On the Wings of Love

"Let no one despise or think less of you because of your youth, but be an example (pattern) for the believers, in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity."~ I Timothy 4:12

“Do you know that your soul is of my soul such a part, that you seem to be fiber and core of my heart?” ~ Excerpt from “To My Son” by Margaret Johnstone Grafin

Time got away from me this week, but I wanted to share a collection of poems in honor of our youngest son, Kirk Van, who will be turning 17 on April 2nd.

I remember the day we brought my little namesake home from the hospital (my former last name was Van Kirk, so we just reversed the order). It was Election Day that year and Keen was running for a seat on the local school board as well as the Alma City Council. With our newborn son in tow, and my hospital band still on my wrist, we drove straight to the voting center to cast our votes. Keen joked that he would get elected even if he had to raise the voters himself! (He did win both races.)


I have often said that Kirk Van was born responsible. All his life, I never had to prod him to do anything, from making his bed to doing his homework – he’s always just known what he needed to do and done it. As his principal said to me recently, “Kirk really steps up to the plate and takes care of business.” In fact he just earned straight A’s on his report card – and he’s taking some challenging courses such as Chemistry, Advanced American Literature and Algebra II. On top of that, he played on the basketball team, joined a paintball club, and just got a job as the youngest disc jockey ever hired by Complete Music in Manhattan. Kirk is, and always has been, beyond his years.

In Catherine Marshall’s book, “To Live Again,” she writes about the loss of her husband Peter, and the difficult process of letting go of her son, Peter, who attended a prep school in another state. She wrote: “…as love is progressively purified, possessiveness is dropped out. The deeper and truer the love, the more completely it releases the beloved. . . .As my child was growing up, I saw an analogy in my love for him. The highest function of my mother love would be fulfilled when my love was strong enough to cut the apron strings and let my . . . child move off into his own life. I would succeed as a mother only when I had so reared my child that he would no longer have need of me. Yet this is not tragedy; it is growth. This is no betrayal of love. This is love.”

Not too long ago I saw a television story on 20/20 about mothers who were still calling their kids in college to wake them up for class. One mother said it usually took four telephone calls before her daughter would finally get up for good. An expert on the show commented that while the mother feels like she’s doing the right thing, she’s actually doing the opposite, because she is unintentionally sending a message to her child that: “I don’t think you’re capable of managing your own life, so I will do it for you.”

"Spoon feeding, in the long run, teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon." ~ E. M. Forster

This is a poem I wrote for Josh after he transferred to Manhattan High in 1997 during his junior year in high school:

Roots and Wings
By Eileen Umbehr

Some people say,
There are only two things,
That you can give your children,
One is roots; the other, wings.

They'll have their share of ups and downs,
At times the skies will be bleak,
But we must allow them to spread their wings,
Even if they bump their beaks!

It's hard to know when to let them go,
Some are ready sooner than others,
But no matter when that time comes,
It’s always hard on their mothers!

But deep down in our heart of hearts,
We have always known,
We can't keep them with us forever,
One day they will be on their own.

And we really wouldn't want it,
Any other way,
We have to allow them to fly and be free,
Even though we wish they could stay.

So we'll raise our children
With faith, hope and love,
And a prayer that God will watch over them
From Heaven up above.

Then when the time arrives,
For them to leave the nest,
We’ll wave good-bye with a tear in our eye,
Knowing that we've been blessed.

“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
~ William Shedd

This next poem was written for Kirk when he was just six months old:


For Kirk
With love from Mom

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!


And this is the latest poem I wrote for Kirk Van:

On the Wings of Love
(For Kirk)

My child, fly free
With the wind on your face
In this brave new world
To discover your place

We’ve tried to prepare you
The best that we can
By teaching the importance
Of holding God’s hand

There will be challenges, obstacles
And goals to pursue
But with the Lord as your Shepherd
You’ll always know what to do.

Don’t follow the crowd
Instead, follow your heart
Even though that might mean
That you’ll be set apart

For your future is bright
Young son number four
Just stay on the narrow path
And discover all God has in store

We know that you’ll go far
With help from up above
Just remember that you’re flying
On the wings of love.

You're gonna fly with every dream you chase
You're gonna cry, but know that that's okay
Sometimes life's not fair, but if you hang in there
You're gonna see, that sometimes bad is good
We just have to believe, things work out like they should
Life has no guarantees, but always loved by me
You're gonna be

~ You’re Gonna Be ~ recorded by Reba McEntire

Life After Patricia

“... the time of my spirit’s release from the body is at hand and I will soon go free.” ~ II Timothy 4:6b (Amp)


But when I get where I'm going
And I see my Maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of His amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going

~ When I Get Where I’m Going – recorded by Dolly Parton and Brad Paisley

It’s hard to believe, but March 23rd will mark the one year anniversary of my sister Patricia’s death. I must admit that I’ve been dreading writing this column. I just don’t want to feel so sad, because that’s not what Patricia was about, and that’s not the way she would want the rest of us to feel after her passing.

In some ways it is still such a shock. One minute Patricia was frolicking on the beach, dodging Diana’s video camera, joking about only taking pictures of her from the “eyes up,” playing in the water with Caroline and Bev, watching the jet skis go by and talking about the time her crazy brother-in-law Keen let their niece Emily take him for a ride on the jet ski after Emily’s parents had strictly forbidden her to, and laughing about how Keen fell off and Emily didn’t realize it until she drove by the boat that picked him up and saw him waving at her.

One of the last things Patricia said before she was stricken with a brain aneurism was: “Every time I get in the water, it makes me feel like a kid all over again!” Some have said it was the perfect way to die – doing something you love with the people you love, right up until the very last minute. When I think about how our mother battled cancer for seven long years, I honestly don’t know which is worse – losing someone you love suddenly, without warning, or watching them suffer over a long period of time.

Two months before Patricia died, I had to have a suspicious lump removed from my left breast and I decided not to tell everyone because I didn’t want them to worry needlessly. But Patricia called me that day – right out of the blue. She said she’d been thinking about me and just wondered how I was doing. You see, Patricia was a breast cancer survivor herself, having been diagnosed at the age of thirty-eight. After going through all the treatments, she went into remission and had been cancer-free ever since. So when she called that day, I couldn’t keep my secret in, because I knew if anyone would understand the fear that gripped my heart, she would. And she did. After I received the results that the lump was benign, Patricia was one of the first people I called with the good news. I told her how the experience really put things in perspective for me and made me appreciate my life so much more. I will never forget Patricia’s reply. “I guess I’ve always assumed that I would die young,” she said. Taken aback, I replied, “Oh Patricia! Why would you say such a terrible thing?” She explained that since she had breast cancer and also had several skin cancers removed, she always just felt that her life would be short. When she passed away two months later, her words echoed eerily in my mind.

Over time, however, I have come to see Patricia’s premonition as a positive thing. Perhaps that is why she had such a genuine zest for life. Perhaps that is why she would drag Nikki out at 5:00 in the morning to go bird watching. Or why they bought a second place known as Periwinkle where they loved to relax and walk on the beach. Perhaps that is why she took trips and traveled when most of us only talk about it. Perhaps that is why she celebrated life the way she did. Perhaps she truly, truly understood, as Robert Louis Stevenson once said: “The best things are nearest: breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of God just before you.” Perhaps that is why she loved to capture so much of the beauty in the world around her. Perhaps ... she just knew.

I would like to dedicate this column and short poem to Patricia’s partner and our other sister, Nikki.

You have been brave
You have been strong
You’ve found a way to laugh again
You’ve learned to carry on
Your circle is wide
And their love is deep
We’ll be here for you always
Please do not weep.

I love you, Nikki. Shine on.

