The Printing Press

Christmas has come and gone for another year. The big project for me began just four weeks ago when I found Dad's first journal in the attic at my parent's house. After reading it myself, I knew it needed to be copied and shared with my family.

Christmas is really about Christ and how the God of the Old Testament loved us so much that He clothed Himself in human flesh, was born in a stable, grew and sacrificed Himself on our behalf. Along our way through life, He is there. Sometimes He walks quietly alongside us and other times He makes Himself known in ways so obvious that it is impossible to deny He is there. Such was the case with Dad's journal.

I spent many evenings deciphering words on the pages, written sometimes in pencil so light I had to squint to see it. When the copying was complete I found I missed those evening spent with my fifteen year old father. He loved the Irondequoit Bay, spent many days working on a farm, and woke up late for school more often than early. He shared hopes and dreams as well as frustrations and heartbreak. I came to know him in a new way.

I printed page after page of journal, folded and set them in order. There were last minute additions, like the ship he drew inside the front cover, and a few typos I missed (It says 2009 instead of 1947 in one entry). I left Dad's spelling errors in order to preserve the authenticity and here and there left my own italicized explanation of people and placed mentioned.

James stayed home on Wednesday to bind the pages together and make covers for eleven books. They turned out beautiful and we were able to give one to each of my children, both my sisters and my mom, and still have one for James and me.

I am grateful for a God who loves me so much that He gave us a Christmas present from Dad sixty-two years ago. He knew we would be blessed all these years later when we spent our first holiday without our precious earthly father.

A Little Christmas Music

If you frequent Bethany's blog, you may know that Josh likes Christmas music. It makes him want to dance. His dancing makes us smile. Tomorrow will be fun.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Visions of Sugar Plums

My little Sugar Plums are excited. Today was the preschool Christmas party and they are full of ginger. I let them open my gifts to them when we arrived home this afternoon. It is a distraction from lunchtime as I honestly doubt they would eat anything after filling up on cookies and treats at school.

I gave each girl a wrapped shoebox and inside they found a stuffed polar bear, some Play Dough, and a pair of silly glasses. They have forgotten all about lunch and are happily making "spaghetti" with a mini Fun Factory. Oh, to be a kid again!

Cookie Helpers?

This morning I finally got around to rolling and baking my Christmas cutout cookies. I have been meaning to do this for days now but it just didn't happen. Yesterday afternoon I went out shopping and got home too late to bother with cookie dough, instead we went to evening church here in Williamson and Ben and Hannah ended up going out caroling with the teen group there.

This morning seemed a good time to sort through the cookie cutters and undertake the task. I cut trees, stars, snowmen, stockings, candy canes, and snowflakes. Bella found it fun to watch, especially if there was the possibility of getting a cookie out of the deal. I wasn't so sure it was a good idea for her to "help" as she has a tendency to have a soggy thumb. Believe it or not I didn't notice the finger in the nose until I looked at the photograph.

Now it's lunch time and I'm taking a little break before I get the gingerbread dough out of the refrigerator. We will be baking little gingerbread men very soon and maybe even some gingerbread bears. Mmmm!

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Every year goes by faster than the previous. Lucas turned one year old yesterday and this evening there was a big birthday party with plenty of aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. Lukie was a good sport and wore a party hat for a bit, but really preferred to pinch the hats instead. He was more than happy to grab a hand and practice walking back and forth through the building. Soon enough he'll be walking on his own.

The snowman cake was yummy and the ice cream was delicious and Lucas received enough presents that we have decided to return everything we bought him for Christmas (or maybe save them for next year). I am kidding, of course. He got some very nice outfits and a few cute toys. I guess his toy box is not so full that he can't fit in a few more things...

