Category Archives: faith

I Am Persuaded that He is Able

Posted on by under faith, grace

My Story of Faith (Part 2)

Despite my changed heart, things were still tough at home throughout my teenage years.  I felt consoled in my heart about salvation and had hope for eternal life, but this did not impact behavior towards my parents. However, I started independently praying, reading my Bible, and paying more attention to preaching and Sunday school lessons at church.

One day a minister at our church preached a sermon and briefly talked about the unpardonable sin.  (See Matthew 12:22-32.) I felt almost sick, recalling how I had cursed God in the closet. I despaired and became convinced that I had ruined everything and was condemned to spend eternity in hell.  Still grieving my uncle’s death, I feared I would never see him again either.

I started looking up information about the unpardonable sin. This was long before google.  I searched church library books, a commentary in the library, and church documents in the back of the hymnal.  Unable to find any clear answers, I became convinced that my salvation had been lost forever.

Months went by in this guilt-ridden frame of mind. Finally, one day I nervously asked the minister if I could speak with him.  I needed to know once and for all if I was condemned forever.  I don’t remember too much about our conversation,  except for one thing he said:

“The very fact that you are so concerned demonstrates that the Holy Spirit is working in your life. If you had truly committed the unpardonable sin, you wouldn’t even care.”

This conversation was such a relief. My mind stopped spinning with guilt, and I was finally able to put it behind me.*

I know not how this saving faithTo me He did impart,Nor how believing in His WordWrought peace within my heart. (2)

From that point, I was fully committed as a Christian.  At age 16, I wanted to become a member of our church and participate in communion. But instead of following Christ, I became all about following the rules.

Almost immediately,  I focused on my own deeds and actions, instead of Christ the Savior. I was keen on emphasizing what I  (and others) were supposed to do or not do, but didn’t consider what Christ did on my behalf. Author Elyse Fitzpatrick calls this “spiritual amnesia”.

Meanwhile at home, I was still doing battle with my parents. Somehow, the commandment about honoring your father and mother was one I chose to ignore.  I was blind to my own faults and often focused on the faults of others.

Ironically, I was known to be a trustworthy and responsible babysitter.  I was a decent student.  I participated in church groups and committees at a young age. Most people didn’t know how rude I was to my parents at home.  I also developed an addiction to candy and sneaking food.

Please don’t misunderstand. All the high school years were not completely awful and miserable.  I had a core group of good friends.  My mom tried to help me the best she could.  I have good memories, too. But my temper and the strife I caused in the family casts a dark shadow over those years.

Recalling these things is embarrassing.  Yet, there is a reason for doing so.

If God can forgive a sinful, cursing, and often angry young girl, he can forgive anyone.  Sure, maybe I was a “good girl”.  I didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex.    Instead , I tried to show myself as someone who did everything right and legalistically followed all the rules,  while wreaking havoc at home.

Jesus had some pretty harsh words for hypocrites.

 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.  In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.” (Matthew 23:27, 28 NIV)

I know I was a hypocrite then, and I’m certain there are some ways in which I am still a hypocrite.

Yet, God has redeemed me.  I’ve confessed those sins of the past and asked for forgiveness.  (I will explain more how that came about in the next post.) I’ve trusted in Jesus Christ’s sacrifice on my behalf. My past sins are covered by the blood of my Savior, which he shed on the cross.  This is humbling.  There is nothing I personally can do to save myself.  What a comfort.  It’s not all on me.

Being a “good girl” was a facade, nothing more.  It didn’t gain me good standing with God.  Only Jesus, God’s Son, could do that.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.  (Ephesians 1:7 NIV)

Today I can say “I am forgiven.  I am loved by God.” This is only possible through Jesus Christ,  only by the mercy of my heavenly Father.   Knowing full well my weaknesses and innumerable failures, then and now,  I am humbled to know how much I am also loved and forgiven and accepted through the gift of the Cross.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8, NASB)

 

*For a very helpful article about the unpardonable sin, click here.

In this post I’ve talked about God as the Father, Jesus Christ (the Son) and the Holy Spirit.  This is the Trinity.  For a simple explanation, I suggest this link.

For part one of my faith story, click here.

Stay tuned for part 3…

 

 

Advertisement

I know Whom I Have Believed

Posted on by under faith, family history, grace, heaven, trust

My story of faith (Part 1)

Maybe I could keep it really sweet and simple and leave it at that:  When I was 5 years old, I recall praying in the corner of the kitchen while my mom was cooking supper. I asked Jesus to forgive my sins and come into my heart, then shyly let her know.    I don’t recall what proceeded those moments.I know not why God_s wondrous graceTo me He hath made known,Nor why, unworthy, Christ in loveRedeemed me for His own.