Nikki & Eileen after Celebration of Life for Patricia on Whidbey Island, March, 2005

Nikki shining on, 2006

I’m already there
Take a look around
I’m the sunshine in your hair
I’m the shadow on the ground
I’m the whisper in the wind
I’m your imaginary friend
And I know I’m in your prayers
Oh, I’m already there

~ I’m Already There – recorded by Lonestar
Eagle above and sunrise below photographed by Patricia

Silencing Hate

“If someone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?” ~ I John 4:20,21 (NKJV)

“Hate destroys the vessel it’s kept in.”
~ Author Unknown

When I see the so-called “Reverend” Fred Phelps of Topeka, Kansas, and his band of followers picketing the funerals of soldiers and/or gay men across this country (all in the name of God), I become enraged. This man is hate personified.

The Phelps clan recently traveled to Dodge City, Kansas, to wreak havoc on the funeral of Army Sgt. Jesse Davila who was tragically killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq on February 20, 2006. Holding signs saying “God Hates Your Tears” and “Thank God for Dead Soldiers,” the Phelpses promoted their hate-filled message while the family and friends of Sgt. Davila gathered to mourn his loss.

Although Keen and I are firm believers in freedom of speech, we also recognize that it is a double-edged sword. The same freedoms that give us the right to speak out against the picketers, also give them the right to espouse their despicable views. We cannot decide which views will be tolerated and which will not, because this great country we live in is not only free, it is diverse. There are Christians and atheists; those who support the war and those who oppose it. There are individuals who staunchly lobby for abortion rights at all stages of pregnancy, and those who seek to ban it all together. There are those who believe in equality for all, and those who express extreme hatred toward various minority groups. But the fact remains that we are all Americans, and as such we possess certain inalienable rights – first and foremost, the right to vigorously support the views we hold dear.

In spite of the fact that I cherish freedom and wholeheartedly believe all of the above to be true, I still find myself wondering if there couldn’t be some exception made for people like the Phelpses. In fact, last year when I read that the Phelpses planned to rent advertising space at the newly-constructed Hummer Sports Park in Topeka, I placed a call to Paul McMasters, the First Amendment ombudsman for The Freedom Forum (www.freedomforum.org). After explaining how hateful the Phelps's messages were, Mr. McMasters responded by saying that the answer to offensive speech is more speech – not less speech. In other words, we have to fight speech with speech. He went on to say that people such as the Phelpses are like schoolyard bullies who get away with hurtful tactics because nobody has the courage to stand up to them.

Well, that was not exactly what I wanted to hear; it’s not exactly what any of us want to hear, because it requires something from us,and we just want it to stop - we don’t want to have to get involved. Although I believe most Kansans are embarrassed by the Phelps’ family and their abhorrent conduct, we feel helpless to do anything about it. The protesters and their gaudy neon signs are everywhere – and they seem to have a boundless amount of energy for picketing any time, any place, in any kind of weather. Although they claim to be Christians, the Phelps family members have been known to hurl vile, disgusting insults at anyone who dares to confront them.

In a March 7, 2006, article about the Phelps’s decision to picket Sgt. Davila’s funeral (published on CNN's web site), CNN reporter Ed Lavandera quoted family patriarch Fred Phelps as saying: “You can’t preach the Bible without preaching the hatred of God.”

He couldn’t be more off-base.

"Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel land and sea to win one proselyte, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves. . . Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you . . . have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. These you ought to have done, without leaving the others undone. Blind guides, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel!"
~ Matthew 23:15, 23,24 (RSV)

Shockingly, Mr. Phelps was also quoted as saying: “Every time a soldier gets blown to smithereens, we rejoice.”

How sick is that?

Getting back to what Paul McMasters said about answering speech with speech, there is a valiant group of volunteer motorcyclists known as the “Patriot Guard Riders” who have undertaken the task of doing just that. About 400 riders gathered in Dodge City last Saturday to line the streets and block the protesters – drowning out their hateful chants during the funeral procession.

The article further reported that Sgt. Davila’s mother, Linda Claus, was very grateful to the Patriot Guard Riders. "When people begin to know what they're (Fred Phelps's family) really doing -- killing the American Dream -- they won't be around very long, because nobody's going to let them. They'll drown them out. They'll be gone." Claus said.

Famed African-American photographer Gordon Parks, who sadly passed away last week, left an inspirational legacy for us all. A recent tribute published in The Manhattan Mercury reported that when Mr. Parks was once asked what propelled his life and work, he replied, “I wouldn’t let bigotry stand in my way.”

By the grace of God, neither will I. Neither should any of us.

“And this commandment we have from Him: that he who loves God must love his brother also.” ~ I John 4:21 (NKJV)

An Otherwise Ordinary Week

An Otherwise Ordinary Week
By Eileen Umbehr

Have you ever had a case
Of the Grandma blues?
Well last week I got the bug
And didn’t know what to do.

So I booked the first flight
Out of Kansas City
And two days later
I arrived in Mississippi.

Jared and Erin came to greet me
Along with Asher and Gabe
Who ran as fast as they could
For hugs and kisses I had saved.


The day after my arrival
Erin surprised me with a treat
When our future granddaughter
In utero I did meet!

Our next stop was the girls' section
Of the local department store
I think she’ll be the best-dressed baby
From birth to age four!

After seeing his sister's wardrobe
Asher asked Grandma to think
"Do you know Mommy's favorite colors?"
Answer: "Pink, pink and pink!"

Gabriel was his usual
Cutie-patootie self
He said, "Don't interrupt me, Grandma –
I'm talking to myself!"

But not everything about my trip
Created laughter and joy
You see our firstborn son found out
He soon may be deployed.

But I have to remember
Freedom isn't free
That’s the reason he enlisted
In the United States Navy.


The news just made us treasure
Our time together that much more
We talked and laughed and reminisced
And said, "I love you" many times over.

Since none of us knows the future
‘Tis best to leave it in God's hands
And live one day at a time
As the Good Book does command.

On the day of my departure
Asher said that he would miss me
And little Gabriel cried
Making my eyes a little misty.

My next stop was Josh and Lisa's
To check out their new place
And attend Lisa's next sonogram
To meet our grandchild face-to-face!


What a miracle to see
Those tiny feet and hands
It almost makes the three-month wait
Impossible to stand!

But soon enough June will arrive
And with it two "grand-Umbehrs"
It's such a thrill to contemplate
We’ll be doubling our numbers!

In conclusion I would have to say
That my vacation was complete
But otherwise it really was
An ordinary week.

“Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old.”
~ Mary H. Waldrip

Asher and Gabe at the park

Thanks, I Needed That

“For I have derived great joy and comfort and encouragement from your love. . . .” ~ Philemon 7a (Amp)

Last week I shared some examples of times when we were blindsided in a hurtful way. This week I’d like to share some examples of when we were blindsided in a positive way – by gestures of love.

This first example comes from a special note Keen taped to my computer on Valentine’s Day. If none of the other dreams in my life ever come true, I am more blessed than I deserve to be.

February 14, 2006

Happy Valentine’s Day!

You have been the love of my life since I was fifteen years old. I love you, Eileen! Through good times and bad times, I have always known that you love me more than life itself. Your love for me gives me the strength to face the unknown trials each day brings. Thank you for always being there for me. The love and affection you show me every day is a gift to me. You may think I’m as close to perfect as any man could be – but I know I’m not. I just spend a lot of time in the cleansing river of forgiveness that God provides all of us.

Eileen, you are the flower forever planted in my heart that I cherish each day of my life. Every day that I wake up with you and experience the love, the laughter – is a new Valentine’s Day for me. I feel like my whole life – since I was fifteen years old – has been a special Valentine’s Day, repeated over and over, thousands of times. Please, never doubt that we are one heart, one soul, one spirit.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweetheart! My day is blessed because of your love for me.

Love,

Keen

Another unexpected blessing arrived in the form of an email from our third born son, Keen II, who touched our hearts by sharing the following excerpt from his online journal:

“I have a really awesome dad. The older I get the more I am able to see just how much he did for us when we were kids. He loved us unconditionally, he worked hard for us, he disciplined us, he taught us how to do guy stuff, and always looked out for us. I always say that my dad taught me how to be a man and my mom taught me how to be a gentleman. I just really appreciate my parents and all that they did for their family to ensure their success in life. . .”