Another Christmas Tea

My brother Tim is autistic. When we were little girls, the term "autism" was not in use as it is today, in fact most professionals knew so little about it that they often blamed the parents for the condition of the child. Many parents don't know the cause of their child's autism, but my mother knows exactly what happened to her firstborn son. An induced labor left her unable to breathe and her newborn son with brain damage.
Mom and Dad never hid Tim away or pretended he didn't exist. They kept him home for as long as they were able and, when circumstances made it necessary to find him a new home, they searched diligently for the best place. In the 1960's there weren't many options and Tim eventually ended up being placed in the State School. Every other Sunday we took a forty-five minute drive to Newark, NY and took Tim out for a ride to get a hamburger and a milk shake.
The State School has now been shut down and most of its residents live in smaller group homes of 10-12 residents. It is a far cry from the institutional setting where they once spent their days. I don't see my brother often, but since my father's passing, Rachel has taken up the task of taking Mom to visit Tim and go out for a drive to Wendy's each week where they buy a few Frosties and enjoy some time together.

Today was the annual Christmas Tea at the house where Tim lives. We missed Dad with his banjo and harmonica, playing and singing Christmas carols, but it was a good time anyway. And all three sisters were able to be there along with Mom and Aunt Margie.

(Thank you, Rachel, for taking the time each week to show your love, not only for Mom and Tim, but for Dad as well. We all know it would mean the world to him. I think he's smiling now.)

Winter's Arrival

James and Ben arrived home this afternoon with a tree to decorate and, after the supper things were cleaned up, Hannah set to work stringing the lights. She is quite pleased that we actually have a real tree this year as last year we opted to use a table-top tree rather than go out and buy a real one. She and Ben both say "the smell of dusty plastic just isn't the same as having a real tree".

She didn't decorate totally on her own. I helped her string some of the lights and we both sorted through and hung ornaments. I suppose we will have to buy a box or two of candy canes as they do enjoy "picking" one every now and then. I sure don't want to disappoint anyone with something as simple and easy as candy canes.

The snow has arrived in abundance and I am thankful that today my tires have tread.

Countdown to Christmas

The days are flying by. December will have come and gone before we know it and there are still so many things to be done. I have finished copying Dad's journal and am on to print preparation... Thus far I have refused to let the pressure of the holiday season get me down, and have only lost two December weekends to illness. Never mind that we have only had two weekends to December and the next one promises to be busy. (There is a birthday party planned for this Saturday because somebody is turning one...) Jim plans to arrive in town Sunday. I am looking forward to wrapping my arms around my oldest boy and giving him a big, long hug. I have missed him.
I had thought to tell you about our shopping excursions with Bella and Emma, but found these photos instead; some memories from last year, preserved not only in a few photographs, but a video tape as well, thanks to Josiah and a college professor who gave him an old video camera so he could record some of his grandfather's stories. I'm glad he took up the task and actually did it.
The camera man eventually wore out and decided to take a nap, but not before asking grandpa about several of his childhood adventures. There is even one story on the tape that I had never heard before. Who could have known that they would be such a gift this year?

White as Snow

Though your sins are like scarlet, They shall be as white as snow; Is. 1:18

Scarlet sins covered in white...

The Abundance of Things

And He said to them, "Take heed and beware of covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses."Luke 12:15

My cats aren't worried about being ready for Christmas. They haven't been out shopping and they aren't expecting any presents. They own nothing but the furs they wear and ask only for a warm place to sleep, a bowl of food, and the occasional taste of milk.

So, Christmas is just around the corner and, in my usual fashion, I feel as though I will fall short. But fall short of what? Short of my own expectations mostly, and that because I keep forgetting what the season is supposed to be about. It isn't about acquiring possessions, either for myself or for others.

Christmas is about sharing the love of God because He shared His love with us one dark night over two thousand years ago. He clothed His word in flesh and sent it to us in the form of a tiny baby. This is the reason we celebrate, because He gives us hope in a world otherwise filled with hopelessness. There is reason to smile, there is reason to sing, there is reason to celebrate, and there is great cause to be thankful.

There isn't much I need and there isn't much my children need, but there is a world full of needy people, people who need to know the real reason Jesus came. I need Him, my children need Him, my family needs Him, and we need to share His message. The love of Christ is one possession that grows the more we give it away, so this Christmas I pray that God will enable me to give His love away in a way I have not known before. Hold on, the ride has just begun.!

