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

   

More Than a Dash

 

More Than a Dash

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Recently one of Jackie’s cousins passed away. The obituary revealed the man had lived an amazing life, what some might call the dash. The dash has been described as the mark carved into a tombstone between the day of birth and time of passing from this world.

After reading that lengthy piece in the paper and attending the funeral, I was led to thinking. Most of us never figure that our time on the green side of the sod is significant. To us our dash means very little. For we are just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. We never even take a moment to consider our own dash, the people around us whose lives intersect with ours, or any of the other ways our dash has and continues to affect the world.

But when we do so, we forget one important thing. For though we might be unable to see it, our dash is not some random mark of no consequence. For I know that each of us has been placed on this globe at this specific time, for a specific reason. God gave you life, for a purpose. It is up to us to find that purpose, to seek it out, to fulfill that place in the mechanism, that is the human race. You are not some random speck. You are not some biological accident. You walk this earth for a reason.

And that reason is more than a dash, more than the list of accomplishments or awards. It is more than the years given to a job or profession. It is more than the heirs we will leave behind. For as unique individuals we fill a space that none other can fill.

Be assured you are more than some lines that one day might be printed in the local paper. For you are more than a dash.

(309 Words) 1/26/2024 

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...

 

  

   

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

           

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

Each of Us Needs a Purpose

 

Each of Us Needs a Purpose

By John W. Vander Velden 

Fact is we need a reason to get up every morning. It seems most of our lives we are rushing from one thing to another. It begins when we enter our school years. Looking back I realize that those early years were training for such a large portion of my life. Getting up in the morning stuffing breakfast in my mouth and being ready for the bus to carry me and others to the building that contains us and gave me tasks to accomplish. Yes, I learned that 2 plus 2 equals 4, I learned the difference between a noun and a verb, and all the other information others were certain I needed to know in order to survive. 

But the important thing I learned has little to do with the hours of lessons. I learned to schedule my day. For going to school was the purpose I had been given during those years. And was prepared…and longing for the next step when my formal education had been completed. For I like most of you joined another organization. The workforce. 

By then I had learned the need of an alarm clock, how to find my own transportation, and how to schedule my week. For some their first job is only one stop of their working career. For me the location changed once, but not the job title. 

My years of employment made up a very large portion of my life. But those years were not my complete existence, and a moment came when my working years came to an end. And I found myself among those that God had granted the time and resources to step forward when that moment arrived. 

Retirement. 

I believe each person has a unique definition of retirement. There are those that plan for the moment when their working life is completed. Others have the end of their career thrust upon them. Forced retirement. And there are others that find themselves unable to carry the burdens of their works obligation. Perhaps it is health issues, or just limitations that age forces upon us. Yet the moment comes when the discipline that had been part of our lives for so long is no longer required. Each faces that moment in their own way. 

But even when, for whatever reason a person retires, that person needs a purpose. 

When the day came, after forty-five years of farming, I found I had an advantage. Two advantages actually. 

One: I had spent many years self-employed. To be successfully self-employed a person needs discipline. There is no one to assign the tasks I would tackle any given day. There was no one that would keep track of the time I started or finished my day. How many days a week I put my “shoulder to the wheel.” Those were among the responsibilities I alone carried. Self-employment has its blessings, but it also has its burdens. 

But the discipline that was needed for all those years gives me “a leg up” when I entered retirement. 

Two: I am a man of faith. I would hope that would be something I shared with the masses, but I have come to realize that it is not as common as I thought. It seems that over the years the number of people that consider themselves bound to a belief has diminished substantially. So if I consider this connection an advantage, and I understand it is not a benefit shared by everyone. 

Having faith provides a deeper view of the world that surrounds me. But my specific faith in God, the Master of the Universe, reminds me daily that nothing is by chance and everything has a purpose. I include myself in that everything. I know I have a purpose for each day. I may not know what today’s purpose is, but understanding that I have a purpose, energizes me to seek what that purpose could be. 

