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Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

The words flowing from my pen were a prayer to the God of the morning: "As we walk, help us ponder the path of our feet and let all our ways be established ... for now we see through a glass darkly but then face to face. Now we know in part but then shall we know as also we are known ... ." The page in my journal was only half-filled when my peaceful hour was disturbed by the phone.

To hear the voice of our middle daughter was a surprise. We'd been together only a short time before at the Williamsburg Alliance Church, where we had stood patiently in a slow-moving line of many other people, all of whom were friends and/or family of Yvonne Gahagan. For hours we waited for our turn to offer our condolences to the family, two of whom are our good neighbors, Gene and Sandra Davis. Known as the flower lady to many, her sudden death left us reeling in shock. It didn't seem right to plant the gladiolus bulbs she gave me last year, especially not on the same day I went to her viewing, the first warm, garden-planting day in May. Life seemed suddenly very fragile.

And now this call ... my daughter was saying that I became a grandmother again. I was expecting this call some time in May, but not from Nason Hospital. Life does hang on a thread. By God's grace and other able hands, our daughter is still alive to tell me about little Kimberly Anne, our sixth granddaughter, the miracle baby, born on her (late) paternal great-grandfather's 106th birthday.

Her sister Lyla, age 3, and brothers Tyson and Conner, ages 8 and 5, came to our house till they can meet their new sister at home. It seems like a long time for us to wait, but we didn't twiddle our thumbs. With Saturday being sunny and mild, the boys were running their scooters on the field lane. The dust flew, just like they wanted it to do, especially if they dragged a push broom on behind. Lyla sang on the swing, of her sister, still a dream. Me? I was planting, finally free to do so with warmer weather. The daylight hours were too few as were the night hours to restore our weary bodies.

When we came home from Piney Creek church, Lyla pushed a chair to the counter and cut the pot pie into squares for me to cook with ham and potatoes. After lunch the gentle raindrops were enough to merit story time on the couch which put "Momie" hopelessly to sleep. When the nap and the memory game were over, the sun coaxed us outdoors. Along Piney Creek in the woods, the wet undergrowth soaked our clothing and several creek crossings put a number on our shoes and socks, too, but we were happy to find may apple flowers. Their abundant growth rivaled the skunk cabbages which lined the banks of the trickling mountain waters.

Chloe was waiting for us when we returned and overjoyed when we trekked to the camp for some zip line rides but Chloe's thrill was on the ground, chasing rabbits in the thickets. For supper, Conner cut up the fish for cheddar chowder and after chores the Frisbee throws and catches were in the lush green backyard.

The first part of the week was also unusual. Forty days after Easter on May 13, was Ascension Day. For some, it was the day to travel to Union County for a wedding and church services were held at Piney Creek and New Enterprise. In the former, where we worshiped, we were blessed to hear another sermon from an Iowan nephew. He and some of his family were in the area to attend the deacon ordination at Martinsburg Church on Wednesday, May 12. Other ministers hailed from Missouri, Virginia and Ohio and surrounding counties to attend services on this solemn day.

It was not the first ordination we've attended in the Cove but there was something distinctly different last week. As I looked at the candidates it dawned on me that these were our "babies." The arms which held them, the laps on which their little feet once stood, the hearts that beat with prayers for them as they rafted through turbulent waters of transition years, the lips that spoke encouragement and warning ... the mothers, they were all there. Tears dropped silently, unbidden, because even though we know our children are born to serve the Lord and to lay up treasures in heaven, instead of on earth, we know it's not easy. The one father who was missing did not see his son receive the new charge, nor get to shake his hand and whisper words of encouragement as did many others for the young couple.

 

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