Poor Honey

My poor Honey is sick in bed. I hope this means we will be done with tummy bugs for many days to come. I am off to the grocery store and other sundry spots. I think I shall purchase a few more cans of Chicken Soup with Rice and a box or two of crackers. I doubt I'll be cooking any big meals for a while. Grilled cheese might just be as fancy as it gets.

Chicken Soup

"In December I will be a baubled, bangled Christmas tree
with soup bowls draped all over me.
Merry once, merry twice,
Merry chicken soup with rice."

I had chicken soup with rice tonight. Now I am ready to "hit the sack". I'm hoping for a better day tomorrow. I'll say one thing for being sick, it makes me appreciate the good days all the better. I couldn't help but think of my dad who never complained during his struggle. I am a wimp, but I am learning and I think there might be hope.

Bitten by the Bug

Picture this child about 40 years older with a small white dog next to her instead of a cat. Yes, I have been bitten by the bug and let me tell you, some suppers should not be served just prior to being ill...

It has been a quiet, achy day with several stops to rest on the couch, several Advil, a few cups of tea, and a couple cups of ginger ale. I am rather reluctant to eat anything at the moment but maybe I will have some Chicken soup later.

A Bit of the Bubbly

Something didn't smell quite right yesterday afternoon and I discovered a certain somebody had created quite the mess. (Remnants of a recent stomach bug have wreaked havoc on one small digestive system...)

After carefully removing the socks and overalls from one small boy, I summoned help. One person to hold the child upright, another to roll the onsie up and over without smearing his little head with the offending substance. We decided a bath and change of clothes (duh!) was in order. Large kitchen sinks sure do come in handy. We had him cleaned up and smelling sweet in no time and he only cried when we took him out of the water.

If You Don't Like the Weather...

... just wait a minute.
Yesterday was green and mild, today is white and sloppy. The wind is busy blowing, rain is hitting the windows and winter is gearing up for a comeback. I rather prefer the softly falling flakes to wet, packy slop but no one asked me which kind of snow I was looking for and I am likely to get the flakey dry stuff sooner than I think. Talk about a change of scenery! The trees are gone, dark gray clouds fill the sky, and a blanket of snow covers the hill across the street. It looks rather bleak at the moment, and "The Claw" was busy in the back orchard this morning. Rumor has it the back hedgerow is being removed.

A Healthy Dose of Chaos

Parent/teacher conferences meant a few extra kids in the house this afternoon. Tyler and Troy came on the bus and Makayla met us at preschool. At home the Lincoln Logs and Playmobil came out to play and blankets draped themselves over tables to create wonderfully exciting hiding places. Children ran circles through my living rooms and made lots of noise. It was chaotic and I liked it. (James opted to work away from home this afternoon.)

For days I have felt lazy and unproductive, but today I felt pretty good. After dropping the girls and Colton (we pick him up on the way) off at preschool I went to Ladies' prayer at church. After prayer I went to Staples and purchased a pack of banker's boxes, stopped at Wegman's for a few groceries, and was able to take them home before preschool was over. This afternoon I did laundry and made lunches for five kids, and... ta da!... I cleaned out my TV/game cabinet. The toys are all put away and the hide out has been dismantled. Maybe tonight I will dig through my closet and find the Christmas decorations. They say that snow is on the way!

Josh Talks

As amazing as it was to watch my own children grow it is even more amazing to watch my grandchildren. I can hardly believe it when I listen to this little guy talk. He is so cute and funny (most of the time) and although he usually call me "Buppa" there have been a few times when he has decided to call me "Martha" like Emma and Bella.

Bella was taking a nap when Josh arrived this afternoon. He was supposed to gather pine cones with Mommy, but she made the mistake of coming inside first and Josh decided to "take off his coat and stay a while". "Do you want to play toys?" he asked me. How could I resist?

On a side note, I think the tummy bug is past now, at least here. It hit at least four of the seven children who were here last Thursday, and then went on to take down my mom, Dave and Leta, as well as Bella's mom. It hits hard and fast and reminds me of a Christmas gathering in Colorado a few years back where two thirds of the family was violently ill. Luckily it is short lived.

