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)