This is the post I had planned to share.

The Passing of Time

Fifteen years have passed so quickly in an agonizingly slow procession of minutes. Looking back, I ask myself, “How did that amount of time slip by to form so many pages in my book of life? How can it be that my children have grown and have lives of their own?” Fifteen years ago, they were all living at home, still children looking to me and my wife Cindy for guidance. Fifteen years ago March 24th, 2003, we all felt the sting of death and the apparent victory of the grave.

Fifteen years seems like such a long time as I write it, but is has passed ever so quickly. The seconds have accumulated, inexorably turning page after page of the calendar amassing themselves into a decade and a half. How can nearly one quarter of my life have slipped through my fingers leaving a dim trail of memories in such an excruciatingly rapid pace? Somehow, I’ve grown old. Somehow my youth has flown away. Somehow the form of the Grim Reaper has become more solid and dark.

It’s not that I fear the “shadow of death,” oh, no. I’m marvel at how fleeting time has become and how swiftly life passes. It seems like yesterday I dandled our first child on my knee and now she has a child older than she was then.

This anniversary is one I have never liked to “celebrate” but it is one that will always be remembered by me and our family. Death must have wanted to forever imprint this date on our hearts, our souls, and our minds, because on the third anniversary of my wife’s passing, my mother, Sybil lost the battle with Alzheimer’s disease.

I don’t write this to garner sympathy. I only want to share my thoughts and advise those who still have living parents and spouses to hold them close and to tell them that you love them. Time has a way of speeding by and before you know it, the loved ones in your life have passed. Tell parents, siblings, children, grandchildren, and friends how much they mean to you and let them know that you love them.

I just noticed, Up to the ending of the last sentence, there were 365 words. One for each day of the year, fill your calendar year with words of love.

I had written a post and cannot remember its title to retrieve it, so I will share some Haiku I am writing for April, poetry month.

snow shadows turn blue

dusk falls and twilight deepens

soot settles to black

full faced queen moon

stars vigilantly stand guard

spotlight dazzles moths

morning light glitters

filtered through wind shuffled leaves

templed gold pillars

horizon stained pink

pale gray parchment sunrise sky

lipstick edged teacup

sun’s golden pen strokes

appear on pale parchment sky

contrail Haiku

two haggard stars hang

stubbornly in the darkness

child’s bedroom nightlights

light bright smiling face

parts the early morning mist

clean tot pops from bath

children’s faces press

smiling against the windows

school bus at day’s end

Ice and Snow: Snow and Ice

Another round of freezing rain, ice pelleted sleet, and snow have once again delayed the arrival of spring. Geese have returned. Robins have flown back to lay claims for nesting and feeding areas. I even saw a few killdeer which have decided it is time to select a perfect spot to raise their brood. Jonquils, daffodils, and the blooms of crocus have been struggling to rise above the layers of ice, snow, and cold to announce that spring is here.

So far the warm, sunny weather has just been a tease. It has whetted our appetite for more, then we are slapped with the hard, cold reality that winter has not released Pennsylvania and the entire eastern coast from its bitter grip.

This latest storm quickly put down a layer of sleet on Tuesday. The roads were cold enough not to melt it and within 45 minutes, the road was covered. I made a run to Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania for a few groceries and when I returned home, I almost slid past my driveway. Only by twisting my steering wheel and the tires biting into the gravel could I maneuver into my drive. I was glad to be home. The meeting for the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society was cancelled. I was a little disappointed, wondering what the members would think of the rearranged meeting room.

A two inch coating of thick wet snow followed hiding the slippery ice below, then came a short lull. Although the weathermen predicted more was to come, the brief interlude sparked a tiny flicker of hope that it was over. Not so, before the road crews could get out and remove the ice, snow began to fall in earnest. It moved in from the north east, pushing the snow into the higher ridges where I make my home. Probably, there was 6 inches of the white stuff. The only good thing was the temperature dropped and the snow was much fluffier.

In communities nearby, I heard reports of 10 inches or more. This later dump of snow must have thrilled the ski resorts of Seven Springs and Hidden Valley, because those warm teasing days surely caused them concern.

Yesterday, I ventured out again, prying layers of ice and snow from my car. It was a daunting task, made worse by the wind whipping the snow back in my face and trying to frostbite my ears.

Funerals

Death and funerals are things that most people try to avoid thinking or talking about. Monday was my aunt Dorothy Beck’s funeral. The funeral service was more like a tribute to the wonderful woman that she was. Through the course of the entire service, any person attending was reminded by the shared poetry and stories of what a strong and faithful servant of God she was. Even though she had multiple setbacks in her life that would have destroyed other people, Dorothy continued to make a home for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

At this gathering of friends and family, those people who no longer live close by could reconnect and strengthen our family ties. Of courses, there were tears. Often grief has a way of escaping and trickling down our cheeks, but we were not inconsolable like some. Dorothy’s faith in God has been passed down to her children and their families in great scoops and we know they shall be reunited with her one day.

The gathering together of people touched by her allowed us to share stories and past history of Dorothy. Some were forgotten or true revelations to some family members that only enriched our memories of her. The new tales added pages to our family’s journal of her life. As we shared memories of her love of cooking and sewing, those remembrances made many smile. It was a celebration of her life.

Dorothy’s completed her journey and passed the baton to her family and to all who knew her. She was a fine example of a Christian woman, a mother, and a wife. The knowledge that she was saved and was a child of God gave encouragement and direction for others to follow in her footsteps and to accept Jesus Christ as their Savior. Christ was her pillar of strength and she reflected that strength to the world around her.

