Slowing the Pace

“A calm and undisturbed mind and heart are the life and health of the body…”

~ Proverbs 14:30

I'm in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life's no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I'm in a hurry and don't know why

“I’m in a Hurry” ~ recorded by Alabama

Time got away from me this week and I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off. With my deadline looming less than twenty-four hours away it seemed appropriate for me to share some thoughts on slowing the pace of our life. I realize that’s not an original theme (as if there’s any such thing), but I also realize it’s something we all seem to struggle with, regardless of our age or occupation.

Case in point. Today I received a letter from a friend of mine who is 82 years old. She wrote in part: “I’m sorry if this must be short – at this time of life I’m inundated, swamped or whatever you want to call it with interests, obligations, invitations, aches and pains – so much to do – so little time!”

The continual challenge for me is trying to decipher the difference between the “good” thing to do and the “right” thing to do. Just because an activity is noble, worthy and/or fun, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the best investment of my time. We only have so many hours in the day and most of us have a limited reservoir of energy, so we have to choose our priorities wisely.

When I was in Nevada, I made my book my priority. Consequently, I nearly completed my rough draft – all 425 pages of it – something I’ve been unable to accomplish in the past six years. Since I’ve been home, however, my priorities have shifted and my book has been placed on the back burner once again. So I’ve decided to wait until the students in my family return to the routine of school before I attempt to complete my book project.

Here’s a great quote along these lines. It comes from Philip Humbert, Ph.D.

“Resolve this week to maximize the quality of your life, rather than the quantity of items on your to-do list! Resolve to enjoy every conversation, and to eliminate at least one unnecessary pressure. Say ‘no’ to a few requests; politely decline a couple of invitations. Smell the roses. Notice the sunrise. Feel the grass under your feet. Slow down! Slow down enough to enrich the quality of your life.”

Many years ago, my father gave me a copy of the following poem that he found amongst my mother’s personal things after she passed away.

Take Time
Author Unknown

Take time to THINK…
It is the source of power
Take time to PLAY…
It is the secret of perpetual youth
Take time to READ….
It is the fountain of wisdom
Take time to PRAY…
It is the greatest power on earth
Take time to LOVE and BE LOVED….
It is a God-given privilege
Take time to be FRIENDLY…
It is the road to happiness
Take time to LAUGH…
It is the music of the soul
Take time to GIVE…
It is too short a day to be selfish
Take time to WORK…
It is the price of success
Take time to DO CHARITY…
It is the key to fulfillment

From the time my husband, Keen, was in the seventh grade until he graduated from high school, he spent every summer working with his cousin Jack on the farm his Uncle Keen and Aunt Helen owned near Alma. The hours were long – sunup to sundown – and the work was hard, but Keen so enjoyed the time he spent on the farm.

Several years ago – on August 26, 1991 to be exact – Keen decided to attempt a writing exercise that included some of those cherished memories. This is the result.

Saturday Freedom
By Keen A. Umbehr

Coming back to the farm is an exhilarating feeling of
Saturday freedom. Hiding away from the masses of humanity
becomes a splendid, mind whirling rush. Exploring the
origins of a spring creek becomes my sole purpose. Hearing
the immense quietness astounds me. Smelling frost on God's
forest fills my nostrils as sweet perfume. My mistress
becomes the natural nature of the wild. Humanity is
absent, the wild is free. Wilderness is evolving at its own pace.

I sing out for the trees to hear and I receive a
glorious applause by the rushing of their leaves. A
pristine stream flows by; streaks of silver flash as
minnows bask in the morning sun. Fall leaves paint the
ground like a legion of artists could not. Birds sing
forth like an orchestra. Sunshine, oh glorious sunshine,
blesses everything in it's path.

I am impressed by the smallness of my concerns. I lay
down by the creek...the sound of riffles gently call me to
rest. I shut my eyes...my thoughts slow...sensations dull.

Sweet peace softly enters in.

***********

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.”
~ Sir J. Lubbock

***********

Finally, I’d like to share one of my favorite poems. The author is unknown.

Slow Dance
Author unkown

Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You’d better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last

Do you run through each day on the fly
When you ask "How are you?"
do you hear the reply?

When the day is done
do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
running through your head?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last.

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not seen his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
'Cause you never had time
to call and say "Hi"?

You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It's like an unopened gift...
Thrown away...

Life's not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

“My desire is to have you free from all anxiety and distressing care.”

~ I Corinthians 7:32

A “before and after” shot taken in 1980 by our former neighbor, Carmen Bloomfield

The Next Generation

“And He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers…..”

Malachi 4:6 (RSV)

I used to love to walk behind my Daddy
As he plowed our garden every spring
My little bare feet in the dirt would make me happy
As he talked about what harvest time would bring

He was sowin' love...for the family
He was sowin' love...he took a little extra time
Looking forward to a bountiful harvest
Like a good father does...he was sowin' love

“Sowin’ Love” ~ recorded by Paul Overstreet

Recently I came across this excerpt from one of my journals that seemed fitting to share this Father’s Day. The date was October 31, 1988.

Sunday afternoon Keen was tired and wanted to take a nap but he said he’d been feeling like Jared needed some special time to be with just him. So after lunch, Josh and Keener went down for naps and Keen & Jared drove out to the land Keen’s folks own. They had such a fun time together. They shot the gun, played hide & seek and even had a dry cow pie fight. What a day! Jared thanked Keen over and over for taking him out.

Then when they got home Keen orchestrated the carving of the pumpkins. We had 2 big ones and 4 little ones. Keen carved a question mark in the littlest pumpkin for the baby on the way. It looked so cute all lit up at the end of the line.

I wanted to record the activities of this weekend partly to remember what a great father Keen has been. He’s so devoted to meeting the needs of every person in the family. I think he’s the greatest. He’s a super Dad and a super husband.

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

Our boys were very blessed to have a father who gave them 100% when they were growing up. Even though he was always physically drained after hauling trash, he still took time to wrestle and play with them. On the weekends, he would try to do something special like take them fishing, roller skating, or to the park or a movie. Their all time favorite summertime activity was jumping into the creek from a rope swing.

Now Keen is continuing the tradition by being a wonderful grandfather to the next generation of Umbehr boys – our two grandsons, Asher William and Gabriel Michael. Asher and Gabe spent six days with us last week, along with our daughter-in-law Erin, who was on a break from nursing school. Unfortunately, Jared wasn’t able to join us because he’s currently attending radio communications school at the naval base in Virginia Beach.

When the boys arrived, the first thing they noticed was the 8 x 10 picture of their family hanging on our living room wall. Asher, who is 4 ½, proceeded to identify everyone in the picture. He said, “That’s my Daddy….he’s bald.” When I told Jared about it he said Asher made it sound as if being bald was his latest and greatest accomplishment. “He’s been bald for about two years now; we’re very proud of him.” Later on when Asher saw his dad’s high school graduation picture he said, “That’s my Daddy with hair on!”

Asher and Gabe share many of the same facial features, but that’s where the similarities end. While Asher is somewhat finicky when it comes to eating (he even told me he was “allergic” to several items on a buffet line), Gabe will eat anything you put in front of him. Consequently, Asher is more lean and Gabe looks like a little football player. Their mannerisms are like night and day, too. Asher is docile, easy going and soft spoken –except when you ask him to repeat something (“I said…!”). Gabe, on the other hand, is a little firecracker who only has one gear – full speed ahead! He’s also very curious and knows no fear – which can be a dangerous combination for a twenty-month old who’s going on twenty. I get the feeling that Gabe just wishes everyone would recognize his vast capabilities and let him rule the world!