Keen and Keen II (who, at the age of nine, informed us that he was going to grow up and have two children; a girl named Christine and a boy named Keen. "So I can keep up the tradition!")

“Therefore be imitators of God [copy Him and follow His example], as well-beloved children [imitate their father]. . . .” ~ Ephesians 5:12

Next, I’d like to share this note that our second son, Joshua, (who will soon become a father himself), wrote to his dad in 1994 when he was thirteen years old. He had taped one of his school pictures to the bottom of the page and left it in the trash truck so Keen would find it when he went to work.

November 2, 1994

Dear Dad,

Lately you have looked really sad and sorta in a daze. I hope you know how good of a dad you are. You are always there to encourage any of us in what ever we do. I can always talk with you about anything and everything but I felt this letter would be better than a talk. This way whenever you feel down you can look at this letter and hopefully it will help you realize how wonderfully great you are. I just want you to know I really pray to God every night to have such a loving, caring dad. You work your butt off every day to make sure your family, us, has everything we could need. I can't express how much I love you and I know that you are truly, without a doubt, the most loving, caring dad in the world. I want you to know how great you are.

LOVE Dearly,
Josh Umbehr

Keen wrote the following response to Josh’s note:

Dear Josh,

Today when I started my trash truck, I read your letter to me. I am so thankful that I have a son who loves me so much. Thank you for expressing your thoughts in writing. You are so grown up and mature for your age. I love you so much. I’m going to keep your letter in my truck, so that when I get down or have a hard day, I can re-read it and that will make me happy again. I love you, Josh.

Love,
Dad

It was a beautiful moment in time, one that makes you believe you must be doing something right. After school I praised Josh over and over for his caring and sensitivity and I told him how happy his letter made Dad. Then Josh said, “I thank God for both of you, every night. You could replace your name in that letter, Mom. Because I mean it all for you, too.” What a dear heart.

Josh and Keen

". . . If you love somebody, tell them." ~ Rod McKuen

Lastly, I would like to share another poem written by my friend Pat Barrett who has a unique gift of capturing simple truths and expressing them through poetry. Pat is one of the most positive people I have ever met, mainly because she chooses to concentrate on all of her blessings. Thanks for being such an inspiration to your friends and family, Pat, and thank you for allowing me to share your insightful, heartwarming poems with others.

Valentine’s Day Every Day
By Patricia Kohls Barrett

It is the holiday of romance
When lovers show affection
With cards, flowers and sweets
Or some other special selection

It’s not limited to those in love
Anyone can show how they feel
To a special friend or relative
With attention fondness reveal

Why wait for the festival of hearts
To expose your feelings within
Anytime can be a special heart day
To appreciate buddy or kin

Think of someone important to you
See that smile when you show you care
With a compliment or little gift
Or a piece of yourself you share

Make today the holiday of hearts
Find a way to show value and worth
To someone important in your life
Express gratitude for their birth

“ Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God. . . .”
~I John 4:7a

Photo taken by Pat Barrett

Blindsided

"Even my own familiar friend, in whom I trusted (relied on and was confident), who ate of my bread, has lifted up his heel against me."
~ Psalm 41:9

Blindsided: 1. attack from blind side: to take somebody unawares suddenly, with detrimental results; 2. attack when vulnerable: to attack somebody suddenly and physically by hitting the person on a side where his or her peripheral vision is obstructed.

Have you ever felt blindsided? If you’re a member of the human race, my guess is that you have. This past week I was blindsided by a longtime friend, so I’ve decided to make it the topic of my column.

My first experience with being blindsided came at the hands of my fifth grade teacher who pointed her finger in my face and said, “You think you’re the cat’s meow!” Well, I was only ten years old, so I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment. Then two years later a teacher became so angry at me for interrupting him during a meeting that he composed a one-page diatribe about me and told me to write it out fifty times. The opening line of nearly every sentence was: “Cute, funny, Eileen, thinks she is so cute and funny. . . .” Well, I didn’t feel either cute or funny after that. In fact, the experience caused serious damage to my self-esteem.

Many years ago I was blindsided by an individual who stopped me on the street and blasted me for a column Keen had written in the newspaper. Let me tell you – this guy was ticked – with a capital “T.” I remained calm but his anger became personal. “I’m just sorry you find it so hard to believe that everyone doesn’t agree with your husband!” he snapped. I explained that I didn’t have any trouble believing that everyone didn’t agree with my husband since he had just lost another election for county commissioner.

Another time when we were at an outdoor social gathering at the home of someone we thought was our friend, I was stunned to hear him tell one of our sons to make sure he didn’t grow up to be like his father. My stepmother, who was visiting at the time, immediately retorted, “He should be so lucky to grow up to be like his father!”

One time we were blindsided by a neighbor who was angered by the election sign we had displayed in our yard for a senatorial candidate. She went on and on about how she couldn’t even pull in her driveway or look out her bedroom window anymore because she would have to view the sign. She even went so far as to say that she couldn’t sleep!
After listening to her rant and rave for several minutes, I replied, “But it’s our yard.” Then Keen suggested that she show support for the candidate of her choice by displaying her own sign. Well, the neighbor grew furious and stomped off, shaking her fist in the air. According to her definition of a good neighbor, we should acquiesce and remove the sign. (Actually, that’s exactly what we ended up doing – just to keep the peace.)

Last fall we were blindsided once again at Keen’s swearing in ceremony. You see, there were four people from Wabaunsee County who were sworn in as practicing attorneys on the same day. The mother of one of the students approached Keen at a local football game and said that we should be sure to get a picture of “The Wabaunsee Four.” Silly me, I followed through and made the effort to gather the four new attorneys together for the photograph. But my heart sank when one of the mothers informed me that she was going to submit the photo to the Alma paper and she only wanted it to be the three Wabaunsee High School graduates, because they wanted to promote Wabaunsee High. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. There was Keen, happily gathered for the group shot, when I had to tell him that they only wanted the three others in the picture. Then the woman said, “Oh, that’s all right, I already got my picture for the paper.” It was such an awkward moment, and it really put a damper on an otherwise happy occasion.

Some of you may recall reading in a previous column about the woman who sent me a letter about my book project. She stated that God told her I was a “bitter young woman” who had not been able to forgive. Then she wrote: “I’d like to suggest you go to a timber area and dig a big hole and bury that 620 page manuscript in that deep hole and turn to Jesus and ask His forgiveness for yourself and for all the people who hurt you. Then you can begin living as a free person.”

“A writer lives with rejection…A writer needs the sensitivity of a butterfly in touching the outside world – and the skin of a rhino to withstand its disregard.” ~ Sophy Burnham, For Writers Only

Since Keen started his new law practice, he has been blindsided several times by the reactions of potential clients to the fact that: 1) he charges the going hourly rate for attorneys; 2) he does not choose to take every case that walks through his door; and 3) he confines his work to regular business hours. For example, when he informed his very first potential client about his fees, the individual responded, “So you think you’re a big shot attorney now and you can charge that much for your time?” I kid you not. Another prospective client accused Keen of becoming “one of the good old boys” after he declined to represent him free of charge. “If being a businessman and having bills to pay makes me one of the good old boys,” Keen replied, “then I guess I’m guilty as charged.” When we were discussing these situations later, Keen said, “If I choose to donate my time, that’s my decision – but I’m not going to have it taken or demanded from me.”