If I could only leave my story there and say “the end”.  Sweet and simple.

Family life had deep Christian roots.  I was baptized as an infant and raised by Christian parents who read the Bible and prayed after our supper meal every day.  We attended church morning and evening  on Sundays, as well as  Sunday School, catechism classes and mid-week youth activities.  I was educated in a Christian school.  My parents were training up their children as they had been trained by their own parents. I am thankful that I personally knew several of my great-grandparents who also left a legacy of faith.

From that first prayer, and even before, the Holy Spirit was at work in my life.

The rest of the story  seems darker.  Maybe it didn’t have to be, but it has been.

True confession:  I haven’t often wanted to share the gospel with others.  Hard to explain why, but it’s true.  I am confessing this, red-faced and embarrassed.  When I think about sharing the gospel out loud, I think “What is there endearing about it? Who would believe this, and why?”  It is so much to take in, so much to explain.

It is also true and trustworthy, the Word of our Father and Creator, God.

In the gospel (the good news) of Jesus Christ there is incredible comfort and hope.  But on the surface, living life, there is also lots of trouble.  Jesus Himself tells us “In this world you will have trouble…” (John 16:33)

Friends, I have had trouble in this world.  (Haven’t we all?)

(God, please help me to express this the way I should and in a way that honors You.)

As a kid, I often thought I was getting the bad end of the deal.    I developed some pretty negative thinking.  In junior high, it only got worse.   Christianity, to me at that time was a set of rules that I performed to please people and keep out of trouble, not something I  took seriously.

I  started having issues at home.  Mainly, I thought life was unfair,  became angry, and caused a great deal of strife.

Outwardly, I conformed to all the rules.  I managed fairly well at church and school. Inwardly, I was upset all the time, and my parents and siblings bore the brunt of it.   I argued about everything.  Without being rebellious or wild in the  classic sense of the word, I tried to push all the boundaries. Primarily it was in how I communicated, which was disrespectfully and with a quick temper.  This wasn’t just for a small period of time.  It lasted pretty much all the way through high school.

When I was in 7th grade, my mom’s brother had been diagnosed with cancer, and it started to spread rapidly. He was a fun, kind uncle and  had a great sense of humor.  He also had a deep faith and trust in God, having suffered with cancer for several years. Because of him, I became aware of the brevity of life, and I seriously started to wonder if I would go to heaven if I died. As I watched what he was going through, I agonized about these questions for quite some time.

One day  I remember having  one of those terrible arguments with my parents.  I went and sat on the floor of my dark closet and cursed God.  Literally, I said swear words to God.  I felt sick inside about how I lashed out, but soon forgot.  (More about this in part 2, not yet published.)

In February, 1985  this dear uncle passed away, surrounded by family.  I loved hearing how his last words expressed  his certainty of  heaven.  I started to wonder, “Is heaven real?  Will I see him again? If it is real, will I see him again?”

Sitting in my bedroom one evening I opened the Bible to Psalm 34, and the words changed my life, forever. It was the first time the Scripture became real and personal to me. (To this day, it is my favorite Psalm.)  I found a measure of peace I didn’t have before, and comfort that God’s promises were true.

 I sought the Lord, and He answered me,
And delivered me from all my fears.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The Lord redeems the soul of His servants,
And none of those who take refuge in Him will be condemned.

Psalm 34:4,18 and 22 (ESV)

Coming soon….part 2!

Wondering more about the gospel?  Here is a great place to start. 

Missing Sara

Posted on by under faith, family history, grief, trust

A true friend is the greatest of all blessings, and that which we take the least care of all to acquire. -Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Sara was a friend. Not just to me, but to many others. I’ve wanted to write about her for a long time, but the memories were bittersweet. I struggled to gather the words.

sara003

Karen and Sara

Our story of friendship begins over 100 years ago with a brother and sister named Fred and Henrietta, the children of Dutch immigrants. Fred and Henrietta grew up, found spouses, married, lived a few houses apart, and both had families of their own. Fred took over his dad’s dairy farm. In 1947, Fred’s wife gave birth to a boy, Marvin. Henrietta gave birth to a son, David.

Marvin and David weren’t just cousins who happened to be neighbors. They became best friends. They went to the same church, the same Sunday school, and the same elementary and high schools. They played baseball at the farm and went to 4H Tractor Club. On Sunday afternoons they took walks, wandering around the Twin Lakes area.

Marvin and David grew up and each was married in 1970. Both became fathers for the first time in 1971 and they both had baby girls. That was Sara and me.

