Still, Small Voice

"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep….and the sheep follow Him, for they know His voice.” ~ John 10:11,4 (NKJV)

We had a close call at our house last week. My son, Kirk called me in Nevada one morning before school to tell me that the carbon monoxide detector downstairs was beeping like crazy. The message on the alarm read, “Move to fresh air.” Well, Keen had already left for law school and Kirk didn’t know what to do. Thank God he called, because if he hadn’t, our house would have been filled with carbon monoxide by the time they returned home that evening and I don’t even want to think about what could have happened next.

So I called Lane’s Plumbing and Heating and Danny Lane was able to check on the problem right away. He quickly discovered that our heating ducts were completely clogged because they hadn’t been cleaned out in several years. Yikes!

Needless to say, we are thankful for the loud beep of our carbon monoxide detector. But sometimes life’s warnings aren’t quite that easy to hear. Sometimes we have to tune in and really listen to that still, small voice inside of us that some people call a sixth sense, gut instinct, or mother’s intuition. Whatever you call it, I believe it is God’s way of giving us some much needed direction in the affairs of our every day life.

There have been so many times in our life when Keen and I have learned the importance of heeding that still, small voice. For example, when Keen was writing his weekly column called My Perspective, many people were angered by his criticism of the county commissioners. He was verbally harassed and physically threatened on more than one occasion. One night around 12:30 a.m., Keen woke up suddenly with the strangest feeling that someone had done some damage to his trash truck. So he got dressed and walked to our shop which was just 2 blocks from our home. He first walked all the way around the truck and kicked the tires, thinking that maybe someone had slashed them. Since they were all fine, he climbed into the cab of his truck to start the engine. Due to the ominous feeling he had inside, he was especially cautious as he turned the key in the ignition. Right away he noticed that the oil gauge wasn’t moving and he quickly turned the truck off, thereby saving the $10,000 engine. As it turned out, someone had removed the oil plugs in both of our trucks and drained the oil completely out of them.

If Keen hadn’t been pre-warned by God, he never would have been watching the gauges that closely when he turned the truck on the next morning, and the engine would surely have been destroyed.

Another example concerns a trip I took to Washington D.C. several years ago with my son, Josh. We flew out to attend a hearing at the United States Supreme Court involving a case about a tow truck operator from Northlake, Illinois who was removed from the rotation list after he made a political contribution to the sitting mayor’s opponent.

The case came before the court about four months after ours and was decided on the same day – June 28, 1996 – by the same 7-2 margin. At any rate, my brother Bob had invited us to stay at their house, but when I was making our travel arrangements I had a strong feeling that I should get a hotel room. When the first two hotels I called were completely full, I began to second-guess my decision. “What difference does it make whether we stay in a hotel or stay at Bob and Christine’s?” I asked myself. “Besides, we can save a little money if we stay with them.”

So rather than listen to my gut and call other hotels, I just gave up and decided to stay with my brother. To make a long story short, our trip would have been perfect – if we had only stayed our own hotel room. It was a major hassle for Bob to give us directions to the subway and explain how to use it before he rushed off to work. Then it rained the whole day and Josh and I were left to wander the streets of D.C. aimlessly (with inadequate outerwear) all day long – slipping into one museum after another just to escape the cold, damp weather. Oh, how I wished I’d listened to that ever-so-subtle feeling that I should get a hotel room! Josh and I could have been nestled into the warmth of our room, enjoying pizza and a good movie. Then, when Bob got off from work, he could have picked us up in the hotel lobby to meet for dinner. Instead, we stood on a dark street corner (in the cold and rain again), waiting for him to pick us up and drive us back to his house. Now that may not seem like a big deal to you, but I really believe that God cares about every detail of our lives, and, if we are willing to listen, we can save ourselves a whole lot of inconvenience and discomfort.

In other cases, it could be more than just a matter of convenience – it could be a matter of life and death. Like the time our son, Josh, decided to go driving around with some friends before the Friday night football game at Wabaunsee High. The driver of the car insisted that everyone fasten their seatbelts, and thank God he did because he tried to pass on a curve and met an oncoming car. The vehicle rolled several times and landed on its hood - leaving all four passengers hanging from their seatbelts. Miraculously, everyone escaped with only minor injuries, as did the driver of the other car.

I have always tried to teach my children the importance of “listening to their heart.” So just out of curiosity, I asked Josh if he had any sort of red flag or bad feeling before he got in the car that day. He admitted that he did, but that he had ignored it. Who knows? Perhaps it was a “still small voice” that made the driver of the car insist that everyone wear their seatbelts, too.

There are times when the voice may not be “still and small”, but rather “loud and large.” Greg Hawley, one of the owner’s of The Steamboat Arabia in Kansas City, shares an amazing story about the time they finally discovered the sunken ship they had spent so many years (and $750,000) searching for. He said two of the members of their team were in a deep, deep hole in the middle of a field when they suddenly realized they had located the ship. Loud cheers of jubilation rang out as they joyously celebrated the long awaited discovery. Then, all of a sudden, at exactly the same moment in time, both men heard an audible voice telling them to “Get out! Get out, now!” Without a moment’s hesitation, they scurried as fast as they could to the top of the deep canyon. Greg said that they had no sooner pulled the second man out when the entire hole caved in. So we just never know how important it might be to heed the warnings God gives us.

Dorothy Masters from Harveyville tells a similar story in the first chapter of her book titled, Life is a Choice. Dorothy had been going “full-tilt” in the nursing profession for nearly 40 years and the stress had begun to take a toll on her mind and body. She not only suffered from severe joint pain in her hip and but she’d lost her sense of humor in the process.

Dorothy was also feeling increasingly frustrated by the changes she had seen in the medical field, particularly the way doctors and nurses prolonged a patient’s life when there was no hope for recovery. Dorothy said her whole body seemed to be screaming, “I can not take this dead run approach of hospital nursing until the calendar says that my retirement is in the mail.”

Well, one night she was walking down the hospital corridor during her night shift when she heard a voice say, “Get the hell out of here!” She walked a little further and heard the same voice say, “We have worked too hard….,” and then it trailed off. After tending to her patient, Dorothy took a deep breath and reflected on the voice she had heard in the hall. Suddenly she realized the voice was that of her late husband of twenty-two years, Loren B. Masters, who had died in a car-tractor accident eleven years earlier. Dorothy said that whenever Loren used that tone of voice when he was alive, someone was in great danger! Realizing that Loren, as her Guardian Angel, was telling her to quit work and enjoy life while she still could, Dorothy penned out her resignation and gave two weeks notice that very night. She’s never regretted her decision, and has now gone on to write two more books – Fun on the Run and Keep on the Sunny Side of Life. What an inspiration!

In his latest book titled, Waking the Dead: The Glory of a Heart Fully Alive, author John Eldredge tells a story about the time he and his family vacationed at a ranch in Colorado where they enjoyed horseback riding, porch swings and campfires. The decision to return the following year seemed like a “no-brainer.” They had even considered making it an annual family tradition. However, when they prayed about it, they sensed God telling them, “Not this year.” It was hard to accept because everyone in the family wanted to go back, but they chose to cancel their plans..

“When the Hayman Fire burned 137,000 acres of Colorado in June,” he writes, “we looked at each other and realized that was the week we would have been at the ranch. It was almost totally engulfed in flames.”

Looking back, most of us can probably recall times in our lives when we, too, have felt that twinge of uneasiness tugging at our hearts. I truly believe that if we’ll heed that still, small voice in our hearts, we’ll be very glad we did.

“And let the peace....from the Christ rule (act as umpire continually) in your hearts – deciding and settling with finality all questions that arise in your minds..."
~ Colossians 3:15 (Amplified)

Almost Home

“For I long to see you…that is, that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.” ~ Romans 1:11,12 (KJV)

I'm not runnin’
I'm not hidin’
I'm not reachin’
I'm just resting in the arms of the great wide open
Gonna pull my soul in
And I'm almost home

“Almost Home” ~ recorded by Mary Chapin Carpenter

By now some of you may be wondering how my book project is coming along and when I might be returning to Kansas. So I’ve decided to devote this article to filling you in on what’s been happening in my life since I embarked on my journey.

