Looking Toward Tomorrow

 

Looking Toward Tomorrow

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Soon I begin another year.

I look forward to 2024. But it is my hope that I will change more than the calendar that hangs on the bedroom wall. Each of us has our own opinion of the year just completed. Many are pleased to see 2023 in their wake. But when I look back, I see more than the disappointments and difficulties I have faced; I see the accomplishments and great times as well. I have grown these past twelve months. I have had the opportunity to meet many amazing people in 2023. Each year is made up of plus and minuses and this year is no exception.

For God had given me 365 days, and I was obligated to do what I could with that gift. I have tried to move forward in my own way. Though my age limits some the things I once did easily, I live by a very different schedule than years gone by. That new schedule allows me to work on new and different projects, and I do.

These new projects help me to remain optimistic in a world that only emphasizes the negative. Not that optimism comes easy. Not that optimism is my natural reaction. But because I know God is in charge. I know His fingers are in not only my life but the world in general. This knowledge makes my optimism possible, even when much negativity is tossed my way. For as I said, I have been given an incredible gift, my life, and to focus on what cannot be while ignoring what can, does not pay the Giver the complement He deserves.

God does not promise me that I will see the end of 2024, so I focus on the chances and opportunities each day gives. The hours should not to be mired in the muck of what ifs, but rather grasped firmly as I work on the tasks presented, and use what strength remains. For though I am no longer in my youth, there is yet some strength in this man, and I must use that strength to move forward each day.

So as I approach this new year, let me look toward the future, with eyes wide open. But always remembering that life gives good times and times that I will feel in the end were not so good. It is for me to face each new day with confidence, for there are things God wishes me to do...

And God has plans for you as well!

May God bless 2024...

 (420 Words) 12-30-2023

2023 Christmas Letter

 

2023 Christmas Letter  

December 5, 2023

Friends, another year has nearly come to its completion. I don’t know about you, but it seems that the calendar pages have flipped more quickly than ever before. Here it is with Christmas so near, and it feels like summer had only finished the day before yesterday. But it is December and once again Jackie and I reach out to you.

Where to begin, that always seems to be the hardest part in describing a busy year. Let’s start at the beginning, or near the beginning. For March 7^th was the date for the release

of my third novel, With the Sun’s Rising. I felt compelled to pick that date for it was my father’s 98^th birthday. I sometimes wonder what he would think of my writing. He was a man that had always made his way by sweat and toil, and might not understand the whys I push so hard in this endeavor. Yet I believe he would see the importance of these stories I tell.

Jumping ahead I go to April and our first getaway of the year. Our first choice of road

Lower Falls, Hocking Hills State Park

trips unraveled even before we got the suitcases out of storage. So instead, we directed our eyes and feet in a totally different direction. Jackie and I had promised ourselves that this was the year we would go to Hocking Hills State Park, Logan, Ohio. After seeing pictures of the park, we longed to see for ourselves. Though it rained, and rained, and rained, we donned our rain gear, our hiking boots, and poles, and ventured the trails of the park with care.

Though the weather was less than perfect, particularly for the photographer in me, the rain fed the streams. The trees and foliage were bright with what Mom called, “new green,” and waterfalls were fantastic. We spent three days wandering six trails and saw many of the wonders of the area. If you love the outdoors and like hiking among rocky cliffs and flowing water, go to Hocking Hills.

In June Jackie and I set our sights northward to one of our favorite areas. We planned another four-day escape with Holland, Michigan, as our temporary base. Stopping in St. Joseph on our way north for some shopping and a walk along the Lake Michigan shore. The following day we visited Saugatuck and several of the interesting shops in that artsy community. That afternoon found us hiking out to the Saugatuck Dunes on an intensely hot day, but the views of the lake were incredible.

Of course we went to Windmill Island on this trip. I find many reminders of my family’s culture there. Perhaps it had rained while we were in Ohio, but the weather at Lake Michigan’s shoreline may have been a bit warm, but in every other aspect it was fantastic. We drove up to Grand Haven and wandered about among other tourists through the quaint downtown. The trip concluded with a stop at South Haven as we headed southward, another one of our favorite places. We would have taken more time, but our precious wonder dog, wasn’t feeling the best when we left. We had entrusted her to some dear friends that loved her nearly as much as Jackie and I, but all the same we felt the four days enough of a parting.