A Dark and Quiet Day

With both of my children, the two still at home, feeling under the weather, the house has been unusually quiet. I have had the washer running and now hear the rhythmic clacking of a sleeping bag tumbling in the dryer and the clicking of computer keys as I tediously copy Dad's journal. So far I have copied six and a half weeks and have about four more to go, July 22, 1947 - Oct. 5, 1947.

I have taken a break here and there to wash dishes, load the washing machine and fold the clothes. I also took a run up to the grocery store for sick supplies; ibuprofen, Robitussin DM, soup, and, of course, more ginger ale. Both Ben and Hannah have spent the entire day on a couch. Good thing we have two.

It's a rather dark and dreary kind of afternoon, good for sleeping, and quiet too. Did I mention that? We had turned the radio on to listen to Christmas carols earlier but then came one with a high pitched woman's voice, not all together pleasant, and Hannah turned it off. Maybe later we'll dig up a Christmas movie to watch. I wonder if we have "The Bishop's Wife"?

That is Sick!

It has been a sick week. Ben was feeling slightly off Sunday evening and by Monday morning he was cooking a nice fever, 102.7. By Tuesday afternoon I began to have concerns when he started twitching, breathing heavy, and looking as though he was either going to start hallucinating or pass out. I took him to the doctor who determined it was not strep but likely one of those very nice viruses traveling about. She suggested 3 Motrin every 6 hours. It seemed to work well as long as we kept ahead of it. Wednesday evening he seemed to be coming out of it and was fine yesterday too. This afternoon he seems to have suffered a relapse though the fever is not what is was earlier in the week.

Hannah feels rather pukey tonight. No fun. This is not what she wanted this weekend, she had plans. Emma was sick over Thanksgiving and everyone we talk to seems to be coughing. Good thing I stocked up on giner ale. It is what my father always brought home for sick tummies, and Canada Dry is the best. I just may be picking up a few more bottles tomorrow.

A Change of Scenery

"The Claw" has returned and the old apple trees across the street are destined for the fire. Impressive is an understatement. This massive piece of equipment is ruthless when it comes to old trees. They don't stand a chance. There is no fighting back, no resisting, instead they are "plucked" up by the roots like a mere weed. (You all know there is an analogy here...) I don't believe there is much chance of these old apple trees being redeemed. They have lived long and borne much fruit. I believe they did a good job and produced just exactly what was expected, but they are old trees now, soon to be replaced by new stock, and there is not much call for apple wood in the woodworking industry. I'm glad I'm not a tree and that I am held in the Father's hand. I don't need to worry about "The Claw".

Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday to my very favorite mother in law!

Now don't you roll your eyes at me. That's what Leta did the very first time I called her my favorite daughter in law and she still holds that title. You very well may hold the favored position forever!

I love seeing your exuberance show up in my children; their love of art, music, nature, photography... I smile when I see you appear in that little dance My Darling does when the holidays are near, music is playing on the radio, and he is happy... you know the one, I'm sure you do.

It's been three years now since you were here, a visit is long overdue. See? I am keeping track. There is another wedding in New Mexico this spring... hey, maybe we can all make this one too. We can always hope...

The day is almost done and I am late posting this. I do hope you had a super day full of things you love and that turning 70 was every bit as wonderful as you had hoped. Though we couldn't be there, we send our love and wishes for another year full of fun and adventure. Christmas is just around the corner and I hear you are heading to Dallas, so you are off to a good start!

"The Life of Me"

Sunday afternoon I went up to the attic bedroom at Mom's house to see what needs to be done before Jim comes home for Christmas (just in case he decides to spend a bit of time there...). I was distracted by peeking into the attic. Though there is not really much stored away up there, once in a while I find a treasure. Sunday I hit the jackpot; I found two very old journals of my dad's and a box of letters various people sent to James and I when we lived in Albuquerque. I will go through the letters eventually, for now I am concentrating on the journals. They have captured my attention.

My eyes are puffy, my throat is scratchy, and I continue to pour over dusty old documents. Allergy medicine and decongestant are helpful in my quest. I must remember to be thankful for them. I'm not sure if I will ever get all the old notes, papers, and journals into any semblance of order, they are jumbled together with video and audio recordings, photographs and memories, but with the Lord's help maybe something will eventually come together.