I do not fritter away my day staring at a glowing screen across the room. I do watch some TV in the evenings. But I have other things to take up my time. God has given me gifts, shouldn’t I, as long as I have the breath and energy, pursue them? God has placed me in places and circumstances I never envisioned, given me responsibilities I have not sought but must fill. Do I ignore those new obligations for my personal leisure? 

The fact is I am too busy. The fact is I cannot carry all the possible purposes that are placed at my feet. But that’s alright. I have sufficient purpose for today...tomorrow too. 

Each of us needs a purpose...a reason to get up each morning. I thank God I do!  

 (783 Words) 7-26-2022

 

 

40 Years Planted

 

40 Years Planted

By John W. Vander Velden

 

June 18^th 1982 was the day I moved into a house in rural Marshall County. It is the residence I now share with my beloved Jackie and our small but very dear dog Cloey. Today, Saturday marks forty years that I have lived within these walls. I might have said beneath this roof, but for all points and purposes the roof has been replaced back in 2007 or so.

In this world where everyone seems so mobile that I have remained planted so securely in this particular location seems unusual. I was thirty when I moved here, the math is not difficult to guess what number describes my age today. But what kept me in this physical place is really simple. My profession’s demands for the most part held me near the source of those responsibilities.

But now that I am retired I can live whereever I choose. Providing Jackie agrees. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere apart from her. Yet all the same I like where I am living―for the most part. There is no perfect place, no perfect house, but this one’s not so bad. We have made it comfortable, to our liking. It is easy for us to go from here to the places that need our attention. We have friends nearby. And the folks next door are not next door, if you get my meaning.

I am planted here on this acre of hillside, with farmland on my south and east. I am planted here and over the years have managed to live the largest part of my life here.

I guess what I am saying is that I am content in the place I am planted and hope to remains so for a few more years. Content is, in my opinion, a decision made. It is different than being deliriously happy. For that kind of happiness is often temporary. I can’t imagine being deliriously happy for forty years.

No, life is primarily made up of ordinary days. But in truth there is something outstanding in each of those ordinary days if we take the time to consider them.

I have learned a great deal about myself during the span of those years. And I have been induced to learn a great deal about my faith by the people in my life, by the circumstances I have faced, by my successes during that time, by my failures as well, and through the sorrows that each life will endure, mine included.

I learned that instead of looking for God, I could see Him everywhere I looked. In the rising sun. In the star filled night sky. In a snowflake. In a flowing stream. In the face of my newborn son. I now understand that God is not in some far off place, locked within the walls of some sanctuary, or high above in the halls filled with angels, God is here and everywhere, now and always. God shares the space I tread, even within the walls of this modest house. He is nearer than my next breath.

I have come to recognize that I am only human. But being human means I carry both greatness and insignificance. I have been blessed with talents and weaknesses. I am no more than others. But by the same token I am not, when taken as a whole, inferior to anyone. I am, as you are, a child of God. But I am also saved from myself, by the grace that comes from Christ.

And so I am as a seed planted and I have grown these forty years and continue to grow for whatever time God has allotted. Hopefully you have grown during your years as well.

(616 Words) 6-18-2022

 

Silence?

 

Silence?               

By John W, Vander Velden

 

Silence is never misquoted.

I thought there was wisdom in that phrase. And there is. But the more I thought about it the more I came to understand there is a place for silence and there is place for other actions.

For though we cannot be held accountable for the words unsaid. And there are times when shouting voices are best ignored. Yet there are times when our silence speaks words we should never say...may reinforce actions that we should not condone.

There is a time for silence. Just as the list in Proverbs speaks of a time for all things there is a time when our lips should be sealed. Often verbal attacks directly aimed at our person are best answered with silence. But when those verbal abuses are pointed toward the innocent not speaking on their behalf may not be the best response.

Each of us must decide what we stand for and what response we hope is best. But we must do so prayerfully, trusting our God to help us to choose our words and actions that form the best response to difficult situations.

To direct ourselves, in determining:

What do we stand for?

What do we believe?

What would God want us to do?

What would be the best result possible?

And do we have the courage to stand up and be counted?