I suppose Sara and I played together since we were old enough to toddle around. Our parents often got together on weekends and for Bible study. Every year we attended New Year’s Eve service at church and then spent the evening talking, eating and playing games with our siblings until the exciting countdown to midnight. The next morning we would be at church, starting the New Year in God’s house.

Just like our dads, we attended the same church and Sunday school. We were in the same classes and grades all through our years at North Christian grade school. We played long days together in the summer, wandering all around the farm by Twin Lakes and often had sleepovers.  There were hours in her room with her amazing Barbie townhouse, complete with elevator. We dug up dusty dry calf bones behind the farm and pretended we had found an ancient dinosaur land.

sara002

Riding bikes in 1982

John Deere mountain was what we named our special spot. We perched ourselves in the tall grass on a small hill above the farm. We hid there, talking and laughing as only two little girls can do. At my folk’s house we mixed up crazy concoctions in the kitchen and played with the cassette tape recorder for hours, creating silly radio programs and listening to them while we giggled late into the night.

Starting in second grade we took piano lessons together with Mrs. Grit.  Our moms took turns carpooling. The day that the tornado hit Kalamazoo in 1980, we were at Mrs. Grit’s house for our weekly lesson. We stopped at my aunt’s house to shelter in her cellar because my mom spotted the tornado over Westwood as she was driving us home. When Mrs. Grit moved to Costa Rica with her family to be missionaries, we switched to Mrs. Manni. We took turns  sitting at the dining room table and doing homework while the other had her lesson.

In high school, my cousin drove us to school every day for a couple of semesters. We sometimes carpooled to basketball games, cheering for our Kalamazoo Christian Comets.  We had several friends in common. After  graduating in 1989, Sara stayed at home with her folks and went to college. I moved in with my grandparents and went to work at a doctor’s office. We soon started getting together with friends every Sunday night after church. These were some of the happiest days I remember. Sara started dating Steve, the good-looking fellow who showed up in our Sunday school class in 6th grade. Many of us girls swooned over him, but it was Sara who won his heart.

I went away to college for one year. When I returned  home to Kalamazoo, Sara and I rented an apartment together. It was her first place away from her parents. We had great fun furnishing and decorating our little place. She would come home from her job at the flower shop and have Adventures in Odyssey on her car radio. I would have the radio on in the apartment and we would finish listening together. I can’t say how many nights were spent staying up late, talking and giggling.  There were serious conversations too, about our faith and relationships. It is almost crazy to admit, but at age 19, we joined with a group of friends for our first and only ballet class.  It was so fun(ny)! We loved having friends over and started a Bible study, too.

sara001

Sara talking on the phone and washing dishes in our apartment, 1992

 

sara005

A personal note from Sara.  The front of the card was inscribed with a verse:  “I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” -Jeremiah 29:11

One fine summer day, we were feeling a little tired and dull. We jumped into our friend  Jeff’s red Chevy Lumina  and he drove  a group of us to Lake Michigan. At the state park entrance booth, Sara pretended to give an order for McDonald’s, as if we were at the drive-thru. Because of that, we could not stop laughing. The guys gave up on us and walked down to the beach, but we remained in the back seat, rolling around, laughing and crying for at least ten more minutes. Then we laughed our way down to the beach; into the sun and waves and joy of a carefree day.

Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense, and to have her nonsense respected. –Charles Lamb

On a warm August night in 1992, I had the honor of playing the piano for Sara and Steve’s wedding. Going though my old piano books, I found songs I heard her play while sitting at the dining room table doing homework at Mrs. Manni’s house. I found Scarlatti, Bach, Mozart and hymns from Sunday School. All my heart went into that prelude. Our friend Rhonda and her dad sang a duet and I played the piano for that too. Imagine my surprise when I walked out of the church, and there was our first piano teacher, Mrs. Grit!

Sara started teaching school and settled into married life. I married a couple of years later, and moved out of state. Sara and I wrote letters and talked on the phone at first, but gradually we became busy and didn’t keep up. Sara and Steve eventually had six children and started homeschooling. Despite living out of state, I could count on seeing Sara and our group of friends every New Year’s Eve or 4th of July whenever I was in Kalamazoo.  It was always easy to get together on these occasions and catch up on our lives.  Eventually I moved back and we continued our tradition of gathering with our friends twice a year.

Nearly every time a year turned over, Sara and I were together.

These days our parents still get together. They go out to eat. Once a month they still have Bible study with their group of friends. You will always find them celebrating New Year’s Eve at one or the other’s home.

John Deere Mountain is gone now, excavated flat to the ground.

Sara is gone too. She left us suddenly one day seven years ago. She fed her family supper, went to lay down for a rest, and quietly slipped away to heaven. We later learned she had a rare heart condition.

