2024 Christmas Letter

 

2024 Christmas Letter

December 7, 2024

As the year rushes headlong to its conclusion, the time has come for Jackie and I to reach out to our friends and kin. I know that among you are those that are curious about what events have occurred in our household. I can tell you though each year is unique, 2024 may hold the record…for now.

To be specific, Jackie and I did not venture about far and wide this year. I will accept the responsibility for us not taking the road trip we had planned. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

The years had not been kind to my knees. Fact is they have creaked since I was fifteen, and the forty-five years of labor on the farm didn’t improve things. So, I had to make a choice, replacement or I would likely need to purchase a wheelchair. A fall and an ambulance ride to the ER cemented the decision made to be best. The first knee became bionic in early April, and seven weeks later the other knee. What followed was months of physical therapy.

I was not cleared until mid-September.

Kinda’ prevented trips, don’t you think. But fear not, once released we went on a test trip north. Ludington, Michigan is not far, about a three-hour drive, but far enough. We spent five days going, staying, and coming. It was just a wonderful time seeing some of the places we love. From our base camp (hotel) the Sleeping Bear Dunes area was an easy reach. Glenn Arbor has always been a special place for us. We made certain to visit the lighthouses that dot the shoreline.

No, I was not yet fit enough for the two-mile hike along the shore to Big Sable Point Lighthouse, but next year, yes, next year.

So other than scheduling physical therapy and doctor visits, our lives continued in mostly normal rhythms. Jackie continues to cut back on her work obligations. A complete retirement enters frequent conversations. Cutting the last strands of the cord that has had such a major part of her life is not easy.

Nick is quite pleased about living in the Denver, Colorado area. He remains an engineer for ConMed. There is very little about his work he can share with us. Working in R & D means mums the word. He seems happy and could parents wish for more…

We now come full circle. What I have told you earlier made up a large part of my life. But not all. I have worked diligently on When Light Comes Unexpected, the fourth book of the Misty Creek Series. I expect, that is my best guess, the book will be released by June of 2025, the completion of four years of work. Soon I begin my next writing challenge.

As you can tell, our lives remain busy in ways not always expected, and that’s OK. But we look forward to the adventures that lie ahead.

This season is a good time to consider what Christmas means. To remind ourselves that at its center remains the birth of a child, born in the humblest of circumstances. But Christ’s birth is that and so much more, for the birth of that child was the proof of just how much God loves us.…for God so loved the world he sent his son…the symbol of ultimate love, to guide our actions…to guide our lives.

That is our wish for you, that all the joy and light of Christmas, fill you completely even to the point of overflowing. And may the light of this special season be reflected onto those you love, now in this special season and the year ahead.

 Merry Christmas!

                                                   

 

The Vander Veldens

 

 

The Blank Canvas

 

The Blank Canvas

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I awake each day and find a blank canvas. Over my life I have been given all the brushes and colors I need. As the hours pass, I cover that canvas with lines shapes and blocks of color, as I alone choose. If I do the task well, I will cover every square inch before my night’s rest.

You see it is God that provides that blank space. God provides the pigments…the bright colors…the subtle shades. God has given the tools I needed. But it is up to me to take those colors, use those tools to create my own artwork. To cover each blank canvas as I will.

So each morning, I face the new day…a blank canvas. I must do what I can with that slice of my life in a way that is best for me and those around me. I accept the gift, the time, the tools, and the bit of wisdom I have acquired to make my artwork worthy of the giver, knowing that, in truth, I am unable to fully satisfy the value of the gifts given.

But the Giver does not keep a tally of costs and rewards, and only hopes I use the gifts I have been given the best I am able. To take each day and use it to make some sort of difference. Positive acts, even the miniscule nearly invisible things matter. For you see, when today’s canvas is completed, God will add it to the others. That each canvas is but a part of the mosaic of my life. Every brushstroke matters in that collection of my days.

But that group of canvases never was meant to stand alone. The mosaic of mine is but a part of a much larger work. A portion of the grand work of billions of hands and hearts. A portion of God’s greatness…revealed.

And that knowledge has led me to recognize the grandest color I can use, the color that should be the foundation of each daily artwork…is love. Love of others…love for myself…and love of God.

