Family Time

Katurah just announced that we are a very random family. I thought this was kinda funny but when I looked around I thought maybe she was right. So here we are at 9:00 PM on a Thursday evening.

Mom cutting out dresses for her and Katurah. Excuse the toys in the background. No, I did not pick them up before going to bed.

Dad working on a batch of ‘panhous’ with Loren showing keen interest.

Bert and Paul supposedly working on the new Relish Barn website, but on closer inspection that seems to be trucks that I’m seeing.

Katurah is for some reason checking her blood pressure by putting the cuff on her foot. I feel very uncertain as to the point of this. 

I can’t quite tell if she’s laughing or crying here but she is trying to get her dress finished.

And this was my project. Breakfast for tomorrow morning.

Matt is conspicuously absent. He was in bed already.

Wild Horses?

One of my favorite things about my mountains is how there is always more than what you see at first sight.

Several of our Church people have talked about how they went to see the wild horses. I never paid much attention to what it actually was. Not until they asked our family to go with them one evening. 

Willy was home from Faith Mission for the weekend. Bert and Willy are best friends. So as Bert wanted to be with Willy and his family wanted to be with Willy, his mom suggested we just all do something together, and suggested we go see the wild horses. We said sure.

We drove winding roads for about an hour before turning onto a steep gravel lane that wound up, up the mountain.

It was lovely. We reached the plateau at the top and parked our cars. The horses came running. Turns out the horses aren’t wild at all. They were overwhelmingly friendly. I’m slightly scared of horses. I like to pet them over the fence. Being surrounded by a herd of horses who are all sniffing and nudging at me is slightly overwhelming. I petted them gingerly. 

The story seems to be that the horses are abandoned. There are approximately 150 horses there on several hundred acres. There is a run down trailer in a corner of the field that looks lived in but we didn’t see anybody. I doubt if anyone really takes care of them. They roam at will, and forage for their food. 

Loren found this “heart shaped” rock among the hundreds on the hill. I suggested he keeps it for about 30 years and then gives it to his girlfriend. He just looked at me kinda funny and said “but I gave it to you”. 

Oh. 

Now I have a “heart shaped” rock.

Bert says that when my children in times to come say “What mean these stones? ” I can tell them the story of this evening. I guess that would work.

We ate supper there. Up on the mountain. The sun went down slowly as we munched sandwiches and chips, drank cups of tea and ate pieces of chocolate cake. Bert and Willy thought this would be a good time to change the tail light in his truck. I don’t know why.

We girls rode down the mountain on the back of the truck. We bounced along, singing at the top of our lungs ‘ Poor Folks’ ‘Single Life’ and ‘Will the Roses bloom in Heaven’

At the bottom of the hill we jumped off the back and piled into the truck. We forgot to close the tailgate. That was the last we saw of our 5 gallon water jug. Hopefully someone finds it and uses it. It was a good jug.

We ended our evening at Dairy Queen. Eating ice cream and talking about horses and life and anything else that entered our minds. 

These are magic moments, and therefore magic days, and therefore magic years.

A Sacrificial Life

Sharon and Bert spent the last three days in Florida. They served large pots of chili and fried many a hot dog. They also cooked breakfast each morning for a crew of hard working  volunteers who spent their days doing flood clean up and chatting with people who had lost so much.

Sharon, Meg, and Rosie were the 3 girls in the group. Emily (my co-teacher) and I watched them go a bit enviously. It inspired some thinking on my part. It started before they left. I said to Sharon “make sure you pray for the people you serve food to”.

She laughed “that’s your job,” 

And so I thought about that and I thought about Mary and Martha. I identify with Martha. I can so see myself there, making supper for the visiting pastor and being so totally annoyed that Sharon just sits there and listens to him talking instead of helping. I mean, really, this guy came far to preach for us and he’s no doubt hungry and tired. Tired of talking even. Everyone should just mind their manners and give the guy a break. Everyone knows you don’t talk to guys when they’re hungry or tired. I see myself there. In Martha’s shoes. I feel sorry for her. People are always so hard on her and I’m just here like, no, that’s me. Please try to understand. Marthas always mean well. 

But it was good for me to have the chance to be a Mary. It was good for me to be the one who stays at home and prays. I could use more time sitting at Jesus’ feet. 