For a long time my heart went flat too. Flat with missing, flat with grief. Flat with fear of loving and losing. It is taking a long time to heal and maybe it never will.

I have had losses. I’ve lost babies. I’ve lost my uncle. I’ve lost young friends and old friends and great aunts and uncles and grandparents. Truthfully, I don’t cry about them anymore, but sometimes I still cry about Sara.  I miss laughing together. Really, I just miss her.

john-deere-mountain

Sara and Karen on John Deere Mountain, drawn by Esther Kamps.*

Sara had a way of spending time, listening and being present with people. You can see by her notes that she was also an encourager. People were drawn to her, but she never wanted to draw attention to herself. She was living her dream of family, children and homeschooling. God only knows why her time was up, but it was. Sara trusted God with all her heart. I trust Him too, but  I admit it took  time to trust again after she was gone. I have faith in God that I will see her again and  someday all the sorrow of missing her will be gone forever.

 

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence. -Joseph Roux

For More Information

News article about Sara from The Kalamazoo Gazette

An online memorial (note this was created by someone named Karen, but not myself)

Update on the family  – God is amazing!

Plainwell couple celebrates new love, new life and 9 children (P.S.  Make that 11 blessings.)

*Some years ago I wrote down memories of Sara from childhood to give to Sara’s children, similar to what I’ve shared here. Mrs. Kamps  sketched this lovely picture for me to include with the stories.

You comments are always welcome and appreciated. If you knew Sara and have a memory you’d like to share, you are welcome to add those in the comments too.  I’m sure family and friends would enjoy reading them. Note: I  moderate comments to prevent spam, so they will appear after I’ve approved them.

Why I’m a Big Fan of Opposite-Sex, Christian, Monogamous Marriage

Posted on by under divorce, faith, family history, marriage, parenthood, trust

I know that my husband has never slept with another woman.  I was his first and only sexual partner and sex between us began on the day of our wedding.  He even went so far as to reserve our first kiss for marriage. The fact that my husband reserved the most intimate, passionate part of his being for me, provides a sense of trust and comfort for me that he will continue to do so.  He showed respect for me while we were dating, and he continues to respect and cherish me.

First Kiss! Pure Bliss!

First Kiss! Pure Bliss!

Sacrificial

Christian marriage is understood to be a sacrifice, based on the sacrifice that Jesus made for his bride,the church.¹   I admire the tradition of Orthodox Christian wedding ceremonies when the man and woman wear martyr crowns as a symbol of the self-sacrifice required in marriage.  It is simply putting your spouse above your own needs/desires/interests.

My husband would probably enjoy using all of his spare time to play golf, softball or bowling.  Instead he chooses to spend his time (when not working) with his family.  We certainly take breaks and pursue individual interests, but with the view that it is a time for refreshment, and beneficial to the family as a whole.

Community

Another blessing of being in a Christian marriage means that we live in Christian community.  We worship in our local church as a family. Our pastor encourages Christian marriage and family life. We have fellowship with other believers in all stages of life, single and married.  There are always friends who we can talk to and share struggles with when we are having a difficult time.

Health

There are many health benefits in traditional marriage. My husband has been a tremendous support to me as I have gone through miscarriage,  weight struggles, and grief from losing loved ones. I have supported him as well “in sickness and in health”, through unemployment, job changes and the many difficulties of life.

Fruitfulness

God told the original opposite-sex couple, Adam & Eve, to “Be fruitful and multiply.”²  One obvious way that the marriage is fruitful is when children are born, fostered and/or adopted into the home. This doesn’t mean that having children is the only way to be fruitful.  Christian marriage provides unique avenues for fruitful service and living that serves God and others in the home, church and community.

Statistically, traditional marriage is the most stable environment for children.  Scripture itself promises blessings when we follow God’s instructions for marriage and family life.³

My grandparents, Fred & Ada Vlietstra celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.

My grandparents, Fred & Ada Vlietstra celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.

I am a grateful recipient of these blessings:

  • My grandparents on both sides were faithful, committed Christian spouses who celebrated over fifty years of marriage.
  • My own parents have been happily married and faithful to one another for over forty-five years.
  • None of my aunts & uncles have divorced. The ones who are married remain with their original spouses.
  • Most of my cousins are also in Christian marriages with very few divorces among them. (I am one of the few who is divorced.  I wrote about that here.)

More posts about my family history here.

No Shame

There is no shame in maintaining an opposite-sex, Christian, monogamous marriage.  I feel shame and regret about many things in my life.  I have struggled with temptations,difficulties, short-comings and sins.  I believe that God not only forgives me, but uses even my sins to draw me closer to Himself.