The two of them together remind me so much of Jared & Josh when they were little – two peas in a pod. Of course they have their squabbles, like all siblings, but most of the time they are very loving and considerate toward each other. One time Gabe was hugging Asher around the neck for so long that I had to ask Erin if it was a hug or a choke hold!

It’s been a long time since we’ve had little ones running around the house and I must admit to feeling a little rusty. It’s a bit of a shock to the system to return to the hectic days of diaper changes, bath time, spilled milk and toys scattered throughout the house. But we had lots of help from the whole family and everyone enjoyed making the most of the time we had with them. On Friday we all piled in the Durango and headed for Gage Park to swim in the pool and ride the carousel.

I honestly don’t know how Erin juggles the demands of school and being both mommy and daddy while Jared is in the Navy, but she’s doing a great job. She’s earning a 3.9 in nursing school and a 4.0 in parenting and raising two happy, well-adjusted little boys.

I’d like to close by sharing this poem my mom sent me when my kids were small.

The Image
Author Unknown

There are little eyes upon you
And they’re watching night and day
There are little ears that quickly
Take in every word you say

There are little hands all eager
To do anything you do
And the little boy who’s dreaming
Of the day he’ll be like you

You’re the little fellow’s idol
You’re the wisest of the wise
In his little mind about you
No suspicions ever rise

He believes in you devoutly
Holds what you say and do
He will say and do in your way
When he’s grown-up like you

There’s a wide-eyed little fellow
Who believes you’re always right
And his ears are always open
And he watches day and night

You are setting an example
Everyday in all you do
For the little boy who’s waiting
To grow up and be like you.

Grandpa Keen with Asher and Gabe

Picture of Contentment

“Now godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content.”

~ I Timothy 6:6-8 (NKJV)

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera…
what will be, will be

“Que Sera, Sera” ~ performed by Doris Day

A few weeks ago I received the nicest letter from a woman by the name of Rebecca Miller of Council Grove. (Rebecca writes the Wilsey news for The Council Grove Republican.) She wanted to let me know that she had been getting acquainted with me by reading my column in The Prairie Post. “It’s my opinion that you are a talented writer, and I enjoy reading what you write. Keep on writing.”

Her letter was a great source of encouragement to me, but nothing could compare with the joy of meeting Rebecca and visiting with her face to face. Coincidentally, she lives right across the street from The Cottage House where Keen and I went to celebrate our 26th anniversary. Although I only spent an hour with Rebecca, she made a very strong impression on me.

Rebecca Miller was born in November, 1919 at her grandparents’ home southwest of White City, Kansas. She spent the first 50 years of her life on farms around Wilsey, raising cattle, hogs and chickens and tending her garden. The next 30 years she lived in the town of Wilsey. After her house burned down several years ago, Rebecca moved to an apartment in Council Grove. She never complained about the fire, instead, she chose to maintain a positive outlook. “Maybe it turned out for the best for me to move into Council Grove,” she stated.

Rebecca loves her apartment and all her neighbors. “Nobody goes by Mr. or Mrs. here,” she explained. “We all just go by our first names.” I’m sure her neighbors love her, too. She’s known as “The Cookie Lady” because of the cookies and treats she bakes for the other residents and mail carriers. She gave me some of her delicious applesauce cookies when I visited.

In the short time I spent with Rebecca, I learned that she has some very strong opinions. She never married (“I don’t feel sorry for myself one little bit”), and she stated very plainly that she doesn’t want to be called a spinster. “You can call me an old maid, but don’t call me a spinster!” she explained. I told her that I wouldn’t think of calling her either one! Rebecca also dislikes the title “Ms.” She prefers to be addressed by her first name or by Miss Miller. “When I get free address labels that say Ms. Rebecca Miller, I just use my other ones. I have plenty of labels so I don’t need to use them.”

Rebecca has an ailment which prevents her from standing upright. She calls it “the Harmon stoop” since several members of her family were inflicted with it, too. But she doesn’t let it bother her or hold her back. Instead, she talks about how grateful she is that she doesn’t suffer from arthritis and how blessed she is to have perfect eyesight, without the need for glasses. With Rebecca, it seems the glass is always half full.

Rebecca proudly told me all about her sister, Jane Dixon, who also lives in Council Grove and is 17 years her junior. “She’s so good to me,” she said. “She takes me to the grocery store and I just hand her my list. She’s much taller than I ever was so she can reach the items on the shelf. Then she carries them to my apartment for me. All I do is push the cart and write the check.”

When Rebecca was in high school, she wanted to learn how to play the violin in the worst way. But times were tough and her family couldn’t afford to pay $12.50 for a violin. Then one day she overheard a boy at school talking about how he sold his violin to another girl, but she had never paid him. Rebecca asked the boy how much he was selling it for and he told her $5.00. Somehow her family managed to scrape together enough money to buy the violin. “The music teacher wasn’t very happy with me for buying the violin away from the other girl, because she had more musical talent than I did,” Rebecca said. “But she bought another violin later, so everything worked out fine.”

Rebecca remarked that God didn’t give her the talent to sing or play music by ear, but thankfully He gave her the talent to read music and play the violin. “The talents I don’t have make me more understanding of others who can’t do certain things, and the talents I do have make me grateful for the gifts God did give me,” she said.

When I asked Rebecca if she would play a tune for me, she agreed and proceeded to play a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace. She enjoys playing for her church in Wilsey where she taught Sunday school for many years. But I was very surprised to learn that Rebecca is still using the same violin her parents bought for her so many years ago for $5.00. Now that’s a picture of contentment!

Someone once said that joy, like sorrow, is infectious. Spending an hour with Rebecca Miller would brighten anyone’s day.

May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

~ An Irish friendship wish

Taking a Stand

“Open your mouth for the …rights of all who are left desolate and defenseless; Open your mouth, judge righteously, and administer justice for the poor and needy.”

~ Proverbs 31:8,9

Now Daddy didn't like trouble, but if it came along
Everyone that knew him knew which side that he'd be on
He never was a hero, or this county's shinin' light
But you could always find him standing up
For what he thought was right

He'd say you've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything
You've got to be your own man, not a puppet on a string
Never compromise what's right and uphold your family name
You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything

“You’ve got to stand for something” ~ recorded by Aaron Tippin

“To say what you think will certainly damage you in society;
but a free tongue is worth more than a thousand invitations.”

~ Logan Pearsall Smith, writer, c. 1930

Last Monday, May 17th, I was one of the thousands of people who had the privilege of attending the grand opening of the Brown v. Board of Education National Historic Site, commemorating the 50th Anniversary of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision overturning the “separate but equal” doctrine. Several dignitaries also attended the ceremony, including President George W. Bush.

It was a fitting celebration for the landmark case which clearly established that separate educational facilities were “inherently unequal", thus violating the 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution which guarantees all citizens equal protection under the law.