I landed in Nevada on October 31st, just in time to drive to the Governor’s Mansion to watch my niece, Chloe Eileen perform an Irish dance for the Nevada Day celebration. Governor Kenny Guinn was on the grounds handing out candy to the trick or treaters and I was lucky enough to get my picture taken with him. The snow was falling and the governor’s mansion was beautifully decorated for the occasion – like something out of a movie. It was a very exciting way to start off my time in Nevada.

Another memorable event happened one night when my sister, Mary and several of her friends and I went out to dinner at a local casino. Afterwards, we listened to a singer by the name of Stew Stewart who has performed with many famous artists like Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette and Garth Brooks. Mary heard him sing before when he came to one of the nursing homes where she works.

Stew Stewart is quite a character. He likes to pull people out of the crowd and have them sing into the microphone. When he came around to me, I gladly chimed in because I love to sing. During one of the breaks, I decided to ask him if I could sing my favorite song – “She’s in love with the boy,” by Trisha Yearwood. I told him that I sang it at my son’s wedding, so he decided to take a chance on me. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when he called me up on stage and let me sing with the band. But the real highlight came after I sat down and Stew called my name again from the stage.

“I’ve never done this before in nearly thirty years of performing, but Eileen, can you come back again tomorrow night?” Are you kidding? Of course I can come back!

After arriving in Nevada, I found a comfortable apartment nestled into the picturesque Sierra-Nevada Mountains. I’ve enjoyed many long walks on the mountain trails behind my place. My neighbors are all friendly, working adults, so it’s been very peaceful and quiet, too.

My sister, Mary has been my right arm since I’ve been here. She helped me find the apartment, furnish it and get the utilities set up. She’s been my personal chauffer, taking me to the grocery store and Wal Mart and anywhere else I needed to go. She’s been my nurse and my number one cheerleader. Most of all, she’s been my friend. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her. Whenever I tell her that it seems like she’s doing too much for me, she always says, “I have to take care of you. It’s my job.” I guess some things never change.

As for the book, it’s almost finished – which is why I’m “almost home.” I didn’t plan to return until May 1st, but I’m too homesick to wait that long. So I’ll be flying home during spring break – just one week after the 30th anniversary of our first date (March 15, 1974).

Several years ago I sent a letter of inquiry to a literary agent in New York and she wrote back and said that she definitely thought there was a book in our story. However, I’ve always wanted to write the “behind-the-scenes” version of our story based on my personal journals, and she didn’t think that was where the “larger drama” was. She wrote in part: “I feel the book you should be writing is a narrative non-fiction account by you and your husband (largely from his point of view) of the entire struggle up through the Supreme Court. The book should detail the local corruption that your husband fought as a journalist himself and in his daily business, include the columns he wrote, as well as your navigation of the justice system” She concluded her letter with these words, “The story is an inspiration. Your faith in your fundamental rights reinforces confidence in the human spirit and in a country where every voice has a right to be heard.”

You would think that I would have been pretty encouraged by that letter – and I was. But not encouraged enough to change the way I envisioned writing our story. In my letter of response I said: “This is not just a story about our Supreme Court case; it is a story about our faith in God, our love for each other, and how both saw us through our darkest hour.”

So when I arrived in Nevada with my journals in hand (all 800 pages of them), I was fully prepared to write my own version of our story. But much to my surprise, the book seemed to take on a life of its own and headed in a completely different direction. I soon discovered that there was far too much information for me to write the basic story and include the personal side at the same time. So I essentially abandoned my journals (temporarily, at least), and focused primarily on “the corruption he faced, the columns he wrote and our navigation of the justice system.”

If I were to compare my book to a movie, I would have to say that it’s turned out to be more of a documentary. It’s a historical account based on court transcripts, legal filings, letters from lawyers, newspaper articles and personal recollections detailing exactly what conflicts arose from the time Keen was awarded the trash collection contract back in 1981 up through the U.S. Supreme Court decision in 1996.

After I get settled in back at home, there are a few people I’ll need to interview. Then I’ll start in on the task of verifying my facts and editing the rough draft.

Someone once said that there is no good writing – only good rewriting. The following quote seems to sum it up quite well.

“Writing is not like painting where you add. It is not what you put on the canvas that the reader sees. Writing is more like a sculpture where you remove, you eliminate in order to make the work visible.”
~ Elie Wiesel, 1986 Nobel Peace Prize laureate, 1988

My next step will be trying to find a publisher. I plan to contact the agent in New York to see if she still has any interest in our story. If not, I’ll have to pursue other avenues, including self-publishing. But whether 10 people read it or 10,000 – this was something I had to do. We spent fifteen years of our lives (off and on) engaged in some sort of battle with the county commissioners. This is the history of our life and, with the help of God, I will see it in print one day.

As for my family, they have survived pretty well in my absence. I so appreciate all the sacrifices they made to help me make this dream a reality. Keen has been the “go-to-guy” while I’ve been away. He’s such a great dad, I’m grateful that the boys have someone they can turn to whenever a problem arises. This has been a real time of bonding for them, too, which has been an added bonus.

Someone asked Keen if he was keeping the house clean and his response was: “Clean enough.” He does all the grocery shopping and bill paying, and he and Kirk have become experts at laundry and ironing. Keen said that Kirk jumps up when he hears the dryer stop because he wants to get his clothes out before they get all wrinkled. And Kirk told me that he’s actually enjoyed the feeling of independence. He said, “If I need something for school, I throw in a load of laundry; if I have homework, I do it; and when I’m hungry, I eat. It’s helped get me ready for…you know…when I’m grown up.” Kirk has kept busy with basketball season and has continued to get A’s and B’s in school. I’m really proud him.

Of course, the hardest part has been being away from those I love. I’ve missed everyone terribly and they’ve missed me. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Keen’s love letters have helped a lot, but its still been very difficult to be apart. Needless to say, we’re all looking forward to being reunited in a few short weeks.

You are my best friend
And you are where my heart is
And I know at the day's end
I get to come home to you
Yes I get to come home to you
Oh I love coming home to you

“Home to You” ~ recorded by John Michael Montgomery

I’d like to close by sharing a few more excerpts from some of Keen’s love letters.


Dear Eileen,
It’s 10:30 p.m. Friday night – I can’t read any more. I must write you – express my love for you. Just thinking of you makes me happy. Being apart makes me focus on the many ways I love you. I’ll never take for granted the opportunity to be with you – stand next to you – to make your happiness my only pursuit. It is so cool to be married to you!

You are on a path that seems imprudent to some, foolish to others; but to me – you are heroic, courageous and full of life’s passion. I know at times, it must be hard, but push on – as I will also – and we’ll meet at the finish line. Honey, we are on the eve of the rest of our life. It is so exciting! We are embarking on a journey – the destination – God only knows.

Eileen, you are the strength in my muscles – the spark in my life. You are the music that plays in the soul of my being from sunrise to sunset.

I miss you.

Love,

Keen

Unexpected Miracles

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I sanctified you…"
~ Jeremiah 1:5 (NKJV)

When a woman is pregnant, she is said to be “expecting.” But sometimes babies are “unexpected.” Someone once said that the definition of “planned parenthood” is that you find out you’re pregnant and start planning for it.

That’s what happened with Keen and me. When we got married, we decided we wanted to wait a couple of years before we had kids. But God had other plans. Our firstborn son, Jared Joseph, arrived right on his due date – May 10, 1979 – exactly 11 months to the day after our wedding day. Keen always says, “Yes, the math works out.” But even when the math doesn’t work out, it’s still a miracle. In fact, some of God’s greatest blessings are unexpected miracles.

Kenny Chesney recently came out with a beautiful song titled, There goes my Life. The video version depicts a high school football player who just learned that his girlfriend is pregnant.

All he could see were his dreams
goin’ up in smoke
So much for ditching this town
and hangin’ out on the Coast
oh well...those plans are long gone

And he said -
There goes my life
There goes my future,
my everything
Might as well kiss it all goodbye
There goes my life

Couple years of up all night
and a few thousand diapers later
That mistake he thought he made
covers up the refrigerator
Oh yeah, he loves that little girl…

Momma’s waiting to tuck her in
as she fumbles up those stairs
She smiles back at him
dragging that teddy bear
Sleep tight

Blue eyes and bouncing curls

He smiles
There goes my life
There goes my future
my everything
I love you, Daddy, goodnight
There goes my life

The next scene shows the little girl all grown up and going off to college. “And he said - there goes my life… my future… my everything.” What a touching example of how life’s detours can lead us on a most wonderful journey.