All that being said, sexual abstinence apart from marriage is  a specific area where I don’t have regrets.  I credit my parent’s teaching in this area. Saying  a firm “no” to sexual temptation (as a teenager, single, dating, engaged and divorced woman) has produced fruitfulness and blessing and joy throughout my life.   Note: I am only speaking from my own experience.  I am not condemning others. I  never claim to be 100% perfect in this area or any other. My favorite book on this subject is Passion & Purity by Elisabeth Elliot.

Deeply Fulfilling

Because of all these reasons, I heartily recommend Christian, opposite-sex, monogamous marriage.  It is deeply fulfilling to have a passionate lover and friend so opposite from myself.  These differences add conflict (yes, it’s hard…very difficult at times!), but there is the opportunity over time to  learn skills for communication and ultimately, a stronger marriage. In my own experience, this type of marriage  brings tremendous comfort, security, and true romance. Couples that I know personally in these types of marriages have a peace, joy and contentment in the long term that I do not see often in society at large.

It takes a man and woman, both living for God and for one another for it to happen.  It’s crucial to marry an opposite-sex spouse who shares your faith and values.  In that, I am amazingly blessed and I would encourage anyone who desires this type of marriage to pray for that blessing and  pursue it with all of their heart.  If you know my story, you know it did not simply happen for me in the timing and way that I hoped.  But God’s timing is always perfect.

Russian style wedding crowns, 19th century

Russian style wedding crowns, 19th century “Ventsy brachnye” by Shakko – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

¹Ephesians 5:23-29

²Genesis 1:28

³Deuteronomy 4:39-40

Your comments are welcome and appreciated

GraceTruth-600x800

One Word 2015

Posted on by under anxiety, faith, Safe, The Loft, trust

One word.

Safe - Blueandgreentogether.com

I spent the last year reading a Psalm and Proverb pretty much every day.  (P.S. This was one of many Bible reading plans you can get on with the YouVersion app–highly recommended!) That’s 12 times through the book of Proverbs.  Every day there would be new truths and surprises, as if I had never read them before.  However, one verse often caught my attention:

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe. (Proverbs 18:10)

Here is another Proverb my husband often quotes to me (in a kind way, of course!):

The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe. (Proverbs 29:25)

Finally, we just started with Heart of Dakota curriculum in our home school.  The kid’s verse to memorize this week just happens to be this one:

In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:8)

I admit it, this last verse is where I need the most help.  Often you will find me awake in the wee hours, worrying about my family’s safety.  I’m the queen of finding worse case scenarios.  That’s why my word for 2015 is safe.  It’s a reminder to myself that with the God the Father’s protection, we are always safe.  His Word says it.  It’s true. It’s true even when things happen don’t feel safe.  (Think about the situations David was often in when he wrote the Psalms—fleeing for his life.) Time to put my faith in action and believe.  Incidentally, believe was my 2nd choice for one word 2015.

Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep better?  That’s my hope for 2015.

Things I’ve Learned in 2014

Posted on by under anxiety, children, current events, faith, family history, grace, heaven, homeschool, parenthood

1.  Manufactured outrage and the news.  I was taken aback this summer when a fellow Word Weaver blogger used the term “manufactured outrage” and said she wasn’t “taking the bait” anymore.  I was allowing the news stories to take away my peace. Dwelling on them tainted my thoughts with fears and negativity.

Bowe Bergdahl

The Bowe Bergdahl story was a turning point.  Bowe is a beloved son and brother who was raised by a conservative Christian family.  The family attended a church in a denomination that I once attended.  I was baffled at the feeds I was seeing from conservative outlets and the accusations against his parents.  I came across this post which describes in better words how I was looking at the story and processing it.  Seeing the memes and headlines caused me to step back from all the news, the outrage, and the craziness. I won’t “fall for the bait” with the big headlines. I feel more compassion, realizing a situation is usually more complex than anyone can realize from one news story or Facebook page blurb.  (Not that I blindly trusted everything prior to this!)  While still interested in politics and current events, I’m holding the news at arms-length and feeling more peaceful inside; less stirred up.

2.  Consistent homeschooling produces results.  When I didn’t think there was any progress, it was still happening.  My seven year old suddenly took off with reading!  We had serious concerns about learning disorders  when he was reading backwards, mixing up words and switching letters around.  We kept at our phonics workbooks day after day, week after week (seemingly mundane at times), and all of a sudden—it clicked! He apparently reached a developmental milestone and there was rapid change. Now he is reading beyond where we were with our phonics lessons.  I’m amazed how far both children have come in a year, and it gives courage and incentive to stay the course.