The weak are always outnumbered by the loud voices of would be bullies. Do we have the courage to stand with the few, against the many? Do we have the courage to speak the truth when lies are believed by the masses?

There will be times that if we do not stand up...no one will.

Silence is never misquoted. But it not always God’s response!

4-5-2022 (292 Words)

Let There Be Light

 

Let There Be Light 

By John W. Vander Velden 

The first three words used to open the Bible are “In the beginning”, Genesis 1: 1.  Knowing that bit of info has been a blessing once when we played “Trivia Pursuit” years ago. But the phrase, “Let there be light” comes soon after, as it is the first part of God’s creation. 

I find that to be significant. 

Imagine the universe totally absent of light. 

A bit of physics here. Darkness in truth does not exist. Try explaining that to a child trembling beneath the covers. But just like cold doesn’t exist, darkness, on its own, does not either. Simply put, cold is the lack of heat, and darkness is the absence of light. 

Does that help? 

I didn’t think so. 

Let me step back a bit. There is a phrase I have heard from time to time, “you can’t mix light with darkness.” And that in the most general sense is true, such as you can’t mix sand and water. Because given enough time the sand will settle out. Yet that phrase about light is often used incorrectly. Times it is used as a foundation statement of judgement while comparing one thing to another, as if light would be diminished or threatened when exposed to darkness. 

But that is ridiculous. 

Because in truth darkness is only the lack of light. 

An example: Perhaps you have gone on a tour deep into one cave or another. When your party is led to the deepest portion of the underground cavern the lights are extinguished and you find yourself in total darkness. Even if you haven’t had the experience, you know people that have. You literally cannot see your hand before your eyes. 

That pitch that surrounds you is the lack of light, for the total darkness vanishes the instant light is restored. The darkness is displaced by the illuminated bulbs. 

Now for an imaginary scenario. 

Imagine that instead of a space far beneath the surface, you replace it with a gigantic sports dome. The biggest you can imagine. You are in this immense space and by some situation all the lights have been turned off and all the gaps sealed so absolutely no light from the outside can penetrate the grand space. The darkness is complete...dense...almost suffocating. Somewhere within that vast space, someone strikes a match. Near or far it makes no difference. A match. A tiny flame. But you instantly see the light. Even if it is across the length of that arena. Perhaps more than a hundred yards away, but you see that tiny flicker of light. Even surrounded by that immense volume in darkness, one little match cuts through the blackness. 

Light does not fear the dark! The dark cannot make the light less light, but ANY light makes the dark less dark. Light conquers darkness every time! 

Now back to the beginning and the significance of the words, “Let there be light.” 

Genesis tell us that God commanded that there should be light, and then pronounced it good. God brought light where no light existed. If we only consider that from the purely physical point of view, it is amazing. But let us see it in the symbolic value as well. 

Cold, darkness, evil, are only the lack of the positives that can brush them aside. God provides the positives. Warmth...light...love. These things and all other GOOD things find their source in God the Master and Ruler of the universe. 

Light entered the universe and pushed darkness’ veil aside. So much so that God provided boundaries to where the light would go. Night and day for instance. That is about the physical value of light. But we are taught that there is a deeper value than the superficial. 

Jesus tells us He is the light of the world. 

Not a lamp. Not a candle. Not stadium lights. No, Jesus is the light that CAN conquer the darkness that seeks to swallow us. The light of Christ is the power to overcome hate, envy, cruelty, deceit, and all forms of evil. 

Jesus is the light! 

The only REAL light in this dark world. 

That light is a free gift available to anyone. Yet there are those that refuse to see the value of the gift...refuse to see the light that is right in front of them...unable to see how that light can penetrate even the darkest corners of their lives. How the light will make their lives better. 

So where does that leave us? 

For each person must decide if they will allow the light to enter their life. 

It is a personal choice, no one, not your friends, your parents, or your spouse, can make that decision for you. 

I have chosen light! 

Have you?

        

 

Reflections of Gray

 

Reflections of Gray

By John W. Vander Velden

 

There can be no joy in this

Only disappointments and pain.