Later that evening, Keen and I attended the powerful production of “Now Let Me Fly” at the Topeka Performing Arts Center. The play was written by award winning Topeka playwright, Marcia Cebulska and depicted various scenes in locations such as a barbershop, school auditorium, burned down church and a courthouse during the years leading up to the Brown v. Board decision. “They were regular, most of them were working-class people," Cebulska said of people involved in the case. "They stood up for what they believed. They took extraordinary risks. I think that's inspiring for us." (The Topeka-Capital Journal, February 13, 2004)

“Courage means going against majority opinion in the name of truth.”
~ Vaclav Havel, Czech playright, 2000

Ordinary people – just like you and me – changed the way an entire class of people would be treated. They knew in their hearts that they weren’t any different than their white neighbors. They knew in their hearts that it was inherently wrong for their children to be forced to walk clear across town past other schools to attend a dilapidated old schoolhouse. They knew that their facilities were not separate and equal, as the law required, but rather separate and unequal. But most felt powerless to do anything about it. Those few who took the risk and fought for what they believed in made a huge difference – not just for their children, but for black children everywhere.

Barbara Rose Johns from Farmville, Virginia, was one of those courageous teenagers who led a student strike in the fight for integrated schools. “It was something I just had to do,” she explained. Death threats later forced her to leave the state. The following is an excerpt of Barbara’s thoughts taken from the script of Now Let Me Fly.

Every morning I get on a bus thrown away by the white high school on the hill. I sit on a torn seat and look out a broken window. And when my bus passes the shiny new bus that the white high schoolers have, I hide my face 'cause I'm embarrassed in my raggedy bus. And when we get to R. R. Moton High, the bus driver gets off with us, 'cause he's also our history teacher. He comes in the classroom and fires up the stove and I sit in my winter coat waiting for the room to get warm. You know the rooms, the ones in the "addition" as they call it. We call them "the tar paper shacks" because that's what they are, am I right? I'm embarrassed that I go to school in tar paper shacks and when it rains I have to open an umbrella so the leaks from the roof won't make the ink run on my paper. And later in the day I have a hygiene class out in that broken-down bus and a biology class in a corner of the auditorium with one microscope for the whole school. I'm embarrassed that our water fountains are broken and our wash basins are broken and it seems our whole school is broken and crowded and poor…

But my embarrassment is nothing compared to my hunger. I'm not talking about my hunger for food, though it would be right nice to have a cafeteria with lunch instead of just sticky buns like we get. No, I'm hungry for those shiny books they have up at Farmville High. I want the page of the Constitution that is torn out of my social studies book. I want a chance at that "Romeo and Juliet" I've heard about but they tell me I'm not fit to read.

Our teachers say we can fly just as high as anyone else. That's what I want to do. Fly just as high. I said, fly. You know, I've been sitting in my embarrassment and my hunger for so long that I forgot about standing up. So, today, I'm going to ask you to stand with me. Before we fly, before we fly just as high as anyone else, we gotta walk just as proud as anyone else. And that's what we're going to do! We're gonna walk out of this school and over to the court house. Do you hear me? We're gonna walk with our heads high and go talk to the school board. Are you with me? We're gonna walk out in a strike, yes, I said strike, and we won't come back until we get a real school with a gymnasium and library and whole books. And we will get them. And it'll be grand. Are you with me? Are we gonna walk? Are we gonna fly?”

The man who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd. The man who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one else has ever been.”
~ Alan Ashley-Pitt, author

STANDING TALL
By Eileen Umbehr

When right is wrong
and wrong is right
Do you run and hide,
or embark on a fight?

If you run, you avoid
a prolonged struggle
No conflict, no worries
no lawyer bills to juggle.

But change doesn't happen
when your head's in the sand
It takes courage and commitment
to take a stand.

What would have happened
if Rosa Parks had backed down?
Would we all be equal,
black, white & brown?

Sticking your neck out
indeed, has it's price
It is rarely popular
and involves sacrifice.

Your critics will be many
your supporters few
But hold on to your dreams
and one day they'll come true.

“In Germany they came first for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew....Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up.”

~ Protestant minister Martin Neimoller reflecting upon Germany’s fall to the Nazis

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing " ~ Edmund Burke (1729-1797)

Death’s Sting

“Now also we would not have you ignorant, brethren, about those who fall asleep in death, that you may not grieve for them, as the rest do who have no hope beyond the grave.For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will also bring with Him through Jesus those who have fallen asleep in death.”

~ I Thessalonians 4:13,14

When old folks die
I don’t cry
It’s time

But when the young ones go
It grieves me so

Who can count the cost
Of a young life lost?

The sharpest sorrow
Is for what might have been

Author Unknown

Although I did not know the 29-year-old man who was tragically killed in an auto accident near Alta Vista last week, I do know that he was somebody’s son…. and husband…. and father.

My condolences go out to this young man’s family. It grieves me to think about the depth of their anguish and pain.

I would like to share the following poem which I wrote exactly one year ago in honor of several people from our area who left this world far too soon.

Too soon gone
By Eileen Umbehr

This is a tribute
to those who’ve passed on
Before their time
Too soon gone

No one was ready
To say good-bye
Because they were all
Too young to die

Anthony, Jason and Tracy, too
How will your families live without you?

Javier, Ted, Dickie and Veryl
Why did they have to leave this world?

Jack, Norman, Galen and John
Why are they too soon gone?

There is still a void
where you used to be
An empty spot
on your family’s tree

But even though
you were too soon gone
In our hearts
your memory lives on

You are not only missed
by those who loved you
But by those of us
in the community, too.

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

He Listened
By Joseph Bayly

(Written after he laid three of his sons in the grave)

I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God’s dealing, of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He talked constantly; he said things I knew were true. I was unmoved except to wish he’d go away. He finally did.

Another came and sat beside me. He just sat beside me for an hour and more, listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go.

From Stories of the Heart ~ by Alice Gray


“Now may the Lord of peace Himself grant you His peace… at all times and in all ways – under all circumstances and conditions, whatever comes. The Lord be with you all.”

~ II Thessalonians 3:16

Like Mother, Like Daughter

“Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her; “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.”

~ Proverbs 31:28, 29 (RSV)

One day shy of eight years old
My grandma passed away
I was a broken hearted little boy
Blowing out that birthday cake

And how I cried when the sky let go
With a cold and lonesome rain
Mama smiled said "Don't be sad child
Grandma's watching you today."

Cause there's holes in the floor of heaven
And her tears are pouring down
That's how you know she's watchin'
Wishing she could be here now

And sometimes if you're lonely
Just remember she can see
Cause there's holes in the floor of heaven and
She's watchin' over you and me
“Holes in the floor of Heaven” by Billy Kirsch and Steve Warner

I’d like to dedicate this column to my mother, Margaret (Peggy) Van Kirk, who died from breast cancer fifteen years ago on May 7, and to my sister Peggy, who was named after her. Sadly, Mom passed away one day after Peggy’s 40th birthday.

We all miss her terribly, but as the mother of nine (six girls and three boys), she left us the greatest gift of all…..each other.

Moms – God’s Angels on Earth
Author Unknown

The child asked God, "They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to survive, being so small and helpless?"

"Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you."

The child further inquired, "But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy."

God said, "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel's love and be very happy."

Again the child asked, "How am I going to be able to understand people when they talk to me if I don't know the language?"

God said, "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."

"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to You?"

God said, "Your angel will place your hands together and teach you how to pray."

"Who will protect me?"

"Your angel will defend you even if it means risking her own life."

"But I will always be sad because I will not see You anymore."

God said, "Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to Me, even though I will always be with you."

At that moment there was much peace in heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, "God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."

The Lord leaned down and whispered softly in the child’s ear. “You will simply call her Mom."

