One day when I was three or four years old, I took a crayon and scribbled on the white pillars on the front porch of our house as far up as I could reach. I don’t remember doing it but I do remember the consequences. I had to scrub and scrub and scrub and then scrub some more until it was all removed. At the time it felt harsh but I can promise you, I have never, not even once, considered doing it again!
I see the lawlessness, destruction and vandelism that is sowing seeds of evil intent in our nation’s young people. I would never, ever, consider damaging a statue, building, lawn, artwork, vehicle or property of another person. That goes against the DNA of who I am. I was raised better than that and disciplined if I trespassed. Where are the parents? Where are the leaders of our nation that they would stand glibbly by and wink at this great evil? Where is respect, decency, dignity and honor?
My rights as a landowner stop with my property line. I can not cross over the fence to eat blackberries, hunt, dig a hole or plant a tree. In the same way my free speech stops when it is unkind, untruthful, hurtful or expressing intent to harm, insult, or destroy another person, business or nation. Free speech is controlled not mob motivated. Free speech respects the rights and dignity of other persons and does not seek to bring them harm. We need to allow each other space for our differences of opinion, religion and beliefs in a civil platform. We do not tread on, stomp or silence those differences nor do we demand our own agenda on others.
There is a solution and it is so easy. The offenders should first be made to physically clean up every inch of their mess and should be required to pay for and help do the repairs. If in school, they should be expelled. Repeat offenders should be arrested with serious consequences. I can almost guarentee most offenders will never consider doing it again. Consequences harsh? Absolutely but consequences speak.
When I was six years old, my brother and I were playing farmer and horse. Rich was the farmer and I was the run-a-way horse. I was neighing and racing around with farmer Rich close behind. Finally he lunged for me and in the process knocked me to the ground into the gravel at the edge of the driveway. I ended up with a very bloody, scuffed up knee. After the knee healed, mother realized I had a tiny gravel under the skin by the scar close to my kneecap. You could see and feel it with your finger. The “show and tell” made a fun story. It never bothered me but when I had my knee replacement surgery sixty-one years later I asked the doctor to take it out. That accident was my first scar.
I had other scars through the years. Each has a memory. Each has a story. Seemingly insignificant events can became unforgetable memories. Some time during my adolescent years, I was riding my bike and went sailing down the hill through the yard. Just as I reached the road, the chain came off my bike and I was unable to stop. Fortunately, no cars were coming as I careened onto the road. I had on flip flops and in the process of trying to stop I stripped the skin and meat off my left big toe, down to the bone. I went limping and screaming back to the house. The commotion made our neighbors come see what had happened. Another time I was doing acrobatics exercises on my bed and flipped over backwards off the bed busting my knee, requiring stitches. Later in life there were several surgeries; a hysterectomy and a double knee replacement. Both left nice long 6-8 inch scars on my abdomen and legs.
Scars are what is left after a wound has healed. Nasty wounds or injuries can be replaced by a barely noticeable scars. Sometimes the injuries are much more devastating with long-term affects; loss of a limb, burns, crippling diseases, a broken neck, cancer, etc. Some wounds are more insidious and the scars less visible. Sexual and physical abuse, bullying, deformities, lies, broken homes, addictions, tragedies, rejection, broken hearts, war, terrorist attacks, kidnapping and suicide can leave emotional or mental wounds whose roots go much deeper than the surface of the skin and are much harder to heal. We suffer the wounds and bear the scars of a broken and sinful world
I thought about Jesus scars. Isaiah 53:2 gives us a glimpse into Jesus personal appearance. “He had no form or comeliness that when we see him there is no beauty that we should desire him.” He would probably had been that child in school that everyone avoided, make fun of and bullied. He would not be the darling, handsome, well-built hunk of a high school quarterback.
But later in life, Jesus also had physical scars; horrific, deep, bloody, and permanent. They were caused by a crown of thorns pressed into his head, 40 lashes with a leaded whip, slaps across the face, his beard being pulled out, and nails hammered into his hands and feet as he was nailed to the cross. Isaiah 53 says he was sticken, smitten, aflicted , oppressed, chastised, wounded, bruised, and killed. He suffered mental abuse from insults, lies, ridicule, being spit on, humiliation and desertion by his closest circle of friends. He was despised and rejected by men and felt forsaken by God himself.
Why? Why did this have to happen? Because of our sins. He took them all onto himself so that we could be saved.
It usually takes weeks for injuries and surgeries to heal. Jesus died and when he rose from the dead three days later he was completely healed. BUT Jesus also had a “show and tell” story with scars. Late Sunday night after Jesus rose from the dead, two men were walking the seven miles from Jersualem to Emmaus when Jesus appeared and walked and talked with them. They didn’t recognize him until they arrived at Emmaus and sat down to eat; Jesus took bread and broke it and gave it to them to eat. Suddenly their eyes were opened and they recognized him. He immediately vanished from their sight. Even though it was dark, they hurried back to Jerusalem, found the disciples and those who had gathered with them, and told them about all the things that had just happened. Suddenly Jesus stood in their midst. They were terrified and frighten and Jesus greeted them with “Peace to you”. Jesus said, “Why are you troubled and why do you doubt? Look at my hands and feet. See my scars. Touch me and, feel them. I am real. Ghost do not have flesh and bones as I have.” (Paraphased Luke 24:39).
Thomas, one of the disciples was not with them at the time and when they told him about Jesus appearing to them he doubted and said, “Unless I see his hands and the holes of the nails and touch them with my finger and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” Eight days later, Jesus appeared to the disciples again and specifically addressed doubting Thomas. “Thomas, look at my hands. Reach out your finger and touch the scars on my hands and side. Feel them and believe.” And Thomas responded with “My Lord and my God.” (Paraphased John 20:20)
In Revelations there is a vision of a future scene in heaven when Jesus appears as the Lamb who was slain to open the scroll. (Revelations 5:1-7). He had the appearance of a sacrificed lamb. That tells me that Jesus’ scars are permanent. When we get to heaven, we will recognize him with his scars. We will be able to tenderly rub our fingers over his scars and fully understand his story. We will join in heartfelt worship with the gazillion other “redeemed by the blood of the lamb” saints praising and worshipping.