So I am grateful for today’s blank canvas, and all those yet to be. I am grateful each day’s failings and successes are but a part of my artwork. The proof of my human strengths and weaknesses. I am grateful that I am not judged, for good or bad, by any particular brushstroke. For if I try…truly try to do my best…then I need not fear, for my artwork, the canvas given and covered, will be found acceptable.

I awake each morning and find a blank canvas.

What will you do with yours?

(446 Words) 12-1-2024

Page by Page

 

Page by Page

By John W. Vander Velden

 

There have been several things going on in my life these last months. It has been difficult to carve out the time needed to work on my writing project. But I do my best to attack the second editorial revisions of When Light Comes Unexpected the fourth book of the Misty Creek Series. For I know readers of the series await the next instalment, and I continue, page by page, to work on the near final draft.

I am handling this book differently than the three before it. Perhaps because writing these books has, for me, been a learning curve. So on this draft I will sift through these pages three times.

Step one: I am going over my editor’s comments, making changes when I feel best, but considering each comment she makes carefully. I agree with most of her suggestions, but not all. She understands me quite well, and that helps the both of us as we work on this book.

After I go through fifty or sixty pages, I begin step two: I print off three chapters at a time to be read out loud. I find that combination of verbalizing the pages and seeing them on a medium other than a computer monitor, helps me catch mistakes.

That leaves step three: After I make changes from step 2, I load those three chapters into my tablet and allow my electronic reader to read them to me. This is an important step I learned on my third book. The machine reads what is on the page not what my brain thinks is on the page.

So how far have I gotten into this task.

I have completed all three steps on 330 pages out of 518. That being said I have completed the first step to page 400. So you can see I have done the lion’s share of the heavy lifting.

But the work continues…page by page.   

(320 Words) 10-18-2024

Just Passin' Through...But

 

Just Passin’ Through…But?

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I remember back in the 70’s that there were bumper stickers with the words Just passin’ through. I believe it was meant to imply that someone was just moving down the road. There was no need to notice them for they paid little heed to the locals that came in went in their travels while bound for somewhere else.

They were just passing through…no more no less.

There are those that believe that sentiment can be applied to a wider perspective. That they pass through the masses and accept nothing from most encounters and prefer to leave nothing behind.

But is that realistic? How can you or I slide unnoticed in any major part of our lives?

The thought led me to thinking. Years ago our family had a small boat. The 14-foot-long Aluma-Craft, which we purchased used was not particularly fast, especially later when we put a 6 HP motor on its stern. All the same it was fun to take it to the lake and cruise about on a hot summer day.

However, there were times when we needed to go through public channels. Those narrows would be marked as idle zones or no wake zones. For the waves a boat could make passing through those narrows might damage portions of the channel or things tied at the sides of it.  

But here’s the thing, even our small boat, moving at an idle, creates a small wake. Cutting through the water at any speed makes waves that move out and away. Of course, slow boats create small harmless waves, which was the point of the signs to begin with.

But any boat in motion causes the water to rise and fall behind it.

Just as a boat cannot move without altering the water around it, we cannot slip through the sea of humanity completely unnoticed.

Certainly, there are those people that make bigger waves than others. And it is easy to doubt our own significance. We are, after all, just ordinary people, yet we leave a mark. The important thing to consider is the kind of mark we leave behind on those around us. Few wish to leave a negative impression, yet there are those that seem more than content to do so. We do not enjoy being near those that spew their anger, rant at life’s unfairness, or scream at or about others.

Their wake damages the world’s channel we share.

Just as there are those that seem emit darkness to the world around them, there are others that fill the space they find themselves in with positivity. People gravitate to these amazing individuals, and the light that comes from them.

Most of us are somewhere in between, going about living day to day, sliding through the sea of people, yet our wake touches many more than we imagine.

Therefore, it is up to us to decide what kind of mark we leave…be it the dark turbulence of a thunderstorm or the brightness of a summer’s sky, for we do have the ability to choose.

And it is an important choice. How we act and react to those around us, effect not only them, but us as well. Though it is impossible for us to be positive all the time, yet we need not fall into the pit of indignation, and the darkness that benefits no one.

As you pass through each day…may your wake include understanding, patience, and compassion, for to do so makes our world better.

For you see…no one is just passin’ through. No one.