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

The Anchor
By Eileen Umbehr

The Anchor of our family
sadly passed way
in 1989
on the 7th day of May

She was our dear mother
Peggy was her name
And ever since she left us
We’ve never been the same

She loved all nine of her kids
And she loved all their kids, too
Mom never stopped giving to others
It was all she ever knew
But the cancer took her from us
After seven years of pain
We grieved, but then we knew
She would never hurt again

Now our family has a new Anchor
Her name is Peggy, too
She is our oldest sister
Who loves us through and through

She’s always there when we need her
To lend a helping hand
She’s so much like our mother,
She truly was well named

Even when we were little
She was kind and never mean
And every year on our birthday
She took us to Dairy Queen

Now that we are older
She never misses a chance
To do for us what our mom would have done
No matter the circumstance

When one of our sisters got cancer
Peg was the one to be by her side
And when our very first grandson was born
She came to see him and share in our pride.

Now that her birthday is upon us
I think I can safely say
Everyone in our family
Thanks God for our Anchor this day.

My Mom with Jared – 6 days old & my sister, Peggy with Jared’s firstborn, Asher

Our Soldier

“It is right that I should feel as I do … for you have a very special place in my heart… God knows how much I love you….” ~ Philippians 1:7,8 (NLT)

And I will always do my duty,
no matter what the price,
I've counted up the cost,
I know the sacrifice.

Oh, and I don't want to die for you,
but if dyin’s asked of me,
I'll bear that cross with honor
‘cause freedom don't come free.

I'm an American soldier, an American
Beside my brothers and my sisters, I will proudly take a stand,
When liberty's in jeopardy, I will always do what's right,
I'm out here on the front lines, sleep in peace tonight.
I'm an American Soldier…an American.
“American Soldier” performed by Toby Keith

On May 10th, our firstborn son, Jared Joseph, will turn twenty-five years old. Jared has always been the light of our life, and now he is the light of his wife’s life (Erin) – and their two sons (Asher and Gabriel).

Jared graduated from Wabaunsee High School in 1997 and attended Kansas State University for about a year and a half. After concluding that he hated school, and school hated him, his Grandpa Van Kirk suggested that he might want to consider going into the military. Jared was adamantly opposed to the idea, as evidenced by his declaration that he would rather pull his fingernails out one by one than join the armed forces.

But then September 11th happened and everything changed. With Erin’s support, Jared decided to enlist in the United States Navy.

No one was more surprised than we were by Jared’s announcement. I asked him what when through his mind when he made the decision to enlist, and he replied, “When I saw those planes hit the towers and realized our country under attack, I just felt like every generation has their war to fight and this is our generation’s turn.” We were never prouder of our son than we were at that moment.

This is a poem I wrote after Jared had been in the Navy for about a year.

Where’s Daddy, Grandma?
By Eileen Umbehr

The other day I was talking
on the phone
with our three-year-old grandson,
who lives in Ohio

He was telling me about the snow,
and his little brother, Gabe
and about the paper airplane,
his other grandma made

When all of a sudden,
out of the blue
he asked me a question,
so innocent and true

“Where’s Daddy, Grandma?”
he asked me point blank
tears filled my eyes,
and my heart just sank

How do I explain,
that his daddy went away
to fight for our country –
that’s why he couldn’t stay

He’s too young to understand,
that when Daddy saw the towers burn
He said, “Every generation has their war to fight,
and this is our generation’s turn.”

So I just tried to keep it simple,
but his little voice sounded so sad
“He had to go back to the Navy?
I’m gonna miss my Dad.”

Yes, those who serve our country,
aren’t the only ones who sacrifice;
it’s their spouses and their children,
who also pay a heavy price

But we are proud of our son,
and his wife and children, too
Because the price they pay for freedom,
they pay for me and you.

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

Jared is an E-5 in Special Forces; specifically, he is a Special Warfare Combatant Craft Crewman (SWCCC). Their duties involve the insertion and extraction of Navy Seals. At his graduation ceremony in Coronado, California last June, Jared was selected as “honor man” and received special recognition for his academic and physical achievement, positive attitude and determination during the rigorous training.

Jared’s task unit is officially deployable now, having just completed the final phase of their training. For obvious reasons, we are hoping that he doesn’t see active combat; however, he is hoping that he does. He said it might be hard for us to understand, but after spending three years of his life training, he wants the opportunity to put what he learned to use. “I didn’t join the Navy to sit behind a desk,” he said. “I really didn’t.” So we have to put Jared in God’s hands and pray that he and all the other American soldiers will be protected from harm.

The journals I kept when Jared was a young boy repeatedly make reference to what a tenderhearted child he was. I remember when Josh came along everyone warned us that Jared might become jealous. But that was never the case. Even though Jared was only 2 years old, he was always very nurturing with Josh. He would hold him in the rocking chair and say, “Ahhhh, baby Josh.” One time I was carrying Josh while he was crying and Jared tried to cheer him up by dancing around and acting silly. “Is he happy now, Mom?” he asked.

One night when he was three years old Keen and I were sitting and talking and Jared just looked over at us and said, “I want to give you a kiss and a hug, kids.” When we told him he was special he said, “You’re special, too, mommy and daddy.” He used to love wrestling with his Dad. He’d say, “Hey Dad – you wanna razzle dazzle me?”

When Jared was about six years old he said, “It’ll be kind of sad when I grow up and become a father and you’ll have to let me go. But you’ll still have Josh cuz he has a ways to go yet before he grows up.”

Here’s an excerpt from when Jared was 8 years old. He had just spent his own money to buy me a “gold” quartz watch ring for my 29th birthday. I was so touched, I just cried and cried.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not, Mom. But you really like it a lot, I can see. I thought about getting this necklace with colored beads but then I didn’t think that would be too neat. Then I was gonna buy you this thing you put in your hair that looks like a knife is going through your head. I thought that would be kind of unusual. But then I decided you’d like the ring best. You know, it looked like something a woman would like to wear – so delicate – and when another woman saw it she’d wish she had one.”

August 11, 1989 (age 10)

Today Jared came up to me and said, “Wait. I want to see how tall I am up to you. Look, I’m up to your neck.” When I told him that he was going to pass me up pretty soon, he said, “Yeah. Then you’ll have to look up to me and see how I felt when I was a little kid.”

I’ve always looked up to you, Jared…
and I always will.

P.S. This is something I wrote for Jared & Josh in 1997

To Jared & Josh on their 18th & 16th Birthdays



In this picture, you were one and three
Two peas in a pod, so full of glee.

Now you're young men and fully grown
Where have the years gone? My, how they've flown.

Your father and I love you, more than words can say
And we wish you all life's best, on your special birthdays.

Love,

Mom & Dad

Jared Joseph Umbehr
Born May 10, 1979

Our Entrepreneur

“And whatsoever ye do, do [it] heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward…..” ~ Colossians 3:23,24

“Doing your own thing is a generous act. Being gifted creates obligations, which means you owe the world your best effort at the work you love. You too are a natural resource.”

~ Barbara Sher (1795 - 1881) Scottish essayist, historian

Ever since our son Josh was a little boy, he’s been talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up – everything from jumping out of airplanes to being in the circus. “I’ll have a buddy who will tie me up and see if I can get out,” he’d say.