There is so much we do not know about heaven, but we do know we will be healed; all our wounds, emotional trauma, broken hearts, diseases, physical pain, sorrow and grief will be made whole. There will be no more tears. But a new wonder crossed my mind. Will we have still have our scars as a testimony and eternal reminder of the healing power of Jesus from the troubles we endured and the brokeness of this sinful world? Will I be able to rub my finger over your scar and say, “Tell me, tell me your story. Tell me what Jesus did for you?”
By his stripes (scars) we are healed. Thank you Jesus.
This year during Holy Week I found myself thinking about Saturday, a day of shock, despair and hopelessness. It was a day when God did not speak and Jesus was silent, sealed away in a tomb, dead. The disciples, mother of Jesus and other women were totally unprepared for the brutal horror that had unfolded before their eyes on Friday. They could hardly fatham the change of events from Sunday when crowds of people had cheered, sang hosanna, waved palm branches and hailed Jesus as a king as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. They thought the political reign of Jesus freeing them from Rome was finally happening. They missed the fact that kings ride in on horses not a poor man’s donkey.
Then came Thursday night. Jesus was arrested and put on trial. The news reverberated through the city and a large crowd of noisy protesters gathered outside Pilates house. Judas, a part of Jesus inner circle of twelve, betrayed him for thirty pieces of silver and then hung himself, dying a gruesome death.
Friday was a day they could not have imagined in their worst nightmare. Their shock and grief was revolting and numbing. The horror they had witnessed was gruesome. The man they had trusted and followed for three years had been horribly killed with the most cruel form of punishment and disfigured beyond recognition. The groans and cries of pain as the hammer nailed him to the cross was more than they could bear. A violent earthquake shook the ground and the darkness created a supernatural demonic eeriness. Then there was this strange supernatural occurrence where the curtain in the temple separating the holy from the ordinary was ripped from top to bottom. What did going on? What would happen next? Some of the disciples had fled and went into hiding. John huddled at a distance with Jesus mother and the other women. There were no words. Just silence and grief. All his blood spilled out on the ground when a sword pierced his side. They watched him die. They had seen his body, a limp, lifeless, bloody corpse. They had watched as Nicodemus and Joseph wrapped the body in cloth and quickly buried it in a rich man’s tomb without the proper burial spices. They could hardly take in all that was happening in the midst of their overwhelming shock and grief. Jesus was dead. Gone. It was all over.
Friday night there was no sleep. The women sat with Jesus mother and sobbed together. Emotions were raw and feelings were tender.
And then came Saturday. The morning dawned with a heavy, hushed stillness over the city and time stood still. The city was eerily quiet and deserted. Only a few ventured outside as most stayed huddled behind locked doors and talked in hushed whispers. The entire city was in a state of shock and fear. It almost seemed as if the earth was holding its breath.
How does one process what had happened the day before? How had they been so misled? They had witnessed the miracles, listened to Jesus profound teaching. They were convinced he was the Son of God, the Messiah. What should they do now? Where should they go? Were they safe? Why had they not noticed what Judas was up to? Where was God? The words of Jesus that in three days he would rise from the dead never entered their minds. They were sad, hurt, discouraged, exhausted, bewildered, angry, scared and numb. It was the sabbath day and no work was allowed but they began to make plans to give Jesus a decent burial with the required spices on Sunday morning without considering the logistics of doing so.
Nothing, nothing, would prepare them for the events of Sunday morning. They went from worrying how they would roll the rock from the tomb entrance to finding the tomb empty and fearing he had been stolen, to chatting with a frightening angel, and then experiencing the presence of the risen Lord. I can only imagine that their hearts burned within them with fear, hope, relief and confusion.
Saturday, a day of silence, fear, despair and hopelessness, dawned into Sunday, a day of many words, relief, joy and hope.
And then an amazing thing began to happen. They began to remember, to recall the things Jesus had taught them and the words he had spoken. Hour by hour and day by day their eyes and hearts were opened until 50 days later at Pentecost they were staunch believers and fearless men and women who were ready to defend the faith and even risk death to spread the good news.
Jesus did die a horrible death. But, he also rose from the dead. He became alive. He was the Son of God who came to earth in a human body with one purpose…. to become the sacrifical lamb to take away our sin so that we can become right with God and have eternal life.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only beloved son. That whoever believes in him would not perish, but have everlasting life.”
John 3: 16
“Behold the Lamb” is another blog post that explains the signifiance and meaning of the sacrifical lamb.
The complete story can be read in the Bible: Each reference contains some different perspectives and details.
What a week! It was a week of many emotions but it was a good week. In the midst of our loss we could celebrate because daddy was finally freed from the earthly bonds that held him and he was now home with Jesus. Free. Whole. Happy. Redeemed. My brother Rich and I “highfived” after the service. We had done it. We had seen him through and cared for him as a family the best we could these last three years. I won’t pretend it was easy or smooth sailing, the seas were mighty rough at times. We had tried to talk to mother before she died and asked her advice on how to care for daddy. It was not helpful. Everything we suggested, she said would not work, so we had to choose a won’t work option and make it work. We really began to understand the burden she had been carrying. Dementia is a cruel taskmaster and it did not treat daddy well. We kept reminding ourselves this was not daddy, it was his disease. But it was daddy, with the disease. It was his worse fear coming true.
So this week as we began to prepare for his service, we reminiscenced our memories, put together a picture powerpoint, set up a display of memorabilia, prepared a sermon and graveside service meditation, choose our songs, wrote an obituary, designed a bulletin, notified family and friends, and all the many details that went with it, something happened, something good and profound. We dug past the last three years and the daddy of old began resurfacing. We remembered his faith stories, his smile, his humor, his church work, his life stories, his quirks, his habits and his personality. We remembered the love he had for mother and how he and mother modeled a good marriage. We remembered hard work, fun times, and discipline. We remembered his favorite song, his favorite verse and his favorite foods. It was healing. It was comforting. It was freeing. We were given the remembrance of the gift of a godly heritage.