Looking through tear clouded eyes,

Hearing with desperate ears.

Waiting...

                  Waiting...

                                     Waiting...

 

It seems the worse,

The ending is certain

Yet the time unknown.

It is the between that is so difficult,

The between the then and the now.

And all the unknown that lurks there,

There between the then and the now.

So we must continue.

Waiting...

                Waiting...

                       Waiting...

 

(625 Words) 6-28-2008

Out of the Darkness

 

Out of the Darkness

 

By John W. Vander Velden 

I have not been afraid of the dark since I was very small. I recall when I was moved to a larger bed and a room upstairs, that my parents left the hall light on for my benefit. But like I said, that was a long time ago. Of course it would be easy to understand fear of darkness for we all are afraid of what we cannot see, and many things could be lurking within the shadows. 

But there are other types of darkness that have the potential to engulf us. And this pitch does not evaporate with the movement of a light switch. There are those that endure within blackness of depression which attempts to suck all the light out of their lives. Many live beneath the stigma of fear and misunderstanding of the condition, and never seek the help they desperately need. 

Often those closest to them have no idea of the weight depression places upon their love ones…or the danger. For there are those that live within that blackness who find themselves spiraling downward into a pit whose walls are so slippery that upward movements seem impossible. For them each day is a time of hopelessness and pain. For some the only escape, they may see from this blackness, is suicide. 

Their pain is not imaginary. It is not something they can simply ignore. In many cases it is not something that will simply fade with time. And it is not caused by a lack of faith. 

Depression is real! 

But for many there is help, but it begins with understanding. For those who are near and dear to the depressed are often first to deny its existence. They close their eyes until it becomes too late, then stand confused about the causes of the tragedy that has unfolded at their feet. There are many of those within the darkness that do not recognize the condition they themselves deal with each day. 

I do not write these words as a spectator, for I am a participant in the continuous struggle I face. For years I did not recognize or understand the darkness that came and went, the hopelessness, the mental anguish, I lived through. I will not go into the depths of the pit I found myself, or the solutions I considered at those moments within the pitch. It is enough to say that things changed and the darkness has faded. But it never disappeared. 

At last someone coaxed me to seek help. 

Now I stand in the light, or close enough that I feel its warm optimism. Yet the dark shadows are close enough that I remain constantly diligent, aware of how easily things can tumble in ways unwanted. 

Why am I bold enough to admit to this weakness? This disease? Because of the stigma that depression and all forms of mental illness carries opens me to ridicule. But how do others find the courage, and it does take incredible courage, to seek the help they need, if I and others do not step forward and say, “I deal with chronic depression...there is hope.” 

I have not reached this place on my own. I have not found the courage to live on my own. I owe much to those near me that saw the depth of my illness before I could fully grasp what I was dealing with. Not everyone has the love and support that I was blessed to receive. Open you hearts and arms to help. For each of us know someone, a friend, a loved one, a family member, or a co-worker that is trying to find their way out of the darkness. 

 (609 Words) 3-20-2022

Thirty-Three

 

Thirty-Three

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Thirty-three is an odd number. Not only because the integer is not divisible by two, but it doesn’t quite fit in with others very well. All the same it comes to my mind in several ways. One example. I have a stack of LPs, what are now called vinyls. In the day before CDs became the norm, certainly long before digital music of any kind, long playing records were common. Those platters were spun on turntables rotating at thirty-three and a third revolutions per minute.

Even then the number seemed a bit strange. It was the one third that made it most peculiar. For wouldn’t thirty- three or thirty- four make more sense. Yes, thirty-three and a third times three, which seems like an awful lot of threes, equals one hundred. So why did someone in the know pick thirty-three and change for the speed of a LP. For that matter why had someone picked seventy-eight rpm for the first pressed recording, and forty-five rpms for singles with that silly big center hole?

Who knows?

And in truth, who really cares. It is just some silly thoughts that have passed between my ears as the number thirty-three approaches for a much different reason. For you see thirty-three years is a milestone that Jackie and I have reached.