A short time after our return from Michigan, Cloey, a dog that was so much more than a pet, took a turn for the worse. It should not have surprised us, for our small dear friend had not been well for at least 2 years. But she had recovered each bout in the past, and we had hoped that she would rebound once again. But though she rallied a few times and we were certain the crisis had passed; the end came quite suddenly during August’s closing days.

Even now I am not certain we will ever fully recover from the separation. I still want to call out her name as I enter what had been her domain. But we feel so fortunate that we were able to share those 13 and a half years with the small dog with a large heart.

It was mid-September before we ventured down the road once again. Another hiking

vacation was the plan. We drove down to Turkey Run State Park, near Crawfordsville, Indiana. Though the leaves were changing it was a little too early for fall’s color peak. None the less, Jackie and I dared to hike trail three, one of the more rugged trails. Our intentions were to tackle a trail or two in Shades State Park the following day, except the rains began during the night. We had walked a bit in that park before and it did not seem wise to clumber along slippery stony trails along cliffs, so we postponed those hikes for another trip. Instead, we took in the Park County Indiana Covered Bridge Festival.

Rain did little to dampen the spirits of those that took festivals seriously.  We don’t, you understand, but it was interesting to see the thousands that seemed to have no problem slugging through muddy parking lots and going from tent to tent to tent. The festival is spread between 10 communities, we visited three. I consider the Mill in Mansfield the high point to our day.

Ogle Lake, Brown County State Park

That pretty well covers our out of time adventures.

Jackie continues to help at the pharmacy, as a fill in when needed. She says those obligations will likely cease in the coming year. Time alone will tell.

Nick remains in the Denver, Colorado area. He continues to work for ConMed, as an engineer in the research and development department of the surgical device company. He so enjoys the city and its location. Our son has fallen in love with the mountains and hikes as well as other outside activities (read golf).

As for me, I give all the time I can to my writing. I am working on the fourth book of the Misty Creek Series. Time at the keyboard and a wide variety of Author’s Events fills nearly every moment I can spare, and more than I should allow. 

So, that gives you just a taste of our lives this past year. I leave you with these few words: know that you remain in our thoughts and prayers. It is our hope that this coming season fills you with all the joy and light it can, for Christmas is a very special time. And as we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Savior, we are reminded just how much God loves us. For God is revealed in love and love is the greatest force in the universe. It is our hope that you tap into that love, that you share it with those you care about, as well as your friends and neighbors.

Have a blessed Christmas,

The Vander Veldens

         

Preparing for the Big Day

 

Preparing for the Big Day

By John W. Vander Velden

 

This month uncounted millions will be hustling and bustling to get ready for a special day. There’s so much to do, events to plan, gifts to purchase and wrap, cards to send, and of course decorations to hang and spread about our homes and places of work. Yet in all the craziness of our activities very few of us include preparing ourselves, for the real reason we do all these and other things.

For you see December 25^th would be no more than any other day, if it were not for the one important thing that I prepare for, that is the birth of Jesus Christ. For I, like many others of faith, understand the significance of that event, an event that changed the world and continues to do so. For the birth of that one child, caused a shear point in history.

No, the world didn’t become a perfect place filled with perfect people, but with the birth of Jesus, God proved just how much he loved us. For Christ was born, just as we were. He was born to what might seem ordinary people, yet Mary and Joseph were anything but ordinary. Jesus was born in humble circumstances. Those that know the facts can see the profoundness of the birth of God’s Son.

I am a man of faith, raised in a family of faith, and none of these things are new to me. Throughout my life Christ’s birth was always at the center of Christmas. For when I hear someone say, They find Christmas a special time, I wonder, what it is that makes Christmas special to them. But for me and my family none of the glitter and glam, nothing hung on our tree or found beneath it, has as much importance at the birth of my Savior.