We experienced the love and comfort of family, extended family, friends and neighbors. Some came from hundreds of miles and some from across the road. Some were friends from years gone by who we hadn’t seen in years but had come to let us know they cared and the impact daddy had on their lives.
Daddy and mother had lived a good full life-70 years together. They had traveled extensively in their later years and developed many friendships. They opened their home to two different girls who lived with them for a period of time. Daddy was a dairy farmer but his real passion was ministry. He pastored at Morning View Mennonite Church for twenty-four years and was interim pastor at Faith Mennonite Church in South Boston for two years. They had four children, thirteen grandchildren and thiry-nine great-grandchildren. Their quiver was full!
The day of the burial and Celebration of Life we were ready. We were ready to speak freely and honestly about our parents and honor them with gratitude for the rich and godly heritage they had lived and given to us. Rich gave the graveside meditation and the grand and great-grandchilden sang “I’m Pressing On the Upward Way”. It was beautiful. During the service several of the grandchildren had special music, Eileen and I both shared a tribute and Ed preached the sermon. Yes we got a little emotional at times but it was good and we feel so blessed and honored to call Dwight Heatwole our dad.
One other very special thing that we did for mother and daddy……. Ed and Rich together built their caskets. Eileen prepared the inside lining and pillows.
Daddy’s casket
Karmen designed and printed an individualized plaque for each of them that we put on the inside lid of the casket. They were so creative and professionally done. Mothers plaque had all our names in a border around the plaque. There was a cascade of flowers with sewing/quilting objects enterwined and a verse that represented the godly person she was. Proverbs 31:28.
Daddy’s had an engraving of his favorite verse (Philippians 3:12b), the farm house with the stone wall fence and the huge elm tree at the front corner of the house. All our names are engraved on the leaves of the tree.
Daddy’s Plaque
When the time came to take daddy’s casket to the funeral home, Ed and Rich took it in the back of Ed’s pickup. The pickup had been daddy’s pride and joy. Even when he had forgotten lots of other things, he would ask over and over where his pickup was and maybe five minutes later ask again. We were always glad to tell him that Ed had it.
Pat’s Tribute to Daddy
This past Sunday we visited daddy. He was failing fast, and we knew that we knew it would not be much longer, but it was rather shocking when we walked into his room. We wondered if each labored breath would be his last. We sang to him a few songs about heaven. I prayed with him and told him how much I loved him, shared with him that he would soon see Jesus and gave him permission to go home to Jesus.
As long as I can remember, daddy’s favorite song was “Sweet By and By”. As we sang it visibly affected him even though he was barely with us. Remember when we used to have song services? Whenever daddy was given an opportunity, he requested #630 in the Church Hymnal. It may sound rather odd, but even when he was Bible School superintendent, he would often close with that song. Daddy had a heart that was sensitive to, looked forward and yearned for the coming again of Jesus and the promise of that land that was fairer than day. Ironically, he had to wait 93 years! On the farm there was a path that went through the field from the house to the barn. A power line was strung overhead. He was known to say that each morning when he went to the barn to milk, he would look up to see if the power lines were in place and then would say, “Jesus, will it be today?”
After I gave this tribute at the funeral, the man who bought daddy’s farm came to us and showed us this picture he had taken of daddy’s electrical pole!!!! He loved the story and now the pole had special meaning to him!!!
I knew daddy as a strong man of God, and he was intentional about living out his faith. Every morning, we had devotions at the breakfast table and would sing a hymn. If we were running a little late or our ride to EMHS was a little early, they had to wait until he was finished.
Almost all of my church memories are from Zion Hill. Daddy served in many different roles; Sunday School teacher, Superintendent, youth leader, Bible School teacher and superintendent and after I left home as pastor at Morning View and Faith. I remember at one point he bought a van just so he could pick up children and bring them to Sunday School, church, and Bible School.
He was a creative teacher and superintendent. One time he built a little train to collect soap for missions. He liked visuals and did things like hanging up strings of Christmas lights at Bible School so the children to turn on their light when they came. For years he was known as the “Candy Man” at church. The children would watch for when he came to church carrying a little brown paper bag filled with suckers which he would stash behind the pulpit until after church. I remember one incident involving Keith Harman. Daddy gave him a sucker and Gladys told him he couldn’t eat it until after lunch. Daddy told the smitten little boy to go ahead and “suck it”. I’m not sure how he got by with that one!
Daddy served for a number of years as Virginia Mennonite Conference Secretary and was responsible for getting the MCC meat canner to come to Harrisonburg. They exceeded their goal of 120 head of beef. He also set up a freezer for people to donate frozen vegetables, meat and soups for missionaries home on furlough. Daddy served as prison chaplain at the Linville Prison Camp for a lot of years. He was highly respect and earned enough trust from the officials that they sometimes allowed him to bring a few of the men to the farm or take them to church.
Daddy was a man of order and self-discipline. He was never late anywhere. We were always the first ones to arrive at church (30 minutes early) and would sit in the car in the parking lot waiting for others to arrive. His farm was always mowed, trimmed, and painted. He milked on time. If he started at 4:20 in the afternoon, he would sit on the stone retainer wall outside the barn and wait for 4:20. He would not start one minute early. He would count down, 10-9-8-7…1 and up we would jump! We ate our meals on time. Mother could see from the kitchen window when daddy was walking the path to the house and when he came in the door, she had the meal on the table.
Daddy and mother put a lot of effort into their grandchildren. They bought an RV and took their grandchildren out west or other camping trips. They let several of their granddaughters live with them while they went to college, and several gardened with them. They made several trips to Canada to see Kendra when she lived in Red Lake. They bought four-wheelers, motorcycles, go-carts, and a ping pong and pool table for them to have fun things to do when they came to his house.
I just finished reading through Deuteronomy. God had told Moses to get ready to die and most of the book is Moses speaking to the children of Israel reminding them of what God had done for them, encouraging them to set up memorials and to tell their children what they meant so that they would know and remember God’s faithfulness. I want to tell a couple of stories of God’s faithfulness to daddy, how he experienced God.
