Sharing the gift of perspective from my Grandfather-in-law.

I have been writing in this blog, sometimes sporadically and sometimes faithfully, for nearly 9 years. There are a few posts that have been very special to me, and haunt me periodically. This is a post I wrote in December of 2010, and each winter as it gets bitterly cold, this post comes back to mind. I think it is a very valuable writing, and should be read and shared with those you love, if not in words, in actions. We take for granted our lives of peace and plenty. Few of us will ever feel so desperate as to have to chose between watching our children starve or sending them off to, hopefully, live. The following letter is spattered with broken bicycles and empty plates and still thanks to God. All of the author's (my husband's grandfather) children did live through the war and they all live to this day! Thanks to God. The letter is translated from Dutch. I am not certain, but his mention of the "Feed the Children Committee" and the "Place the Children Committee" may be referring his work in the famine of that winter, the "Hunger Winter" of 1944/1945 in Holland. 40,000-50,000 starving Dutch children were shipped away from their parents to strangers in the north of Holland where food was still available. As you will understand from this letter, food was delivered to this family by hand, on foot and by bicycle over great distances and great danger, allowing them to stay together, and survive. 

(And, how ornery must Aunt Pietje have been!?) 

 I called it "A Real Gift". 

So, here, in January, I share with you again, this true gift. 

The previous post is backed with grey. I am not sure how to fix the backgrounds!

As they say, the best gifts are you ones you give. Some gifts are so wonderful to receive, that needs be you give them on. Today, I am giving you a real gift. It was given to me last month by my father-in-law. Thank you, Opa, for letting me share. I have treasured it,  held it and decided to give it to you now. Why now? Well, Youngest informs me that there are 10 days until Christmas Eve. I suspect that many of you are scrambling to get "everything done". That you feel the need to head to Target looming large in your schedule. For any of you who are not relishing every moment of this Christmas Season, feeling stressed, pushed. Treasure this. 

It is perspective. Love. Generosity. Fear. Hope and faith holding fast in the cold belly of hunger and despair. It is a letter written after Christmas from one brother to another during the long winter of 1945 Holland. In 4 months World War II will be "over". Of course, they don't know that.  The author of the letter is my husband's Grandfather, a Pastor, father of 7, husband to Jeanne, our Oma. I am no scholar of WWII, and so fortunate to have been born well after, but I believe the V2 rockets he writes of were particularly feared because they were long range ballistic missiles that appeared out of nowhere at close to 1800mph. Without being dropped from planes, they had little or no warning before hitting and devastating their target. Read it more than once, you will reap the rewards. And, get a tissue. 
"First all the lights have to go out before the eyes open up for the big light."
We live in the big light. 

WWII letter from Vader Drost [Henry Jacobus Drost, 1902-1960]

            Written on ~5 January 1945 [~ 4 months before the end of the war, 05 May 1945] to one of his brothers    

Dear Willem and Annie

            Time is past due to write you and thank you very, very much for the excellent major service you have provided us by sending us wheat, beans, and peas. Frankly, let me write you how much it touched me and how the concept “brother” took on a much deeper meaning and a wonderfully warm perspective. You have really spoiled us and done us a world of good. Things are becoming increasingly uncertain and hunger grips us so severely that you sometimes do not know how or what to do. Now we can supplement a little here and there, and thus keep our family going. You don’t know what it is to live in a city that suffers from famine and cold. From sun up to sun down people come to your door, like a string of appointments, and then there is the misery of the V2 rockets above us and around us. On New Year’s Eve a section of my parish was destroyed by such a monster.

            I thank God that again and again he gives me strength and sufficient optimism and gratitude, and I thank him for Jeanne who remains so valiantly at my side. Sometimes I cannot make any sense out of it. For instance, today I already had my 7^th funeral of the New Year. But let me come to order, and wish you and Annie’s parents a good – that is in God’s eyes – new year. Psalm 118: 5, 6 was the text for New Year’s Eve, and the New Year started with Psalm 46: A mighty fortress is our God. We live by the day but even that holds in a big blessing. And brother Kees, who was here on the 4^th of January, said – correctly in my opinion – “I would not want to miss the spiritual value of this time of emergency.”

