met the big-hearted woman who often invited strangers to the family table.
My Grandma Longenecker’s dad, Great-Grandpa Samuel Brinser Martin, came to live with his daughter Fannie and grand-daughter, my Aunt Ruthie, in his later years. My sisters and I found him curious and amusing.
Great-Grandpa Sam has no teeth to speak of. What he had were rotted and drew his mouth into an O like an old mountaineer’s. After meals, he shook some salt into his hand, threw his head way back, opened up and sucked in the salt. It made a loud POP, his mouth an echo chamber.
He came to Grandma’s house toothless, blind, and deaf but not dumb. He was smart enough to know that we stole candy from his stash below his Emerson radio turned to high volume with static near the kitchen window. When he offered us pink Pepto Bismol-like lozenges, we snuck back and snitched the chocolate covered mints. Both his eyes were blind, but one eye was glass and sometimes rolled out of its socket and onto the green, beige, and brown blocked linoleum floor where it picked it up speed.
There were other sneaky things, too, some not involving us. His minister from Geyers Church near Middletown, Pennsylvania would visit, coming in the door with a Bible under one arm and a long, flat, telltale something or other in a brown bag under the other. As the minutes went by the laughing and talking in the upstairs bedroom got louder and louder, revealing the effects of the liberal libation of liquor the two were imbibing, for medicinal reasons of course. We observed the literal interpretation of the biblical teaching that “A merry heart doeth good like medicine.” Obviously, his preacher friend was not a strict Mennonite like us nor in favor of prohibition or abstinence.
Grandpa would tell us often: “There’s no feller quite so yeller like my liver.” Then a guffaw! He could pack a punch too. Asking me to make a fist to show my muscle, he’d pound the little mount of bicep flesh hard enough to make a dent.
When he died, there was a quiet spot near the bay window in Grandma’s kitchen – no candy – no tricks – no loud music. We missed Grandpa Martin.
We all have relatives, past or present, who are curious and interesting. We’d like to hear about yours!
July 2013 phone conversation between Aunt Ruthie and me:
M: Well, Ruthie, how are you doing?
AR: Well, I’m puzzled!
M: Puzzled? What about?
AR: I’m doing puzzles, doing “word find”! Ha ha ha! (Still witty at 95)
Teaching: Adoring teachers surround their retiring principal at Rheems Elementary School
Living for Others:
Receiving Salt of the Earth Award from Lutheran Social Services for ministry to refugees and immigrants
Music:
Playing the dulcimer 1996
Back to the piano at Rheems Nursing Home: Of the residents, many of them younger than she, her response: “They are poor souls. They probably wouldn’t recognize it if I repeated songs.”
Her schnauzer, Fritzie IV:
January 4, 2012 When her care-giver, nephew Mark has surgery, she remarks: “You and I, Fritzie, are orphans now.”
* * * * * * *
The school-teacher, principal, tax collector, family and church accountant, “mother” to dozens of refugees and immigrants has now landed on the spot of the calendar that says 95.
In July 2013, after falling at home, she recuperated at a rehab center and is now living at Landis Homes, a residence for seniors, many of whom are Mennonite, near Lititz, Pennsylvania. She has survived a pacemaker procedure and pneumonia in 2008, a hip break in 2010, and another fall this year. Yet she can still get out of bed, dress herself, and go places with her walker.
Hobbled by her falls and the natural progression of age, she’s no spring chicken, but she is still mobile. However, she finds her memory loss harder to deal with. The pilot light in her brilliant mind (she skipped 2 grades and had to have a chaperone at college because of her age) is now flickering during these last few years:
May 15, 2010 “Am I out of it?” she asks, dealing with the confusion that has set in.
May 17, 2010 “Sometimes I feel as though I must guard against a mental relapse.”
May 22, 2010 “I feel like a monkey on a stick.” Or a doll – Sue (then her housekeeper) comes “in the door, takes me off the shelf, dusts me off, and puts me back up again.”
Feb, 27, 2011 “I took care of my grandfather, my mother, and now, I have to be taken care of. I was hoping this wouldn’t happen to me!”
January 11, 2012 “I don’t trust myself to say the right answer.”
April 13, 2013 Though there is confusion about where she is and the day of the week, she still notices that the hands on her Bulova Caravel watch have stopped. She gets a new piece of jewelry on her wrist today–and a touch quilt!
TODAY IS HER 95th PARTY: Time to Celebrate
Sister Jean and Aunt Ruthie at the 95th PartyAunt Ruthie and Colleen’s touch quilt
Her Wit: She gets the Last Laugh!
At Landis Homes, conversing with her sister-in-law, my mother, who is the same age, has the same name, down to the middle initial:
Aunt: I want to go home to my house, my dog, my things . . . .
Mother: You have it good here, Ruthie.
Aunt: All I do is sit here. I could just as well do my sitting at home.
Mother: Here you have nice people to help you, good food, pretty flowers all around. Virginia Hoover, Simon and Mary Jean Kraybill from church, even Cecilia Metzler, my sister-in-law live here. And they all love it!