“What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder, because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. ” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lastly, this woman I’ve known and done business with for over fifteen years called my cell phone at 5:30 on a Friday night saying that a friend of hers needed some legal advice “right away.” When I asked her if the woman could call Keen’s office on Monday morning to set up an appointment, she became indignant. I explained that I couldn’t speak for Keen and I didn’t know when he would have an opening. However, I offered to call her friend the following day after I had a chance to talk to him. Once again, she became exasperated. “Put yourself in her shoes,” she pleaded. “This woman has been on pins and needles for several months now, and I just can’t tell her that you’ll get back to her.” I told her that this was the way we chose to operate our business and I would appreciate it if she would respect that. She commented that she would like to have weekends off, too, but when friends call . . . Then she said that she recalled reading something Keen wrote several years ago about how he would “die for justice.” “Quite frankly,” she continued, her words dripping with disdain, “I haven’t found that to be the case at all. In fact, I’ve been very disappointed in Keen because every time that I’ve asked him for [free] help, he’s turned me down!” (When Keen was in law school, she wanted him to drive nine hours, round trip to Liberal, Kansas, to attend a meeting where she was trying to resolve a conflict over a business deal.) Working hard to maintain my composure, I told her that her comments made me very angry. She said, “Well, I’ve kept my opinion in for years now and I’m just telling you how I feel.” I replied, “And I’m just telling you how I feel. For you to say that Keen doesn't care about justice simply because he doesn't jump on the bandwagon of every issue you’re involved in is deeply insulting.”

With friends like that, who needs enemies? I guess I should be thankful that her true colors were revealed. On one hand, I know the Bible tells us to pray for our enemies, and bless those who curse us (Luke 6:26,27) – which I can do and have done. But I don’t think that means you have to continue to have a relationship with someone who inflicts emotional pain on you or harbors ill will towards you. As Maya Angelou says: “When people show you who they are, believe them.” So I will accept the fact that my former friend and I have different views of what friendship is really all about.

"Eat and drink, saith he to thee; but his heart is not with thee." ~Proverbs 23:7b

Love is Having to Say You're Sorry

“Confess [your] faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. . . .” ~ James 5:16a (KJV)


"The story of love is not important – what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity." ~ Helen Hayes

. . . Continued from last week

My friend and fellow-writer, Tom Parker, is one person I try to emulate when it comes to being honest and real in my columns. If some of you think I am “open to a fault,” you should read Tom’s writings. He has shared his personal struggles with faith, immortality, fatherhood and depression.

Tom’s recently released book, Dispatches from Kansas, is a collection of some of his best columns. (It is available through Amazon.com or by contacting Tom directly at tlparker1@sbcglobal.net.) In the blurb I wrote for the back of his book, I stated in part: “Tom Parker is one of those rare individuals who have the courage to share their deepest and most intimate thoughts. His weekly column is a window into his very heart and soul – a sometimes tormented but always triumphant soul. . . .”

“We refuse to wear masks and play games. We don’t maneuver and manipulate behind the scenes. . . . Rather, we keep everything we do and say out in the open, the whole truth on display, so that those who want to can see and judge for themselves in the presence of God.” ~ II Corinthians 4:2 (MSG)

Along those same lines, recently I saw Ruth Bell Graham (daughter of evangelist Billy Graham) on a Christian television talk show discussing her book titled, In Every Pew Sits a Broken Heart: Hope for the Hurting. Ruth Graham has been through two divorces and her teenage daughter had two babies. The first baby was put up for adoption and she kept the second one, a little boy who is now eight years old. Ms. Graham writes about that experience in her latest book titled, I’m Pregnant . . . Now What? – which she co-authored with Sara R. Dormon Ph.D. (They have also established a web site – www.forpregnancyhelp.com.) During the interview, Ruth Graham said: “Being transparent about our struggles and faults brings freedom, not shame.”

I couldn’t agree more. So many of us try to put up a façade in an attempt to fool people into thinking that everything in our life is always hunky-dory. How phony. The only way to salvage something good out of a painful or negative experience is to share that experience with others so that they can benefit from the lessons you learned and hopefully gain inspiration from hearing about how God helped you make it through your personal crisis.

Having said all that, I would like to continue last week’s Valentine column by sharing a snapshot from a not-so-pleasant moment in our married life – a time when I fell into self-pity (big time). To make matters worse, Keen and I forgot (or ignored) God’s number one rule for couples, which is: “Never let the sun go down on your anger.” Ephesians 4:26)

Even the happiest marriages hit rough spots when they have hurdles to overcome and differences to work out. So here’s my weekly dose of humble pie from a note I wrote to Keen about two years ago:

Dear Keen,

I was wrong.

I was wrong not to stop what I was doing and greet you with a smile and a kiss when you came home last night. Not because that’s my “obligation” as your wife, but because it sets the tone for the rest of the evening – what little bit of evening we had left. I was wrong to be so engrossed in the stresses of my day, that I couldn’t listen objectively when you told me about your day.

I was wrong to spiral down into a sea of self-pity by going on and on about how overwhelmed I was by the endless projects staring me in the face. I should be thankful God has allowed me to stay home during this time in our lives when most people would agree I “should” be working to support our family while you are in law school.

Sometimes I feel so close to God – but this is not one of those times. I am so far from being and acting like my Heavenly Father, it’s not even funny. I guess it just shows that I haven’t arrived and I never will arrive until I reach Heaven when all earthly sins are washed away for all eternity. But until then, I will try to remind myself of what the Bible says. Such as:

Be a doer of the Word and not a hearer only.

If I speak with the tongues of angels, but have not love, I am a clanging cymbal.

Wives, adapt yourselves to your husbands. (I’m still working on that with your new semester schedule – but I’ll get there)

It is better to live on a rooftop than with a nagging, contentious wife.

I know what you’re thinking right now. “That girl of mine: I can always count on her to admit when she’s wrong. It might take her a little while, but she always comes around.”

Well, you’re right – I was wrong.

Again. As usual.

Come to think of it, you didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was come home. But you came home to a grouchy, fault-finding wife who was feeling sorry for herself and looking for a fight. So I got one. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I wasted what precious time we did have together arguing about nothing. I paid a price though. I lost my peace. I’ve been up since about 2:00 a.m. and it’s 4:40 now. All the while you’ve been sleeping like a baby. That’s good. You deserve a good night’s sleep.

I love you, Keen. And I’m sorry for causing strife in our marriage. I felt like I had to write this, and I’m hoping it helps me to avoid making the same mistakes in the future. It’s never easy to admit when you’re wrong, but that’s what I want to do.

I was wrong, and I’m sorry.

I love you,

Eileen

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” ~ I Corinthians 13:4-7 (NLT)

********************
'Cause you are
the one light
that shines on me
Without your love
God knows where I'd be

Lost without a prayer
Somewhere way out there
My soul would turn to dust
Heaven help me
If I ever lose your love

Heaven Help Me ~ recorded by Wynonna Judd

"Oh love, as long as you can love." ~ Ferdinand Freiligrath

Keen & Eileen at age 16 in Singapore and 25th anniversary in 2003

The Circle of Love

“There are three things that will endure – faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love.” ~ I Corinthians 13:13 (NLT)

Keen and I had our first date on March 15, 1974, so we’ve been celebrating Valentine’s Day together for over 30 years now. The other night I told him how privileged I feel to be married to him. Keen is so much fun to live with. He keeps me laughing. He makes me feel loved and important. And even though I don’t have a college education, he tells me that I’m “a hundred times smarter” than he is. (Untrue – but still nice to hear.) Keen makes me feel like I can accomplish anything.

"How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved!" ~ Sigmund Freud

Here’s a poem I wrote for Keen for our 25th anniversary on June 10, 2003:

My Privilege
By Eileen Umbehr

His parents call him son
his siblings call him brother
But even though his name is Keen
he’s been called so many others

County officials called him dirt
the stuff he hauled in his trash truck
A troublemaker and an s.o.b.
were some other names that stuck

Reporters have called him a gadfly
who starts fires and fans the flames
I guess I could go on and on
with the list of unflattering names

But I would be amiss,
not to mention the positive ones, too
Lest you get the wrong impression
and the truth be misconstrued

To call him a hard worker
would certainly apply
A man of faith and principle –
the underdog’s best ally

A devoted family man
who loves his wife and sons
He’s even known as Grandpa
to his two young grandsons

A visionary with a sense of humor
and keen political insight
A man determined to achieve his goals
and stand up for what is right.