Far too many women take what they see as the “easy way out.” But there’s nothing easy about living with the guilt of ending an innocent life. There’s nothing easy about the heartache of going through life thinking about the child you never had and wondering what they might be doing right now.

I recently purchased a book by Kimberlee Stone titled, I’ve Got a Secret: A Mother’s True Story of Healing and Forgiveness. The author candidly shares the personal story of her past abortion in hopes of helping other women overcome their shame and guilt and find healing through God’s total forgiveness.

So much growth and beauty could be achieved if we would only accept responsibilities and face difficult situations head on, no matter how difficult or embarrassing they might be. A woman who is dealing with an unexpected pregnancy could choose to keep the baby or give it up for adoption. Either way, she would be giving her precious baby a chance at life.

There are no easy answers to the abortion question in our country. Anti-abortion activists like Eric Rudolph and Paul Hill seem to think the solution is to murder abortion doctors or bomb abortion clinics. That’s obviously not the answer!

I am personally opposed to all abortions – but especially late term abortions. To perform that horrendous “procedure” on a full term baby is nothing short of murder in my view.

But whether you agree with a woman’s right to choose or not, the fact of the matter is, abortion is legal in our country. As much as I hate to admit it, even if we succeeded in overturning the law, I’m afraid it wouldn’t stop women from having abortions any more than the prohibition movement stopped people from drinking alcohol.

So what is the answer? I think the answer lies in changing people’s hearts and trying to help them see a better way. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could match up couples longing to have a baby with the women who weren’t ready or able to care for their babies at this time in their lives? So many couples have empty arms just yearning to be filled, but their only choice is to remain on long waiting lists or travel overseas to adopt a baby. What an incredible gift that woman would be giving to an infertile couple – not to mention the gift of life she would be giving her own unborn child.

This is a poem I wrote based on an actual conversation I had with our youngest son, Kirk several years ago.

We mourn

One day my young son,
asked me to explain
A word he’d heard before
but didn’t understand
“Sure, honey,” I said,
without giving it a thought
“What word is that?”
Then my jaw just dropped

“Abortion,” he said
in all his innocence
I cringed when he said it
And then I felt quite tense

But I had to tell him how
A little life is destroyed,
Because it’s a sad fact,
That we cannot avoid

My son just winced
When he heard the explanation
Then I began to wonder
If it was beyond his comprehension

But the words that he spoke next
And the look upon his face
Let me know without a doubt
That this was not the case

With wisdom beyond his years
He turned and said to me
“Mom, I feel so sorry,
For that little baby.

“Because we only get,
One chance to be born.”
Yes, that’s sad, but true, my son
And after that, we mourn.

We had an unexpected miracle in our family four years ago…he calls me Grandma.

Change

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”
~ II Timothy 1:7 (KJV)

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
~ The Serenity Prayer

When we moved to Singapore back in 1973, one of the biggest adjustments was the weather. Due to Singapore’s close proximity to the Equator, the climate is always hot and the humidity is very high – about 75% (on the average). As a result, there are only two seasons – sunny or rainy.

As much as I enjoyed the experience of living in Singapore (not to mention meeting Keen), I really missed the changing of the seasons. Everything was so predictable – not like Kansas where we are blessed to be able to enjoy all four seasons. I love the way a new season comes along just about the time I’ve grown weary of the last one.

Change is good. It keeps life interesting and fresh. But sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it barges into our lives rudely, like an uninvited visitor who arrives at a bad time. But we don’t have any say about the events in our lives that occur unexpectedly – like a death in the family or the loss of a job.

Other times change is something we choose for ourselves. When my sister Mary made the agonizing decision to end her abusive marriage after 25 years, she knew it was what she had to do for her own survival – but that didn’t make it any easier.

This is a something I wrote for Mary during that difficult time.

A Sister’s Sorrow
By Eileen Umbehr

She never wanted it to be this way
This wasn’t the dream she had so long ago,
when she walked down the isle with the man
she wanted to grow old with

No, this doesn’t even come close.

The dream is shattered by reality
Hope has vanished -
Her heart is broken

With every painful step toward the end, she cries.
Grieving for what might have been
Realizing she’s been holding on to what she wanted -
not what she had.

A fantasy.

Even still, this is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.
The death of a family.
The death of a dream.

She fights on. She struggles in her mind.
Is there anything worth saving here?

Then…. she remembers….

Mary, Mimi, Jess, Chloe & Gus

**********

Yet, no matter how painful the process, change is a necessary and natural part of life - like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. Mary and her children have never regretted their decision to strive for a better life – a life of freedom, joy and serenity.

A friend of mine sent me this interesting piece titled Changes Come.

Changes Come
By Ralph Marston

To be alive is to change, from moment to moment, from day to day. You take what comes to you and you make of it what you will, changing all the while. Some people see themselves as cursed by those changes that come their way. Others see themselves as blessed by the opportunities that those same changes present. And the fact is, how you see change, how you live it, how you choose to deal with life as it changes, makes all the difference. For change is an engine that can take you as high as you dare to dream.

Changes come continuously and relentlessly. Indeed, they are what keep you alive and what keeps life interesting. So grab those changes and make them your friends. For it is through change that you arrive at precisely where you desire to go.

In closing, I’d like to share a poem I wrote recently.

Change
By Eileen Umbehr

Have you ever felt like you’re growing
(not upward or outward, thank the Lord)
But in a new direction
That you’ve never gone before?

Well, that’s how I feel right now
A change is coming over me
I’m beginning to find the courage
To make my dreams a reality

Now you’re probably wondering -
What dreams, you might ask
I guess you could say that I’m learning
To be real and remove my mask.

I don’t want to live my life
Trying to please everyone else
Because they all have a different opinion
And I have to be true to myself

Change isn’t always easy
You have to leave your comfort zone
But you’ll never regret your decision,
Once you see how much you’ve grown

And if anybody doesn’t like
The changes they see in you
Don’t let them get you down,
Just invite them to try changing, too

Because life is just too short
To let it pass you by
So look in your heart - discover yourself
Then spread your wings and fly!

If you always do
What you’ve always done
You’ll always be
What you’ve always been
~ Josh McDowell

The Best for Last

"Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.” ~ Matthew 7: 7,8 (RSV)

My brother said that I was rotten to the core
I was the youngest child so I got by with more
I guess she was tired by the time I came along
She'd laugh until she cried, I could do no wrong

She would always save me…because I was her baby
“The Baby” ~ recorded by Blake Shelton

This week I’d like to write about my brother, Bob, who will be celebrating his 39th birthday on February 13th.

Bob was “the baby” in our family – the youngest of nine. While the rest of us seemed to arrive in two year intervals, Bob came along a full five years after child number eight.

God must have saved the best for last because Bob has been an answer to prayer from the day he was born. Our sister Connie tells the story about how she prayed fervently for another brother or sister. Then one day Mom gave Connie a note to give to her teacher explaining that she would not be able to attend a parent-teacher conference because she was “infanticipating.” I guess Mom was trying to disguise the news, but Connie figured it out. “Infant + anticipating…..Hmmmm. I’ve got it! Mom’s having another baby!”

We all adored Bob – and still do. I can honestly say that none of us ever thought he was “rotten to the core” – although I do recall thinking he got away with more. When Bob was just a teenager, he used to engage in heated debates with our dad and it sounded an awful lot like “backtalk” to the rest of us! We were pretty convinced that we would have been escorted to our rooms if we had used that tone of voice with our dad!

When Bob was just a baby, he came down with pneumonia and almost died. I still remember seeing his little body lying in that big old hospital bed underneath an oxygen tent. But thank God, our prayers were answered when Bob pulled through. Bob would survive several other close calls throughout his lifetime, including a ruptured appendix and a fall from a high dive.