Aunt: Why don’t we just exchange places then? We have the same name. You could sit here just as well as I. No one would ever notice.
Here we are all bunched up together for a photo documenting our excursion from Rheems Elementary School to the library in town about 3 miles away. But we’ll soon board buses, and go back to our two-room school-house in Rheems where we’ll probably have lunch or recess. And we’ll lose our serious faces, eyes agape.
Recess, yes! After Miss Longenecker, grades 1- 4, or Mrs. Kilhefner, grades 5 – 8, excuses us, we all scram out to the playground equipped with a slide, see-saw, and jungle gym with bars for climbing and twirling our bodies around. Before we go back to class, most of us will pay a visit to the typical wooden outhouses, one for girls and one for boys, right next to each other and both regularly anointed with lime to quell the smell.
Group Outdoor Games:
1. Softball (Need an extra inning? Teachers, not so pressured by students’ test scores, may extend our play.)
2. Red Rover “Red Rover, Red Rover,” let ________ come over!) involving mad dashes around school building.
3. Crack the Whip Classmates in a line, running, then strong body at one end stops short, so others flip around. Cheap thrill!
4. Tag When someone chases you down on the playground and touches you, you are IT!
5. Hide and Go Seek
Games with Just a Few:
1. Simon says
2. Hop-scotch
3. Four square
4. Jump rope
5. Double jump rope Each child has a handle on two different jump ropes and flicks them one at a time in opposite directions. “I dare you not to trip up!”
Rainy Day Games:
1. Jacks
2. Pick Up Sticks
Courtesy: Google Images
3. Tiddly-Winks (Players try to snap small plastic disks into a cup by pressing them on the edge with a large disk.)
Treat for Teacher:
Someone, probably Ralph, announces in the middle of class “Fruit Roll!” and kids behind every desk in class jump up with an apple, orange, or grapefruit to roll along the oiled, wooden schoolhouse floor toward the teacher’s desk, an unexpected treat! [In an era when teachers fear spit balls or worse–guns! even, such a gesture is most endearing.]
I wish I could show a photo of the school and outhouses, but one cold evening during Christmas vacation, the school burned down, suspiciously, and was replaced by a standard- issue concrete structure, not nearly as nostalgic as the steepled one with a bell that I remember.
I was already in junior high in the big school uptown when the fire occurred, but my sister Janice remembers being shifted to Washington School, the building adjacent to Bossler’s Mennonite Church, where our Daddy and Aunt Ruthie attended. This old school had a large furnace in the basement with a sizable flat top, and students would bring potatoes wrapped in foil to bake on top of the furnace for a nice hot lunch on cold, cold days.
Like Mildred Armstrong Kalish in her memoir, Little Heathens, depicting Iowa farm and school life during the Depression, I have fond, fond memories of Rheems Elementary School in the 1950s.
Quote from John Bartlett, who compiled over 11,00 quotations in the 10th edition of Quotations, 1919
Writing & Stories
4.10.99 Why stories are so effective:
The best stories begin as mental pictures which turn into personal mirrors before they become insightful windows through which we’re able to view life with greater clarity and understanding. Anonymous
12.15.95 I like everything about writing except the paperwork! Novelist Peter de Vries
9.9.00 I feel 10 times smarter writing on the computer. My student, ENC 1101
Travel
There’s no cure like travel
To help you unravel
The worries of living today.
When the poor brain is cracking
There’s nothing like packing
A suitcase and sailing away.
Cole Porter – Anything Goes.
7.15.13 The only real voyage of self-discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in seeing it with new eyes. Marcel Proust
8.14.99 Distance lends enchantment to the view . . . . Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Ozarks
10.22.96 I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. Thoreau
7.28.90 The trip to heaven will be easy because I have sent my heart on ahead. Loretta Lynn
White-Water Rafting
Ocoee Rafting – Ducktown, TN
White water rafting, especially level 3 or 4, is a grand metaphor for life:
1. Trust your Guide.
2. Stay IN the boat.
3. Have fun!
Dancing with the Stars
4.16.99 I don’t try to be better than anyone else. I try to be better than myself. Mikhael Baryshnikov, dancer
5.13.90 If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. Thoreau
5.10.99 And frame your mind to mirth and merriment / Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. Wm. Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew
A merry heart doeth good like medicine. Proverbs 17:22.
Time and Happiness
3.17.00 Human time does not turn in a circle. It runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy; happiness is the longing for repetition. Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
12.28.89 How plotless real life was [is]! Anne Tyler, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant
5.9.90 Don’t worry about the meaning of life; pursue meaning in life every day. Robert Fulghum
12.19.99 You are only one thought away from a good feeling! Sheil Krystal quoted in Rick Carlson’s Happiness
9.10.13 Sybil, in my book says, “Sometimes, the greatest gift you can give someone is the freedom to pursue their own happiness.” Red Clay and Roses SK Nicholls
Plain and Fancy 