When daddy was a little boy in the beginners Sunday School class at Bethany, he had one of his favorite single aunts, Aunt Martha, as his teacher. She offered him a surprise gift if he would pay attention and not be disturbing to her or the others in the class. Daddy said he worked hard and did his best. When the day came, she gave him a china mother dog with three little puppies. He was one happy, proud little boy and guarded them carefully. He said, “I was very possessive of them”.
One day his mother wanted to make a sand garden for the small stand that was Just inside the living room door. She put sand in a fish aquarium and then added many little objects to create an attractive scene. She wanted to borrow his little dogs and after struggling with the decision decided she could use them.
One day two of his younger brothers were chasing each other with one in hot pursuit. They dashed through the kitchen, into the living room and then went for the stairway that led to the safety of the bathroom with a lock. As they rounded the corner, they knocked over the stand and everything went crashing to the floor. Alas, his little dog was broken, and he let everyone know his displeasure with his crying.
Being a wise mother, she quieted him and talked to him about forgiveness and let him know he had to forgive them. Then she glued the dog back together and helped him work through restoring his relationship with his brothers. Daddy said, “Praise God for a mother that would not let him hold a grudge”. He and his brothers became the best of friends. Those china dogs were a treasured memorial that always set in the living room and reminded him of his first experience with forgiveness. He loved to tell us the story. He said, “Rich blessings sometimes come out of painful experiences.”
Another experience happened much later in life.
During daddy’s farming years a difficult situation developed with a neighbor. When daddy told the story to his church, he called them by fictious names, Abraham and Sarah. I will do the same. Abraham developed an intense hatred for daddy and was vocal about it. Twenty-three years went by, and every time the man saw daddy, he would tell him how much he hated him.
One Saturday the phone rang, and Abraham said, “I want you to come over. I have something for you.” Daddy was caught off guard and hesitantly said he would come. But after getting off the phone and thinking about it for about 15 minutes he decided he did not want to go. He called Abraham back and said he would not come.
A little later, Abraham’s grandson knocked on his door with a bushel of apples. Daddy was stunned. He accepted the gift and then told mother to make a pie, he wanted to take it to Abraham. After thinking about it a little he realized something profound was happening and it required more than a pie. He went out to his work shop, and he saw a magazine rack that he had just finished making. He decided to take it to Abraham.
Daddy took one of his granddaughters with him and they went to Abraham’s house. Sarah invited him in. Abraham, who was 92 years old, was sitting at the kitchen table and there was an obvious change with him- a look of joy and a happy smile on his face. Daddy thanked him for the apples and gave him his gift. Abraham gushed over the magazine rack, exclaiming how beautiful it was. And then an amazing thing happened. They talked and asked forgiveness of each other and a relationship was restored.
That night daddy had a vision. He was driving a four-wheeler through one of his fields and came to a small pond of water-maybe 12 feet across. The water in it was crystal clear and stunningly beautiful. He looked up at the sky and it was dark. Out of the stormy clouds a waterfall spouted out and water cascaded down to the little pond. He became aware he was on holy ground and as he stood there he was baptized with the Holy Spirit. From that point on he felt a special anointing on the pastoral ministry. This was a Saturday night, and do you know what he had planned to preach on in the morning? The Holy Spirit. He emotionally shared that experience with his congregation that morning. Again, he experienced sweet forgiveness, and it had a deep impact on his ministry.
One more story.
A man who lived in the church community developed an intense dislike for daddy and his ministry, threatening his life, telling him that if he drove up the road past his house on Sunday, he would shoot him. The man was very aware of what time daddy drove past his house. After much prayer and discernment, daddy decided not to be intimidated and put his life in God’s hands. That Sunday he and mother decided to drive separate vehicles and they drove up the road past the man’s house to church as they always did. That was the end of the intimidation. God had revealed himself again in a powerful way to daddy.
There are many more stories I could share. As daddy struggled through his journey with dementia I often prayed that he would never loose his God consciousness. Sunday night as I prayed for daddy, I pleaded for God’s mercy. I awoke extra early Monday morning and again daddy was heavy on my mind. I thought of Psalms 116:15, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” The word precious really hit me. Precious is a powerful emotion-filled word. It means something of great value or high price, highly esteemed, cherished. I reminded God of that verse and claimed it for daddy. Within a very short time I got the call. Daddy was gone. Precious to God was the death of daddy. Daddy was highly esteemed and cherished by Jesus who paid a high and heavy price for all of our sins. Daddy longed for the day when he would see the land that was fairer than day. By faith he could see it afar. He knew his Father that waited over the way and was preparing a dwelling place there. Yes daddy, in the sweet by and by we will meet on that beautiful shore.
Eileen’s Tribute to Daddy
Over the years daddy and I became more than just father and daughter-in-law, we became friends.
Daddy was a man of many talents and skill. He was willing to try things. Some of those skills were farmer, preacher, woodworker, etc. But he had a talent that as far as I know he only used one time. That is the one I want to tell you about today.
One day daddy called me and aske me if I would go on a date with him. When your father-in-law ask for a date you say, “Sure, I would love to go.” “Where are we going?” I asked. Much to my surprise the fabric store!
Daddy explained to me that mother made quilts for all her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and that even included the one born this week on Tuesday (the day after he died), my granddaughter, Hannah Grace. He said mother blessed so many people with quilts and he wanted to bless her by making her a quilt.
I must confess at this point I was a little bit skeptical but off to the fabric store I went where I was to meet up with daddy. When I arrived mother also got out of the car. Daddy said she wanted to come along, BUT she promised she would not say anything.
Now the fun of picking fabric begins. Mother didn’t say anything but she stood about two steps behind daddy where I could see her but daddy could not.
Daddy would pull out fabric and mother would give non verbal advice. I remember he pulled out an orange fabric that he thought might look good. Mother’s reaction was…. (she shook her head no and with her finger sliced across her throat)!!! So I knew I had to make sure that it did not make the cut.