We all thought Bob was the most adorable baby that ever lived (until we grew up and had children of our own, of course!) – and we enjoyed the cute and funny things he would say and do.

When he was about three years old, our oldest sister Peggy went off to college and Bob went with my parents to help her move into the dorm. A short time later, Mom took Bob to visit a pre-school. After they returned home, Mom asked him how he liked it and Bob’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “I don't want to go to collitch! I want to stay right here with you, Mom!"

Another time, our dad came home from work and asked, “What’s new?” and Bob answered, “Just gwocewies.”

I remember how Bob used to call our brother Bill, “Bully.” One day when Mom was vacuuming, Bob came running down the hall, crying hysterically. “Mom! Bully threw a block at me!” “Ahhhhh…..Where did he hit you?” Mom asked as comforted him. “He missed me!”

Bob was such a good kid growing up – and a hard worker, too. When he was only eleven years old he had a paper route and he used to get up at five o’clock in the morning to brave the snow and cold of a Minnesota winter.

After high school, Bob attended Notre Dame University and graduated summa cum laude. Three years later, he graduated number two in his class from Duke University School of Law. While attending Duke, Bob was an editor of the Duke Law Journal and won the law school’s moot court competition. He also delivered the graduation address, which contained a touching tribute to our mother who had passed away exactly one year earlier.

Bob married his college sweetheart, Christine and together they have three adorable children of their own; Caitlyn, Connor & Ryan.

Bob & Christine



Caitlyn, Connor & Ryan

About four years after Bob graduated from law school, Keen and I were embroiled in a legal battle with the Wabaunsee County Commissioners. Bob was once again an answer to prayer when he offered to assist in our free speech case. However, when I told our attorney about Bob’s offer, his response was rather cynical. “Everyone has a lawyer in the family who thinks he’s an expert,” he said. But in this case, it happened to be true.

When our lawsuit reached the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals in Denver, Bob successfully argued the merits of our case before the three-judge panel. He wouldn’t even let us pay for his hotel or airfare. “Just consider it my contribution to the cause of freedom,” he said. “Honest to God, Eileen, I believe in this case.”

After the Wabaunsee County Commissioners appealed that ruling to the U.S. Supreme Court, no one was more surprised than us to learn that they decided to accept our case. Out of 8,000 requests that year, only about 80 cases were granted a hearing. I still remember the day Bob called to tell us, “We’re goin’ to the show!”

Sometime later we received a tempting proposal from one of the largest law firms in the world, Jones and Day. They offered to represent us free of charge at the U.S. Supreme Court. When we asked Bob what we should do, he replied, “You should give it some serious consideration, because they’re a very reputable firm and they’ll probably assign about ten lawyers to the case. The offer itself represents about $100,000 in legal fees,” he explained. “But make no mistake about it – I would dearly love to be the one to represent you at the Supreme Court.”

After much prayerful consideration, Keen and I decided to “dance with the one that brought us.” And were we ever glad we did! On November 28, 1995, several members of our extended family witnessed Bob skillfully respond to the questions the justices asked him in rapid fire succession.

Seven months later to the day, on June 28, 1996, Bob called to deliver the news we’d waited so long to hear. “We won!” Keen and I were screaming and jumping up and down and thanking God. It was such a great victory, not only for Bob and for us, but also for “the cause of freedom.”

I can’t close this column about my brother Bob without mentioning his incredible sense of humor. For example, when I emailed him to ask about his various brushes with death, he provided the info and then added:

“That’s about it for near-death experiences except that I once had a very nasty hangnail and another time stubbed my toe real bad. Blew up the size of a balloon. Speaking of which, don't forget my crash in shorts on Keen's dirt bike and the attractive welts that accompanied that fall. I still have the shape of a muffler imprinted on my inner thigh.”

After Bob provided the specific details on his educational achievements, he wrote: “I also won the 6th grade spelling bee and played King George in the 5th grade class play. I think my first grade teacher gave me a double smiley face as well for sandbox etiquette, in case anyone is interested.”

Bob has always given us so much to be proud of ….and so much to be thankful for.

Happy Birthday, baby brother. We love you.

My One and Only

“I am my beloved's…and my beloved is mine! His voice and speech are exceedingly sweet; yes, he is altogether lovely – the whole of him…is precious. This is my beloved, and this is my friend…” ~ Song of Solomon 6:3, 16 (Amplified)

I have been blessed
And I feel like I've found my way
I thank God for all I've been given
At the end of every day
I have been blessed
With so much more than I deserve
To be here with the ones that love me
To love them so much it hurts…
I have been blessed.
“Blessed” ~ recorded by Martina McBride

Last week, I wrote about the power of words – both negative and positive – and I used the following verse from Proverbs 16:24 to illustrate my point:

“Pleasant words are as honey, sweet to the soul and health to the bones.”

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner (and with my husband’s permission), I’d like to share some “pleasant words” from two love letters he sent me since I’ve been in Nevada. I’ll take love letters over flowers and candy any day. There is no greater gift.

January 16, 2004

Dear Eileen,

It is Friday night and it occurred to me that you haven’t received a love letter from me since we were dating in high school. This is a love letter, long past due.

By tomorrow, it has been only 14 days since you left. I miss you! As busy as I am with school and all, I must admit my heart aches. To be honest, it kind of surprised me that I began to miss you so much and so soon. I love you so much. I am so thrilled that you have the courage to follow your heart – to do what seems crazy or antithetical to the “norms.” I am so proud of you! I think about you more now than I did when you were here.

Last night as I was looking at your pictures, I took stock of how beautiful you are; how encouraging your smile is; how “deep of spirit” you are. After talking with you today – I’m lovesick! I want to wrap my arms around you, and hold you tight.

Well, it’s 12:15 a.m. – I must get to bed – I have a Saturday class at 9:30 a.m.. I want you to know that I love you and miss you every day that you’re gone.

Walk every day in faith. I love you!

January 22, 2004 – 10:15 p.m.

Dear Eileen,

It’s Thursday night and I miss you. Tonight I had planned to begin research on a brief due next week, but I just had to stop and write you….to tell you just how much I love you, how much less of a man I am without you near me!

Lately, I find myself daydreaming about you. How beautiful you are; what great joy you bring me! Someone asked me, “Isn’t it hard to be away from your wife – and for so long?” I said, “Yes, it is; more than I ever expected.” I even admitted that I’m lovesick. But I never doubt that we are on the right path – God’s plan. I marvel at our path. I look at your picture. I remember your voice, your touch, the sight of you sleeping, the expression on your face when I walk into the house.

In a strange way, this experience has brought me closer to you; it has made my heart yearn – ache, really – for you. There is, and can be, no one other than you. When I close my eyes, I see your smile and it brings comfort to my soul. The sight of you is so pleasant in my eyes; like water to parched soil. You being away has made me love you more than if you were here. How can that be?

You are so precious to me; the most important thing in my life – air to my lungs, blood to my heart, life to my soul. I feel so grateful, that out of all the men in the world, you chose – and continue to choose me as the recipient of your affections. I am the most blessed man in the world.

Truly, I must be lovesick for you. It is such great pleasure to be in love with you, sweet as honey to my heart. I just love you and miss you so much! What I wouldn’t give for a talk on the couch with you right now. I know that you are working so hard out there. What a privilege it is to be a part of God’s plan.

There was a time that I struggled with keeping the balance between my love for you and my love for the study of law. But please know that if I was ever forced to choose, I would choose you without a scintilla of regret. You bring such a relief to my heart and soul, Eileen. You are the custodian of all that I hold dear.

One day – the world will stop for us. On that day, we’ll have all the time, money and opportunity to just be together. Until then, please know that it is such a thrill to stand next to you – and be loved by you.

I am out of words to express how much I love you!

Love,

Keen

“…a word spoken in due season, how good is it!”
~ Proverbs 15:23

Keen & Eileen
Married June 10, 1978

The Power of Words

“Pleasant words are as honey, sweet to the soul and health to the bones.”
~ Proverbs 16:24

I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."

That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.

Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
“If Nobody Believe in You”
~ recorded by Joe Nichols

“Sticks and stones, may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Not! Words can hurt – and do hurt! And they leave lasting scars, too. The English author and clergyman, Robert Burton once said, “A blow with a word strikes deeper than a blow with a sword.”