I hope my family will be patient with me as I endeavor to copy and print out Dad's first journal. I was both blessed and amazed at what I found and I think they will be too.

A Piece of History

"After supper my family and I went out to Penfield to see Grampa Plotzker who has cancer in his lungs. He is thin and weak and in very much pain. There is little hope for him, although we have faith in God and the grape cure that he will come through o.k. and will be able to go fishing with me again.
Signed,
Alfred Leslie Plotzker"
(July 24, 1947- Thurs.)

I wonder if my father ever thought of his grandpa as he struggled with his own disease. My father's diaries usually leave me smiling, but this entry left me wondering instead.

Many Thoughts...

Many thoughts have been traveling around my brain this past week...

I grew up in a home that I never thought unusual. I had a mom and a dad who loved each other and their children. I had two older brothers, one who bossed me around and told me to "go play marbles on the freeway" and another who lived away from home due to a mental handicap. I had two younger sisters who I played with and fought with. We lived in a small house on a quiet neighborhood street, went to school on the bus, and attended Sunday school each week. We had many friends, at church, at school, and down the street. We rode bicycles and played in the woods, dressed our baby dolls, built block houses for our Fisher Price little people, listened to our dad play his guitar and sing, and said our prayers before climbing into bed at night.

When I listen to old hymns, the words and music bring a sense of peace to my heart. The church is a place of refuge and Bible verses comfort my soul. I know there are those who quote scripture without understanding, never giving a thought to living the words of the Book; I know there are those who claim Christianity but never seek to emulate Christ; I know there are those who sing the songs and sit in a pew every Sunday but don't care a speck for the hurting people in the world. But that is not the home I grew up in, and sometimes I forget that old hymns, Bible verses and Sunday school can bring to others feelings of pain, sorrow, anger and rejection. Sometimes I forget that "the greatest of these is love".

So, I am seeking to understand a world that I am unfamiliar with, looking to love those who are different than me, and seeking how to accomplish this without compromising my own faith in a God who loves me and sent His Word to tell me so. He loves me enough to shine His light into the darkened corners of my heart, to scrape away anything that is not of Him, and to fill me with a renewed understanding of the scope of His unending love. He has a better way not only for those who I am seeking to love, but for me too, and He is changing me every day as I give my life over to Him.

Out and About

After getting my hair cut this morning, I stopped by Rachel's house. She happened to mention taking a ride out to the Craft and Antique Co-op and I thought maybe she had read my mind. I think maybe it's becoming an unspoken holiday tradition with us. We walk around looking at the booths and displays, leave with little to nothing, and buy a Frosty at Wendy's on the way home.

I had to smile when Rachel was going through the checkout. One of the women wrapping purchases on the next register looked very much like some of the people in some prints and paintings we had just looked at. Of course, many artists paint and sculpt figures that look very much like themselves and Diann Dengel is no exception. Her paintings always make me smile. I do believe the figures in this display are also her creations. How fun it must be to see these people and animals take shape.

Leftovers?

I think pumpkin pie makes a very good breakfast, but today I had scrambled eggs and waffles instead. I nursed a sinus headache on Wednesday and didn't make any pie, and therefore have none left over. It is just as well as I find it nearly impossible to resist the allure of homemade pumpkin pie. I can try to console myself with the fact that I did enjoy a nice piece yesterday afternoon and one will very likely show up again in my kitchen one day very soon. It's my favorite.

Another Day Of Thanks

We shed some tears shed this Thanksgiving, but we have much to be thankful for. Though we have bid farewell to a much loved and cherished family member this year, we have new little people to love and cherish; little people who will one day carry the torch their great grandpa, my dad, has passed on to us.



I continue to be blessed by my own children and am double blessed by my grandchildren. I hope their great grandma, James' mom, will enjoy this little video of them enjoying a little music with Uncle Nate.

The Chicken Speaks

(I think I may have stolen that line...)

The last few days have been rather emotionally draining. Family tensions have been running high online. Sometimes differences can be celebrated and sometimes they are nothing less than painful. There is pain on both sides right now with no apparent solution outside of God's intervention. Of course, He is a God of miracles. He has a way of taking what we cannot change, working with what we cannot understand, and doing things we thought impossible. When we give up, He takes over and He must take over here because we are helpless before Him.