But it was hard for me to see them go. I would have loved to be in the middle of it. It was much more of a sacrifice for me to stay here and teach my wonderful students and do the housework in the evenings than it would have been to get up at 5:30 to make breakfast for 30 people. To me, just having that experience is worth far more than any money I made the 3 days they were there. An experience is something that no flood waters can ever take from you. Something that is always part of who you are.

We had some good texting conversations too. Ones that went like this:

Meg: “Don’t y’all feel guilty for being at home making money while we are here serving the Lord?”

Me:”Don’t you feel guilty for leaving us at home to do our work plus yours?”

We really do enjoy those conversations. And it did make me think a lot about what service really is and what it means to live sacrificially. I think most of the time the ones who make the biggest sacrifices are the ones we never notice because they’re somewhere in the background, quietly working or maybe simply sitting at the feet of Jesus. 
It’s not that Mary wasn’t doing anything. Don’t ever think that. Mary simply knew where the real power was. Mary, I think, was a prayer warrior. She was involved, committed, and busy. Busy serving the Master. Just as we should be.

I’m slightly worried that this sounds like I’m really bragging myself up for being the sacrificial one here and staying at home but that really isn’t the point. It just made me think. That’s all.

The price of adventure

Although she has nine children and a big burly husband, my aunt Erma is, at heart, probably the most adventurous of all of my aunts. She, along with her husband and seven of her  children spent this week at our house while they built a barn for bert on the farm that he rents.

   We’ve had numerous mini adventures together all week long but tonight was the big one. 

About 20 miles from our house, up winding mountain roads and trails, you’ll find Hensley’s settlement. It’s an abandoned settlement, perfectly preserved with barns, cabins, a schoolhouse, and a moonshine still. Most of the time the only way to get there is by hiking a rigorous 4 miles up the  mountain. Once a year they open the road and let people drive up (4 wheel drive vehicles only) 

We tried this before once. It went like most of our family adventures do. There was supposed to be a meteor shower. It was so cloudy we didn’t see a single star. We almost got stuck going up and the boys ended up getting out to push us through a mudhole. Someone picked up our water jug by the top and it fell and spilled into the pasture leaving us with zero liquid for our 2 hours of wandering through the settlement. We haven’t tried it again. Until today.

Last night we thought it would be a good idea. John and Erma were both enthusiastic and wanted to go so we thought, why not?. Of course this time will be different. 

I was making donuts all day with the youth group and since it was cold and rainy all day, I assumed that the idea was dropped. I guess not. Mom called me about 4 and wondered why I wasn’t home, they’re waiting on me to leave. oh. ok. We were just finishing up the donuts so I flew home, dashed up the stairs, in and out of the shower and back out into the truck.

We had some very philosophical discussion on wether doing things like going to Hensley Settlement on a cold rainy day adds new dimensions to your life or simply makes you miserable for 4 hours of your life. If I would find it more enjoyable to spend my evening in a coffee shop, why wouldn’t I just do that? Or do I miss something important when I think like that? We agreed that we can all choose to enjoy our evening even if we’d enjoy other things more but that doesn’t really answer the question.

All that aside, Hensley Settlement is quite fascinating both historically and in simple beauty. The thick fog gave us an eerie beauty that one only experiences occasionally.

We picked apples off of 100 year old trees.

And this was my favorite. I am totally fascinated by old quilts. More than anything else they seem to hold the stories of the generations before.

And so now I think of the things this evening has brought to me. Besides the apples and the quilts, I chewed on a sassafrass stick (it tasted like chai tea)and  I learned that jewelweed is a cure for poison ivy.  After seeing the graves of ten children, all from the same family, I have a renewed appreciation for the hardships of the pioneer life.

We gave up on the picnic supper though, and came home to eat sandwiches and drink hot chocolate in our warm, lighted house. And because of my mixed up values I ate a chicken salad sandwich made with sourdough whole wheat bread and carefully crafted hot chocolate with cocoa powder and coconut oil and then finished up with half a piece of pecan pie made with high fructose corn syrup.

The reunion continues

We were honored today in church,  to have uncle Sujet share his life story of growing up in Haiti. We spent the afternoon lounging all through the house. Uncle Paul arrived and Joel and Veronica left.

My brother Leon and his lovely wife invited us all to spend the evening at their lovely little haunt. 

Here’s Aaleyah with the marshmallow she roasted all by herself!