I am a firm believer in the power of words – those we speak to others and those we speak to ourselves. Joyce Meyer says that words are containers for power; they carry either creative or destructive power.

When Keen and I got married, a friend of ours made us a mirror with the above Bible verse etched into the glass. We still have it hanging in our home. It makes me wonder, if pleasant words are health to the bones, then what are negative words? I truly believe that negative, critical words have the opposite affect and are detrimental to the emotional and physical well being of the hearer.

“Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the
wise brings healing.”
~ Proverbs 12:18

My sister’s former husband was admired and beloved by everyone at work because he was always so charming to them. Mr. Wonderful. But when he got home to his wife and kids, it was an entirely different situation. A marriage counselor once told my sister that she needed to “teach” her husband how to act nicely. But I pointed out that he obviously knew how to act nicely because he didn’t treat anyone at work the way he treated her! The words we speak and the way we act are a personal choice.

They say “hurting people, hurt people”, but that’s no excuse to take our frustrations out on those around us. Words that belittle and humiliate can wreak havoc on one’s self image.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and they who indulge it shall eat the fruit of it (for death or life).”
~ Proverbs 18:21

The damage caused by negative, critical words reminds me of the devastation caused by fire or war. The definition of devastation is to “lay waste; to reduce to chaos, disorder or helplessness; to cause great damage.” Everything in its path is destroyed and the rebuilding process can take years.

“Every word you speak boosts someone’s hope a bit, or kills it just a little.”
~ John Ortberg

I’ve been thinking about writing this column for quite some time, but after reading the letter to the editor from Lana G. Allen in The Prairie Post two weeks ago, I was inspired to put my thoughts into words.

I couldn’t agree with Ms. Allen more. I, too, have often been shocked by the behavior of coaches (and parents) during sporting events. Sports is a great form of entertainment for the players and fans alike, but it is not a matter of life and death, as some people make it out to be. It’s an opportunity for our children to learn how to work as a team, give 110%, and how to show dignity in both victory and defeat. But to watch some coaches sacrifice a child’s self esteem on the alter of a football field or basketball court is indeed disturbing. Much to my dismay, I have heard parents humiliate their children by calling them demeaning names from the stands. I’ve heard coaches tell their football players that they are wimps who should put on cheerleading uniforms. I have never understood how they could possibly think that this type of rhetoric would ever inspire anyone.

We’re building up or tearing down, in everything we do;
Are you on the construction gang, or on the wrecking crew?
~ Anonymous

I would also like to commend Ms. Allen for having the courage to express her opinions on this very delicate subject. Most of us are reluctant to confront a coach for fear that he/she will take it out on our child. So, year after year, the players are subjected to the irrational tirades of an out-of-control coach simply because no one has the guts to tell them that their coaching practices are unprofessional and damaging to the kids.

Recently, one of the children my sister works with came to school with the word “Loser” written in ink on her forehead. My sister was appalled and immediately reported it to the school counselor. She tried her best to convince the little girl that it was not true, but the little girl replied, “Yes it is. My mommy calls me that all the time.” Now, who in their right mind would call their child a “loser,” much less brand it on their forehead?

"Self esteem in children hinges on nearly every word uttered by significant adults in their lives. Children watch how adults look at them....they draw conclusions from adult’s reactions to them and treat these conclusions as truths."
Dr. Louise Hart, Psychologist and Author of The Winning Family: Increasing Self-Esteem in Your Children and Yourself.

In closing, I’d like to share a poem written by Lester Gale Rogers from Effingham, Kansas. Gale is a published writer and frequent contributor to Reader’s Poetry in the Kansas-Plus section of The Topeka Capital-Journal. He is also a new friend.

Untitled
By Lester Gale Rogers

As early morning light
pushes hard to break the night.

Moments past come to me
and clearly they I do see.

Wishing some I might regain
to replace a word or refrain.

They haunt me, these words lost
as now alone I pay the cost.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord…my Rock and my Redeemer.”
~ Psalm 19:14

Joanne and Joann

“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.”
~Numbers 6:24-26 (NKJV)

I have been blessed with two people in my life named Joanne/Joann – one with an e, and one without; one I have known my entire life- my sister, Joanne – and the other one I have never even met (in person) – the editor of The Prairie Post, Joann Kahnt.

My sister, Joanne just celebrated her 50th birthday on January 14th. She’s the fourth sibling in our family to reach that major milestone.

Joanne is so special. She has a heart of gold and more gifts than I can count. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Women’s Studies from The University of Minnesota. She is married to her husband, John and they have two children, J.P. and Amy. Joanne is the best listener I’ve ever known. While Mary and I talk incessantly and compete for conversation, Joanne will just listen. If you want to know what she’s thinking, then you will have to stop to take a breath! If you don’t, then you’ll miss out on a wealth of understanding and wisdom. I’ve always told Joanne that she would make a great counselor. She has such a gift of gentleness and kindness – and she is extremely non-judgmental.

Joanne has also been gifted with a beautiful singing voice and a talent for writing songs. She has written many songs, but a few that stand out in my mind include one she wrote for our grandmother, Agatha Higgins and another one she wrote for Keen and me when we were dating. But my all time favorite is the one she wrote for our firstborn son, Jared, shortly after his birth. I still remember some of the words to that song:

Little baby, little one
We celebrate the birth of a son
Enter in, and welcome

A precious gift –
a child of the King
Bringing joy
and endless blessing
Enter in, and welcome

Your family’s large
And their love is strong
To keep you growing healthy
Your whole life long
Enter in, and welcome…Enter in… enter in and welcome

Tears flow readily when Joanne picks up a guitar and sings one of her songs from the heart. She sings with such passion that you can’t help but be moved.

Joanne’s talent has been passed on to her children, too. John Paul (J.P.) is a sophomore at the University of Minnesota and is a very talented musician and songwriter. He sings and plays several instruments. He is also a member of a band called Civilian and they’ve even released their first CD called Our Social Upbringing. Amy, a senior in high school, is also a talented artist and performer. She’s acted in countless plays and has won many awards for her singing.

I have a dream that one day I’ll have enough money to be able to help Joanne produce a CD with her own collection of songs. A woman at my sister’s church in Carson City wrote a beautiful song that seems to sum up my feelings about Joanne’s special gift. The woman’s name is Terri Bond and the song is titled: “If you’ve been Blessed.”

If you’ve been blessed with the voice of an angel
God wants you to sing
Sing when no one can even hear it
Let your music ring

If you’ve been blessed, if you’ve been blessed
Don’t question anything
If God gave you the voice of an angel
God wants you to sing

I don’t know the “other Joann” as well as I know my sister, but she also has a very special place in my heart. Her birthday is coming up next month on February 16th.

When I decided I’d like to start writing a weekly column, Joann Kahnt responded, “If you keep writing, we’ll keep publishing.” After that, I sent an email to the editor of the Alma paper to see if he might be interested as well. Unfortunately, he had space limitations that prevented him from printing my column. So if it weren’t for Joann, I wouldn’t have anywhere to share my poems and stories. Consequently, I will always feel a debt of gratitude to her for giving me space in The Prairie Post where I can spread my wings as a writer and as a person. I must say, I never knew I had so many thoughts and opinions until I started putting them down on paper!

Sometimes my column is sentimental and other times it might be considered controversial. Still other times it may be viewed as a little “too religious” for some peoples’ taste. But the great thing is that Joann gives her readers and columnists the freedom to express any view they’d like, whether she agrees with it or not. For me, that has been a wonderful gift.

A man named John Peter Altgeld once said: "Freedom of thought and freedom of speech in our great institutions are absolutely necessary for the preservation of our country. The moment either is restricted, liberty begins to wither and die..."

I’m also grateful to Joann for giving me this opportunity because I firmly believe that the growth I’ve experienced since writing my column has helped jumpstart my book project. It’s given me the confidence I needed to take the next big leap of faith as a writer. (Although she may not want the credit/blame for that!)

I thank God for both of the Joanne/Joann’s He has placed in my life, and I’d like to wish them both a very Happy Birthday.