The Freedom Forum called him a First Amendment hero
The Capital-Journal – a Distinguished Kansan
But for twenty-five years its been my privilege
to simply call him “husband.”

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

When I was a teenager, I had to write an English paper for school and I chose to write about the subject of love. When I interviewed my mother for the story, she said that love was a one-way street – in the other person’s direction. As an adult, I have pondered that thought and wondered about its validity. At first glance, there’s something about that statement that just doesn’t seem right. I mean, isn’t love supposed to be 50-50? But upon further examination, I think my mother was right. As I reflect on my own marriage, I can see that it has worked as well as it has because Keen and I do just that.

I liken it to a circle of love. Think about it – if both people in the relationship direct their love toward the other one, then there will be a continual circle of love. When you give, you receive – and when you receive, you have something to give back to the other person. But when one or both of the parties is on empty, then the circle of love is interrupted – and that’s when we get into trouble. In fact, some of our biggest fights have happened just like that. One of us is lower than a snake’s belly, so we decide to retreat into self-pity – that arch enemy of love and harmony. Then we shut down and quit giving, feeling quite justified in doing so because, after all, we have it so rough. We become convinced that no one understands how hard our life is. The next thing you know, you’re engaged in a senseless argument about who has the more difficult lot in life. That’s a dangerous road to travel (don’t ask me how I know). The bottom line is: life is a struggle for most of us. Whether you’re rich or poor; whether you’re in the prime of your life or in your retirement years. Whether you are a stay-at-home mom or you work outside the home; whether you have a physically demanding job, or a mentally draining job – every job and every life has its challenges and drawbacks. On any given day, there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t feel like their job is the toughest. So why even go there? What is the point in debating that issue? Why not respect yourself as well as those you love? Let them know you appreciate what they do and tell them that you understand that their job has challenges and stresses that yours does not. There’s that circle of love again. I express appreciation to you and you return the recognition to me. That’s all anybody really wants. As Dr. Phil says, we need to become each other’s “soft place to fall.”

“We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us." ~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

To be continued . . .

Keen and I (age 16) at the Botanical Gardens in Singapore

Keen and I kicking up our heels at the Van Kirk Family Reunion in 2003

Father Knows Best

The Lord said, "I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." ~ Habakkuk 1:5 (NIV)

“Don't trust to hold God's hand; let Him hold yours. Let Him do the holding, and you the trusting.” ~ Hammer William Webb-Peploe

The inspiration for this week’s column came from a story I received from the latest edition of “Letters from Larry.”

The Big Picture
Author Unknown

A high school hired my friend George, an artist, to repaint the school mascot - a yellow jacket - on the football stadium wall. This was a difficult task because the painting was so large that the painter could only see a small portion of it at a time.

George had to stand a distance away in order to see the whole picture and give directions to another painter. If George's assistant had tried to paint according to his own limited perspective, seeing only a small part of the picture, he would have made a mistake. By following George's directions, however, he helped create an image that delighted the school’s sports fans.

Our life with God is something like George's view of the wall. As we face life's challenges, we are not in a position to see the whole picture – neither of the world nor of our own lives. We see only a small portion. If we rely only on our limited perspective,we risk calamity. Instead, we can choose to trust God - the One who sees the whole picture - to direct our efforts. If we do, God can work through us to create something delightful.

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

So many times in our lives we simply do not understand what is happening to us or why. That’s because we don’t see the big picture – but God does. I remember when Keen and I moved into a house owned by his parents; Jared was 6, Josh was 4 and Keener was a newborn. People would ask us how we liked the house and we’d reply, “Oh, its fine – but we won’t have a fourth child in it!” That was because the house was too small the day we moved in. Of course, we ended up eating our words when Kirk Van joined our family five years later – and he was four years old when we moved out!

The bigger the boys grew, the smaller the house became, and I honestly thought that I was in danger of losing my mind. Then, in an effort to comfort me, my sister Mary assured me that my feelings were normal. “They’ve done studies on rats,” she explained. “When they put too many in a small space they start to eat one another!”

The only thing that saved our sanity during those nine years was our weekly dates, when Keen and I would hire a sitter just to get a break. (A practice I recommend for all parents of young children!) In the meantime, we were always looking for a larger house, but never found one. So we decided to make lemons out of lemonade. Since Keen’s parents only charged us $150 per month in rent, it gave us the rare opportunity to build up our savings account in preparation for the day when we did find a larger house.

I distinctly remember crying on Keen’s shoulder one day about our cramped living conditions. He wrapped his arms around me and said, “I know, I know. It’s hard. But just when the answer seems the furthest away, it’s right around the corner.” And he was right.

One day in the fall of 1992, my father decided to surprise us with a visit. During his stay he expressed his dismay over the fact that we were living in such a small house. He also said he was worried about the house being a fire hazard. So he announced that we were going house hunting. I tried to explain that Keen drove up and down every street on the trash route each week and he would know if anything new came on the market, but Dad would hear none of that. I even tried to persuade him to go to a movie with me. “No!” he replied adamantly. “The only thing on my agenda today is: find you a house!” So I decided to placate him by going along with what I perceived to be an ill-conceived plan.

So Dad and I set out in the car and headed down the road past the courthouse into the country. As we approached a fork in the road, Dad asked, “What’s down this road?” So I turned the car and headed down the country road leading past the cemetery. Much to my shock and amazement, we came across a house with a “For Sale by Owner” sign. I seemed to recall checking into that house many, many years ago when the asking price was $125,000 (more than we could afford at the time). Keen and I had wanted to live in the country since 1979 when we left the busy metropolis of Minneapolis, Minnesota, as newlyweds and headed for Alma, Kansas.

Dad and I pulled into the driveway, walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Ruth Say answered the door. After a brief introduction, I inquired about the specifics of the house and land. She explained that the house was built in 1972, it had about 2,800 square feet and the amount of land that went with it was just under 40 acres. So far, so good. Then I asked about the price. When she said $78,500, I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven. Apparently, the Says had dropped their asking price on the house incrementally over the past ten years since I had initially looked at it. So I quickly called Keen at work and he rushed right over, and we put money down on it that very day.

So while Keen and I were busy lamenting our fate in the small house, the price on the house God had waiting for us dropped nearly $50,000. In addition, we were able to save a substantial amount of money during that time – money that we desperately needed for the down payment and remodeling expenses. You see, the basement was only partially finished, so we finished that off with bedrooms and a family room for the boys. Then the carpet, which was multicolored green shag, had to be replaced, as did the linoleum and countertops. We also decided to add central air conditioning.

We ended up needing every bit of the money we had saved, and then some, to complete the job. In fact we ran out of money with the formal living room, which sat empty for several months since we didn’t want to go into debt for furniture. But God had that all worked out, too. At the same time, my father was moving out of his house into a smaller place and needed to get rid of the furniture he and my mom had owned during their married life. So he shipped two beautiful, nice quality couches, a coffee table, and two end tables directly to our new home. They not only fit in perfectly, but they have great sentimental value for me as well. Then, on top of that, my stepmother Barbara came for a visit and filled out the rest of the living room with lamps, tables, artificial plants and flower arrangements and an antique roll top desk which she decorated with unique little knick-knacks and antique books. And if that weren’t enough, my stepmother blessed our socks off when she surprised us with all new appliances! I’ll never forget the day I received the telephone call from Rosemary at Ed Marlings informing me that my stepmother had purchased a new microwave for our home. Well, I was totally shocked. As I was busy oohing and ahhing, Rosemary interrupted, “. . .And a new electric stove….” Again I started in with the oohs and the ahhs – and once again I was interrupted. “. . . And a new refrigerator . . . And a new dishwasher!” Keen and I hadn’t even planned to install a dishwasher, and we were just going to use the old stove. Plus, Barbara had already given us a new washer and dryer earlier! You can imagine how overwhelmed we are by all this generosity. (I know what you’re thinking, but she’s already taken!) Our years of famine were over. We were so thankful to God for blessing us with the house of our dreams, and we were so thankful to my Dad and Barbara for blessing us with everything we needed to fill it up!