3. Life is precious and there is a time for mourning.  We were shocked/delighted to find out we were expecting a baby in February. There were several weeks of hopeful anticipation, followed by a concerning ultrasound, followed by a confirming ultrasound that our baby was gone.  My heart has been grieving that baby all year.  The grief has finally eased up since getting past our “should have been” due date in late October.  That baby was real, that baby was wanted, and that baby was not insignificant in the kingdom of God.  That was the lesson learned.  There isn’t a shortcut for grieving.  Heaven will be all the sweeter to meet my little ones.

4.  In researching family history,  I learned of my rich Christian heritage.  My great-grandparents were common, every day people. They were poor immigrants who were rich in faith. They came to America in hopes of a better life.

On both sides of my family, great-grandparents, grandparents and parents prayed for their offspring to believe in God, to have faith in His Son. God has heard their prayers and answered them by the power of the Holy Spirit. It is my most important inheritance (not based on relationship with my relatives, but because it is now my own through the grace of Christ).  My prayer is that my children will also have this faith.

Deuteronomy 7:9 (ESV)

Four generations – 2007

Your thoughts and feedback are always welcome in the comments section below!

Come to God

Posted on by under faith, The Loft, trust

Come to God, then, my brother, my sister, with all thy desires and instincts, all thy lofty ideals, all thy longing for purity and unselfishness, all thy yearning to love and be true, all thy aspiration after self-forgetfulness and child-life in the breath of the Father; come to him with all thy weaknesses, all thy shames, all thy futilities; with all thy helplessness over thy own thoughts; with all thy failure, yea, with the sick sense of having missed the tide of true affairs; come to him with all thy doubts, fears, dishonesties, meannesses, paltrinesses, misjudgments, wearinesses, disappointments, and stalenesses: be sure he will take thee and all thy miserable brood, whether of draggle-winged angels, or covert-seeking snakes, into his care, the angels for life, the snakes for death, and thee for liberty in his limitless heart! For he is light, and in him is no darkness at all.

-George MacDonald

Untitled (2)

I was going through a file and found the above quote from a sermon of George MacDonald.  It was something I hand-wrote, word for word several years ago, but don’t remember my source at the time.  Thanks to Google, I found the entire sermon written out, so if you like, you can see the context here. 

It’s October Twenty-Eight

Posted on by under children, divorce, faith, heaven, trust

This is a beautiful fall day in Michigan.  The sun is shining and the leaves are vibrant.  I’m busy homeschooling, cooking and running errands.

But I’ll admit it. My heart is feeling a little broken inside.

  1. The anniversary of my first marriage was 10-28 and it would have been twenty years today. God has worked all things for the good, and I am utterly blessed to be remarried to a kind, wonderful man.  However, 10-28 was significant in my life.  While I no longer mourn the ending of the relationship, I am reminded every year of the death of a marriage.
  2. It was on 10-28, a few years ago in the doctor’s office that we learned we were having a miscarriage, and would never meet our third baby.
  3. Our fourth baby was also a miscarriage and today was a possibility as a due date.

I wonder why God arranged for those losses to be remembered on the same date?

I don’t know a specific reason it happened that way in my life, but God tells us Himself:  It’s not a bad thing to grieve.

 October 28 or not, there are days where we are called to mourn.  Perhaps for ourselves, perhaps with others.

Despite the pain, mourning comes with promises.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  Matthew 5:4

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.  Psalm 34:18

Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice. Psalm 55:17

Probably for the rest of my life, October 28 will be a mourning day.  Yet it is also true that there are beautiful ways that God has “turned my mourning into joy”. I have been comforted by Christ, the sure hope of eternal life, and the kindness of friends and family.  I sure would love to have a newborn to welcome into our home this month.  But I will see my babies someday.  I long to hold, snuggle them and kiss their faces.  Bliss! 

Today I can also remember that someday there won’t be anymore October twenty-eighths.

How about you?  Do you have any “October 28’s”?  How has God comforted you?

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  

Pan-a-cakes with Grandma Vlietstra

Posted on by under faith, family history

It’s Saturday morning. You wake up at 3:30 am in the middle of a hard Michigan winter.  You put on your mud boots, work pants and stiff flannel shirt, jump into your truck, and head out to the barn.  You set up the parlor for the day’s milking, and then walk up the snow-covered hill in the dark to fetch the cows.  It’s freezing cold, but you feel sheltered in the cow barn with the heat-radiating Holsteins.  After herding them down the alley  to the holding pen, you and your cousin methodically milk two hundred cows; one-by-one, over and over, opening and closing the gate, hooking up the hissing, sucking vacuuming machines to their udders, steaming in the morning cold.  While the machines whistle and click in unison, you warm your hands on the milk jar.