He bought his fabric and thanked me for the date and off he went to sew. When it was ready to quilt I asked daddy, “Who will quilt your quilt?” Daddy promptly said, “I have lady friends who quilt.” So he planned quilting parties-some of you may have part of one of those.
(Show quilt)
Some years went by and daddy had another question for me. He was at VMRC. He looked so lost and he motioned me over to his side and asked, “Eileen, where am I?”
Well daddy, today I can joyfully say, “You are home. Welcome home good and faithful servant.”
The geni bug bite me in the eighth grade at John C. Myers Intermediate School and I still haven’t gotten over it! I had Mr. (James) Rush for history class and one of our assignments was to fill out a family tree chart. I loved it and took the project very seriously. I was amazed at how many generations I was able to track and it was fun discovering others who had some of the same ancestors. The following year I transferred to Eastern Mennonite High School and low and behold there was Mr. Rush. I couldn’t believe my good luck and had him several more times for history and government classes. I loved him and his style of teaching. He was probably my all time favorite high school teacher. He made learning fun and each time we again worked on our family trees.
Years later I was married and had four children; two were born with a genetic disease and died at five months and eight months of age. My grieving process led me to my family tree again and I ended up writing a book on my dad’s side (Heatwole) of the family. I find family stories fascinating. I will never be able to get the stories of all my ancestors but I have discovered some really insteresting ones.
The furthest back I have traced my family lineage is 13 generations through ancestor Peter Bronnimann who had a son Melchior Bronneman Sr. of Bovaria, who had a son (Melchior Bronneman the exile), who had a son (Melchior Brenneman the pioneer), who had a son (Melchior Brenneman Jr.) They show up on my family line six times and on Gene’s once. Through Melchior Brenneman the pioneer’s wife Elizabeth Jane Stehman I can go 17 generations.
There is another ancestor, a worthy clergyman, Pfarrer Georg Hutwohl, of Morschbach, Germany that I can trace back 14 generations. He was born in 1545. His great-great-great grandson immigrated to American in 1748. His story is another blog post… A Family Story: Death on the High Seas (Johann Mathias Hutwohl). The story of Mathias’ son David is A Family Story: Triumph Over Tragedy. and David’s son Gabriel, who was my great-great-great-great grandfather, was a prosper farmer and herb doctor in the Shenandoah Valley during the Civil War. A Family Story: Doc Gabe, the Herb Doctor.
This may sound absolutely absurb to some of you but I love reading the Biblical genealogies. It is amazing the little tidbits you can learn. The early family lines in Genesis included how old they were when they had their first son and how long they lived. Methuselah was the oldest when he died at 969 years of age (Genesis 5:27). When you read down through the begats… so and so begat so and so who begat so and so…. suddenly there is a name with something about them. Nimrod was a mighty hunter, Eber had two sons and one was named Peleg for in his day the earth was divided. (Genesis 10). Two of the sons of Ephraim were killed because they were cattle rustlers. You find out who were craftsman, linen workers and potters. Jubal was the father of all who played the harp and flute and Jabal was the father of those who dwelled in tents and owned livestock. Tubal-Cain was an instructor of every craftsman in bronze and iron. (Genesis 4). Goliath’s third son had six fingers on his hands and six toes on his feet. (I Samuel 21:20-21). King Og of Bashan was the last survivor of the giant Rephaites. His bed was made of iron and was more than thirteen feet long and six feet wide. (Deuteronomy 3:11). Fascinating stuff!…I could go on and on!
About two years ago my brother (Rich) and his wife (Marj) traveled out west and stopped as tourists at the Morman Temple in Salt Lake City. While there they visited their genealogy department where they have family records on probably everyone in the United States. They purchased a 2′ x 3′ poster of each of their family trees. The chart is so cool and well done I had to have one also. It put me on a search to order one for Gene and I. I started with the Morman website and couldn’t find anything. I called them but they said they don’t print charts like I was talking about but referred me to someone else who referred me to another who referred me to a lady who I had a more indepth conversation with and she gave me the lead I needed to find the right place. It was a real rabbit trail but I finally landed on the http://www.treeseek.com website.
Printing your family lineage is not hard, they already have all the work done for you, but it is a little process. The best part was the price. The cost per chart ended up being about $45 dollars. I wrote down the instructions to the process so I would not forget in case I wanted to do it again. I am sharing it with you so that you can print your family tree if it pushes your button.
Genealogy Print Chart
First go to FamilySearch.org and set up an account. Put in your name and your parent’s name so that it is correct. Be sure to put your children’s names also. (Note: I set up two accounts using my email for me and Gene’s email for him. Couldn’t figure out how to do both under my name.
Go to Treeseek.com. This is the company that will print the chart from Family Search.
I used the second chart option (9 generation in color-It shows Butt’s Family). If you choose 11 generation the only print option is 36”x72” and I do not have wall space for that large of a chart. Click on the “Click Here Now” button under “Wow Have You Heard”? This will automatically take you to Family Search website. You may have to sign in there (I forget!).
There are a number of steps here: First choose options. I chose list siblings. That put the sibs name in the center circle, not just mine. The descendants (grandchildren) do not work with 9-generation but I really like that option! Second choose print style: I chose Times Roman. Next choose size: I chose 24”x36”. Paper: I chose Prem #36 Bond and Finish: None. The last step I chose Print & Digital. They will send me the printed copy and I also will have a digital file. Go to shopping cart. Be sure to click on the preview so that you know you have what you want. Then check out. Click on pdf file and you can save it to your computer. I couldn’t figure out how to print it small. If you need help the contact number is for the guy at Treesek is 801-540-1973. He was really helpful and nice to talk to and answered all my questions.
I still have a few of my books left. If you would like a signed copy of my book “The Story of Melvin Jasper Heatwole and Mollie Grace Coffman” written in 1983, email me at pathertzler@gmail.com. They are $15 each plus shipping.
Psalms 145:4 says, “One generation shall praise Your works to another, and shall declare Your mighy acts.” It is a challenge to pass on our stories of what God has done.
