Wednesday, December 25, 2024

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

 

 

Friday, December 6, 2024

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