It was unusual for me and probably others, to see her so still during the viewing and funeral service, Dorothy always seemed to be in motion. Active in the church and often working in the nursery, her age didn’t seem to slow her down. She’s graduated now and has entered the bright shining halls in the haven of rest.

Looking Back

Over the years as a nurse and as a supervisor, I tried to pass along things that I learned; truths and shortcuts to make the jobs easier. After 28 years of supervising, I shared many things with anyone who oriented to the supervisory position. One of the first and foremost realities was to never let someone see that they’ve upset you. Excuse yourself from the situation, then go somewhere private, like private supervisor’s office, because it was separate from most areas of the hospital.

“Go inside and close the door. Then you can scream, cry, or kick the furniture, but always do it in private. If someone sees which button to push to upset you, they will repeatedly do it just to frustrate and anger you.” I explained.

The other truth was not to get comfortable either at lunch, on break, or with the job of supervising in general.

It never seemed to fail that I would no sooner get my lunch heated and sit down ready to eat, than I would get a page or a telephone call. Many of the times it would mean leaving my food and going somewhere to handle a problem or situation.

I would return later to cold, dried out food or because the situation took so much time, putting the meal away to take it back home, uneaten. For those who don’t understand what I’m talking about, have you ever tried to eat Tater Tots after they had been reheated three times?

The other part about getting comfortable with the job was thinking you knew all there was to being a supervisor, when nothing could be further from the truth. Almost every day the supervisor was called upon to face something new. They could have involved complaints from families, patients, or staff. Then there were problems with staffing, bed assignments, or the many things that fell outside of the normal policies and procedures.

The experiences expanded my scope of creativity, but believe me, after twenty-eight years supervising and dealing with all of the complaints, call offs, and unusual happenings, I was happy to hang up my spurs before I poked a hole in the water bed. 

Tired and Sore

Yesterday, I decided to go into the lion’s den and beard the lion. I had to do a follow up on my consolidation of papers and items at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society in Stahlstown, Pennsylvania. Saturday, I took my postcards to loan, to review and for possible display in one of their showcases. After Liz the volunteer and I looked at the cards, she went back to filing papers and as I looked around the display area room, I began to see there was a way to enlarge the ability to hide shelves of reference binders and to provide more cases to share their historic artifacts. So, Saturday I began the task of sorting and stacking.

I wasn’t too sure how my consolidating of the room’s contents would be received, so I went in Wednesday morning to face the music and to see if my ideas for further repositioning of shelves, filing cabinets, and display cases would be acceptable. After sharing my ideas and explaining the placement and reasons, the officers agreed with me.

Fortunately, and unfortunately they saw the wisdom of my suggestions and I started to work, and work it was. Moving three display cases was the first task. That made room to place shelves of notebooks and binders out of sight and yet allow easy access for volunteers. Next, was to move those shelves with binders into the open space now open behind the cases. Each cleared space had to be swept clean from the ancient dust and debris that had accumulated beneath them.

Into the area vacated by the shelves of binders, we moved the filing cabinet. It was a single unit, three drawers wide and three drawers wide. Each heavy drawer had to be removed before we could move the weighty frame. Once it was pushed and pulled into place, I could replace the drawers; not as easy task.

Into the space that once held the filing cabinet, we could move another display case that was almost hidden due to lack of space. Now, there was room to stack and store boxes of supplies, books, ledgers, and artifacts out of sight of the public and yet close at hand when needed.

An item we were able to pull out and put on display was the old Kregar post office teller window and mail cubicles. It had been hidden for years. All in all, it was a great feeling to see so much accomplished and I am less sore than I thought I’d be. It will take awhile for everyone to acclimate themselves to the new positioning of things, but the extra room was definitely needed.

Sunday Celebration

It was a remarkable, two day birthday celebration. Friday my son Andrew and his family came to visit and with his help, I was able to complete some nagging, unfinished chores left unfinished. It helps that he’s a master plumber and two of the tasks involved plumbing. His wife Renee and daughters Celine and Moriah brought two delicious meals and a cake. They even managed to find some birthday candles somewhere in my house.

After church and Sunday school, they returned with my daughter Amanda Yoder, her husband Eric and my granddaughter Hannah. My daughter Anna Prinkey and her husband James joined and my entire family gathered under my roof. Hamburgers and hot dogs smoked over the mesquite and charcoal fire while the ladies made salads, condiments, and other foodstuffs to fill the table and stomachs. To top it all off, we ate leftover cake and ice cream.

With the recent return from Amarillo, Texas there was a lot of catching up to do. Laughter and stories filled the dining room and the living room. I felt truly blessed to have them gathered together. The time passed quickly and soon the house was quiet. It was only the cat Willow and me.

In the quiet, I wrote Monday’s blog and thought about the ups and downs of my life. I have decided that my children and grandchildren are definitely the ups. This was a memorable birthday.

Most Sunday mornings, several men line up along the one wall of the church, between preaching and Sunday school. It has become a ritual and we say they are holding up that wall. One of the other church members jokingly said, “We ought to paint silhouettes on that wall, so when they pass away, they’ll still be here holding up the wall.” I took a photo of them against the wall.

Well, with my warped sense of humor opened fully the large cardboard box that protected the vanity for my new bathroom. Leaning it against my workbench in the basement, I sketched the outline of the five gentlemen. I bought some black craft paint and filled in the outline to create their silhouettes. It is now in my basement awaiting its transport to the church Wednesday evening if I am still alive after my visit to the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society and the confrontation with the leaders.