I will not pretend that I place enough effort in my preparations for the big day. For one thing, I don’t read my Bible as much as I should, yet my mind considers Christ’s birth each day, especially in December. And when I honestly look at myself and consider the flawed man I am, then I understand the extreme depth God went to in order to offer me an out, if you will. For I know that I fall short of what God wants me to be each day no matter how hard I try, and I do try. Yet I continue to be lacking in my thoughts and actions. But because of grace, undeserved but given to me anyway, I am, through Christ, acceptable.

So, I prepare myself for the celebration of one of the most important events in history, for Easter could not exist, if Jesus had not been born in Bethlehem. And that is indeed the real reason to celebrate December 25^th. It gives all the other stuff we do this time of year significance.  It is my hope that as you prepare for the big day, you will do so with Christ’s birth on your mind as well.

Hallelujah, Christ is born, born for you and me.

(513 Words) 12-9-2023

Disappointments and Difficulties

 

Disappointments and Difficulties

By John W. Vander Velden

What can I say? The title seems to say it all. But I, like everyone, have faced times when things did not go as I had hoped. And just like you have found myself struggling to deal with things in general.

I was led to thinking on these subjects last month. You see, after a few wonderful days venturing off and around, I came down with COVID. But what made it seem incredibly unfair was that I had endured the virus only thirteen months before. I had followed the guidelines, been vaccinated repeatedly. But alas it was my fate to be exposed and to develop the illness.

Surely you understand I was disappointed and what followed were difficulties dealing with COVID and its aftereffects. Some of those difficulties I continue to face even today.

I will not go over the symptoms and the weakness that has followed. No, this is about a more general topic, the disappointments and difficulties we all face, and how, in the face of them, we can see something positive. For positivity is a choice and so it is up to you and me to see things through a different lens.

I use myself as an example. True, I wanted to wallow in self-pity last month, and there are moments I did. There are moments I still do, when stairs seem nearly impossible to climb. But I use these moments as a contrast of what I had before, and realize I took for granted so many gifts that God has given me.

So, I refuse to allow disappointments become a consuming dark cloud, at least for now. But knowing that at present my strength is lacking and the difficulties that might cause, I am driven to fight for recovery, knowing full well that battle will be difficult. So, I find gratitude in the will to endure, in the will to fight on today…tomorrow…and all the days God gives.

So, as I remind myself of life’s joys, of my experiences, those of I enjoy in my present state, as well as those past days, I find the sting of this particular disappointment weaken. When I consider all the difficulties I have endured in the past, and how I had pushed through those problems, I understand nothing of value comes easy. I thank my God for bringing me this far with the confidence that God will take me further, if it is His will.

For though I am disappointed. And yes, once again I face difficulties. But I am not yet beaten.

Therefore, I face the days ahead, and in doing so I find joy in overcoming my disappointments because God has given me the courage to face life’s difficulties. For in the end, I will be a better…stronger…person as a result of the Disappointments and Difficulties I face.

And as you face life's challenges...you can be as well!

(476 Words) 11-24-2023      

Contrast

 

Contrast

By John W. Vander Velden

 

                            

Often our lives move along in familiar circles among familiar people and we do familiar things.  Living our busy lives each day does not always offer new experiences.  There is something to be said for living in a comfortable world.  But if we never reach out of our “comfort zone” will we ever leave the gray ordinary.  There are times when we must stretch.  Be open to hear new things, take a willingness to accept new challenges.  Surely we may fail as we try something that might be beyond our normal, but we have failed, if we fear even the attempt.  You see there are times when the bright colors lie just out of our reach.  That the white is above us and the black below as we dwell among the “shades of gray”.  It is the contrast, the different ideas that add to the clarity of our views.  It takes courage to become open and aware, to hold other opinions in fair study.  Do we abandon all we hold true?  Are we to toss aside the foundation stones on which our lives stand?  No, friends, no!  But we cannot move through our lives with closed eyes and a sealed mind.  The truth remains true – it does not fear the test.  But our lives have little color – little brightness without contrast. 