One day when he was about four or five years old, he decided he wanted to try to earn money as a bed maker. “If you want to, you have to sign up with me and pay me,” he explained. I guess he figured that would be a service everyone could use. He even knocked on a few doors around our neighborhood, but when he didn’t have any takers, he was so dejected he laid his head on his daddy’s chest for the longest time. When his older brother Jared walked in the room and proceeded to tell his dad what happened, Josh blurted out, “I know Jared! Don’t make me thadder!”

Another time he told me he was going to have a stand that sold things for Halloween. Then when Halloween was over, he would sell Christmas things, and in the summer he would change it into a fruit stand.

One day Josh asked whether you get paid money for being a dad. I said, “No, you become a dad when you have children and you work at a job to earn money.” Then I asked him if he was going to have kids when he grew up (despite the fact that he wouldn’t get paid for it).

“Yep,” he answered. “Two. Cindy and Lucy. Cindy will be the girl and Lucy will be a boy.”

Here are a few other examples from a journal I kept when Josh was growing up.

“I can’t wait until I’m in high school so I can take daddy’s place in the trash truck. But he’ll have to teach me how to drive it and tell me what all the parts are so when one breaks apart I’ll know which one to buy to fix it. He’ll have to teach me how to use everything in the shop, too. But I don’t have to go to college to learn how to be a trash man – Dad can just teach me how.”

*******

“Mom, you know what I’m gonna be when I grow up? A showfolk.”

*******

“I might go to the Air Force with Jared or whatever job he goes to I might go with him. I’d move into a huge house right next to him so we’d be neighbors. I’d move when he moves. I’ll know when he’s moving when I see a For Sale sign in the yard.”

*******

“I want to be an artist and be rich and I’ll give you guys some money. Maybe one or two bucks, if I make that much. I’ll ride around on my motorcycle selling my pictures. But I won’t just sell pictures; I’ll sell crayons, markers, paints, paint brushes and paper.”

*******

“There are so many jobs I just don’t know which one to choose.” I told him he just had to be a kid now and he won’t have to decide for a long time.

Well, a long time has passed and Josh isn’t a kid any more – on April 15, he’ll celebrate his 23rd birthday. After weighing all the possibilities, Josh finally settled on becoming a doctor. Here’s an excerpt from a letter he wrote describing his first few weeks at medical school:

In the morning, a faculty person and an M2 (second year medical student) both talked about the reason why we are here. Not the grades or the glory, but for the patients – the patients at the KU hospital now and the patients we will see ourselves in the future. They said that although the grades are important, the real reason we are here is to know, understand, and be able to remember and use the information we learn to provide the best treatment that we can— and that the patients are the greatest teachers that we have. Our professors can teach us about the science of medicine, but only the patients can really teach us the ‘art’ of medicine.
They really seem to have a lot of respect for the patients and the whole healthcare team. They talked a lot about being respectful of the entire healthcare staff like nurses and physical therapists, and pharmacists and CNA's. One student said: “Respect those nurses because they WILL know stuff that you won’t because they have different training than you do, and rely on them because they are well-trained professionals.” I was really glad to hear that they focus so much on respecting nurses, especially since Lisa will be a nurse soon. I know she was happy to hear this when I told her about my day.

It was great having you, dad, and Kirk over the other night – Lisa and I loved it. Maybe we can do it again and take you guys out around KC.

Love,

Josh

Before I conclude this birthday tribute to Josh, I have to write about what a loving son he has always been. One night when he was almost five years old, I attended a Christmas Cantata at a church in Alma. When I came home, all the boys were asleep with the exception of Josh. He said, “Me and Jared missed you, Mom.” Then he started whispering, “Jared, Jared.” When I asked him what he was doing he said, “I want to tell Jared you’re home.” Keen said I had only been gone a few minutes when they were both asking, “Where’s Mommy? When will Mommy be home?”

Some of his other memorable remarks were:
“Mom, you know how much I love you? One hundred per cent!”
“Mom, you’re the best mom I ever had”
“I love you with all my love.”

One day he was heading off to kindergarten and as he walked out the door he turned around to blow me a kiss. So I kissed him and said, “Josh, you are the sweetest, kindest, most loveable boy in the whole world.” He replied, “I’m just filled with love!”

I’d like to close with a poem Josh wrote for Keen and me when he was a 17-year-old high school senior, living on his own in Manhattan.

I can't pay you for the things you do
All the milk and cleaning too

When I'm at my worst
You're always there to hug me tight
Then share with me your wisdom
And lead me back to your light

I know it wasn't easy for you to let me go
My how God blessed us so
He's given us the courage to try something new
And through it all, HIS strength has shown through

To be loved by you is such a wonderful thing
You'll never know, how much joy, to me, it brings
I wish DAD the best of luck in Law School
And pray MOM'S book will be a best seller

But no matter what you'll always be the best parents in the whole wide world.

The end

LOVE,

JOSH

On your birthday, Josh, we thank God for blessing us with the wonder of you. It’s been our privilege to watch you grow from a young boy into such a fine man and loving husband. We know that those whose lives you touch will be equally blessed by your special gifts.

“Therefore we also pray always for you that our God would count you worthy of this calling …that the name of our Lord Jesus Christ may be glorified in you, and you in Him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

~ II Thessalonians 1:11, 12 (NKJV)

With all our love,

Mom & Dad

P.S. This is something I wrote last year for Josh’s 22nd birthday

Just Yesterday

Our second-born son just turned twenty-two
Could that be possible? Could that be true?

Didn’t he just learn how to walk?
Didn’t he just learn how to talk?
Wasn’t he just in his pre-school play?

Wasn’t that just yesterday?

Didn’t he just lose his front tooth?
Didn’t he just make friends with Travis Guth?
Didn’t he just celebrate his 8th birthday?

Wasn’t that just yesterday?

Didn’t he just learn how to ride a bike?
Didn’t his dad and brothers just build their own kite?
Didn’t he just get his license last May?

Wasn’t that just yesterday?

Now he’s graduating from college and off to med school
And in July he’ll marry his precious jewel

Didn’t we just bring him home from the hospital that day?

Wasn’t that just yesterday?

Joshua Jim Umbehr
Born April 15, 1981

Miraculous Provision

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"

~ Matthew 6:25-27

The other night I was watching “It’s a Miracle” on PAX TV – a half hour program hosted by Roma Downey – and they shared the story about a woman who had been recently divorced and was struggling to make ends meet. One Thanksgiving morning she awoke feeling desperate and afraid because she only had two hot dogs left to feed herself and her two little boys. But she wanted to try to make the day as special as possible, so they all went to the park and had a cookout. On their way home, the boys were complaining that they were still hungry. Then, just as they were climbing the stairs to their apartment, a kind little old lady emerged from the apartment below. “Sweetie,” the woman said, “I’ve prepared a Thanksgiving meal and I’d like to invite you and your boys to join me.” The young family was overjoyed by the invitation. Once they entered the apartment, they couldn’t believe their eyes. The table was beautifully set with a complete Thanksgiving feast. They enjoyed the turkey with all the trimmings, and the woman even sent them home with enough leftovers to last for a week.

The true magnitude of the miracle wasn’t realized until a few days later when the young mother went to the woman’s apartment to return her leftover dishes. When nobody answered the door, she peeked in the window and was astonished to see that the apartment was completely empty. She went straight to the landlord’s apartment to inquire about the woman in the downstairs apartment. The landlord seemed bewildered as he explained that the apartment had been vacant for over two months.

“In all my 57 years,” the woman explained, “that hour and a half of unconditional love changed my life more than any other single event.”

As a result of her experience, the woman decided to devote her life to working with the homeless and went on to win a presidential award for her work.