The chicken? Oh yeah, that was me. Not one to stir the already bubbling pot, I spoke (actually I typed...). Sometimes we have areas where we cannot back down, even if that would be easier; even if it would appear to promote peace. Sometimes we have to tell the truth, because it is the truth that sets people free. I must learn to stand for truth while there is still truth to be shared. Honestly, the truth does hurt. It hurts me too, but it doesn't change what it is. Besides, this doesn't really come as a surprise to anyone, it's just that they don't want to hear it. Ugh!

It's Growing!

"That very day in Martha's room a garden grew..."

After three months and little progress, a rather distressing weekend, and a schedule that never seems to slow down, I was ready to give up, buy a gallon of flat white, and paint over my living room garden. It was a silly idea anyway. Why would I even have considered such a task? I don't even know how to paint flowers!

I caught my daughter on Facebook this morning. "Do you have any leftover paint?" I asked her. Bethany was not pleased with my readiness to give up on the flower garden. She wasn't working and had nothing pressing in her schedule today, and so showed up at my door an hour or so later ready to take on the task. I was feeling intimidated but she was undaunted.

Bethany has a little bit (or maybe a lot) of her Grandmanita in her. She is not afraid to tackle a job head on. She picked out some green paint (Seminole green), found a suitable brush, and started to paint. I have to admit I was inspired. I picked out some paint, found a suitable brush, and... started to paint... over the fence. (It did need a second coat...) Okay, I painted some very sad looking little flowers. Ah, I guess they look okay from a distance.

So, the garden is beginning to grow once again. While the girls and Joshua took naps, Bethany and I painted. It was good time spent together and I am encouraged by the appearance of foliage. I'm looking forward to when the flowers bloom and the bugs and butterflies come out to play. Maybe we'll even hang a birdhouse or two.

The Marble Game

Every night before going to bed Mom and Dad played "The Marble Game". Dad had never been a big fan of board games, but somehow he came to enjoy playing this one which is really just a variation of Parcheesi or Aggravation. Mom and Dad had played the game with some friends and had such fun that one Christmas Dad decided to make each of us a game board too. The boards were unpainted with holes drilled where the marbles moved around. Priscilla took to painting some of them, including Mom and Dad's. They are beautiful.

One night in September, when I stayed over with Mom and Dad, I took their picture playing the game. They always sat in the same place, always played until one of them won two rounds, and always had a little bit of ice cream to eat afterward. (Or was it before?) Two weeks later Dad was too sick to play Marbles anymore. I'm glad I took the picture.

The Warning System

When I say to the wicked, 'You shall surely die,' and you give him no warning, nor speak to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his life, that same wicked [man] shall die in his iniquity; but his blood I will require at your hand. Yet, if you warn the wicked, and he does not turn from his wickedness, nor from his wicked way, he shall die in his iniquity; but you have delivered your soul. Ezekiel 3:18-19

I find this verse to be sobering. In a world were there are no absolutes, where right and wrong are decided by the individual, and where the laws of God are hidden away in a back room, how does one warn of God's anger and judgment? Why should people even care what God thinks if they don't even believe He exists? Does love accept all actions regardless or does it send out a warning? If love never sends out a warning is it truly love?

I have to admit that I would truly rather overlook the wickedness of most individuals, including myself. Sometimes it would be easier to accept all lifestyle choices and religions. It would be easier to defend my children when they steal, lie, or cheat. It would be easier to say that alcoholism or drug addiction are diseases. It would be easier never to confront anyone with their need for a savior, to pretend there is no hell or judgment, no God to answer to. Sometimes it would be easier to look the other way...

Why should I want to subject myself to ridicule or hatred, to be called arrogant and demeaning because I care about someone, to live with broken relationships? There are no easy answers in this world, but to love does not always mean accepting any and everything. It does, however, mean loving and accepting people and laying our lives on the line for them. Sometimes that means sticking your neck out to tell someone they need Jesus. "God, help me learn how to accomplish such a task."