Make the Most of Every Day and Celebrate All That You Are
By Douglas Pagels

Live by your own light, shine by your own star
Do what you always wanted to do with your life
Envision the gift that you are

Climb up the hills of your hopes and dreams
Take whatever steps you need to take
You can’t get to the top if you don’t try,
And it’s a journey you should definitely make.

Try to find more time in your life,
do it just for you
The people you love and care about
will be rewarded with your happiness, too

When the calendar is far too full,
keep the days from flying by
Remember your youth when time took forever
Rediscover that child inside

Spend part of every day just doing something you’d like to do
Today will never come again, and yesterday is through
The secret (if you’d like to know) to finding happiness
Is knowing that it’s all around and that your life is blessed

By being in this moment and living a day at a time
You have access to every gift that will make your sunlight shine
Brighten your world with friendships and love and wishes on a star
Make the most of every day, and celebrate all that you are.

More Blessed

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
~ Acts 20:35

“I slept and I dreamed that life is all joy,
I woke and I saw that life is all service.
I served and I saw that service is joy.”
~ Mother Teresa

Last week I talked about how good works alone don’t get us into Heaven, but that’s not to say that good works aren’t good – and important!

In Matthew 7, it says: “You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thorn bushes or figs from thistles? Even so, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit…Therefore by their fruits you will know them.” If we truly love God, then I believe that will be reflected in our lives. The natural byproduct of a “good tree” will be the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:23)

Today I’d like to talk about the rewards of volunteering. Wilfred Grenfell once said: “The service we render others is the rent we pay for our room on earth.” If we have been blessed with happiness and good health, then we should try to find the time to share our good fortune with others. There are so many ways to bring joy into others lives. Sometimes it involves money, but in many cases it only involves time.

The Bible says, “This is pure and undefiled religion…to visit the widows and the orphans.” (James 1:27) When my daughter-in-law Lisa was still attending K-State, she volunteered at nursing homes and gave up her spring break to travel on a mission trip to Mexico to work with orphans, AIDS patients and the homeless. In the past, Keen and I have volunteered at the Women’s Crisis Center. (Keen mainly donated his strong back when they needed one.) We went through the training because we both feel great compassion for women who have been abused by the person who is supposed to love them. I’ve also worked with crime victims through Victim Services, a division of the Department of Corrections and with pregnant inmates at the Topeka Correctional Facility.

All of this work has been extremely gratifying, but sometimes I wonder if my motives are right. Am I doing these things for the right reason, or because of the rewards I receive from bringing a little joy into someone else’s life? Whenever we reach out to another person who is going through a difficult time, we get back so much more than we ever give. It truly is more blessed to give, than to receive.

Here’s what Thomas Jefferson had to say on the subject:

“It has been said that we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, bind up the wounds of the man beaten by thieves, pour oil and wine into them, set him on our own beast and bring him to the inn, because we receive ourselves pleasure from these acts….These good acts give us pleasure, but how happens it that they give us pleasure? Because nature hath implanted in our breasts a love of others, a sense of duty to them, a moral instinct, in short, which prompts us irresistibly to feel and to succor their distresses. The Creator would indeed have been a bungling artist had He intended man for a social animal without planting in him social dispositions. It is true they are not planted in every man, because there is no rule without exceptions; but it is false reasoning which converts exceptions into the general rule.”

I’d like to tell you about a friend of mine who has these “social dispositions” planted in him more than anyone else I have ever met. My friend’s name is Larry Welch. In 1984, Larry retired from the Navy as a Lieutenant (Limited Duty-Cryptology), and is now employed as a force protection analyst with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS). In 1996, he became the first recipient of the National Race for the Cure Volunteer of the Year Award; and he was presented the 1997 Jill Ireland Award for Voluntarism by The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation in Dallas, Texas. In 1998, his employer presented him a Department of the Navy Meritorious Civilian Service Award for his leadership in community relations.

Larry currently lives in Singapore – which is how I happened to make his acquaintance. One day I was reading an article in Toastmasters magazine when I noticed that the author of a book review lived in Singapore. Since his email address was listed, I decided to drop him a short note telling him that I lived in Singapore once and met my husband there while attending high school. God truly works in mysterious ways when bringing people into our lives that we never would have had the opportunity to meet.

Larry writes an insightful newsletter for positive thinking people called “On the run….” He is also the author of a book titled, Mary Virginia: A Father’s Story, which is a memoir he compiled for his young daughter. It contains heartwarming stories about the fun father-daughter times they spent together.

Many of those memories included times Larry and Mary spent volunteering together in worthwhile causes such as feeding the homeless and ringing the Salvation Army bell at Christmas time. Such wonderful values to pass on to his daughter!

When I read more about Larry’s philanthropic activities in the “note from the publisher” on Amazon.com – I was truly impressed. “Larry Welch is the father of Mary Virginia Welch, a position he has held for 10 years. A humanitarian, Larry feeds the homeless, promotes programs to find a cure for breast cancer, and runs marathons to raise money to help those suffering from spina bifida, kidney disease, Downs syndrome, and leukemia. He has organized marrow donor drives, recruited bell-ringing teams for The Salvation Army, promoted Toys-for-Tots, helped jail inmates develop self-esteem, listened to the elderly and watched over children.” He has even offered to donate one of his kidneys to a perfect stranger.

Larry is living the truth of Dr. Albert Schweitzer’s words: "Whatever you have received more than others - in health, in talents, in ability, in success, in a pleasant childhood, in harmonious conditions of home life - all this you must not take to yourself as a matter of course. In gratitude for your good fortune, you must render in return some sacrifice of your own life for another life."

Larry is a remarkable human being and I consider it a privilege to know someone who has given so much of himself to others.

"During your life, everything you do and everyone you meet rubs off in some way. Some bit of everything you experience stays with everyone you’ve ever known and nothing is lost. That’s what’s eternal, those little specks of experience in a great enormous river that has no end.” ~ Harriet Doerr

Until We Meet Again

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.” ~ John 14:1-3 (NKJV)

Somewhere out there,
if love can see us through,
then, we’ll be together,
somewhere out there,
out where dreams come true.

“Somewhere Out There”~ performed by Linda Ronstadt

Last Saturday, January 3rd, our uncle, Keen Umbehr, passed away after suffering for a year and a half with complications from open heart surgery. His devoted wife of fifty plus years, Helen, has been by his side the entire time. Uncle Keen was 79 years old. He lived a full life, but it wasn’t long enough for those who loved him.

Keen was educated at Kansas State University as a geologist, and spent his life as a farmer and rancher. He was a loving father, husband, grandfather, brother, and uncle. Keen and Helen had three children; Carol, Jack and Iris. They have five grandchildren; three boys and two girls.

Keen was preceded in death by his son, Jack, who was fatally injured in a wood cutting accident on New Year’s Eve seventeen years ago. Uncle Keen was with Jack on the night of the tragedy, and I believe he’s with him again in a better place called Heaven.

About four years after Jack’s death, my husband, Keen, had a very vivid dream about Jack being in Heaven. He saw Jack standing by a horse in a beautiful green pasture. Jack had leather chaps on and looked so happy. Keen gave him a hug and told him he missed him. Keen described the scene as “Jack heaven.”

I’d like to share this tribute I recently wrote for Jack.

Husband, father, son
By Eileen Umbehr

I still remember, the sound of the sirens
on that winter night so long ago
But I never imagined the person in need
would be someone that I did know

It was our cousin, his name was Jack
the night was New Year’s Eve
He was just about ready to call it a day
when he cut down one more tree

A freak accident ended his life that night
when he was only thirty-five
He left behind a wife and a five-month-old son
wondering how they’d survive

Jack was such a hard worker, holding down two jobs
he never left a project undone
But the most important roles he played in his life
were husband, father and son

Jack talked of plans to teach his young son
to farm the land and fix the fence
but he left this world far too soon
and never got the chance

Now his boy is a senior, soon to graduate
he’s bright and handsome, just like his dad
I know Jack would be so very proud
of the fine young man that he and Barb had

Jack has been missed – as cousin, brother and friend
and by countless other loved ones
But none miss him more, than those who knew him as
husband, father and son.