**********

There is a similar story of miraculous provision in one of my favorite books, Where Angels Walk by Joan Wester Anderson. In September of 1944, Kenneth Ware and his wife Suzie were living in Switzerland with their son when they found themselves penniless. So Suzie decided to pray very specifically. She told God that she needed “…five pounds of potatoes, two pounds of pastry flour, apples, pears, a cauliflower, carrots, veal cutlets for Saturday, and beef for Sunday.”

Just a few hours later Suzie heard a knock on their door. When she answered it, she saw a man standing in the doorway carrying a basket of groceries. He was between thirty and forty years old, “…over six feet tall and strong looking, with blue eyes, white-blond hair, and a long blue apron over his work clothes.” He seemed radiant and glowing.

“Mrs. Ware,” the gentleman announced, “I’m bringing you what you asked for.”

“There must be some mistake,” Suzie replied. “I have not ordered anything.” She thought perhaps he had come to the wrong apartment.

The man ignored her question and repeated his former statement. “I am bringing what you asked for.” Then he walked back to the kitchen and emptied the basket. There on the table were the exact items Suzie had requested from God that very morning. She was in utter shock.

“I turned to apologize, to explain that I hadn’t a coin to give him, but his look of reproach sealed my lips.”

**********

Throughout our lifetime, Keen and I have seen God miraculously provide for our needs time and time again. Back in 1979, when Keen was working for the Wabaunsee County Weed Department and his take home pay was only $688.00/month, it wasn’t easy to make the money stretch. Just a few days before I was due to deliver our firstborn child, I was crying at the kitchen table, wondering how we were going to make it. It was only the 7th day of the month and after paying all of our bills, we were already out of money. So Keen told me to repeat this one Bible verse over and over. “My God shall supply all my needs according to His riches in glory.” (Philippians 4:19) It wasn’t easy, but I did it.

This time God chose my mother to be His angel on earth. When Mom arrived to help care for Jared, she noticed the bare cupboards and graciously filled them.
Here’s a poem I wrote to thank Mom for everything she did for us that week.

The day you left, Keen and I prayed,
and asked the Lord to show us a way
That we could show you how we appreciate
All you did for us during your stay.

You gave me security in my newfound role,
You built my confidence day by day.
Just knowing you were in the next room, Mom
Made all my fears go away.

You cooked all our meals and washed all our clothes,
You did dishes from morning till night;
You showed me how to give Jared a bath,
So now I’m doing it right.

You bought us many groceries, which we surely did need,
And with them you kept us well fed;
And on those mornings when I needed my rest,
You even brought me breakfast in bed!

You helped me burp Jared, when my arms grew so weary,
And you cleaned him up when he messed;
You stayed up with me for those late night feedings,
Mom, you were just the best!

You bought us all those things at K-Mart that day,
And you even cleaned our house.
I couldn’t have done it without you, Mom
For I was as weak as a mouse.

We can’t fail to mention all the joy that you brought us,
Just by your company;
One night we watched a Snoopy special,
And the next night we played Monopoly.

You “oohed and ahhed” over Jared all day,
Just like a grandma should do;
You made us so proud of our little son,
That we even chimed in, too.

You took us to dinner for chicken that night,
What a treat for both Keen and me;
It was just such fun having you, Mom,
You were a part of our family.

Although you did many other things,
I think we will close it here,
By saying we love you and thank you, Mom,
To our hearts you will always be dear.

In the Old Testament there is a story about a widow woman who was down to her last little bit of oil and flour. She entreated the prophet Elisha to help her, lest her sons be sold into slavery to satisfy her debts. Elisha instructed the woman to borrow as many vessels as she could from all her neighbors and start filling them with oil. Miraculously, the oil multiplied until all the vases were full.

“Then she came and told the man of God. And he said, Go, sell the oil, and pay your debt, and you and your sons live on the rest.” ~ II Kings 4:1-7

That reminds me of the New Testament story about Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fishes to feed the multitudes. Sometime later, the disciples once again became worried about how they were going to feed the crowds. Jesus said:

“Do you not remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many small hand baskets you gathered? Nor the seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many large provision baskets you took up?”

~ Matthew 16:8-10

In closing, I’d like to share a story which talks about the way God supernaturally provided for Moses and the Israelites in the desert.

"I have led you forty years in the wilderness; your clothes have not worn out upon you, and your sandals have not worn off your feet.... that you might recognize and know [your dependence on Him who is saying], I am the Lord your God."

~ Deuteronomy 29:5, 6b

After escaping from slavery in Egypt, Moses and the Israelites journeyed in the desert for forty years. According to the Quartermaster General in the Army, Moses would have needed 1500 tons of food and 11,000,000 gallons of water each day to provide for the needs of 2 -3 million people. God alone provided their needs by sending manna from Heaven and water from the flinty rock. Then they had to cross the Red Sea, which required a pretty major miracle right there. Moses couldn’t possibly have thought all this out before he left Egypt. He simply obeyed God’s command and told Pharaoh to let his people go; then he trusted God with all the details.

If God provided for all their needs forty years in the wilderness, then He is more than able to take care of all of our needs, too.

“…He Himself has said, I will not in any way fail you nor give you up nor leave you without support. I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree leave you helpless, nor forsake you nor let you down, relax My hold on you. Assuredly not!”

~ Hebrews 13:5 (Amplified)

Kirk Van, Our Little Man

“For I was my father’s son, tender and beloved in the sight of my mother.”

~ Proverbs 4:3

We shared the same last name and the same color eyes
But we fought like tigers over that old red bike
I’m battin' first and you can't use my glove
It wouldn't take long 'til push came to shove
But, we looked out for each other with Brotherly Love

“Brotherly Love” ~ Duet performed by Keith Whitley and Earl Thomas Conley

On April 2nd, our fourth and youngest son, Kirk Van, will turn 15 years old. By the time Kirk arrived, we had already honored nearly every male member of the family, so Kirk’s name was derived from my maiden name – Van Kirk. (Since we knew we were going to call him Kirk, we just reversed the order.) When Kirk was born people commented that we almost had enough boys to form a basketball team and Keen said, “We already do, if I play.”

Kirk was an adorable and sweet baby, even though he didn’t sleep through the night until he was 8 months old. We finally learned that he was allergic to milk. After switching him to soy milk, he slept like a baby and so did I.

Kirk has always been a great communicator. When he was little, he could talk your ear off. One day when Kirk was playing with toys in the living room he asked me a question as I was passing through to the kitchen. I was having a bad day and had reached the end of my rope so I just didn’t respond. Then I heard his puzzled little voice say, “Hmmmm….she just yooked at me.”

Another time we were shopping and he asked me where we were going next. Rather than go into a long explanation about all the errands we had to run that day, I tried to take a short cut by simply replying, “We’re going out to the van.” But no such luck –he wasn’t fooled. “No! I mean, where are we going after we go to the van?”

Another one of Kirk’s attributes is that he has always loved to organize things and be in charge. We used to say he would’ve run the whole household if we let him. One day Keen decided to let Kirk ride along in the trash truck while he picked up a small commercial route in Alma. After he asked his dad how many customers he had to pick up, Kirk got a little notebook and numbered the page from 1 to 20. Then every time Keen would empty a dumpster, Kirk would say, “check” and make a big checkmark by that number.