Moses basically told the children of Israel to get the geni bug, “Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations. Ask your father and elders and they will tell you….the stories of what God has done.” Deuteronomy 32:7
When you have had friends for years and years and years, you can be be pretty sure they are forever friends!
Dan and Linda Althouse
Dan and Linda Althouse came into our lives when they moved to Powhatan in the mid-seventies. Dan was a sales rep for New Holland Supply Company (who happened to be our animal health distruibutor) located in Pennsylvania and he was transferred to a southern market, landing him squarely in the middle of Virginia, rural Powhatan County making him our sales rep.
They attended our church so our social, business and spiritual lives were tightly intertwined. It was almost an instant friendship. Their third child was born about six months before our son and our children were were good friends and playmates. At first they lived in a rental house in the village of Powhatan and then moved into our rental house at the edge of the farm. These were special times having our friends so close. Several years later they built a house on Palmore Rd.
We have many good memories and I will have to share a few memorial highlights of our times together…..
The Althouses and us enjoyed playing Rook together. Linda was not a very confident player or aggressive bidder especially with the wild craziness of Dan and Gene. One time she went to the kitchen for snacks and the guys quickly dealt the cards and stacked her deck. She got a whole hand of all the top cards of each color plus the rook. When she picked up her hand she became visibly shaken. She went on a little nervous rant…. “I can’t believe my hand. I have never had one like this before.” Her hands started to shake and the little blue vein in the middle of her forehead started to pop! The men encouraged her to bid and they quickly stopped bidding so that she had to take the bid. We laughed and laughed. It was an evening to remember!
One day when their son Steve was around three or four, he decided to come to our house to play. He got on his tricycle and without asking or saying goodbye to his mom, pedaled down the road and was halfway in our lane when Linda missed him and discovered where he was heading.
I employed their oldest, Krista, for her very first babysitting job. We were gone for several hours and she had fixed Keith and Jill supper. She cleaned up the kitchen and decided to run the dishwaster. She asked Keith where my dishwaster detergent was and he pointed to the detergent sitting on the counter. She filled the soap dispenser in the dishwasher with a big dose of Dawn. Big mistake! We came home to a big mess with all three kids frantically trying to clean it up before we got home. The dishwasher had became a large soap suds-making machine spilling water and suds out on the kitchen floor. They used all the clean towels moping up the floor and they were in a pile in the bathtub. The problem was after they had cleaned up the mess they would restart the dishwasher. More mess. More suds. More water. They didn’t know how to correct their mistake. Apparently this went on for an extended period of time. This was one babysitting experience she or I never forgot!
When the boys were adolescences, Steve and Tim were here at the farm spending the day with Keith. They were playing in the woods behind the barn (where our store is) when they decided to build a cabin. They had the cabin about half built before we realized what they were doing. They had cut down saplings and were using log cabin design construction complete with mud dabbed between the logs. Their creative play was really cool and they had such a good time “working” together. A day or so later our older neighbor came to visit. His property line came right up within feet of the edge of our barn. The cabin was about 10 feet into his property and it was his saplings the boys had cut. I don’t know what little bird squawked to him about the boys activity because he lived on the front edge of his property a quarter of a mile away and we never, in all the years we were there, saw him walk back there to check on things. He even had to go through a swampy area to get there. The fence was long gone and it was an unused edge of woods that was not visible to anyone. It actually did not even dawn on us at the time that it was on his property. But, you have to have a happy neighbor. The boys had to learn a valuable life lesson about respecting your neighbor’s property and tear down the cabin. Sorry to say that was the end of their cabin building adventures.
Left to right: Tim Althouse, Steve Althouse and Keith Hertzler
Dan and Gene were both fast-pitch softball pitchers for our church in the county church league. They both could throw a mean fast ball and enjoyed the comradery and competitive competition. They still talk about those days.
We still enjoy keeping up with and visiting with Dan and Linda. For the past number of years, they have become “snow-birds” migrating south to Florida the first weekend in February for a month. Our place is their first resting stop on their trip south. Through the years, Gene and Dan have enjoyed bantering back and forth about their rivaling sports teams. Dan is a loyal Philly, Pittsburg Steelers and Philadelphia Eagles while Gene is a diehart New York Yankee and Dallas Cowboy fan. Gene usually manages to serve Dan coffee in one of his Yankee or Cowboy mugs when they are here. Linda and I are puzzle buddies and each year we enjoy fellowship over puzzle pieces!
“Hot Rod Cafe”-1000 piece by Springbok
Dan and Linda, we treasure your friendship and it is with great pleasure we call you old-time forever friends!
Recently I posted two pictures on facebook of the Brunk Brother Revivals that I found in my mother’s photos. The aerial view one is dated October 5, 1952. I was born in March so obviously I do not remember that revival but I can say with almost certainity that I am a baby in that picture somewhere. I do remember a revival by the Brunks sometime around the early 1960’s. We sat on the left side facing the front, near the open side about a third of the way back. I remember being under great conviction. During the invitation, two of my second cousins (Glennys and Molly) who was sitting in front of us, went forward. I was trying to get up my nerve to join them when mother leaned over to me and told me to watch my younger siblings (Rich & Ev). She and daddy, carrying young Ed, went forward and disappeared into the vast crowd at the alter. Suddenly, instead of getting right with Jesus, I found myself baby sitting!!! The bigness of the event was very intiminating to a young adolescent and I was afraid of getting loss from my parents if I went forward. I remember robust singing with Lawrence Brunk and powerful preaching by George R. Brunk, a combination that stirred the hearts of people and changed lives.
There was quite a bit of interest and comments on facebook from people who were there as adults or children. I decided to organize the comments from James Rush’s and my page into a blog post.
Location of tent: It was determined that this picture was taken at what is now Holiday Hills. The tent was off of Chicago Ave where Rockingham Drive now is. Janet Blosser recalled when Floyd took his dad (Glendon Blosser) to see his granddaughter Jenny’s house on Rockingham Dr. he said, “I brought Dorothy Nice on a date to George Brunk’s tent right where Jenny’s house is now!” Jayne Schlabach mentioned the old VDOT building at the corner of the picture.