And this cake looks fairly mangled now but I was so proud of it. I actually managed to make a professional looking cake for once and it was so easy! Definitely something I’m making again. (just don’t tell mom that I used an entire pound of butter for the frosting)

Mary said once that sometimes when she’s in Haiti she thinks of our kitchen and in her mind there’s always a layer cake on a cake stand in the corner of the counter. So now I always feel like there should be one there when she comes. Unfortunately this one never made it to the corner of the counter but at least she did get the chance for a piece if she wanted it.

The reunion begins

The Yoder family has rarely done anything the conventional way. We choose our own path, doing things the way we wish to, heedless of how “it’s supposed to be done”. This trait is most obvious when we get together in large groups. 

The reunion starts officially Monday evening. That didn’t stop about half the family from showing up yesterday or today. Mom’s cousin Veronica text her this morning to say that there are also going to be here for the weekend. 

Washing dishes is always a problem at every reunion. There is a rumor that a certain aunt always washes all the dishes at every reunion. This rumor was started, and seems to be spread mainly by said aunt. It is hotly denied by all other aunts in the family. This year our dish washing aunt couldn’t come. (she’s instead diligently working at a pharmacy in Haiti) We we’re all a bit uncertain as to what would happen. The remaining aunts were silent on the subject until last minute. Then they announced a plan wherein the nieces and nephews are on charge of the dishes. This turn of events has left us wishing more than ever that our dear aunt could be with us. Because the official reunion has not yet started we have yet to see how the new plan will work out. I admit I have my doubts. Not all of our cousins are exactly ambitious. To prove my point I’ll share this conversation I overheard.

cousin 1: Are you going with me to pick up Esther?

cousin 2:What are the pros and what are the cons.

cousin 1:The pros are that you get to be with me, and we’re going to middlesboro. The cons are that you have to get off the couch and walk out to the car.

cousin 2: I think the cons out weigh the pros.

You get my point. Somehow I don’t see them doing dishes. And besides that, the plan is only in effect on official reunion days. That leaves us with several days of dishes before and after. Tonight after everyone else had headed for bed, I washed the dishes. by myself. And I had to admit that in my memories there is a certain aunt who nearly always did those late night dishes. I hold her in highest regard.

Matt and Paul doing a late night Kombucha trust.  (making more dishes)

Veronica and her children pick up toys.

It’s been a long day

Today was good. Very good. But it was also one of those days when you’re not exactly sure how you managed to do everything and still have some bored moments in between.

That’s larry and Joel drinking their morning coffee

Mom’s cousin Veronica and her family were here for brunch, along with grandma and grandpa. Larry stopped in to relieve a case of ‘fear of missing out’ aka FOMA

We we’re just finishing up brunch when Bert got a call from Matt who said “hey, I kinda bought this house”. We had all thought Matt was safely sleeping in his room. Turns out, he went to an auction and bought a house. Good for him.

katelynn playing house

Four little boys wishing desperately that I would relent and let them get into the water

We are having family meetings at our church this week. The couples session was this afternoon so I was left with 5 little boys and one little girl and Sharon left to take care of some more kids.

And tonight was the youth session. Very interesting.

in church

The girls class. That’s Maya, looking at the camera. Isn’t she pretty?

And after that we had the youth group and all the ministers and visitors here for supper. And afterwards, when everyone left, I found my phone and this:

brother bert and cousin josh

And approximately 50 pictures like this:

hi josh!

Now I agree that Josh is quite handsome but I’m not sure what to do with 50 pictures of him, so I’ll share this one with you.

Campfire Days

Sometimes friends teach you big things. Sometimes they teach you small things that turn out to be big things after all.

Growing up we didn’t do cookouts much. Not that we wouldn’t have liked to sit around the fire it just wasn’t something we thought to do. We sat around the fire when we went camping every other year or so.

Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart ~ Winnie the Pooh

And then we met Mennos. They moved to our church about 5 years ago and they’ve blessed us in many big and small ways, but the big small way was campfires.

When you go to Mennos house, they’ll take you out through a backyard spilling with flowers to a ring of rocks. They build a fire in the circle and then bring out chairs and marshmallows and we sit together and eat s’mores and talk about the important things in our lives. Fires have a way of bringing us back to what’s really important. That makes fires important.

Today if you come visit us, you might have a similar experience. We love campfires, we’d love to introduce you to their simplicity and complexity.

People change you. Often in ways they may not even realize. Tonight I’m thankful for campfires and I’m thankful for friends who add dimension to my life.

What are some small big things you’ve learned lately?