            Your packet arrived late, the evening before Christmas. Those poor gentlemen, including Mr Sibiakus, had gone out to forage for themselves, and look, they did not bring hardly anything home for themselves, yet they became willing carriers. But those men had bad luck, a terrible trip via Amsterdam where one bicycle almost broke down which landed them in Oegsgeest where they just put the luggage down, they were exhausted. Later they went to pick it up and they delivered everything here in good shape. I let them share in the gifts to which they objected, but I insisted, those poor guys already had so little themselves, so they accepted.

            On January 4^th the second “brotherly” surprise arrived. Not only Kees, but also brother-in-law Gert from Halle came to the door. Can you imagine, he came on Nel’s bicycle with a basketful of most welcome surprises: eggs, fat, bacon, and flour, Jeanne could not control her emotions anymore. We were just in the midst of the distress of the V2 rocket explosion in the parish. That man really had to bike hard with one solid rear bicycle tire, but how successful God made his trip. He who himself had been under the threat of death was now compelled to save what was salvageable. He thought we looked skinny, but oh what does that mean, seeing him was invigorating, and with those gifts, along with those of from you, we can live. In this we see the hand of a faithful God, and that day our prayers sounded loud and clear.

            A third surprise reached us from the congregation in Kolderveen this week, in the form of a large packet, delivered by none other than Dr Hornstra who lost the entire contents of his house in Arnhem and now has found refuge in Wannerperveen. How does God open the hearts of precisely those who were smitten? He went to the farms around Kolderveen and probably said “that old minister of yours is starving to death” and that brought out the gifts. What a supplement for our almost empty plates. We cannot believe our eyes and we don’t know what’s happening. I am also so happy about all this because so much is physically demanded of me with the Feed the Children Committee, Place the Children Committee, and so it goes day in day out. Now I am able to stay on my feet. Aalten also thought of us with a packet. This way we are catching up.

            From the Potter family we frequently hear news about Oma Snoep who apparently had a stroke, hence gives reason for major concern. It is sad when the light in some sympathetic people begins to dim. I always thought of her as such a true minister’s wife, matured by such a variety of suffering and bad luck around her, and who was always comforting and supportive whenever you encountered her.

            From the unoccupied part of the country we have received neither word nor sign, neither from Breda nor from Nijmwegen. From you only we learned about an evacuation to Belgium. Where are the brothers and how are they doing? Looking at the battle field you do not see a solution in the coming weeks or months. And you always wish for a miracle and you cling to God’s promises. We have to go through the depths and Dr Hornstra correctly wrote: first all the lights have to go out before the eyes open up for the big light. Not a smidgen remains of that self-sufficient, self-serving, well-eating, Netherlands, and now it descends from one humiliation into the next.

            I have heard nothing of the 300 guilders in mission funds sent to the address of Zwier, presumably the Nassau Bank. I also sent money to brother Blok for uncle Adri for the months of Sep, Oct, Nov. Brother Blok wrote that this uncle is going down hill. He suffers from dizziness again and is fading. I suspect that his rations are messing him up too. It is a blessing that he has such good nursing care. You wonder sometimes why these poor old guys live such long lives. At any rate we know that he is a gift of God and that each time He wants to lead us to mercy and pity. The latter is for me easier to accept for Adri than for aunt Pietje who can be very irritating.

            I completely forgot [to acknowledge] your kind offer to take in one of our boys. We cannot come to an agreement about that. Jan Willem [14] would like to get out, and he would be an excellent worker, a boy who loves to help, and in many areas is able to help. But just in times of need like now you would like to keep these little guys together. And when we look at the children, they can make it. Some are certainly undernourished, but now that they are getting some good calories again, things are going well again.  So we will wait a while. Transportation is also a problem and I am not able to bring them. However, should we be unable to manage it any longer here, I think I will risk it and will send you one or two boys.

            Enough, I’ll stop talking. Again thank you very much. Greetings to all of you from all of us.