Later revivals were likely at different places. Ron Delp remembered the “sawdust trail” in the tent set up where the turf field at EMC (EMU) Science Center is in Park View in the late 60’s or early 70’s. Glenna Hertzler thought it was in a field on Route 11 near the Mennonite Hour building. Carol Weaver remembers it being at the edge of Park View corner and what is now Mt. Clinton Pike and the first road that goes up to meet Chicago Avenue. (This could be the same location that Ron Delp is referring to).
Quite a few people remembered these meetings: Paul Mishler was a freshman at EMC at the time. Mary Heatwole Jantzi remembers going around 1963-which is probably the one I remember. Carol Ann Weaver remembers the tremendous impact it had on her family when she was 4-5. She and her siblings have good memories of “playing” the Brunk brothers. She recalls that she usually did Lawrence since he led the singing. Kathryn L. Good remembers the revivals in Ohio before they moved to Virginia and Julia King remembers them coming to PA. Arlene Birkey and Darrell Zook recalled being in a gospel group that sang at the meetings when they attended EMHS in 1972. Gary Smucker, Judy Risser Pritchard, Mike Hertzler and Glenna Coffman Hertzler also recall memories. Sharon Keffer Druyos recalls a tent revival in the Chesapeake, Virginia Beach area with Myron Augsberger and Andrew Jantzi in the 1970’s.
A few recognized family in the first couple of rows.
Front row left: Mary Shank Swartz identified her Lehman grandparents (circle of couple). Single man by the aisle is Enos Heatwole (he was an usher).
Second row left: Emily Heatwole Hostetler identified her uncle David Heatwole with Mary Kate in the second row. Lois Seitz Kreider said the three boys are her brothers Ken, Del and Dave. Del is the father of Janelle Butterworth.
Front row on the right is Oren and Margaret Heatwole. Coleen is the baby and June says she is “blur”! Oren was an usher also.
Second row on the right: Diann Grove Beach identified her dad as the boy (maybe 10 years old) by the aisle. Next to him is hie cousin and the next one is his older brother Gene.
Steve Hostetter and Jason Alderfer identified the brick building at the interection as still being there.
Sue Heatwole Anderson commented on the neatly parked cars and huge tent. She remembers attending a time or two and also listening to the revivals on the radio.
The Brunk brothers had a big presence with their booming voices and large statue. When their impressive entrounge of trucks, vans, tents and campers rolled into town with their families and staff, it created a stir and air of excitement. People were intrigued and anticipation ran high. They sensed a fresh movement of the Holy Spirit and they wanted to be a part of it.
The revivals gave renewed energy and life to the churches as people humbled themselves before God and recommited their lives to Jesus. For years afterwards, there was a strong emphasises on revival and renewal meetings in the local churches. Tim Brenneman so poignantly said, “A heart beating with conviction is the first step toward repentence. We may need a little more of that today!”
There are numerous articles on the web about the revivals, not only in Virginia but Pennsylvania, Ohio, Florida and across the states and Canada. There is a museum at the Mennonite Heritage Center in Harrisonburg that is very interesting.
Note: if you have any comments, memories, stories or pictures from the Harrisonburg revivals please feel free to leave me a comment. If I get enough I might do a part 2.
Our house office was a mess. A big mess! It was hopelessly outdated with orange plaid wallpaper that in the early 80’s was very stylish. The walls were cinderblock covered with rough plaster. It was amazing the wallpaper stuck to it as long as it did. Years ago (before our time), the two story clapboard farmhouse burned and the the owner put an apartment above the cinderblock milking barn as temporary living quarters. The next owner added on and built around it. When we came we added a complete upstairs making it look like a decent house. The cinderblock milking barn section became our office and laundry.
It was a room we didn’t know what to do with. Through the years it served as a guest bedroom, baby room, toy room, sewing room and home, farm and business office. It was a room that was well used but over time got neglected, cluttered and disorganized. It was time to tackle the mess but it looked overwhelming. With the support, help and encouragement from family on Thanksgiving Day we started the project….hauling out bags of trash, sorting through filing cabinets and boxes full of history treasures, pulled out old furniture, carpet, and wallpaper. We literally stripped the room. Do you know how much stuff that hasn’t seen daylight in years can be in, on, or in boxes tucked under a desk? We had three desks! We threw away bags full of invoices, statements and newspaper clippings etc. I found lots of treasures that had long been forgotten and buried.
Before:
Picture from late 80’s or early 90’s.
We put down new flooring, tongue and groove pine boards on the walls, painted, updated the lighting and restaged the furniture. Some of the old bit the dust and some new magically appeared.
After:
We love our new room. It is so clean, fresh, light and inviting. I now even have a welcoming spot for my puzzle table. There are still a few decorating pieces to come together yet. I have my genealogy framed and on the wall and I want to get Gene’s.
A few pictures of the process:
Ryan with the help of Obe did the floor and some of the wall prep over Thanksgiving weekend.Philip Shenk and Bill Iazzi finished the walls and trimming.
One fun new feature to my office is a new speaker from my techy son-in-law, Obe, who knows all the coolest gadgets. The speaker projects lights up on the ceiling in changing colors. It really is cool listening to music as I sit at my desk!
Again this year I had a lot of fun putting together puzzles. Below are pictures of my achievement-61 fun puzzzles! Each of these is available to check out from my puzzle library collection in our store. Currently I have 315 puzzles for you to choose from. I do accept puzzle donations!
Americas Main Street-500 piece-American Collection
Amish Harvest-1000 piece-Hometown Collection
Billy the Kit-750 piece by Buffalo Games and Puzzles
Churchyard Christmas-1000 piece-Charles Wysocki
Covered Bridge and Buggy-550 piece by J. Charles
Nantucket-1000 piece-Charles Wysocki
This puzzle I spilled a cup of hot steaming chocolate on. See blog post “A Chocolate Infused Puzzle” for the story.
Neuschwanstein Castle-Germany-1000 piece by Signature Collection. It is missing five pieces but was a fun one to do. It was a little challenging with the trees in the lower left and right corners.