(221 Words) 1-24-2015

Love's Difficult Journey

 

Love's Difficult Journey

By John W. Vander Velden

 

August 29^th, 2023

August has not always been an easy month. Jackie and I have faced many difficulties during the eighth month of the year. For it seems that of all the months it is August that we have faced the most separations. I will not take the time to tell of all the partings that have occurred, or their significance, but I will share the latest.

Why I woke at midnight I do not know. Not that it was so unusual for me to become conscious during my sleeping time. But I did wake, and after I glanced at the clock I slipped out of bed. Our small and only dog, Cloey, had become ill late Monday afternoon. The dear thing had difficult evening, and I feared she was fading.

We had done everything we could to make her comfortable and prayed that once again she would rebound, or at least hold her own until we could take her to the vet. But Cloey has had serious health issues for more than three years. An arthritic hip was the least of her difficulties. A collapsing trachea had caused concern most of her life. Then to add to those things was her heart condition. We have known for a long time that our dear fur baby was on borrowed time.

Cloey had endured a difficult summer, yet always carried a cheerful disposition, a sweetness that I could never explain accurately to others. It is said that if we are fortunate, we will have one really special dog. I was blessed with two, but that being said, Cloey was the very best.

As I mentioned before, I woke and made my way to where Cloey lay. The living room was only lit by the outdoor security light and a bright moon, light that slipped through the windows. But my eyes could see things well enough. She lay exactly as she had at ten-thirty. Cloey lay so very still that fear came to me there in the dark room. I lay on the floor to see my wonder dog closely. Then something happened, as I stroked her nose, I heard a puff of a breath. For a moment I felt my fear was ill placed, but as I lay beside my dear special friend, I held my breath waiting to hear…to hear anything. And I knew that Cloey had left us, and gone to the special place reserved for the very best dogs, those that had dedicated their lives, and given all their love to those who loved them as well.

So, you see, as of this morning, August 29^th, another parting has been accredited to the month. I am not certain when the tears will dry, but it will take time. For loss is most profound when what we lose is greatest. Even if it is, as some might contend, the greatest dog, one could ever have.

But Cloey, arriving as a mere pup of two months, gave us thirteen years and seven months. She gave us the best…and the place she held in our hearts is now so very empty…

Yet I know…that love takes us to places we do not wish to go…but go we must.

But I also know that love will carry us through…

(545 Words) 8-29-2029

Good Bye Our Sweet Dog...

 

  

   

Twist My Arm

 

Twist My Arm

By John W. Vander Velden

 

When it comes to writing, I am still learning and expect to for as long as my fingers trip over the keys. In most ways, writing is a solitary endeavor. Yet like all things there are those outside influences that even those, who work on their lonesome, will face.

For writers one of the more common things that they face is the dreaded deadline. I, myself, refuse to accept deadlines imposed by others. It is one of the advantages of being self-published. But there are times I self-impose a date for finishing some portion of my writing task. Timetables I set are different―sorta.

But the dreaded deadline, even if it is my own, is not the only outside force I face. Though I will not pretend, I know or understand the mechanics of this language I am forced to use, there are times when someone suggests that I rearrange my words or stories simply, because. Because, I am told, it is what readers expect, or a thousand other reasons, many touch on marketing and today’s trends.

You need to write more like…(fill in the blank)…or… (fill in another blank).

There was a time I might have buckled under, but not today.

It hinges on a great bit of advice, I received from the manager of a bookstore, that hosted one of my book signings. Greg said, “John if you write like everyone else, all you are going to produce is a book like everyone else’s, and there are enough of them already.”

You see it is about, what writers call, voice. And each of us that dare, to thread words on strands to form stories, tries to develop a voice. Something unique, something that is as individual as the person telling his or her tale. I am like no other individual―why should my words be set in exactly the same patterns as another.

I believe my editor understands this, as she carefully coaches me in my writing growth. Helping me clarify, without sacrificing my style that is like no other. She does not put words in my mouth, or indiscriminately butcher sentences I have crafted. And I thank Kristina for her understanding and patience.

But I also will stand firm in my desire to stay true to my voice. I try to put music into the language I write. When I read the lines I must hear the tone, and when things work at their best feel something. No, not every line carries that music, but I want enough of them, so it is not some once in a book experience.