Sometimes God’s answer to our prayer isn’t “Yes, or No,” – it’s “Wait.”

Truly, Father knows best.


"....as the Scripture says, What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and has not entered into the heart of man, all that God has prepared - made and keeps ready - for those who love Him ....." ~ I Corinthians 2:9

Pop-Pop Van Kirk at the new house with Keener and Kirk in 1993

Meeting Grandma Barb at the airport in 1993

Don't Wait

"All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever." ~ I Peter 1:24

“We’re all going to die; that’s why we should dare to live.”
~ Keen A. Umbehr

Last week, just moments after I finished writing my column about the importance of telling the ones you love how much they mean to you, my daughter-in-law Erin called to tell me that her mother had been rushed to the hospital with a medical emergency, and they didn’t know if she was going to make it. Initially, she asked me to fly to Mississippi to watch the boys, but then Jared received a one-week leave of absence from the Navy, so they decided to drive to Ohio as a family. Thankfully, Erin’s mother pulled through, but she is not completely out of the woods yet, so please keep her in your prayers.

The unexpectedness of this health scare really illustrates the frailty of life and the importance of not waiting until it’s too late to say “I love you.”

“If you knew you only had one more day to live, who would you call, what would you say and what are you waiting for?” ~ Anonymous

Room 712
(Author Unknown)

The hospital was unusually quiet that bleak January evening, quiet and still like the air before a storm. I stood in the nurses' station on the seventh floor and glanced at the clock.

It was 9 P.M. I threw a stethoscope around my neck and headed for Room 712, last room on the hall. Room 712 had a new patient. Mr. Williams. A man all alone. A man strangely silent about his family.

As I entered the room, Mr. Williams looked up eagerly, but dropped his eyes when he saw it was only me, his nurse. I pressed the stethoscope over his chest and listened. Strong, slow, even beating. Just what I wanted to hear. There seemed little indication he had suffered a slight heart attack a few hours earlier.

He looked up from his starched white bed. "Nurse, would you -" He hesitated, tears filling his eyes. Once before he had started to ask me a question, but changed his mind. I touched his hand, waiting. He brushed away a tear. "Would you call my daughter? Tell her I've had a heart attack. A slight one. You see, I live alone and she is the only family I have."

His respiration suddenly speeded up. I turned his nasal oxygen up to eight liters a minute. "Of course I'll call her," I said, studying his face. He gripped the sheets and pulled himself forward, his face tense with urgency. "Will you call her right away - as soon as you can?"

He was breathing fast - too fast. "I'll call her the very first thing," I said, patting his shoulder. I flipped off the light. He closed his eyes, such young blue eyes in his 80-year-old face.

Room 712 was dark except for a faint night light under the sink. Oxygen gurgled in the green tubes above his bed. Reluctant to leave, I moved through the shadowy silence to the window. The panes were cold. Below a foggy mist curled through the hospital parking lot.

"Nurse," he called, "could you get me a pencil and paper?" I dug a scrap of yellow paper and a pen from my pocket and set it on the bedside table. I walked back to the nurses' station and sat in a squeaky swivel chair by the phone. Mr. Williams's daughter was listed on his chart as the next of kin. I got her number from information and dialed.

Her soft voice answered. "Janie, this is Sue Kidd, a registered nurse at the hospital. I'm calling about your father. He was admitted tonight with a slight heart attack and... "No!" she screamed into the phone, startling me. "He's not dying is he?" His condition is stable at the moment," I said, trying hard to sound convincing. Silence. I bit my lip.

"You must not let him die!" she said. Her voice was so utterly compelling that my hand trembled on the phone.

"He is getting the very best care," I assured her.

"But you don't understand," she pleaded. "My daddy and I haven't spoken. On my 21st birthday, we had a fight over my boyfriend. I ran out of the house. I haven't been back. All these months I've wanted to go to him for forgiveness. The last thing I said to him was, 'I hate you."

Her voice cracked and I heard her heave great agonizing sobs. I sat, listening, tears burning my eyes. A father and a daughter, so lost to each other. Then I was thinking of my own father, many miles away. It has been so long since I had said, "I love you."

As Janie struggled to control her tears, I breathed a prayer. "Please God, let this daughter find forgiveness."

"I'm coming. Now! I'll be there in 30 minutes," she said.

Click. She had hung up. I tried to busy myself with a stack of charts on the desk. I couldn't concentrate. Room 712; I knew I had to get back to 712.

I hurried down the hall nearly in a run. I opened the door. Mr.Williams lay unmoving. I reached for his pulse. There was none. "Code 99, Room 712. Code 99. Stat." The alert was shooting through the hospital within seconds after I called the switchboard through the intercom by the bed.

Mr. Williams had a cardiac arrest. With lightning speed I leveled the bed and bent over his mouth, breathing air into his lungs. I positioned my hands over his chest and compressed. One, two, three. I tried to count. At fifteen I moved back to his mouth and breathed as deeply as I could. Where was help? Again I compressed and breathed, compressed and ... He could not die!

The door burst open. Doctors and nurses poured into the room pushing emergency equipment. A doctor took over the manual compression of the heart. A tube was inserted through his mouth as an airway. Nurses plunged syringes of medicine into the intravenous tubing.

I connected the heart monitor. Nothing. Not a beat. My own heart pounded. "Oh God,” I prayed. “Don't let it end like this. Not in bitterness and hatred. His daughter is coming! Please let her find peace."

"Stand back," cried a doctor. I handed him the paddles for the electrical shock to the heart. He placed them on Mr. Williams's chest. Over and over we tried. But nothing. No response. Mr. Williams was dead. A nurse unplugged the oxygen. The gurgling stopped. One by one they left, grim and silent.

How could this happen? How? I stood by his bed, stunned. A cold wind rattled the window, pelting the panes with snow. Outside – everywhere – seemed a bed of blackness, cold and dark. How could I face his daughter?

When I left the room, I saw her standing against a wall by a water fountain. A doctor who had been inside 712 only moments before stood at her side, talking to her, gripping her elbow. Then he moved on, leaving her slumped against the wall. Such pathetic hurt reflected from her face. Such wounded eyes. She knew. The doctor told her that her father was gone. I took her hand and led her into the nurses' lounge. We sat on little green stools, neither saying a word. She stared straight ahead at a pharmaceutical calendar, glass-faced, almost breakable-looking.

"Janie, I'm so, so sorry," I said. It was pitifully inadequate.

"I never hated him, you know. I loved him," she said.

“God, please help her,” I prayed. Suddenly she whirled around towards me. "I want to see him," she exclaimed.

My first thought was, “Why put yourself through more pain? Seeing him will only make it worse.” But I got up and wrapped my arm around her and we walked slowly down the corridor to Room 712. Outside the door I squeezed her hand, wishing she would change her mind about going inside. She pushed open the door.

We moved to the bed, huddled together, taking small steps in unison. Janie leaned over the bed and buried her face in the sheets. I tried not to look at her during this sad, sad good-bye. I backed against the bedside table. My hand fell upon a scrap of yellow paper. I picked it up. It read:

My Dearest Janie,

I forgive you. I pray you will also forgive me. I know that you love me. I love you, too.

Daddy

My hands were shaking as I handed the note to Janie. She read it once. Then twice. Her tormented face grew radiant. Peace began to glisten in her eyes. She hugged the scrap of paper.

"Thank You, God," I whispered, looking up at the window. A few crystal stars blinked through the blackness. A snowflake hit the window and melted away, gone forever. Life seemed as fragile as a snowflake on the window.

Thank you, God, that relationships, sometimes fragile as snowflakes, can be mended together again, although sometimes there is not a moment to spare.