(591 Words) 9-20-2024

 

 

 

The Naming of Things

 

The Naming of Things

By John W. Vander Velden

 

For most of my life I was not in the habit of naming things. Oh I named pets, a tom cat named Gray Gray spent most of his life on our farm in the sixties. Dad named the farm dogs, Ike, a boxer that was tougher than nails, yet terrified of thunder. A mutt of a snow dog, whose soft fur seemed a foot thick, was named King. The fur wasn’t that thick, but King loved the cold. He would lay all day on top of the snow bank in a raging blizzard. An incredible beast. We’ve had cats named Moose, Baby, Oliver, and so many others that we attached names to.

But in general, I did not name objects.

Jackie on the other hand named some of her automobiles. She called my blue 86 Dodge Aries, Beasty. To be honest it was a good car, but the least animal like of anything I owned. But the time came when we felt she needed 4-wheel-drive. Winter in Marshall County usually means snow, and she was expected to make it to work on time no matter what. That was when we purchased a small white Jeep. Now that vehicle, she decided, deserved a name. It only took a couple of weeks to hang the moniker Pearl on her Renegade.

Time came when I needed a different vehicle, and as luck would have it, two years after adopting Pearl, we added a younger sibling that looked just like her. Now I was faced with naming the second white Renegade. Hmmmm. It took a few weeks, I toyed with names that sounded Italian. After all our Renegades were imported from there. Finally I settled on Benny Italian or not.

Perhaps that opened the floodgates for I have named other objects since the summer of 2019. The most recent are the tools that help me with my mobility, which are the real subjects of this post.

It began in late February, when a cane became a needed accessory. I had taken one of dad’s metal canes as my own. But the thing betrayed me. I named that piece of Aluminum, Judas, for it tripped me in the dentist’s office. The result was an ambulance ride, seven stitches above the right eyebrow, a broken finger, and four weeks of Physical Therapy for my pinky finger. Hence the name Judas.

A pair of surgeries in April and May changed things, and my bionic knees demanded something stronger and more trustworthy than Judas. A dear friend of mine loaned me a walker, which I promptly named Jethro. If you’re familiar with the CBS Monday night lineup, you might understand the name choice. You see my Jethro was quiet and dependable.

Jethro was my companion until just before Independence Day when I finally was allowed to move to a cane. Jethro was no Judas, he never let me down, no matter how awkward it was to get around. The new cane went unnamed for several weeks. It seemed to me the device had a similar personality to Jethro, but I thought calling it Jethro II, was not acceptable. I finally named my new black cane, LeRoy.

Fact is me and LeRoy have gotten around. Gone shopping in Plymouth, took a trip to Shipshewana, Indiana, but the outing most common was to Physical Therapy.

They have not given me permission to set my dear metal friend aside. I had hoped to be allowed to wander on only two legs by month’s end, but alas it does not seem to be the expected situation. It seems that I will be needing to keep LeRoy close at hand for the next several weeks.

It’s a good thing I gave the cane a name…  

(630 Words) 8-23-2024

   

Bindings

 

Bindings

By John W. Vander Velden

 

For each of us are bound,

With cords we recognize and those that go unnoticed.

Some are connections that hold us but briefly,

Others, attachments made, that endure many years.

Yet for each of us there are bindings

That seem as fragile as a single silk strand.

It is those delicate threads,

Which are never broken.

For they are what continually hold us,

Connecting each of us to another.

For it is with those threads we are forever bound.

Night Walk

 

Night Walk        1-26-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

He crossed the street not certain where he might go.  The rain drops silver beneath the street lamps, splashing new puddles in the street.  Joe’s head uncovered, hair hanging wet, water flowing into his eyes along his cheeks down his neck, cold…wet…soaking…miserable.  Yet he continued moving the direction he faced, confused…lost…in his home town.  It didn’t matter where he went…only he could not go home…not yet…maybe never.  His mind raced, scarcely noticing the chill or the places his feet carried.  How had he come to this place?  The place that home seemed off limits.  How could things change so quickly?  Two hours…only two hours…the time he had left…the time he had walked…the time he had been drenched.  Joe should go somewhere dry but the hour gave few choices.  He should find a safe place…a dry place.  Home came to mind.  That was impossible…now….

 

(151 Words)