Once a writer friend looked at me like I had lost my mind when I said, “I write for the way it sounds.” And I do. At times that battles with clarity. At times it seriously breaks the rules of writing, but in the end, I believe, my readers appreciate the effort.

You see, when it comes to my writing style―I refuse to allows others to twist my arm.

7-14-2023 (510 Words)

By Chance

 

By Chance

By John W. Vander Velden

 

A few weeks ago, we went hiking in the Hocking Hills area. We spent three days wandering the trails of the state park. But our final walking place was not in the park proper, but the adjacent, Conkle’s Hollow State Nature Preserve.

There are two trails at Conkle’s Hollow. One of which is a mile long at the bottom of canyon, with sheer cliffs on both sides. We first took the trail that ran the length of the gorge right down the middle. A very nearly flat mostly paved pathway along the stream, that had over the eons, cut the Black Hand Sandstone.

A light drizzle fell off and on as we wandered at our own pace admiring God’s creation. Had to scamper over and around some rocks for the best views of the two small waterfalls at the trail’s end.

It was one of the rare two-way trails of the area, and we spent an hour and a half, maybe a little more, among the trees in that canyon while being surrounded by those stone walls.

After a very quick lunch beneath the lifted hatch of our Jeep, as the rain continued, we prepared for the last trail on our list of things to do. The Conkle Ridge Trail. A two-and half-mile hike along the top of the canyon. A one-way horseshoe trail far above the canyon floor. The warning sign at the trail’s beginning was identical to the signs we had read on many of the others. It did not seem overly concerning.

A fine stairway of ninety steps, (I counted them), began the journey. Those stairs took us about two thirds of the way to the top. The remaining upward portion of was an earth covered trail. As we went, we would pause and allow those that had lived fewer seasons that we, to pass us. However, there was one younger couple who indicated they liked the pace we were taking and would continue in our wake.

Jackie and I enjoy hiking, we enjoy the outdoors, we enjoy seeing new places that reveal the magnificence of our God and creator. We didn’t particularly enjoy the rain. Past experiences had taught us to come prepared. You know, carry some water, wear the right equipment, such as hiking boots and rain jackets. We have hiking poles, so we began this trail confident in our abilities.

Tree roots. that have had the soil washed out from around them, are our bane. Rain makes them extremely slippery, so you need to watch each step. It made progress slow and tedious, but we had the time. And it would have been worth it, but even as the trail ran very near the edge of the precipice, seldom could see beyond the trees.

I became the designated leader, and kept us moving along the trails edge, furthest from death. For the path of soil, stone and thousands of tree roots was slippery. Yet our spirits were high as we wandered the way, slowly becoming acquainted with the couple that followed, sometime near, sometimes a bit further back. When we came to the bridge over the stream that leaped off the cliff and formed the waterfalls we had observed earlier, we paused for a few minutes. That area offered the best views of the canyon from above.

That bridge also meant we were halfway.

By that time my knees were planning a rebellion.

I have never taken a hike that I wished would be over―before. But the rain, the mud, and the uncertain footing, had ended the fun of this walk, by the time we had reached the bridge. So, I trudged on, helping Jackie navigate the wet stones and many of the other more difficult obstacles. But alas, I failed her, for she slipped on a particular set of roots, and found herself prone in the pathway. Bruised, but not broken, with her glasses and hiking pole bent, upset with herself for allowing that fool root to cause her crashing.

Fortunately, our new friends were right there, and that was our official meeting with Antony and Jill. Antony helped me get my beloved to her feet, while Jill, who had worked as a technician in an eye doctor’s office, straightened Jackie’s glasses and attempted to return the left lens back into the frame.

These wonderful folks helped us finish the hike, for what waited at the conclusion, was a difficult decent, not of stairs as on other trails, but a series of worn stone slabs eighteen or more inches thick that you needed to crawl/slide down.

Some may say that it was by chance, that Antony and Jill happened to walk the trail that rainy afternoon. That by chance, they were willing to follow an older couple on difficult trail. That by chance, they were with us at the very moment, Jackie fell.