I slipped away from the room and hurried to the phone. I would call my father. I would say, “I love you.”

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

The Last Time
By Sheryl Hale Black
(www.scrollcardsonline.com)
Used by Permission

If I knew it would be the last time
That I would see you walk out the door,
I would hold you close and kiss you,
And beg God to allow me more.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would hear your voice so clear,
I would tape each beautiful word,
So I could replay it year after year.

If I knew it would be the last time,
To stop and say "I love you,"
I would spare that extra moment,
And not assume that you know I do.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be here to share your day,
I would put all aside to be with you,
For a memory that would never fade.

With our hopes for our tomorrows,
And our hopes for peaceful nights,
I pray that we never overlook,
Those times to make things right.

But just in case I could be wrong,
And our tomorrows we may never see,
I'd like to tell you how much I love you.
And that you mean everything to me.

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
And today could be our last chance,
To hold our loved ones tight and say,
Those things that only we can.

So if you're looking for tomorrow,
To kiss and hold the ones you love,
Tomorrow may never come for you,
Only today is given to us from above.

Take the time to say "I'm sorry,"
"Thank you" or "It's okay."
For surely once you clear the air,
You will never regret this day.

To hold your loved ones close and say
All those things you feel within,
And let them know how much you care,
And how your love will never end.

You mean the world and more to me,
You were given to me from God above.
And forever throughout eternity,
You will always have my love.


“…we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord.” ~ II Corinthians 5:6b (NLT)

If You Could Read My Mind

Now when he departed from there, he met Jehonadab . . . coming to meet him; and he greeted him and said to him, "Is your heart right, as my heart is toward your heart?"

And Jehonadab answered, "It is."

~II Kings 10:15 (NKJV)

Lately I have been thinking about how important it is to tell our loved ones how we feel about them.

I feel so privileged and grateful to be married to a man who reaffirms his love for me on a regular basis. As some of you learned from the love letters Keen wrote while I was in Nevada working on my book, he is not afraid to share his feelings or speak from his heart. Here is an excerpt from one of those letters: “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.” Just the other day Keen said: “I’m half of nothing without you.” His expressions of love feed my spirit and reach the deepest crevasses of my heart and soul, making me feel so loved and secure. That is the power of words.

The night before my sister Patricia died so unexpectedly last March while vacationing in Mexico, she and all of her friends were sitting around a table talking. For some reason, Patricia’s friends began telling her how much she meant to them, and the difference she had made in their lives. One by one they shared their heartfelt sentiments with Patricia, never knowing that it would be her last night on earth. Before she died, Patricia told Nikki how much their words had touched her heart.

Another example that comes to mind is when I received a phone call from my brother Joe (who is a doctor) telling me that our mother’s health was rapidly deteriorating and she appeared to be losing her seven-year battle to cancer. I still remember sitting in a restaurant with Keen crying my eyes out. I told him, “If Mom dies before I get the chance to tell her how much I love her, I just couldn’t bear it.” You see, although our family was very loving and affectionate (we’re big-time huggers), and every night we would hug and kiss our parents and say, “Good night, God bless you, sweet dreams, sleep tight,” for some reason we rarely said the words, “I love you.” Consequently, the thought of saying those words created a deep feeling of awkwardness for me. But Keen looked at me with gentle eyes of understanding and encouraged me to move past my fear.

So a few days later I made the call to my mom. When she got on the phone, I said, “Mom, I’m not saying you’re going to die, but if you did die and I never told you how much I loved you, I just couldn’t live with myself." Then I said, "I love you with all my heart, Mom.” Mom got choked up and replied, “Well, thank you, Eileen. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.” I went on to tell her that now that I was a parent myself, I understood what a difficult job it was, and that I had nothing but love, gratitude and the utmost of admiration in my heart for her. That conversation gave me a feeling of total peace, because my dear mother did not die without knowing – and hearing – that she was deeply loved and appreciated by me.

My mother and father, Peggy and Joe Van Kirk in 1979

Here is another example from one of the journals I kept when our boys were growing up:

January 15, 1990

Recently I was telling the boys how they need to tell me if something is bothering them. I said I didn’t want them to think: “Oh, well, she’s Mom. I can’t say that to her.” I make mistakes, too. The only way I know if I hurt their feelings or if they think a decision I make is unfair, is if they tell me. I told them that if they hold anger in, that’s not good. It’s like a splinter; if you don’t remove it, then it could get infected. I always want them to feel like they can come to me with anything. I don’t want to be intimidating to them or have them put me on a pedestal so they don’t feel comfortable in approaching me – or like there is something disrespectful about it. I always want to have a good line of communication with my kids, and I want to encourage open communications by positive reinforcement.

So the next day Josh (age 8) came to me crying. He said: “Sometimes I just feel sort of left out. Jared got $5.00 for feeding McQueen’s dog and Keener got a thermos, but I didn’t get anything. And you buy new clothes for Jared and Keen but I hardly get any.” I hugged him and cried and said I was sorry he felt left out sometimes and that made me feel sad, but I was glad he told me. I did remind him that he got to have a friend over the other night and about his big birthday party and some new pants he just got. He said, “I know, but sometimes I just feel left out.” I could tell these were his heartfelt feelings, and I didn’t want to talk him out of feeling that way. He was crying the whole time. He also said he wanted to go to Manhattan or somewhere with just me or Dad – all by himself.

So the next day Josh and I went to Manhattan and spent the whole day together. We had such a fun day. It was a special time and a unique experience for both of us to have that time alone. He kept saying: “I love you, Mom. You’re the best.” I told him I loved him, too, and he was so sweet and that I was so proud to have him for my son. I let him pick where he wanted to eat. Then he played some video games, had a giant cookie, and bought a new eraser and toy for himself, and I bought him a new hat (and one for Jared & Keener, too). Several times throughout the day he said, “I’m sure glad I told you I felt left out.” Then he added: “But I won’t just say it to get my own way.”

On our way home in the car, a song came on the radio [sung by Gordon Lightfoot] with the words, “If you could read my mind . . . what a tale my thoughts could tell. . . .” And Josh said: “Just like that, Mom. If you could read my mind, I wouldn’t have to tell you I felt left out, but you can't, so I do!”

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When I asked my friend Shawn if it was all right for me to share excerpts from some of her letters, she wrote: “No problem about reprinting anything I have to say. I try and live by the idea that whatever I say can be said anywhere and to anyone. Sometimes that means I am eating my words so I try to say tasty things.”

I love the way Shawn writes and the fun stories she shares about her young daughter, Lucy, who is three years old. This next “Lucy story” fits in perfectly with the theme of my column this week:

“We are having a great start to our year. Lucy is happy to be back on a regular routine. She had a big meltdown on New Years Day, just one too many social events sans a nap. In the middle of a screaming fit, she stopped and asked me, "Mama, can I say stupid?" I said that she can but I would prefer that she not. So she let me know that I was a stupid stinky face. I love that she wants to ask permission to be "bad". Mostly, she just needed to let off steam. Now we are back to my sweet, happy girl.”

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I think it’s so important for children and adults alike to tap into and express their truest, deepest feelings, whatever they might be. Several times throughout our married life, I have made the mistake of keeping something in because I didn’t want to cause a problem. But I have found that openness and honesty are so much more important than the fear of a conflict. Even if what you say (i.e. “stupid stinky face”) does result in an argument, at least the matter is out in the open where you can confront it and deal with it. Sweeping problems under the rug doesn’t resolve anything; it only leaves a big lump in the middle of the living room and causes those we love to trip and fall.

So whether what you have on your heart and mind is positive, or not-so-positive, I encourage you to give your loved ones the gift of honesty and truth. If something is bothering you or you feel “left out” – tell them. And by all means, don’t let anyone in your life leave this world without letting them know how much you love them.

“For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you, with many tears, not that you should be grieved, but that you might know the love which I have so abundantly for you.”

~ II Corinthians 2:4 (NKJV)

Do You Hear What I Hear?