By eight o’clock when the rest of the world is waking up, the cows are milked and you’ve been on your feet for several hours. Working quickly, you chase the last few cows back to the barn. Then you scrape the parlor and hose it down.

Shall we go down to Grandma’s?

You nod and gratefully walk out the door and trek down to the farm house. You jog part of the way because your feet are freezing in your barn boots. You see light coming through mud room window.  Your stomach starts to growl.

You walk in the mud room and through the small window you see her bustling around the table.  There she is, your short, sturdy grandma with her white hair.  The smell of bacon warms you to your toes.

Oh!  You’re here!  Come on in…..

She smiles and waves you to come into the kitchen and ushers you to an empty spot at the table, where a few other cousins and farm workers are already eating. She loads the pancakes onto the platter in the middle of the table and pours you a fresh cup of milk.

Come on, take another pan-a-cake!  You must be hungry from working.

She has a way of bustling, almost jogging through the kitchen. Back and forth between the table, the griddle and the sink.  At eighty-five, Grandma is full of pep and happy to see you.

A favorite hymn of Ada Vlietstra

Words from a favorite hymn of Ada Vlietstra

The following are excerpts of an interview with Ada Vlietstra that I wrote for a college class in 2004.  At the time, she was 85 years old.  

My grandmother, Ada Vlietstra was born in Kalamazoo, MI in 1919 to Dutch immigrants  Hendrik and Rikste (Engberts) Doorlag.  Her parents came to America through Ellis Island and Hendrik worked at the paper mill to earn money so that he could bring his parents to America as well.

As the second born of thirteen children and oldest daughter, Ada was expected to help her mother starting at a young age.  She helped with whatever chores she could handle and watched the younger children.  In those days they did not have kindergarten, so Ada started first grade at the age of 4.  She walked one mile to attend William Street Christian School.  When they were learning the alphabet, the teacher would write the letters with a piece of chalk on the top of their desks.  Then they would use dried corn and put it on the lines to help them learn each letter.

Ada graduated from 8th grade at age 13, and then took two years of high school.  At that time, the high school only went up to grade 10. If she wanted to finish her high school diploma, she would have to commute to a high school in Grand Rapids.  Just a few of her classmates did that.  At the age of 15, when she finished her schooling, her parents told her that she should get a job.  They did not have a phone in her house, and in those days people did not create resumes.  When she applied for a job at the Grace Corset Company, she had the company call her aunt and uncle’s home, who in turn told her parents. She was allowed to keep her wages for her own use. Her mother had twins during these years and she had a great deal of responsibility to care for younger siblings when she wasn’t working.

One Sunday afternoon, Ada and her cousin were walking home toward Paterson street, when a man named Fred pulled over and offered to give them a ride in his car.  (He later teased Grandma that she was hitchhiking, but apparently they agreed to ride with him after he introduced himself.) Ada, age 23, married Fred in 1942.  He was eleven years her senior. Ada said that in those days there would be a “shivaree” where they would try to take the bride away from the groom on the wedding night.

It was war time (World War II) when she was in her early twenties and there were many activities related to that.  She says they would have parades on Armistice Day and that people were more patriotic.  There were many jobs related to making parts of airplanes.  Fred did not go to war because the government felt it was more important for him to continue farming.

Her husband was dairy farming with his dad, and she moved into his family home on Ravine Road, which included Fred’s dad and sister. Fred’s mother had died at a young age. Ada remembers when she first moved into the house, it was a sometimes difficult to get along with her sister-in-law because she had run the home until Ada moved in.  That lasted for several months, but then her sister-in-law moved in with another sibling until she married. During those days Ada would have to wash the equipment/dishes for the milking barns and alternated doing this with another sister-in-law next door.  Ada did a great deal of canning and preparing food to last through the winter. They did not have any indoor plumbing in the house the first few years.

Ada and Fred became parents to six children.  While raising her own family, she also provided meals for her father-in-law, who lived in the same home with Ada and her husband until he died in 1960.

Ada Vlietstra serving cake at her weekly Sunday afternoon tea time.

Ada Vlietstra serving cake at her weekly Sunday afternoon tea time.

 

Stay tuned for part 2 of my interview with Ada where she shared more about her childhood and her life as a farmer’s wife.  I will also include favorite memories of my kind, hard-working and hospitable grandma, who lived to be 92 years old. 

Further information:

Thanks to my cousin, Sara VanDyk and my brother, Fred Vlietstra for helping me with details of the pancake story. I also added a few details from viewing a DVD interview of my grandparents by my aunt, Lois Ailes. 

 

Your comments are always welcome.

Josephine’s Birth

Posted on by under children, faith, family history, heaven, Iowa

“I see death standing at the door, but God will take care of the baby.”