By chance?

I don’t think so…

(824 Words) 5-27-2023

           

Point of Commonality

 

A Point of Commonality

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Each of us are individuals, unique in many ways. That uniqueness makes the mass of humanity so amazing. For it might seem impossible that billions of people are all different in one way or another, but we are. But it is those differences that give depth to what we call the human race. The world is made richer by the contrasts, for each of us adds a bit of color to the canvas that makes up our world.

And yet, even with all our differences, we share at least one point of commonality.

For whatever your gender, whatever your ethic heritage, whatever pigment makes up your skin, whatever geological area you find yourself, whatever measuring stick can be used to distinguish one from another, there are things we have in common.

And among the things we share is a simple fact…we have or had a mother.

In the United States we designate this coming Sunday as Mother’s Day. It is a day that can evoke a wide range of emotions. Emotions of those that are mothers, and those that for reasons, sometimes painful reasons, are not.

And yet we have all been born and therefore have that common connection to every other person on this planet. Though I know it is not true in this imperfect world, that each of us has had a wonderful mom, yet we should take a few moments to recognize our mother. To consider how our lives were shaped, hopefully for the good, by the woman that helped to raise us.

To me that is the real reason for Mother’s Day. To take some time out of lives and reflect, to remember, and to try, as best we can, to understand our moms.

 So, I look back and consider the woman that was only twenty-three when she married. World II was part of the recent past, too close a memory, for someone that grew up in an occupied country. To that point her whole life had been one of limited resources…the depression…the war…the aftermath of war’s destruction. I try to imagine her as a young woman with hopes and dreams, for surely, she had them. But my memories of mom begin later. I was after all the second born, and my mom was a wife of four and half years at my arrival, and my conscious recollections certainly do not reach back that far.

But I do remember clearly the mother of four, a few years before my youngest brother joined the brood. I remember the years that followed, of the moves, and the restarting of our lives. I remember times of her frustration, for often our lives included difficulties and setbacks. But if there is one thing I remember most clearly, from all those years, it would be sacrifice, and the understanding that it was only through sacrifice that the impossible might be achieved.

Mom did without. And at the time I did not notice just how much she was so willing to sacrifice, and just how many years she did. But what an important lesson I learned from that example. You see I could have gone in two very different directions. I could have had an unquenchable desire for all the things I felt denied. Or I could have seen, that only through hard work and doing without, greater things could be possible.

Knowing there never was a guarantee of success.

But the years of watching both my parents, seeing the team they made, how they worked as equals, sacrificed as equals, I learned to look further down the road. To see the possible achievements in the future.

So, I understand I received more from my mom than the color of my eyes. I carry a small share of her determination…as well as optimism that in the end things will work out for the good.

This Sunday I will think about my parents, and especially my mom. And I will thank God for her, my point of commonality with all others.

I love you mom and I know that God, through his grace, has given you the rest you have so dutifully earned…much more, the rest you deserve.

5-12-2023 (711 Words)

 

The Book is Set Free

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It is hard to describe the feeling of seeing your book for the first time. Oh, you have poured over the pages many, many times, have seen pictures of the cover, knew the approximate page count, but the emotion of opening the box and grasping the proof of what you have labored to create, is indescribable.

It is the moment art moves from the internal to external―from the imagined to the real.

In November I wrote a blog post shortly after the fist box arrived, about just that feeling. Today I write about a book next feeble steps forward, on its own legs.

March 7^th is a significant day on the calendar. On that day in 1925, my father was born. I was asked to pick a day, any day, for the public release of With the Sun’s Rising. I picked Dad's Birthday.

And so, the third book of the Misty Creek Series has gone what publishers call live, on Tuesday. It has been set free from the box―if you will.

I will not predict how successful With the Sun’s Rising will be. Honestly that will depend upon many things, one of them is just how aggressively I promote it. The release party we had at La D’zert Café Thursday was only the beginning. The fine folks there provided a wonderful setting and fantastic treats, and I thank them for their unwavering faith in this author and the use of the beautiful space downtown Plymouth. But that event was only the beginning. In the next months I hope to find the time to do other Author’s Events. I’ll let you know where and when.