*********************

Today’s Bible verse tells us that mansions have been prepared for us in Heaven. But many wonder how we can know whether we’re going to Heaven. Well, I’m not a religious scholar, but I know the Bible says that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.” ~ John 3:16,17

That seems pretty straightforward to me. Simply put, if we believe in God’s Son, Jesus, and accept the forgiveness of our sins that He died to give us, the Bible says we have the promise of eternal life. When we die, God isn’t going to ask us what church we belonged to, He’s going to look into our hearts to see if we truly believed in Him and received His free gift of salvation.

The Bible says we’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, so without His forgiveness, none of us could ever be “good enough” to get into Heaven. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.” (Ephesians 2:8,9)

I’d like to share the following poem I wrote on an actual conversation I had with an elderly friend of mine several years ago.

He Who Believes
By Eileen Umbehr

I have a friend
who lost her son
in a tragic way
at age twenty-one.

"Do you believe in Heaven?"
I asked her one day.
She shook her head no,
then turned away.

"What do you believe happens
when we die?”
"I think that's the end,"
was her reply.

I said, "When I lost my mother
seven years ago this May,
It brought me great comfort
to know I'd see her one day."

"If you believe that is true,
you surprise me," she said.
"It just makes people feel better
to think that in their head."

“Well, I know the Bible says
that he who believes
Jesus is the Son of God
will live eternally.”

So my friend and I
will agree to disagree,
but I'll keep on praying,
that one day, she'll believe.

Then maybe someday,
we'll meet again in the sky
where we'll continue our visits
in the sweet by and by.

**********

“Jesus said to her, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Whatsoever You Do

"Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?' And the King will answer and say to them, 'Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.' ~ Matthew 25:37-40 (NKJV)

I hope you’re all enjoying this special time of year. I’d like to share a story that was sent to me from a friend of mine who writes an inspirational e-letter called, “Letters from Larry.” It’s very long, but I hope you’ll find it worth the read.

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He had no decorations, no tree, and no lights. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his life. His wife had gone. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George – Old George, as he was known by his customers – told the man to come and sit by the space heater and warm-up.

"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy. I'll just go"

"Not without something hot in your belly," George turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done there's coffee and it's fresh." Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said.

There in the driveway was an old ‘53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister, can you help me?" the driver asked with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken!"

George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going anywhere in this thing," George said as he turned away. "But Mister. You gotta help us…."

The door of the office closed behind George as he went in. George went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting.

"Here, you can borrow my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night.

George turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I loaned 'em the truck. Their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new tires........" George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it.

"Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought. George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers.

He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car.

As he was working he heard a shot being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me." George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention.

"Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The laundry company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anything," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there. I'm going to get you an ambulance." George said, but the phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your police car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer.

"You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area." George sat down beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time you’re gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city." Then George added: "Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before. "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you doing this?" asked George. "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me
the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop. "We got one too many in here now." He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It ain't much, but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due. My car got repossessed last week..." George handed the gun to the cop.

"Son, we all get in a bit of a squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop.

George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Sometimes we do stupid things. Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

"Shut up and drink your coffee," the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.

"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer. "Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?" "GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran." George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy works here," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said. "Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy. And you too, George, and thanks for everything.”

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems." George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day." The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever laid his eyes on. "I can't take this," the young man said. "It means something to you." "And now it means something to you," George replied. "I got my memories. That's all I need." George reached into the box again. A toy airplane, a racing car and a little metal truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours." The young man began to cry again as he handed the $150 back to Old George. "And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that, too. Count it as part of your first week's pay,” George said. "Now git on home to your family, son." The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope,” George replied. “I'm closed Christmas day. See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left."

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?”

"Well, after my wife passed away I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin'up a tree and all seemed like a waste of a good pine. Bakin' cookies like Martha and I used to just wasn't the same by myself. Besides, I was getting a little chubby,” George said with a chuckle.

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. “But you do celebrate the Christmas, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. You helped the woman with child. She will bear a son and he will become a great doctor one day. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will become a rich man and share his wealth with many people. That is the spirit of the season, and you keep it as good as any man – if not better."

George was taken aback by the words this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man. "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days on earth are done, you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door.

"If you’ll excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the man's old leather jacket and his torn pants turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George, it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

Making Memories

“And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.” ~ Luke 2:9-11

Christmas has become so many things. It’s really easy to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle that we lose sight of what it’s really all about –the birth of Jesus.

I hate to admit this, but there have been times when I’ve felt like Scrooge on Christmas Day. When the big day finally arrived, I would be so burned out that my Christmas spirit would be on “e”. It’s supposed to be a happy time of year, but by the time I’d mailed 200 Christmas cards, put up the tree and decorated the house, and shopped and wrapped presents for everyone in the family, I would be drained emotionally and physically (and sometimes financially)!

Then when I’d find the toys I’d purchased for the boys in pieces under their beds two weeks later, that only compounded my frustration. All that effort, only to find that the toys were either lost or they’d lost interest in the toys.
But God gave us a gift that will last for eternity.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
~ John 3:16

My ideal Christmas would minimize the gift-giving aspect and place more emphasis on being together and making memories. I love spending time with my family. I’m especially looking forward to being home for the holidays this year, after being in Carson City for the past six weeks. To me, the greatest gift any of my children could give me is their presence – not their presents.

The nice thing about making memories is that memories last a lifetime. Memories don’t cost anything. They don’t wear out, or break, or go out of style. And best of all, memories don’t have to be returned!

I also enjoy receiving cards because words spoken from the heart touch my heart. One year the boys wanted to know what to buy me for my birthday, so I asked each of them to make me a card. I came across those handmade cards recently and I’d like to share them with you. Kirk was too young to write one, but here’s what the other three boys had to say:

Jared: Dear Mom, I wanted to tell you, on your birthday, how much I appreciate all you do for us, like cleaning our clothes and washing the floor. I know sometimes we often take these luxuries for granted. But you need to know that it is very much appreciated. So, thank you, Mother. I love you!! Love, Jared

Josh: Dear Mom, Uh?!?! That’s too formal, I mean, you’re my mom. Let’s try again. Hi Mom, Well, happy birthday, Mom. I trust you’re having a wonderful B-day. Since I couldn’t afford a good B-day present, you suggested I write this “love letter,” so here we go. Mom, I love you so much. I know I always say so, but I do, and I always appreciate everything you do for us although I don’t say so. Without you our home would be missing something and would “crumble” & just have no organization. I just can’t stop saying how much I love you. I love you with all my heart & soul. ---Without you my life wouldn’t be complete. Love, Joshua Jim Umbehr

Keener’s card was the most elaborate. He drew a picture of a big heart with two people inside with their arms around each other. One was labeled “Mom” and the other was labeled “Me.” Then he drew some flowers and wrote “Happy Birthday.” Inside he wrote: Dear Mom, I love you, you were there I came home from school and told you people were making fun of me. You were always there to listen. You make us dinner and put a roof over our head, you do our laundry. You do our grocery shopping, you buy our school supplies and our shoes. You gave us our 40 acres. I love you, Keen

Now there’s a gift that’s truly priceless!

I still cherish the memories of Christmas celebrations from when I was growing up. My sister Connie would dress up as Santa Claus every year and all the younger kids would stand in awe when we heard the ringing bells and saw Santa walking across the front lawn, carrying a sack of goodies and ho-ho-ho-ing! We all took turns sitting on Santa’s lap, telling “him” what we wanted for Christmas – never realizing it was really our sister.

I also have fond memories of singing Christmas carols and putting on skits each year on Christmas Eve. It was a full-fledged Van Kirk family variety show. Some of the more popular skits were repeated annually, but there were usually one or two originals performed each year. I remember the laughs my brother Bill and I got from the audience when we dressed up in our long underwear and sang, “Walking in our winter underwear” to the tune of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” When it came to the part in the song where it says, “Later on, we’ll conspire, as we sit by the fire…,” we changed it to, “Later on, we’ll perspire, as we sit by the fire…,” and wiped the imaginary sweat off our brows.

One of our favorite songs to perform was “Sisters” from White Christmas. All six of us girls would line up with our arms around each other swaying and singing: “Sisters, sisters…never were there such devoted sisters… All kinds of weather, we stick together, the same in the rain or sun…Uh, huh. Six different faces, but in tight places, we think and we act as one…Those who’ve, seen us, know that not a thing can come between us…..”