One time he went with his dad to deliver a dumpster to the home of a man who was doing some remodeling. Kirk overheard Keen tell the man that he would keep an eye on the dumpster and empty it whenever it was full. A couple weeks later, Keen received an “urgent call” from Kirk on his cell phone. He was calling to tell his dad that the dumpster was full and needed to be emptied. When Keen asked Kirk if the man had called, Kirk replied, “No. I was just driving by on my bike and noticed it was full.”

When Kirk was about 4 or 5 years old, Keen took him down to his shop while he did some work on the trash truck. Bad idea. Kirk walked in some mud and got stuck and then he knocked over a coffee can full of oil. In exasperation, Keen said, “That’s it, Kirk – you’re fired!” Well, Kirk didn’t know what that meant, but he knew he didn’t like the sounds of it one little bit! The poor little guy was utterly devastated. When he came home later, he cried, “Mommy, Mommy! Daddy tell me I’m fired and I don’t wanna be fired!”

Kirk loved playing with his three older brothers and vice-versa. They have always been each other’s best friends. One day, after his oldest brother Jared had moved out of the house, Kirk said, “I’m a Jared-holic. Whenever Jared comes over to the house and stays for a while to play with me, then I don’t want him to leave.”
This is a poem I wrote five years ago for Keener and Kirk.

15 & 10
By Eileen Umbehr

My two precious boys,
ages fifteen and ten,
a five year difference
yet still the best of friends.

Last night they decided
to take a camping trip,
so they got right to work
and came up with a list.

Hot dogs, marshmallows,
graham crackers, too;
fishing poles, worms,
and Dad’s box of tools.

A tent and some sleeping bags,
pillows and matches;
flashlights and bug spray,
and first aid patches.

At last they were ready,
the preparations were done;
it was time to embark
on their evening of fun.

The night air was cool,
but they made a fire,
then talked and ate smores,
until they grew tired.

They slept under the stars
then woke up with the birds,
and the cowboys in the pasture,
calling their herds.
It was a night to remember;
a special memory,
of when they were young;
footloose and fancy-free.

One day they’ll be thirty and twenty-five,
but they’ll always remember when,
they laughed and shared good times, so long ago,
back when they were fifteen and ten.

When Josh and Lisa got married last summer, they each wrote a little paragraph about all the members of the wedding party. Josh wrote about his groomsmen and Lisa wrote about her bridesmaids. Here’s what Josh had to say about Kirk:

“As the youngest of four boys, Kirk has survived purely out of sheer determination. He has had to survive the years of three older brothers taunting, teasing, and rough-housing with him. Through it all he has earned the nickname, “Little Man.” And what a great young man he is becoming, albeit not so little anymore. There is a little bit of each of us in Kirk; Jared’s sense of humor, Keen’s style and charisma, and my work ethic. I can’t wait to see what the Lord has in store for him in the coming years.”

The picture of me with Kirk below was taken when he was 10 months old. My mom always told me to get a picture of myself with each of the kids when they were babies, and I did. But this picture is special. You see, my mother passed away when Kirk was just five weeks old. The dress I’m wearing in the picture was one of my Mom’s and the outfit Kirk is wearing was the one she bought for him before she died.

Build Me a Son
By General Douglas A. MacArthur

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee – and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here, let him learn to stand up in the storm; here, let him learn compassion for those who fall.

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goals will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength. Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.”

“For you are our glory and joy.”
~ I Thessalonians 2:20 (RSV)

Happy 15th birthday, Kirk Van. We love you!

P.S. This is a poem I wrote when Kirk was six months old

For Kirk
You are the youngest of our four sons
Our pride and joy, our precious one

You were sent to us from God above
To fill our hearts and home with love

Although having a girl
Would be a dream come true
That doesn’t mean
We regret having you



Just one look
at your smiling face
And we forget all about
those ruffles and lace

Loving you, holding you
Makes our heart sing
Kirk, we wouldn’t trade you
For anything!

Kirk Van Umbehr
Born April 2, 1989

Letting Go

“God [is] our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea…" ~ Psalms 46:1,2

She's had 18 years, to get ready for this day
She should be past the tears, she cries some anyway.
Oh, oh letting go
There's nothing in the way now,
Oh, letting go
There's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting,
It's never easy… letting go.

“Letting Go” ~ recorded by Suzy Bogguss

Letting go of our children is probably one of the most challenging aspects of parenthood. When my husband was in the first grade he announced to his mother that he was running away. Much to his surprise, his mom didn't waste any time packing him a lunch. She even made a little knapsack and tied it to the end of a stick for him. Then she kissed him good bye, wished him Godspeed and closed the sliding doors behind him. After giving it a little more thought, the young rebel decided he would just stay on the porch steps and eat his lunch.

Letting go.

There's a great analogy in that story. Sometimes we have to let go of our children before they see where they've gone wrong and decide to turn around and come back. If we hang on or try to be their friends out of fear and desperation, then we won't be the parents God intended us to be. We'll be so worried about losing them that we'll compromise our own principles just to get them to stay.

I heard Dr. Phil say that we're not raising children; we're raising adults - and we have a responsibility to prepare them for real world situations. We're not doing our children any favors to spare them from the harsh realities of life that they will one day be forced to face.

Recently, one of my nieces informed her mother that she plans to move out of the house as soon as she turns 18, which will be in the fall of her senior year. Initially, this upset my sister greatly, and she pleaded with her daughter to stop saying that. Then my niece replied, "Well, Mom, if you would quit being so controlling and lighten up on some of your rules, maybe I wouldn't have to move out."

Mission accomplished. What can I say? The girl is good.

But after pondering the situation a little longer, my sister viewed things in a totally different light and she went back to her daughter and said, "You know, I've established these rules for our home because I feel they're important and that's my responsibility as a parent. So if you decide that my rules are too restrictive, then maybe you should move out."

Amazingly, her daughter suddenly had a dramatic change of heart. "Well, I haven't made any definite decisions yet, Mom."

Letting go.

When my kids were little I would mother-hen them to death. Keen used to say, "Let them go outside without a hat; they'll learn to wear a hat when their ears get cold." I finally came to the realization that there are some lessons only life can teach them.

On the first day of school last fall, (which also happened to be one of the hottest days of the year), our 14-year-old son, Kirk, decided to wear a sweatshirt. I was tempted to say something, but I bit my tongue. When he came home from school that afternoon the first thing he did was tear that sweatshirt off. "Man, was this shirt hot!" he said. "It was like wearing a blanket!"

Letting go.

The next day I was working in the yard and I noticed that it was almost 8:00 and Kirk hadn't left for school yet. I was concerned that he would be late, but once again, I zipped my mouth. How will he learn to budget his time if I don't let him fail? When he finally came outside to get in his car, I gave him a hug and told him to have a good day. Sure enough, he ended up having a hard time finding a parking spot and he was almost late for assembly. But he learned a lesson - not because I said or did anything - but because I didn't say or do anything. He learned because he experienced firsthand the stressful consequences of cutting his time too short.

Letting go. It's not easy - but it's necessary.

LETTING GO
Author Unknown

TO let go doesn't mean to stop caring, it means I can't do it for someone else.

TO let go is not to cut myself off, it's the realization that I can't control another.

TO let go is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.

TO let go is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.

TO let go is not to try to change or blame another; I can only change myself.

TO let go is not to care for, but to care about.

TO let go is not to fix, but to be supportive.

TO let go is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

TO let go is not to be in the middle arranging the entire outcome, but to allow others to effect their own outcomes.