God dedicated,

A coloring book

I have been putting some time in, daily for a few days, on a little something that I hope means a little something to someone special.
I thought "Is this a 'Passion Project'?" So, I  Googled (a verb that was not a verb for most of my life) "passion project".  I had thought it was something that you felt compelled to do. But according to Google, it is something you do in a hope to gain from it personally. Hmmm.
I do not hope to gain fame, or fortune. I do hope to gain some moments of sunshine for a little guy. This would make me feel good, personally. Which is a gain. But by blogging about it, I am also showing off "my good deed". This could be for personal gain, as in, people say nice things that make me feel good about myself. It also could be an inspiration for someone reading this to do something little for someone else. Egad. Narcissism or altruism? I guess I answered one question:
Me doing thing= potentially happiness for someone who needs a bit= me feel good if it brings him happiness=personal gain=passion project.
So, I have found a little passion project.
See, there is a little boy next door. Well, there are three little ones, two boys and one girl, and they are all just loves. But the youngest has been challenged since birth. He's only 4, but about the size of my babies at age 2. He's smart and sweet, and everything wonderful about 4 year old boys.
This week, he was helping his mum mop the floor- just as my Youngest would have done. But, he slipped and fell. Because of his health challenges, he broke his femur. Poor little mite is in a cast for a while.
My big sister broke her femur on my third? birthday. It seemed like she was in a full cast forever! I know she remembers this and how difficult it was. I hope science has found ways to make it easier for my little friend, but I'm afraid it's awfully similar.
So, I was struck, as it often happens, with plans whilst trying to fall asleep.
I have found it it easier to go with the "plans" than fight them. God speaks to me in those between moments. And, as Zechariah learned; go with God's plan. I don't want to make it any harder than it has to be, I like to talk.
So  I was told to make a coloring book for Ayden. Really, it seems like a simple plan. I make the art. He colors it. We have a book at the end, and, hopefully, a healed femur.
The actuality is a little tough. I am working with trying to draw using my computer finger pad? This is not what it is called, but that gives you an idea of my technical acuity.
Tracer pad?
Finger scribbling thingie on my computer?
To Youngest; " Hey, what is this square thing on my computer called?"
"It's a track pad."
Okay so I am trying to draw using a track pad.

The thing I like about the drawings is that they are a bit wonky.

I'm a little bit into the book, so I got to stir in some flavor of Cowfeathers Farm.

Then,  I found out he can eat actual brownies!

It is really a lot of fun for me. Hopefully Ayden enjoys hearing about himself and seeing himself in a book, even if it's a wonky one.
Now, so this isn't just a "passion project", I need at least one of you to be inspired to go do something little for someone else.
And, tell me about it!

Like Elsa, from Frozen, came through.

I'm not really a cold weather person, in that, I don't do well in the cold. Since my teen years in Connecticut, getting cold has meant consequences. My hands and wrists swell and get painful, my lips and tongue swell up and I "talk funny." One of my main goals after high school was to move south. I got to Virginia, and loved it, but I wanted more south. North Carolina was a pretty good fit.
But, 25 years ago, I fell in love. And, love brought me back north, so I have to deal as well as I can with the cold.
I don't like cold but I do love winter. The snows are beautiful, and it gets so quiet (when the wind stops). And, as I said in the last blog, I love the permission slip to stay inside, stay home. It's permission to bake- Middlest got a gluten free sourdough starter going for us this Christmas so I just had a piece of sourdough toast with unsalted butter, such a luxury! It's permission to read, to learn something new or more thoroughly. I am wading through a textbook on Equine Biomechanics. It is the topic of our Pony Club Winter Camp, and it is fun to get into the weeds prior to the camp in case our students have questions that need a deeper understanding. It will get into my head when I'm riding too, and open new avenues of training. It's permission to re-arrange rooms in the house. Poor Youngest gets home from school and is conscripted. "I have a few" pieces of furniture to move.... Huz has learned to say "The (insert name of room here) looks great!"
And, winter means some days, you wake up in another world. Coated with snow, coated with ice, back to brown rain or, like today, a magical coating of crystals...freezing fog.
Yesterday it came up to the back of our "Tuinhuis" or garden house, and stopped, giving the impression that the Tuinhuis had a featureless white backdrop behind.
Today, I awoke to the freezing fog all around. School called with a 2 hour delay due to the fog for the second day in a row.
I took my camera with me to the barn for chores, and on the way back to the house shot some photos with cold fingers that were hurting afterwards, but it was worth it!