Too Many Onions

Now I like onions, on a sandwich, in a salad, onion rings, and French onion soup. I LOVE French onion soup. I also like onion relish. I am not, however, quite as fond of making onion relish.
Our family operates a small cannery, The Relish Barn. We make all sorts of pickles and relishes.For the most part we make things as they’re ordered, except onion relish.
Every summer dad takes a trip to Georgia with a big truck loaded with empty bins, and comes back with the bins full of onions. 8,000 lbs of onions, and yes, we peel every one of those onions by hand.
It takes about a week, usually, to turn those onions into jars of relish. The whole family gets involved. Dad pays the kids so much per 5 gallon bucket of onions peeled and they always start in eagerly, glad for some extra spending money. It fades some, of course, but they’re pretty determined kids. It turns into something of a fun event. We turn on some music or Adventures in Odyssey or play guessing games while we work. We order sandwiches or pizza and it’s fun. Well, as fun as peeling onions can be.
And no, we don’t cry, not much anyhow. I guess maybe because we grew up doing it, or because Vidalia onions are mild and sweet, I don’t really know why but we do very little crying.
So yeah, I’m a little tired of onions right now but I have to admit, I kinda like onion week, and when this week is over, I’ll look forward to next year

Dear Dad

It’s fathers day again and usually on fathers day I give you a card or maybe even a gift and I say the right words and do the right things and we have a good time. I’ve always meant the things I wrote in your cards but I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for all you have done to shape me into the person I am today.
I wonder sometimes where I would be if it weren’t for you. You have taught me so much. Everything from how to tie my shoes to how be a victorious christian. You always loved me even when I wasn’t very loveable. I remember once back when I was maybe 16, I don’t know why I was so angry or what I was going through at the time but I remember standing there and telling you everything you do wrong, how unfair you are, and how I thought you should change. And I remember how you just listened to me and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t defend yourself or tell me I had a bad attitude. You just listened. And when I was done fuming I went into my bedroom and cried, and I wrote in my journal “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I have the best Dad ever.”
When I was just a little girl I thought all girls had daddy’s who gave them piggy back rides and played with them in the sand box. I loved when you made egg sandwiches for supper and when you called me “pumpkin pie” it made my day. I thought every little girl had a daddy who read her bible stories and who could imagine that some little girls didn’t have a daddy who sang them to sleep when they were scared of the dark?
As a school girl I didn’t realize that there were girls who didn’t have a dad who noticed their new dresses or complimented them when they baked cookies (even if some of them were a little burnt) and didn’t every girl proudly show her dad her report card and tell him about the new song she learned in school? I assumed that all girls got to go with dad on all-day delivery trips and didn’t realize how privileged I was to have a dad who would jump with me on the trampoline.
Even as a teenager I thought it was normal to have a dad who explained everything (from Calvinism to constellations to computers) with infinite patience. I didn’t know I had one of the few dads who are willing to admit when they’re wrong and apologize to their child. I didn’t know I was infinitely blessed in having a dad who always put his family before his business.
I’m still young but I’ve seen a lot the last few years. I’ve talked late into the night with girls as they cried, grieving for a father who was never there for them. I’ve watched as they struggled to find security in a world with no anchor. I heard the pain under the words as they said, “my dad doesn’t care what I do”. I’ve seen them struggle and wrestle with giants I will never have to face. They’ve said to me, “I wish I had a dad like yours….”
It seems a bit trite, just saying thank you. I hope you realize how deep my gratitude is. Thank you dad for showing me how to live. Thank you for being an example of what it means to be a Christian. You were willing to stand for what you believe even when others didn’t agree. You were willing to surrender when you realized it wasn’t a matter of principle. When you were falsely accused you showed us humility in action. You demonstrated Jesus for us. There are many people who criticize the way you raised your family. They say you gave your children to much freedom or not enough, but I want to say thank you. Thank you for explaining to us, for demonstrating for us, and then letting us choose. You were never scary, nor were you simply our buddy. You are our hero.
Thank you for the little things. For showing me how to divide math facts. For fixing my bike. For not mowing the pasture because we wanted to play in the tall grass. For taking me shopping and teaching me how to drive. You’re the one who helped me open my first Bank account and buy my first car. You taught me how to pump gas and how to get along with my sister. You encourage me to follow my dreams but always point me back to Jesus.

When I was in bible school I watched a young girl with her dad. I looked into her eyes and I said “be thankful for your dad, I know a lot of girls who would give much for a dad like yours”. She said, “I know, but so often I forget”.

So do I. but today I remember.

Thank you, dad.
I love you!

~ your daughter