TO let go is not to be protective; it is to permit another to face reality.

TO let go is not to deny, but to accept.

TO let go is not to nag, scold, or argue, but to search out my own shortcomings and to correct them.

TO let go is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes, and to cherish the moment.

TO let go is not to criticize or regulate anyone, but to try to become whatever I dream I can be.

TO let go is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.

TO let go is to fear less and to love more.

Rumors, Rumors

“He who answers a matter before he hears the facts, it is folly and shame to him.”

~Proverbs 18:13 (NKJV)

Phones were ringing, tongues were wagging
Hot gossip was flying all around town
She heard the talk, the lowdown was
The shameless color of her wedding gown
It’s white

I mean, really, who’s she trying to kid
Everybody knows the things she did
It just isn’t right, won’t that be a sight?
To see her wearing white

It's nobody's business what she wears
Anyway the truth is she don't care
Baby it's her life, she'll do what she likes
And she likes wearing white

“Wearing White” ~ recorded by Martina McBride

Living in a small town has its advantages and disadvantages. One of the advantages is that you don’t have to live amongst the hustle and bustle of a big city, yet you’re close enough to drive there when you need to. The down side is that everybody makes it their business to know your business. Maybe that wouldn’t be all bad if they got the story straight. But that’s not normally the case.

Every rumor seems to have a thread of truth running through it somewhere, but it’s usually buried so deep that it barely resembles the original version. It’s like that game of operator we used to play as kids when one person would whisper a sentence into the ear of the next person and so on and so forth until it reached the last person in line. Who could forget how ridiculous the end result turned out to be!

Keen and I have several stories about our life in a small town. I remember when we first moved to Alma back in 1979 and I took my first trip to the local grocery store. After writing out my check, I asked the clerk if she needed to see my driver’s license. “Oh no,” she replied with a smile. “I know who you are.”

Another time, after we’d lived in Alma for several years, Keen was watching the kids for me while I drove to Minnesota to visit one of my sisters. When I was getting out of the car upon my return, my next door neighbor hollered, “So, did you decide you liked Alma after all?” I guess he thought I’d “flown the coop” before I came to my senses and returned to my family.

Back in 1998, Keen was invited to speak to a group of high school students in
Connecticut. During his speech, Keen talked about his dream of one day selling the trash business and earning a law degree. Well, he never imagined that it would get back to anyone in Alma, but just a few days after he returned he walked in the door and announced, “Guess who has a sister in Hartford, Connecticut?” Sure enough, an Alma resident had a sister who read about Keen’s speech in The Hartford Courant. (“Lessons Learned in a Fight for Rights”, October 3, 1998.) It’s a small, small world.

When we sold our business in 1999 so Keen could return to college and pursue his dream, we set up an office for him in the basement of the house we owned near the Kansas State campus in Manhattan. (Our son Josh, who was also attending K-State at the time, lived upstairs.)

When Gene Smith from The Topeka Capital-Journal interviewed him about the new journey he was embarking on, Keen made the mistake of mentioning our house in Manhattan. He was quoted as saying: "We've bought a house five blocks from the Student Union, so we can walk to school each day. We won't even need a car!"

Boy, did that statement ever come back to haunt us! Everywhere we went, people were asking us when we were moving to Manhattan. One time a lady at the post office asked me about it and I explained the whole situation. Later in the day, I ran into her again at the grocery store where she overheard the clerk ask me the exact same question. “If you had a nickel for every time someone asked you that, you’d be rich,” she commented. Then the clerk replied, “Well, you need to put it in the paper so we’ll know!” I had to laugh because we did put an ad in the paper! We thanked all our customers for their past business and explained our future plans. “Although we own a house in Manhattan where Keen will have an office,” we wrote, “we will continue to make our home in Alma.” We thought that was pretty clear. But it was too late – the rumor mill had been set in motion and there was no turning back.

During that same time, Josh was working for a construction company in the summer. One day during his lunch break he was talking to one of his co-workers and telling him about how his dad likes to debate his professors at K-State. “Well,” the co-worker replied somberly, “maybe that’s why your parents got divorced.” “Divorced?!” Josh replied in utter shock. “Are you kidding? They’re just like newlyweds!”

I can only imagine the rumors that are flying around town since I left for Nevada to write my book. When I was home for Christmas, Keen and I were attending Kirk’s Christmas concert and I noticed a couple sitting together who had been separated for quite some time. I’ll call them Glenn and Gloria. “Look, Glenn and Gloria are sitting together,” I whispered to Keen. “Maybe they’ve patched things up.” After a short pause, Keen leaned over and said, “That’s probably what they’re saying about us.”

One person came right out and asked me if Keen and I were still married. This person had received my Christmas newsletter where I went to great lengths to explain what I was doing and why, but she still didn’t seem to understand that I went to Nevada with the full support of my husband and family. She went on to say, “Well, your sister got a divorce so I thought maybe you did, too.” The last time I checked, divorce wasn’t contagious!

An elderly woman from Alma (who also received my newsletter), called Keen on the phone recently. After making small talk, she came right out and asked, “Keen. Did Eileen leave you? Because I would just be sick if she did.” Keen did his best to calm her fears and assure her that was not the case. Whether he succeeded is anybody’s guess.

Another older woman had this bold reaction: “Why, if I were married to a good looking guy like you, I wouldn’t leave you alone for five minutes!”
Several years ago Keen was waiting in line at the local parts store when he struck up a conversation with the “stranger” standing in front of him. Sure enough, the woman and her husband had just moved to town, so Keen asked her where they lived. When she rattled off their address, Keen replied, “No, not your street address – nobody pays any attention to those around here.” After she described the physical location of their new home, Keen replied, “Ohhhhh, you bought the Nedrow place.” By now, the new Alma resident was becoming quite exasperated. “Why does everyone keep calling it the Nedrow house?” Keen explained, “Oh, it will always be the Nedrow house. Until you move. Then we’ll call it the Smith house.”

But my all-time favorite small town story involves the time we were looking for a larger house to accommodate our growing family. We heard about a lovely, five-bedroom home for sale out in the country (which was what we’d always wanted), so I called the realtor to inquire about the selling price. After he told me, I politely explained that it was out of our price range and thanked him for his time. But before I could hang up, the realtor asked if I would mind leaving my name. I told him that I’d really rather remain anonymous since we weren’t serious buyers. He stated that he just wanted to be able to show the sellers that he had fielded some calls. After reiterating the fact that I was simply curious about the price, I reluctantly gave my name.

I kid you not – within a week people started telling us how they’d heard we bought the Taylor house. I could not believe my ears. One woman at the doctor’s office said she’d heard we signed the papers on Friday and were moving in the following weekend. We even received a phone call inquiring about whether our current house would be coming up for rent.

"A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a
chance to get its pants on."

~ Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965)

I guess those humorous sayings about life in a small town are true: What we don’t know, we make up and we never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.

(Note: Just for the record: I really did come to Nevada to write a book. Now I’m busy packing to return home. Next week Keen is flying out to spend a few days with me during his spring break. I can’t wait to show him where I’ve been living, the people I’ve met and the mountains I’ve enjoyed walking on. We’re also going to see Stew Stewart while he’s here. So spread the word – but please….. get it straight!)

Wishing you always—
Walls for the wind, and a roof for the rain,
and tea beside the fire—
Laughter to cheer you, and those you love near you—
And all that your heart might desire!
~ Irish blessing

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)