One Piece At A Time-500 piece-by Mindfulness. This was a very fun one to do. It was not as hard as you might think.
Mama’s Colorful Quilts-500 piece by Gallery Puzzles
Shops and Buggys-300 piece by Charles Wysocki
Dusk at the Farm-1000 piece by Krzysztof Krygier
Apple Pond Farm Fall-1000 piece-Home Country
March
March-Adirondacks-1000 piece Hometown Collection
Chapel of Reflection-1000 piece-Thomas Kinkade
Home is Where the Heart Is-1000 piece by Thomas Kinkade
April
September Pastures-1000 piece by Abraham Hunter
Shop Windows -1000 piece by Ceaco
May
Kilimanjaro-1000 piece by TCG Toys
Beach Cabin-1000 piece by Night & Day
Birds of a Feather-500 piece by Springbok
The Chickens Are Well-275 piece by Cobble Hill
June
Hummingbird Garden-1000 piece bu Vivid Collections-missiong one piece
Solvang-1000 piece by Hometown Collection
Holiday at the Beach-1000 piece by Hometown Collection
July
Canoe Lake-1000 piece by Darrell Bush
Garden Birds-1000 piece by Ravensburger Puzzles
Keystone Capers-1000 piece by Hometown Collection
August
Stoney Bay-1000 piece by Charles Wysocki
Winter Games-300 piece by Bits and Pieces
Spring Has Sprung-550 piece by Jane Wooster Scott
The Miller’s Collage-Thomashire-750 pieces by Thomas Kinkade
Autumn Paradise-1000 piece by Country Life
Art by Thomas Kinkade #1-100 piece (box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #2- 100 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
September
Art by Thomas Kinkade #3 and #4- 300 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #5 and #6-300 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #7-500 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #8-500 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #9-500 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Art by Thomas Kinkade #10-500 piece (Box of 10 puzzles)
Romantic Hideaway-300 piece by Tom Mielko-Art Gallery Box of 10 puzzles
Turtle Family-300 piece by Steve Sundram-Art Gallery box of 10 puzzles
October
Tea and Strawberries-750 piece by Barbara Mock (Art Gallery box of 10)
Cider Season-750 piece by H. Hargrove (Art Gallery Box of 10)
November
December-Christmas Gnomes- 500 piece by Vermont Christmas Company (missing three pieces) November-Lighthouse on the Bay-1000 piece by David Maclean (missing one piece)
December
December-The Hunting Lodge-1000 piece by SpringbokDecember- Puppies in a Wagon-550 pieces-Ceaco PuzzlesDecember-The Old Tractor-250 piece by Mosaic PuzzlesDecember-Song for the Season-500 piece by Cobble HillDecember-A Visit To The General Store-1000 piece by Bits and PiecesDecember-Christmas Gnomes- 500 piece by Vermont Christmas Company
I love when all the people noise on the farm stills and you can hear the birds, tree frogs, crickets, cows, chickens and other animals singing, mooing, clucking, screeching and twittering their wings.
We have a Carolina Wren that sings every morning and at different times through out the day. But unless you are tuned to it you won’t hear it even though he loudly sings his praises. I think often of the Bible verse, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalms 46:10). It is in the stillness after the morning rush, the quietness when humans aren’t running trucks, cars or tractors or when you dare walk out of your tightly closed up house with the tv and air conditioning running and sit on your porch, that you hear the songs of the happy birds with their heads tilted upwards, praising the God who designed and created them. They are unashamed or timid with sharing their song and it will bless anyone who pauses to listen.
This particular wren I have been trying for weeks to see. He usually sits in the tree by the shop very close to our store. The leaves on the tree hide him from view. Yesterday his song came from a different spot and suddenly I saw him, sitting on top of the stack of shavings on the dock at the warehouse.
As I clicked away on my camera, he lifted his head heavenward and sang his heart out. I had not sung any song of praise to God that morning, but he did. He exalted God with all his being.
I goggled “Carolina Wren” and found some very interesting facts and information on “All About Birds” website….”This shy bird can be hard to see, but it delivers an amazing number of decibels for its size. Follow its teakettle-teakettle! and other piercing exclamations through backyard or forest, and you may be rewarded with glimpses of this bird’s rich cinnamon plumage, white eyebrow stripe, and long, upward-cocked tail”.
Psalms 66:4 All creation, come praise the name of the LORD. Praise his name alone. The glory of God is greater than heaven and earth.
The Carolina Wren is sensitive to cold weather, with the northern populations decreasing markedly after severe winters. The gradually increasing winter temperatures over the last century may have been responsible for the northward range expansion seen in the mid-1900s.
One captive male Carolina Wren sang nearly 3,000 times in a single day.
Unlike other wren species in its genus, only the male Carolina Wren sings the loud song. In other species, such as the Stripe-breasted Wren of Central America, both members of a pair sing together. The male and female sing different parts, and usually interweave their songs such that they sound like a single bird singing.
A pair bond may form between a male and a female at any time of the year, and the pair will stay together for life. Members of a pair stay together on their territory year-round, and forage and move around the territory together.
The oldest recorded Carolina Wren was at least 7 years, 8 months old when it was recaptured and rereleased during banding operations in Florida in 2004. It had been banded in the same state in 1997.
I have the “Merlin Bird ID” app on my iphone and really enjoy using it to identify different bird calls. I have currently captured the calls of about 20 different birds (this app is free).
Psalms 148:13 All creation, come praise the name of the LORD. Praise his name alone. The glory of God is greater than heaven and earth.
I am a country gal who enjoys writing, gardening, baking and my family. My husband and I own a retail feed store and it keeps us active and busy. We love living in the country and on our beef farm. We retail natural, Angus, dry-aged beef in our store and a local "natural" store.
My writings, called "From A Grandma's Perspective" are mostly inspired from our five delightful grandchildren. These along with "Life Perspective" can read on our web page at www.hffinc.com under the "Who We Are" tab.
By the way, I love hearing from people who read my blog!!!