But no matter how well the book sells, I am proud of the finished product―proud of the story.

It is my hope that fans of the series will be pleased as well.  

(306 Words) 3-11-2023

Another Excerpt from With the Sun's Rising

 

Tuesday March 7th, would have been my father's 98th birthday. I chose that date for the official release of With the Sun's Rising, the third book of the Misty Creek Series. To celebrate the release of this book I offer here the first few pages. 

I hope to see some of you at the official release event, Thursday March 9th 5:00 till 7:00 PM (EST). The vent will be hosted by La D'zert Cafe, 401 N. Michigan Street. Plymouth, Indiana. 

Stay tuned for other events in the coming months.

John

Another Excerpt from With the Sun’s Rising

By John Vander Velden

 

 

Through the open window Elizabeth heard the night breeze as it flowed past the

treetops. The soft whoosh, which would have lifted her curtains had she finished them, brought with it the scents of woods and water. Matthew, lying warm and near, slept quietly. Even now, as a married woman, she found sharing a bed with her new husband a novel experience in so many ways.

She listened closely to Matthew’s soft breathing, proof that she wasn’t in the center of a wonderful dream. Never would she have imagined, on that summer day just two years ago that she, a heartbroken teacher, could find the love she now shared. Leaving Ohio, the only world she knew had been the catalyst to this life.

Elizabeth turned to face his form so near. She yearned to reach out, to touch Matthew, to lay her head against his chest and hear the calming thump, thump, thump of his heart, but she refrained from waking him. How hard her husband, who stood so tall and straight, worked. For though the mill nearby slept through the night, Matthew had labored long hours within the thrumming structure. Hard days of heavy lifting and carefully operating the countless gears and shafts, not to mention the grand water wheel that turned the stones and ground corn or wheat, each in their season.

Yes, Matthew needed his rest, and more, deserved it.

Their new life in Misty Creek would be idyllic if not for the memory of Leon Simns, the short grubby farmer that had hated the school and her, its teacher. She would never forget how Simns had stood lurking about and spying on the class from the school yard on multiple occasions. Elizabeth should have taken his threats seriously, and Matthew had paid dearly for her failing.

Simns had caught her unaware as she walked the path beneath the trees, not much more than a mile north of the bed she shared with Matthew. The tall man, long before he became her husband, had saved her from Simns’ vile hands that May afternoon. Now as she viewed Matthew’s silhouette in the late night’s dimness, her mind flashed to the image of his wounded form beneath the trees. Elizabeth closed her eyes attempting to push that memory aside, fearing her involuntary tremble would wake her man.

Matthew rolled onto his back. Snoring proved he slept, peacefully she hoped.

But on this particular night, Elizabeth felt no peace. Matthew had nearly died. Simns’ knife had nearly completed the evil man’s task. It was but the first time Simns had attempted to end the miller of Misty Creek’s life. There had been two others. She found the darkest parts of the night were the times was when Leon Simns haunted her most. Times, while Matthew slept at her side, when a shadow crossed the open window, or the eerie hoot came in out of the night, Elizabeth was reminded of a world not as peaceful as it seemed. Tonight, it was the coyote’s call, much nearer than ever before, that released the memories of Leon Simns. Would the man always remain a dark cloud that haunted and caused her to catch her breath? Twice as she slept, when the image of the man leering down on her that hot August afternoon only weeks ago burst into her mind, Elizabeth’s muscles had snapped, waking her husband.

Each time Matthew had asked sleepily, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s only a bad dream,” she had answered, hoping it was enough.

Both times he had opened his arm and held her close. Both times she had hated herself for not telling the man she loved the truth.

 

Trek Around the Sun

 

 

Trek Around the Sun

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Perhaps each week has commonalities. A repeat of named days following in the exact same order. Weeks that have common patterns we must follow, each nearly a photocopy of the last. One day just following another.