Freezing fog is just fog. But, it is cold enough that when it touches something it makes a crystal of ice. So, the air is damp to breathe, but not freezing. And the ice crystals coat all.

My dinner triangle is decorated. As is every cobweb and branch. The screens on the porch are no longer transparent.

My little dogwood tree is so pretty against the brick.

Realistic, but still fantastic.

  Youngest headed for the bus stop.

 What is behind the mulberry tree???

Home, sweet home.

Inside time! Creating a working space for creativity.

Winter on the farm comes with a permission slip to spend time indoors. December to March 15 is this lovely window of time when chores change a bit. There may be snow to shovel, horse blankets to switch out, water to haul instead of using the hoses, extra hay to throw so the horses stay warm, extra corn to feed the chickens so they, too, are warm enough. But, this is still less of an outdoor time, and more of an indoor time.
Lucky for my indoors! Because a lot of inside projects get put off until winter. My philosophy usually includes picking the very biggest job, the worst disaster I have, the thing most likely to get me put on reality television- and fix it until I find peace in that space.
Right after Christmas, I got to work. First thing? Recruit help! My girls were home for the holiday, and thus were my prime recruits.
We designed a plan, made a list of needed equipment and rolled up our sleeves.
The project was the "room at the top of the stairs." This room has had several incarnations. It originally was a half-story hallway where the girls slept between the bedrooms and the bathroom. The back stairs went from the kitchen to this little room. When we put on our addition 12 years ago, the girls got a bedroom, and this room, still at the top of the stairs was changed.  We took off the half story, raised the roof a tad, put on a shed dormer so you can stand in the room and added a laundry area. It is still between the bathroom and the bedrooms in the old house, and still has the back stair to the kitchen. It has been used as a guest room area and a craft area, as well as the laundry room. And, it had become a haphazard sort of catch-all of things that had no home.
As the kids have grown up and moved out, we have other areas for guests. And the craft and art supplies were all up there, but I think I had glitter in 10 different spots. Enough was enough!
I did not take a "before" photo. Too depressing.
So, we organized and consolidated, and recycled and "Goodwilled" (never a verb before, but the amount of stuff moved to the car and the Goodwill felt very active) and cleaned and dusted and scrubbed and moved and assembled and labeled.
I now have a useful, beautiful space that doesn't freak me out every time I walk through!

From the top of the back staircase. The little book shelves and the cabinet they back to,  I built for linens using antique leaded windows for doors when I finished this room in 2008.

A good amount of storage. And, the project request from Middlest- she wants to learn how to recover furniture, so we chose to redo this lovely chair that needs a freshen-up and bought the grey stripe. Tucked it in to see how it will look! Not so great yet, but maybe over spring break?

 The new workspace has a wrapping station, and the table easily tilts for drafting or painting. There is a roll of paper to put protection down for glueing and glitter days! I chose a soft rug with some pile. Since no dogs come upstairs, and no farm boots (ahem! Youngest!) I took a chance on a rug otherwise unsuited to life on the farm. I have caught two of our children lying on it and reading. "Luxury" depends on circumstance! The windows look up to the barn so I can keep an eye on the critters.

 The former work station stayed, after a clean up and reorganization. Add that old chair to the list of "needs a freshen-up!" Some of my favorite photos of my lifetime are under the glass top. And a collection of gifts made for Mother's Day by my little ones has a corner. Inspiration from my past.

Shelves tucked into a little set back were reorganized as well, and now, everything is labeled. There is ONE PLACE FOR GLITTER. As it should be.

Next winter project? Pick the very biggest job, the worst disaster, the thing most likely to get me put on a reality show.....my closet. Here I come!