Perhaps It's Time

Perhaps It’s Time                     

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Things change.  Now that’s an understatement.  On March first, this Blogging experiment will celebrate another anniversary.  I was bold and foolish when I took on the task of weekly posting literary tidbits.  I committed myself to a minimum of six months, now I approach six years.

Fact is I have learned a great deal during these years…not only about writing.  Google has helped me learn about internet templets for example, and other mechanical aspects of making a presence.  I also gathered a bit of skill in graphic arts.  But I also did learn a great deal about writing.

Consistency is the key to Blogging.  I believe it is the key to much in life.  But consistency demands discipline.  To be motivated week in and week out and take the time necessary to build a post demands a dedication to the pursuit.  But it also requires fresh ideas…constantly.

Perhaps that is the area that grows more arid.  That and setting aside the time necessary.  Now with Misty Creek published, and working on a hard revise of the sequel, once again I wonder if Blogging is the best use of my time.  Perhaps it is time for a change.

So I do not know what the future holds about…anything…but I should direct more of my time in other directions.  Does this mean that Ramblings…Essays and Such…will vanish?  Yes and no.  Certainly there will come a day when even my faithful followers will forget about my Blog, but not quite yet.  But weekly new posts, they will be ending.  I will post something new when an idea demands to be shared.  Between I will reach into the archives to re-post something.  I also plan to use the site as a message port for my book.

I thank all of you that have taken the time out of busy lives to visit Ramblings.  I hope over the years I have provided stuff that made those visits worth your time.  Thank you one and all!    

(335 Words)  2-20-2018 

Facing the Big "M":

Facing the Big “M”

By John W. Vander Velden

Those that have traveled the circuit around the sun more than most think about the “Big M”, mortality, more than the young.  My sixty-six “round trips” give me a clearer perspective.  I understand that my days are not infinite, at least my days on the green side of the sod.  And I’m OK with that.  I believe, firmly and cannot be convinced otherwise, that the breathing part is only a portion of my life.  That what awaits is far grander than the limited body in which I now reside can provide. 

Yet I’m comfortable in this fleshy form, and have no desire to leave it before I must.  More, I am surrounded by those that need me, and as I consider the “Big M” I worry not about myself, but others.  I am but a small part of anyone’s world, but some might believe differently.  It is for them I feel most, for those that have chosen to love me—for those I have chosen to love.

It is more than just a birthday that send my mind a thinkin’.  For I have stood at death’s doorway before and not feared what lay beyond.  But recently I have been introduced to another big letter…the letter “C”.  Last week I heard the results of tests—confirming the success of my surgery.  But the past weeks the “Big C” has brought the “Big M” into clearer focus.  It has also opened the hearts of so many that have sent their thoughts and prayers in my directions, and if you are among them, I cannot fully express the depth of my gratitude.

No, none walk this earth forever, and at sixty-six “more water has flowed over the dam than resides in the lake” (No Turning Back).  But that only drives me forward.  For I have much to do.  It is my hope that I face each day as the wondrous gift GOD has given me.  Among the tasks I gladly bear, is sharing my words with you and in doing so perhaps showing a bit of God’s immeasurable love. 

So my mantra will be forward, John, forward.  For God has work for me to do on this side of the “Big M” and maybe on the other side as well….    

Lookin' Back

Lookin’ Back            

By John W. Vander Velden

Some might think it silly.  Some think it a waste of time.  Some might say they never do…but I don’t believe them.  But I look back.  So today when I reach yet another milestone of my life, I think about the road that has taken me to this place.  Yes, I look back and wonder if I have used the years to their best purposes.  But I also find that if I examine my personal past objectively I realize I could never have predicted the outcome.  I imagine the twenty year old kid that set his college degree on a shelf to take on a very different profession.  That boy had no idea where that road would take him, the highs and yes, the lows.  He had no idea of just how difficult farming would be, or how much physical abuse he would willingly put himself through.  But oh, what a journey, and the things I have done.  From the fringe it might seem I lived a small life.  But I would differ from that opinion.  For forty-five years I was up to my elbows in “the mud and blood of life”.  (I always liked that quote from Tree in the Meadow, but like it or not, it fits the life I have lived).  I’ve seen this small part of Marshall County Indiana from the top of a silo.  Times I have even stood on the very top when I had stacked it above the concrete rim and seen the panorama of what was my world. 