But I, for one, never thought of weeks or days either, in that manner. I will not say I have always been excited by each morning’s arrival, or that I haven’t at times allowed days and even weeks to blend together. For I have. But my profession gave me a bit different perspective than others might have. For being tied to soil, crop, and livestock, to live a life controlled by weather and season, presented each day as unique. Perhaps the differences might be so subtle, but at times, one day could be dramatically different. A sudden thunderstorm, perhaps, a difficult caving, a broken piece of equipment. My life was like that, at times, unpredictable.

 Perhaps it was this week that drives my thoughts in these particular musings. For on this week, I have successfully ridden this globe for seventy-one treks about the sun. Perhaps once I thought that seventy-one was a large number when it was associated with a person’s age. There are times I still do, when aching joints and weakening muscles remind me of my body’s condition. But looking back―looking back the years seem but a fleeting moment.

Changes in my life’s obligations, offer me a greater opportunity to look back. Give me time to consider my past. No, I don’t sit in my rocker, chew on a stem of grass with a cup of coffee in my hand and just reminisce. I’m too busy for that. Perhaps one day, but that version of life doesn’t really appeal to me. But as I ride this globe on yet another circuit, I do at times remember. And in those moments, I find it unbelievable that I have the number seventy-one attached to years of my existence.

How could it be?

Why only yesterday…

Well, I guess not yesterday, but it was not all that long ago.

It can’t be that long ago. I mean, it doesn’t seem possible.

But times when I dig back through my photo stock, when I see images of the places that Jackie and I have gone, reminders of the adventures we have shared, then yes, it has been that long. So, I must admit, at least to myself, that I have had quite a run. Riding this planet year after year, has been and continues to be filled with events. Some of those events may stand out more than others, but each a part of my life. And though I might categorize them by how I felt at the time, some wonderful, and others not so much, I will acknowledge that each one was necessary. Every one of the more than 49,099 days I have ridden this planet, has done its part to make me the man I am. A different man than the one I was only yesterday, and I expect to be a different than the man tomorrow.

For I am changed by life’s experiences.

And that excites me.

For I know that God isn’t done with me yet. He continues to mold me for the tasks yet unseen. And with his help I will stride forward with the energy that remains, and face the challenges ahead, and try not to be too critical of my past missteps. With God’s help perhaps one day I will come to accept myself as I am, yet always striving to become just a little bit better than I was. That I try, to find ways to share the love God has so freely given me, with others. To become the best husband, father, neighbor, and friend I can be.

Yes, you see, I’m on trek ride around the sun, a and fortunately I do not travel alone.

     (648 Words) 2-11-2023

Journey

Journey By John W. Vander Velden

 

Each day, we resume our journey. The journey most calls their lives.

And as we venture forward, one way or another, we interact with others. Most of those “others” are the same “others” that we have had connected to before. The circle of acquaintances that make up our lives, which include family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, and a random assortment of people that have become an important to us in other ways as well. 

On this daily trek, opportunities arise that introduce us to some, whose own journey would not seem to intersect with ours in a meaningful way. Perhaps by chance, though I believe those encounters are nudged along by greater forces, we come to meet…someone. And there are times what appears a random encounter proves to become something greater. 

Friends and how we gather them, has always been, an enigma to me. Maybe that is how it should be. For friendship cannot be forced and last, but true friendship lasts throughout our lifetime. Perhaps longer. And it is not the number of friends we have accumulated, but the bond our friendship forms which truly matters. 

I write these ramblings, with a relatively new friend on my mind. Our life’s journeys only brushed lightly in their passing, but in those subtle contacts, something larger than I had imagined came to be.  

Friendship. 

Now this friend comes to my mind often, as that particular friend faces life’s challenges. I am reminded that each of us must deal with the unwanted situations and the unexpected demands that living gives. And such is the situation this friend faces. 

I pray for this friend, as I pray for many others. You see it makes no difference how this connection came to be or how long our friendship has existed. This person is a friend, and I care about my friends. 

Isn’t that the way it should be? 

Empathy, caring, is part of the man I am. It has its price. At times that price is very high. But Empathy also has its rewards. 

You see, because I care, I have a new friend, and friends are the most genuine gems, we accumulate as we move forward, on this journey called life. 

 (367 Words) 1-14-2023