I can remember a snowy March Saturday. The gray day with thin wisps of snow blowing across US 6 as we went to a church. Much of that morning is lost, for now in a blur of memories faded by thirty-three years. But there are portions of that day I will never forget. Portions of infinite importance to me. Memories of friends, best friends of years shared. Memories of brothers, true friends by blood. I remember a set of clothes I only wore once. I remember waiting, anticipating in front of a room filled with those I had known and loved, and others I have come to love. I remember the music, the emotion, the fear.

At thirty-seven I was no longer a child, but I understood the intensity of the moment I face. How I was about to change my life in a way that could never be undone. I stood with my band of brothers, kin and friends, prepared, I thought, to make a vows to Jackie. Prepared to give more than my life, but also my heart, my future, my everything. Willing to bind my life to this woman who was foolish enough to accept this pitiful person who loved her.

We have shared this life for thirty-three years, and what a ride it has been. There are times when it seems impossible it has been that long. Surely that number is inflated. But when I take the time to look back at what has occured, the places we have seen, the child we raised that is now a man. When I consider and all our triumphs, for there have been several, and remember the tragedies we have endured, then yes, the span of years has been significant.

But anniversaries should not be limited to a rear view of years passed. It also needs to be a time for looking forward. A time of anticipation. No, we do not know what our future holds but we know, that for now, we walk boldly hand in hand. And have confidence we will never be alone, even if the day comes when the two of us becomes the one left behind. For God will never abandon, and love’s cord cannot be severed.  

I have been honored to have shared my life with Jackie. She has been my dearest friend for thirty-three years. Oh she’s not perfect, but she’s my champion. The person I can always count upon. The person that sees more in me than I see in myself. Jackie has helped me rise to places I would never imagine reaching. It is my hope I have aided her assent as well.

In this life we are a team... And as a team, and with God’s help, we stride forward into the next thirty- three years or however many we are given!

(690 Words) 3-17-2022

The Road Unchosen

 

The Road Unchosen

By John W. Vander Velden

 

For we find ourselves on a road we did not choose,

Bound for a destination we do not wish to reach.

 

But though the road ahead is hidden from our eyes

By the mists of times unknown, yet we are forced to travel on.

 

The way is seldom easy, our path often strewn with obstacles.

At times beaten down, onward we trudge,

Even when optimism fails, we continue.

 

Certain we have neither the faith nor courage

We travel on that road until its end.

The road unchosen.

 

But do not travel alone...

(2-23-2022) 92 Words

Hand on the Plow

 

Hand on the Plow                           

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Beneath the bright hot sun, reins looped over his shoulders he labored.  Behind two stout well trained animals with strength and skill he guided the tool.  With hands on the plow as hour by hour he marched the furrow.  A small strip…four inches depth of soil turned and moved to his right filling the furrow left by the crossing before.  Hours pass. Sweat pours. Slowly the sun crosses the sky.  Time and soil tilled the only measure of achievement.

 

Seated upon a roaring machine of red, he feels the thunderous vibrations through his feet, the backside seated upon the hard steel pan but most through gloved hands firmly gripped upon the wheel.  Each pass across the field, a tug upon the rope sets the plow to its work.  Several minutes later another yank convinces the machine to rise.  He can hear nothing above the constant roar of four cylinders driving clawing wheels dragging the two moldboards burying cornstalks and leaving behind clean fresh earth.  His face reddened by the heat flowing from engine and muffler as sitting hour after hour on the tilted beast, wrestling with wheel, brake and rope.  Many days needed to complete this springs task. Many long hard days.

 

Within a box of glass and steel surrounded by levers switches and instruments he finds himself.  Isolated from the extreme roar of the diesel with most of the dust locked outside, he labors.  He must remain watchful as dragging spikes shattering and blending earth as with each hour acres fall. Though his days are long. Though his mind must be fully engaged. He understands the physical demands diminished.  As time passes he wonders.  “What would his grandfather think?”  Smiling he is certain the man would understand, for after all his grandfather was a man with a hand on the plow.  

 

(302 Words) 5-28-2012