I have helped cows give birth more times than I would care to count.  I have aided the vet on hundreds of occasions as together we had to deal with life and death…hands on.  How many times I had found myself working the soil at cool hour of first light, and continue till the day ended.  Sometimes those days ended long after the sun had abandoned me.  I have raced the rain when the hay was almost dry, and hoped for the best.  Sat in a combine cab and watched crop devoured, listened to the machine as it processed plant into clean grain.  They were hard years and I wouldn’t trade one…not one for any alternative lifestyle.

But what I see behind me is more than the farm.  For though the time demanded made up such a large part of my awake hours, there was so much more.  I think back to March of 1989 and a new chapter of my life…a chapter that has not reached its conclusion.  For when Jackie bound her life to mine, my existence took a new and wonderful turn.  I could not stand where I am without her at my side.  I could not have reached the feeble goals I have set without her assistance.  And then there are the other days, when together we have discovered a larger world in our travels.  Whether it was Alaska or Arizona or the other places we have wandered.  Whether it was walking on deserted beaches or climbing lighthouses, one plus one makes so much more than two.

And together we have raised a son.  How many runs did he require…to school…to baseball…to basketball…to band, the list goes on.  I had the flexibility Jackie did not, and so I was the chauffeur, but time spent behind the wheel needed to be made up at the farm.  It might have seemed a sacrifice then…it does not now.  Now when I look back and see the child my son grew from, my eyes dampen.  But only pride come to my heart when I see the man that child became.

So I look back and yes, there are regrets.  There are moment when I know I failed myself and more…those that depended upon me.  But failing is part of living.  And failing is only loss when we do not learn…do not get up and try to do better.  Today I will not dwell on mistakes, lost opportunities, and those things that tend to bring me down.  No, now I look back and smile, for today is my birthday and though I’m officially sixty-six, my whole life is not in my wake.  There is so much ahead, and today I will stand on the past and stride toward the future.  (722 Words) 2-8-2018

 

Beneath the Mason Jar

Beneath the Mason Jar       

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It is only natural that we wish to be spared the difficult, the dirty, the painful parts of life.  The years pile up and we often dwell on the pain and disappointments in our wake.  Yet we understand that life is like that.  There are tough times in everyone’s existence.  We have dealt with all manner of hard things and endured, so surely we can deal with the tough times ahead.  Hard times can’t be helped.  It’s just the way things are.

But all bets are off when we become parents.  We become like mother hens doing our best to protect our brood, keeping them safe beneath our wings, and to shelter them from all the difficulties and disappointments that come their way.  We want to keep them in a safe bubble, like young tomato plants beneath the Mason jars.

Mom was a gardener, but she was an old world gardener.  Her gardens were compact, each inch vital.  But just down the road from where I grew up, Mr. Buss had a gigantic garden.  Mr. Welcome Buss always had time for curious kids from the neighborhood.  He set his tomato plants out early.  Tiny things beneath canning jars.  The mason jars acted like mini greenhouses, protecting the fragile plants from frost, wind, and even the driving rains, in other word, protecting them from the world.

But though the plants thrived within their glass bottle home, they would soon fill the space and find themselves trapped.  However Mr. Buss took away those jars long before the leaves began to press against the sides.  He told us shielded that way, the plant stretched within its protected environment, and if he waited too long the stem would have no strength to survive, simply falling over or breaking with the first wind.

It’s that way with our kids.  We would like to seal them away from all the bad things in the world.  To keep them in a strong plastic bubble separated from disease, pain, and of course loss.  And there is a time when they are most vulnerable, like small tomato plants, but like the tomato, the time comes when they must be exposed to LIFE.  For just like those plants Mr. Buss grew more than fifty years ago, our children cannot become strong enough to endure the tribulations of the everyday, if they have too long been spared exposure to the wind and rain.

We do not take away the Mason jar in one quick motion, like the gardener, but we as parents begin to step back little by little.  We give those small ones we love a space where, though not out of reach of pain, we maintain a filter of just how much pain we allow.  The years pass and the space grows larger and our protection wanes.  We continue to stand as near as we dare, while offering young wings the room to fly, always ready to reach in to support and, in need, to protect.

I have had many tasks throughout my years, but none as difficult as being a parent.  For I would wish to keep my son beneath the Mason jar, but know to do would be to fail him.  And the knowing the best way not to failing him…that’s the hardest part.  So I struggle.  I walk an invisible line between the protector and the observer.  Even now the jar has not been completely removed.  Perhaps it will have some presence as long as I have breath.  But I step back a bit year by year.  The line I walk drifts further toward the observer.  And I follow that line not out of self-concerns but forcing myself to allow him to gain the strengths he needs.  It is difficult, but I would not want my son to be like a tomato plant trapped beneath a mason jar…

(643 Words)  11/1/2017