A Walk Down Memory Lane in PA

Thirty-six years ago I left the farm venturing out beyond the world as I had known it to head to college. It was a big step, but one I have never regretted. I have seen more of the world than I ever thought possible in my lifetime.

I love to go back to the homestead where I grew up just a couple miles from the little village known as Ono, PA. O'yes!

Last weekend I had the opportunity to do just that.

It all started when Dad and Mom picked me up at Harrisburg Int'l airport on Thursday afternoon. You have to know that Dad doesn't drive at the age of 85, not so much because of his age, but due to his Parkinson's. So, Mom (81) was driving and as she was driving by a particular road, Dad mentioned that we had just passed the more direct route home. But, of course, my Dad who grew up near Hershey knows all the back roads in the area, so we were fine. Twisting and turning, up and down rolling hills, (Mom says the PA roads either follow a creek or the cow paths, and I believe it) we ended up near Bachmansville where my Dad was born.

We stopped at Shenk's Church cemetery where my great and great-great grandparents are buried. Then only a few miles away we stopped at the mid-1800's red brick house where my parents lived in the early days of their marriage, and where I lived for the first 4.5 years of my life. It was once an inn for travelers.

That evening Mom and I took a walk to the farm, a familiar country road that takes a u-turn, crossing the bridge where I used to catch the bus. 

Friday morning my brother, Bob, and I had breakfast up the road at the Farmer's Wife Restaurant. That night I had a great visit with my niece, Staci, at a local coffeehouse, MJ's, adjoining an old movie theater - one of the few single screen theaters left in central PA - in the neighboring town of Annville.

On Saturday my oldest brother and his wife invited me to go with them to the Bellegrove Fire Co. Carnival.  Images came to mind of my Papa running the ring-toss booth and my Uncle Basil - fire chief at the time - calling out the numbers for Bingo. The June Saturday night carnivals have been going on since 1951, and I loved to go to them as a young girl and as a teenager. My cousin, Nats, and I would "work" for my Aunt Caroline in June, saving up our hard earned quarters to spend at the carnival.

One of the reason I went home was for the annual Patteson picnic, a gathering of my mom's side of the family. There were 74 of us. It was the first time in years that all 14 cousins were at the picnic. As the cameras were clicking we were all remembering family reunions in Virginia (where my mom's family comes from), and the boring routine of taking family pictures of each family unit. The whole afternoon and evening I spent time catching up with aunts and uncles and cousins. Lots of fun and sharing of memories. 

Thankful for family, and the roots of my past.

Cousins

My Mom (right) with her sister and brothers

Dad & Mom

To Tell God is Enough

This morning I read a quote in an update from Hungarian believers and friends. The quote, from Jeanne Jugan, is new to me. From my research on her, she was a Mother Theresa kind of a woman, serving the poor, the orphaned, and the elderly during her life in France. I'm taking her words in as I trust God for all the details to come together for a new life in Indy.

Go and find Jesus when your patience and strength give out and you feel alone and helpless.  He is waiting for you.  Say to him, 'Jesus, you know exactly what is going on.  You are all I have, and you know all.  Come to my help.' And then go and don't worry about how you are going to manage.  That you have told God about it is enough.  He has a good memory.

Not that I feel impatient, though I've had some moments especially when it comes to housing. And, I certainly don't feel alone or helpless, but trusting God to keep my thoughts and heart quiet and at rest as I trust him in this transition. Philippians 4:6-7 is one of my favorite verses. I memorized it many years ago according to the Living Bible version, the Bible I received from my home church as a high school graduation gift. :) The passage resonates with Jeanne Jugan's thoughts.


The first part of that passage goes like this: Don't worry about anything, instead, pray about everything. Tell God your needs and don't forget to thank him for his answers. How easy it is to forget. Over the past few days God has reminded me of the ways he provided for us when we moved to Budapest. The perfect flat, beautiful landlords, green space for running and biking, coffee shops within a 10-minute walk, nearby friends, and so much more.

He will do the same again. I can trust him. To tell him my needs is enough. Now I can go on my way and not worry. He will remember.

Transition - Part 3

Well, I'm drawing out this transition piece so you're not reading one long post. But, isn't that how transition goes? It is a process, taking time until one is settled into a new situation.

So, here is the final post on "Transition." (See Part 1 here and Part 2 here)

But then life settled in as years went by. Sure, there were family transitions that come with the cycle of life, but the thought of major transitions seemed behind me. His presence seemed so untimely in such a season of life. I didn’t really want to change life’s circumstances. Life was comfortable. Familiar. Predictable. He was like an annoying neighbor knocking on the door just when you’re ready to sit down for dinner. I wasn’t expecting him. It was in these times when he seemed so insensitive to life’s circumstances. His presence was more like an intrusion.  What? Now?! This wasn’t the way it was suppose to go. Why didn’t you show me the map? 

I’d reluctantly invite him in; offer him a seat at the kitchen table, suppressing my irritation with him. I’d listen to his reasoning. I’d argue with him. There were so many reasons why it didn’t make sense. 

He would graciously listen to my ranting and ravings, and then with a nod of the head, he’d quietly say, “To gain something you’ve never had, you’ve got to do something you’ve never done.” 

Yes, but . . . but . . . but . . . and he’d look at me with that knowing look, “It’s time.” 

And, so, I’d step through another door. Not so eagerly as I did in earlier years. 

And, like every other door, he’d go with me. He didn’t seem to notice the upheaval he caused in life. He’d sit back and watch, almost like he knew something I didn’t know. His presence bothered me, and yet at the same time it reminded me of the questions he asked from the very beginning. He didn’t have to say much. His presence itself would make its mark. He knew and I knew I would eventually come around and lean into a new season. And, he would introduce me to people, take me to places, and teach me new lessons. 

The late-night walks would come again and we’d process life together. He in his thoughtful trance, first eyes to the ground, then that slow upward look into the stars, and me listening for the words that mapped out my life. 

Funny thing. The map he began sketching in our beginning days has grown from a small pocket-size map to the kind you have to open up and lay out on a table. The borders have changed and many new features have been added, like oceans and continents. Sometimes he will get the map out just to remind me of how far I have come from those early days. Not only in distance and time, but in heart and soul. 

Transition does that to you.

Thanks for reading. God has once again increased our borders to include more continents and oceans. I'll be sharing in the weeks ahead about the current transition we find ourselves in. We are humbled, honored, and excited all at the same time. Your prayers in this transition are essential to the work and in our lives.