Recently a friend of mine shared a poignant story from Gerald Bath about a missionary teaching in Africa. Before Christmas he had been telling his native students how Christians, as an expression of their joy, gave one another presents on Christ's birthday.

On Christmas morning, one of the natives brought the missionary a seashell of immense beauty. When asked where he had discovered such an extraordinary shell, the native said he had walked many miles to a certain bay, the only spot where such shells could be found.

“I think it was wonderful of you to travel so far to get this beautiful gift for me," the teacher exclaimed. His eyes brightening, the native answered, "Long walk part of gift."

The Greatest Gift
By Eileen Umbehr

The greatest gift of all
Isn’t diamonds or gold
The greatest gift of all
Never rusts or gets old

The greatest gift of all
Isn’t being wined or dined
The greatest gift of all
Is the easiest to find

The greatest gift of all
Isn’t the latest craze
The greatest gift of all
Lasts more than three days

The greatest gift of all
Can’t be purchased in a store
It comes straight from the heart
And lasts forevermore

Yes, the greatest gift of all
Doesn’t cost a dime
For the greatest gift of all
Is the gift of time.

The Umbehr Family
Christmas 2002

Keen, Eileen, Jared, Erin, Asher & Gabe, Josh & Lisa, Keen II and Kirk Van

Fifty Years of Love

"And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”
~ I Corinthians 13:13

My mother and father-in-law, Jim and Jean Umbehr, were married on the twelfth day of the twelfth month in 1953. Tomorrow they will be celebrating their 50th anniversary. What an amazing milestone. Congratulations, Mom and Dad!

I wonder what their parents thought when they decided to get married. Jim didn't have a job and Jean was still in nursing school. It reminds me of the words to Tanya Tucker's song titled, Two Sparrows in a Hurricane.

Like two sparrows in a hurricane
Trying to find their way
With a head full of dreams
And faith that can move anything
They've heard it's all uphill
But all they know is how they feel
The world says they'll never make it, love says they will.

Jim and Jean have had a very adventurous life together. They had three children - Kihm, Keen and Kevin (that was an adventure right there!). But when their children were small, the oil company Jim worked for transferred him to Africa. They lived in Nigeria and Angola, Africa. Keen said when they played outside, the neighborhood kids used to rub their arms to see if the white would rub off their skin.

Later, the Umbehr family moved to Singapore where they lived for about eight years. What a great experience - growing up overseas. Of course, Keen and I met while we were both attending Singapore American School so our parents watched our love blossom from high school sweethearts to husband and wife. Who would have thunk it?

During our high school years, Keen's parents were always good sports about letting large groups of kids come over to their house. They had this huge, rectangular shaped living room. I remember one time they moved all of their furniture to the edges of the room so we could have a square dance.

The first time Keen and I really met was at the pool where his family lived. A whole group of kids were playing "Marco Polo" until there was no one left in the pool but the two of us. I had a huge crush on Keen, but I didn't think he knew I existed. Needless to say, I was one very happy teenage camper that day.

One time Keen and I got into trouble with both of our parents because we stayed out too late. If we had only known how much turmoil we were going to cause! I remember Keen's parents made him call my mom and apologize for keeping me out so late. My mom was pretty impressed by that, and soon all was forgiven.

Based on the tears shed at our wedding by Keen’s side of the family, I’m not sure his folks were quite ready for us to get married as young as we did (we were both 19). My folks, on the other hand, were grinning from ear to ear. Keen's mom once told me that time seemed to fly when her kids were growing up. Then one day she woke up and said, "Where did everybody go? It was just starting to get fun."

Keen was very blessed with great parents who loved, nurtured and supported him through every phase of his life and I am eternally grateful to them for blessing me with such a wonderful life partner.

Brad Paisley wrote a song titled, "Two People Fell in Love" that seems very fitting.

Every single choice we make,
Every breath we get to take
Is all because two people fell in love

Right now at a picnic shelter down by Canyon Creek
You'll find potato salad, hot dogs and baked beans
The whole Wilson family's lined up filling their paper plates
They drove or flown in here from 15 different states
Stanley Wilson said that sixty years ago he knew
That Miss Sama Tucker was the one
Now five generations get together every June
And all because two people fell in love

Yea there ain't nothing not affected
When two hearts get connected
All that is will be or ever was
I'm glad your dad could not resist
Your mamma's charm and you exist
All because two people fell in love

You know to me it's all so clear
Every one of us is here
All because two people fell in love

Wishing you many more years of love and happiness, Mom and Dad.

She Was My Friend

“A friend loveth at all times….”
~ Proverbs 17:17

Someone once said that strangers are just friends waiting to happen. When we moved to Alma in 1979, I was a newlywed with a baby on the way. Keen’s uncle and aunt lived out in the country, but other than them, I didn’t know a soul. That’s why I was so grateful for the kindness of the widow woman next door who would soon become one of my dearest friends.

Mrs. Florence Thowe (pronounced “Tobie”) made me feel so welcome. I enjoyed her company and she enjoyed mine. We never ran out of things to talk about. Sometimes I’d call to see if she wanted to ride to Manhattan with me, and she always enjoyed getting out of the house and seeing the scenery along the way. Mrs. Thowe was so appreciative of any little thing we did for her. Of course, that only made us want to include her even more. She never put any expectations on our busy, young family. If we had time to visit, great, and if we didn’t, that was fine, too. She was just happy to see us whenever we had the time.

Mrs. Thowe had a big drawer full of toys in her living room from when her kids and/or grandkids were little. Whenever I’d stop by for a visit, the kids would toddle right over to the drawer, pull it open and dig in. Everything was new to them, so it kept them busy and gave us a nice chance to visit.

Mrs. Thowe liked to talk about her children - Kathy, Delores and Joe (a/k/a Jerry), and all of her grandchildren and great grandchildren (I used to know all of their names, too!). Whenever she received new pictures in the mail, she would proudly show them off.

Mrs. Thowe enjoyed being outdoors and going for walks. She had a beautiful yard where she would spend lots of time tending to her flowers.

Mrs. Thowe was a member of a very special group of women who called themselves “The Golden Girls.” They would get together for social gatherings about once a month (if I remember right), and whenever it was someone’s birthday they would all go out for lunch and treat the birthday girl. When Mrs. Thowe turned 90, Keen and I took a van full of the Golden Girls to the nursing home in Olathe where Mrs. Thowe lived. Her children hosted a wonderful luncheon for all of us. It was such a memorable day.

A few weeks before Mrs. Thowe passed away, I went to the nursing home for what I knew would be my last visit with my friend. Although I knew she was unresponsive, I just had to see her one more time. I watched her sleeping for several minutes when she began mumbling some words that I couldn’t understand. After listening closely, I realized that she was repeating the last part of The Our Father prayer. “To Thine be the glory…and the honor….” Tears welled up in my eyes as I wondered, “Could Mrs. Thowe be catching a glimpse of the other side?”

Whatever I witnessed that day, it seemed very special. I walked away with peace in my heart, knowing that this angel on earth would soon be joining the angels in Heaven.

Here’s a poem I wrote in honor of Mrs. Thowe, who would have turned 103 this Sunday.

She was my friend
(For Florence)

I was twenty years old
she was seventy-nine
An unlikely pair
in some people’s minds

But we quickly became
The best of friends
A relationship that lasted
Until the very end

When my kids were little
I would stop by her house
She had a drawer of toys
That kept them quiet as a mouse

Some days we’d take a drive
Other times we’d take a walk
But no matter where we went
We enjoyed a nice long talk

When Florence moved away
Our visits were more rare
But I always kept my friend
In my thoughts and in my prayers.

Then when her 90th birthday came
We surprised her with a celebration
And all the Golden Girls arrived
to say “Congratulations!”

Florence had a heart of gold
That I could not resist
And all the times we spent together
Have been greatly missed.

But I know that she’s in Heaven
where we will meet again,
Until that time, I’d like to say
I’m glad she was my friend.

Me & Mrs Thowe


The Golden Girls