“And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” ~ Mark 9:24 (KJV)

I raise my hands, bow my head
I'm finding more and more truth in the words written in red
They tell me that there's more to life than just what I can see
Oh, I believe

I can't quote the book
The chapter or the verse
You can't tell me it all ends
In a slow ride in a hearse
You know I'm more and more convinced
The longer that I live
Yeah, this can't be
No, this can't be
No, this can't be all there is . . .

Believe ~ Recorded by Brooks and Dunn

Christmas is a time when we all take a little closer look at exactly what we believe and in Whom we believe.

This past week in our local paper, a citizen expressed her dismay over the fact that people were talking about Christmas being over already, when, according to her Christian beliefs, the twelve days of Christmas would not be over until January 5th. The writer stated that she felt compelled to make a witness to what she believed. “Love (Jesus Christ) came at Christmas and is not gone,” she wrote. “Love came at Christmas and will never go away.” She went on to say that it is wonderful to live in a country where she can hold these views and express them publicly.

The controversy over whether to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays was another issue which generated deep emotions and diverse opinions. My high school history teacher from Singapore had this to say on the subject: “Thanks for sending Merry Christmas greetings. If I get another “Happy Holidays” card I am gonna barf!! (And that is from a total unbeliever).”

More than anything, I think it is important for each of us to respect the differences in others – whether we agree with them or not. As author Naomi Patterson said in a recent column: “We’re all more alike than different. Where differences do arise, respect and protect them. Honor diverse gifts. There is no one to envy or idolize and no one to whom you should feel superior.”

From the time God created the heavens and the earth, and later mankind (if you believe that He did, which I do), He has been the best example of this philosophy. God told Adam and Eve that they could enjoy the fruit of every tree in the Garden of Eden – except one. Being typical children, they disobeyed and did the very thing their Father told them not to do. The point I’m trying to make is that God could have built a barbed wire fence around the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. I mean, He was God, so He could have forced Adam and Eve to obey Him and do things His way. But God relinquished His right to control His creation from the very onset, because He doesn’t want anyone to be forced to follow Him, serve Him or love Him. God is all about free will and freedom of choice. He offers us His love, His gift of salvation and His promise of total forgiveness and an eternity in Heaven – but it is up to us whether we choose to accept His free gift.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.” ~ Revelations 3:20 (NKJV)

In the past I have often shared stories I received from Larry Perry who lives in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with his wife, Eloise. Larry is a Christian who always shows the utmost respect for people of all faiths, as evidenced by the Christmas newsletter he sent out this past year. (Larry's e-newsletter, "Letters from Larry," is sent to over 40 countries around the world.) His Christmas newsletter contained three parts; one was titled, “To All of our Christian Friends Around the World”, the second was titled, “To our many Jewish Friends around the world”, and the third was, “To our many Muslim Friends around the world.” In each of the parts he shared a story which explained the beliefs and celebrations of the three different religions. At the end, Larry and Eloise wished all of their friends a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Ramadan.

Now some might question Larry’s approach or disagree with it altogether, but I believe Larry is right on. As Christians, we are instructed by God to walk in love towards all of our brothers and sisters.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love. In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” ~ I John 4:7-11 (NKJV)

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My other friend, who is also named Larry, shared some wonderful quotes in the latest edition of his e-newsletter titled, “On the Run...in Singapore.” Here are two of those quotes:

“My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: Loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?”

~ Bob Hope (1903-2003)

“Let us remember that the Christmas heart is a giving heart, a wide open heart that thinks of others first. The birth of the baby Jesus stands as the most significant event in all history, because it has meant the pouring into a sick world the healing medicine of love which has transformed all manner of hearts for almost two thousand years . . . .underneath all the bulging bundles is this beating Christmas heart.”

~ George Mathew Adams, Michigan newspaper columnist

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I received this next Christmas letter from Shawn (one of Patricia’s dear friends and now one of mine), whose writing style seems poetic to me:

It is a bittersweet Christmas. Lucy is full of the magic of Christmas. I have been lax in my Christian duties of really explaining Christmas to her but she is on track now. She asked me, “Now Mama, exactly whose birthday is on Christmas?” So we talked about baby Jesus, who she insists on calling “she” no matter how many times I tell her Jesus is a boy. My boss gave her a nativity set that she loves to play with and then take the baby “she” Jesus out so she can take her on a sleigh ride. They get in the sled and fly up into the sky. We will be making a chocolate cake for the baby's birthday.

I really do miss Patricia right now. This is the age she was looking forward to teaching all of those traditions from your family like the songs and simple rituals for the holidays. Lucy would have eaten them up. She has a bit of Patricia's spirit in her. Her enthusiasm for other people reminds me daily of Patricia. She loves to say, “Hooray” for (whomever) and (their accomplishment).

It has been nice to receive you reflections. I am so glad to hear how well your son and his family have recovered from the hurricane, etc. Family is a great thing to have in years like this. I am glad to hear that you have had so much good to temper the not so good times this year.

We hope you have a wonderful holiday season and a really peaceful New Year!

Love, Shawn and Lucy

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Yes, Christmas is also a time to remember the loved ones we have lost in the past year or years. As a friend of mine (who also lost her sister) wrote: “The years bring both sweet and sad.” Yet, during these times of reflection we are reminded of how precious life is, and how we should treasure each and every day as if it were our last. Most importantly, we are reminded to not only cherish those we love and who love us, but all people with whom we cross paths, because we are all God’s children and part of the same family. So let’s carry on the Christmas Spirit all throughout the coming year!

In closing, I’d like to share the following poem, which was sent to me by Patricia’s partner and my precious sister, Nikki:

The Work of Christmas
By Howard Thurman

When the song of angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:

to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the brothers,
to make music in the heart


“May the God of peace, who . . . brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing His will, and may He work in us what is pleasing to Him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” ~ Hebrews 13:20-21

Patricia enjoying the sunset

Christmas Present

The following is my Umbehr family Christmas poem for 2005.  I thought it was easier to hit the highlights of our year, rather than write a newsletter and go into detail on each event. This was an eventful year, without a doubt, with many ups and downs – which is the excuse I’m using for failing to include one of the major milestones of 2005 – Erin’s graduation from nursing school (summa cum laude)! I felt terrible about it after I realized it, although Erin never said a word.   In an attempt to make up for my oversight, I’ve included a picture taken on the day Erin graduated.   We’re so proud of you, Erin!




Merry Christmas One and All!

Some of you hear from us
Quite frequently
If my Reflections column
You do receive

But for those of you
Who feel out of the loop
This poem will provide
The Umbehr family scoop

March brought much sadness
Heartache and tears
With news that we lost
My sister Patricia, so dear


In spite of our sorrow
Life continued indeed            
And on May 14th
Keen earned his degree


The celebration was short-lived
Then the real work began
As he studied and prepared
For the bar exam

On the 1st of September
We learned the good news
He could now practice law
And charge fees for his views!

But the summer had other
Surprises in store
When Hurricane Katrina
Hit the Gulf Coast shore


Jared, Erin & boys
Lost all their possessions
Except their cars and their lives
Which was a major concession!


Josh & Lisa keep busy        
With both still in school
Lisa graduates in May
In time to sit by the pool


But that won’t last long
For the parents-to-be
That’s right – they’re expecting!
Then baby will make three!

And if that wasn’t enough,
For the proud grandparents to swallow
Jared & Erin soon announced
That their new baby would follow!

Keen II is still working
And refereeing at night
Plus he takes on-line classes
He’s so ambitious and bright


He won the 5K race
In Alma this year
And began dating Emily
In love they appear


Kirk made a big move
To a larger school nearby
Expanding his horizons
Under God’s and our watchful eye


He’s earning good grades
And joined a paintball club
But he was most excited when,
He made the basketball cut!

Now it’s time to wrap up
This warm Christmas greeting
May God bless you and keep you
Until our next meeting!          
                    

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