These were the last words Anna Runia Van Dyk spoke to her husband, Meindert.

Anna and Meindert were Dutch immigrants.  The couple arrived in the United States in 1921 on the ship Rotterdam along with their three young children in hopes of opportunity and freedom.  Sidney, the 3 year old middle son had cerebral palsy. They carried him off the ship onto Ellis Island covered in a blanket, hoping that no one would look at him too closely.  John and Anna feared that he would not be allowed into the United States.  They were relieved when he made it through immigration without being noticed.

The family settled in Sully, Iowa so they could live near Anna’s twin sister.  A few years later, Anna was expecting their fourth child, but there were complications.  Anna had toxemia of pregnancy.  Baby Josephine was delivered on April 30, 1924 weighing less than five pounds.  Sadly, Anna died on her 35th birthday, two days after giving birth.   Meindert was left alone with a premature baby in the hospital, children at home and a job working on a farm.

Twin sister, Josie and Anna Runia. This picture was taken in the Netherlands before they came to the United States of America.

Twin sisters, Josie and Anna Runia. This picture was taken in the Netherlands before they came to the United States of America.

Meanwhile,  Dick and Jennie VanSant had been married for ten years and were managing their farm in Oskaloosa, a couple of hours away.  They had prayed for  years that God would bless them with children of their own, but now they were in their thirties and hope was fading.  They heard through their church about a tiny baby who would require careful attention.

Dick and Jennie hurried to make preparations. When they arrived at the hospital the doctor warned them not to get too attached, because the baby was very small.  There were not intensive care units for premature babies in 1924.  Her survival was uncertain.

Jennie took Josephine in her arms, the smallest baby she had ever seen.  The doctor’s advice (not to get attached) was ignored. Josephine was dearly treasured by Dick and Jennie.  She was so tiny that she could not suck from a bottle.  For weeks Jennie fed her cow’s milk from a glass dropper, every hour around the clock.  A month after her birth, she weighed just over five pounds.

God took care of the baby, just as Anna Runia Van Dyk said He would.  Josephine survived.

The Birth of Josephine blueandgreentogether.com

Josephine being held by Dick VanSant.

Within a couple of years, Meindert was making plans to remarry, but this also meant he would be moving hundreds of miles away to Kalamazoo, Michigan.  He had a difficult time leaving Josephine behind.  Before he left, there were two things he wanted to tell the VanSants:

  • You may keep Josephine and raise her as you see fit, but you may not adopt her.  Her last name will still be Van Dyk
  • I promise I will never take her away from you.

Josephine was my grandmother.  She lived to the age of 82, having been married fifty-nine years with five children, nineteen grandchildren, and  (at that time) thirty great-grandchildren.

Josephine and Karen in 2005.

 

For more pictures and information on Josephine’s birth family, go here.

Further genealogical information and related links:

  1. Toxemia of pregnancy is now called pre-eclampsia.
  2. Anna Runia VanDyk death record information.  The record says she died at Mercy Hospital, but family members were told by Josephine that she was born at the hospital in Oskaloosa.
  3. Josie Vander Weerdt (twin sister of Anna Runia VanDyk) death record information.  She lived to be 90 years old.  That’s how I realized Anna must have died on her own birthday and what age she was. Anna’s death record only gives an (incorrect) estimated birth year.
  4. Sidney VanDyk, the brother of Josephine who had cerebral palsy resided at the Christian Psychiatric Hospital in Cutlerville, Michigan (now called Pine Rest) after Meindert moved to Michigan to remarry.  He died in 1950 at the age of 33.
  5. The ministers that may have been involved in placing Josephine with the VanSants would have been Rev. Ralph Bolt of Sully Christian Reformed Church and  Rev. Charles Spoelhof of First Christian Reformed Church based on where their charges in 1924. Source:  Christian Reformed Church Ministers Database
  6. The Statue of Liberty- Ellis Island Passenger Search  provided information about the ship and year that Meindert VanDyk arrived in the United States.
  7. Josephine Balkema’s obituary.
  8. Previously on this blog I wrote about Edith Stek.  She was the sister of Jennie (VanSant) Sjaardema.
  9. Also wrote a little story about Henry and Josephine here.
  10. A blog post about my many unique connections to Oskaloosa, Iowa over the years.

Stay tuned!  In the future I hope to share more stories about my grandma’s remarkable life, including how she reacted when her dad, Meindert came to visit her when she was a young girl and how she met my grandpa.

Special thanks to Josephine’s daughters (Mary, Esther and Joanne) and Jean VanDyk (daughter-in-law of Meindert), who helped with several details of this story.