The Seasons of a Mother By Miggy Krentel

Mother was in the springtime of her life when I arrived on earth, screaming my lungs out.  She birthed me, fed me, clothed me, cuddled me—-all at my slightest whimper.  She was young and beautiful and full of life. I adored her.

But I began to grow up and as I grew older and wiser, I thought, “My mom is not really as smart as I once thought she was.  And she even has wrinkles. That thought really shattered my universe.  But still I ran to her like an overgrown cub to let her lick my wounds, partly out of habit but mostly from a mystical umbilical cord of loyalty and devotion—a magnetic kind of glue that bound us together.

Suddenly, I was all grown up and ready to leave home.  There was another world out there I knew nothing about.  My love for her was intact but I found I could get along quite nicely without her guiding my every move.  Then that “falling in love” miracle happened to  me and I found the mate I wanted to live with the rest of my life.  Together we feathered our nest with little ones of our own.  Mother was swept into the ripe summer of her life, savoring the freedom of not having little ones tugging at her apron strings.  She smiled a lot more and wore the next size dress with grace and abandon.  She loved to visit and cuddle her grandchildren, but I noticed she did not cry when the goodbyes were said,  Summer was a good time—-for both of us.

Then, before I knew it, my own small ones were big ones.  They looked at me twice when I called and even dared to question my wisdom and years of experience.  My heart thumped sympathetically, as I remembered some of my attitudes of yesteryear.  As the years fell of the calendar like dominoes, I noticed our home was becoming quieter and emptier.  It was time for us to dream.  Perhaps now we could begin to travel.  

Before we realized it, the bloom of Mother’s summer faded and the fall season of her life took hold.  Small, nearly imperceptible changes took place in her life and had a ripple effect on our lifestyle.  We went out of town uneasily, never quite sure of how she would fare when we were gone.

I telephoned every day to see how she was doing and our conversation rambled all over the map.  Then, with no forewarning, and for no apparent reason, Daddy died.  I thought Mother would not have the fortitude or will to make it alone, but she gallantly held her head a little higher and quickened her step whenever I looked her way.  Her one consuming desire was to live by herself.   My husband and I agreed, and we became spectators watching winter swallow her.

When her driver’s license could not be renewed because of her failing eyesight, it was a red flag.  Now, I had two shopping lists and making weighty decisions as to what kind of cereal to buy for the week.

I unwittingly assumed the role of mother and she gradually slipped back into the more comfortable position of child.  It was a stunning reversal and one I did not relish.  When she fell and broke her hip, it was like the first snowstorm-bone-chilling.  Her dependency mushroomed and the head once held so high now drooped disconsolately.  I swallowed the lump in my throat and shut my eyes as I held her hands.

There was one last gift I could give her- indeed, could give to us both.  “ Mother, as long as we both have strength to stretch out hands up to God,, we are fine.  There is not one thing going on in either of our lives that He does not already know. Let’s face winter together, shall we?”

The Face in the Balloon by Mildred Krentel

My Dad, Paul Krentel, was attacked by the horrible diseases of Alzheimers and Dementia in his late 60's.  This dear man lost most of what we knew of him as husband, dad and Pop-Pop.  This story shares some of the learning moments we had together as a family.  Through it all, he emerged out of this cloud as our dad over and again.  If you are going through something similar, you are not alone and God is able to get you through it with victory.  So this is shared with memories of my Dad, wonderful father of six children, successful business man, loving husband, sports lover, chemist, organizer, boat enthusiastand most of all a loving example of God's love in our family.  DKH

Paul shuffled to the bathroom and stood by the sink for long minutes, spellbound by the running water.  Then, carefully, he squeezed a long ribbon of toothpaste on his black comb.

“Honey, that isn’t your toothbrush!”

“Well, you’re wrong,” he snapped back.

Paul lifted the comb to his mouth.  Then he looked at it again.  Without a word he held the comb under the faucet.

“You make me nervous!”  He spat out the words along with the toothpaste.

I knew I did.  I watched him like a mother hovering over a sick child.  Small wonder that he felt smothered.  But each time he wandered out of sight , my fears multiplied.  He pushed wrong numbers on the elevator, forgot where he parked, and couldn’t remember his own telephone number.

Tag ends of torment snowballed in my mind gathering stress as I careened through this new challenge.  What was happening?  My heart was frozen with terror.  We decided to see our doctor.

•••••••••

The neurologist spoke gently as he shared his evaluation.  But, how could anyone be gentle and say the real you was dying?

“A progressive senile dementia often accompanies Parkinson’s disease.”

Paul had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s two years ago, and while that news alone was a time bomb, dementia was a black hole.  I felt myself being sucked into a whirlpool of panic.  God, where are You?

The doctor handed me a book.

“Alzheimer’s disease appears to be the most frequent cause of irreversible dementia in adults.  The intellectual impairment progresses gradually from forgetfulness to total disability.  The cause….is not known, and at present physicians know of no way to stop or cure it.”

“I can’t write. And my eyes jump when I read.  Do I need new glasses?” Paul’s voice was soft and undemanding. Not waiting for answers, he just kept talking, filling in all the empty spots….talking, talking.

“Aren’t there any medicines that can help?”

My heart nose-dived at the doctor’s next words.

“There is no known cure.”

As we left the office, Paul grabbed my hand sadly.

“I’m so sorry for my life.”

We just stood there, his arm around me and my head on his shoulder.  There was nothing left to say.

Bedtime was an oasis.  I tried to pray, but all I could hear was the plaintive cry from the stereo, “ I don’t want to walk without you, baby.”  The words stung like antiseptic on a gaping wound..

God, please God, can You hear me?  You are breaking my heart.  You are letting my husband crumble piece by piece, right before my eyes.  First Parkinson’s disease and Alzheimer’s ….What on earth are you doing?  Please God, please don’t let it happen.  Paul is my love, my best friend.  How can I walk on this earth without him?

And how can there be joy, laughter, or happiness in my life again?  It was all coming to a screeching halt.

I knew we would face all the indignities of the flesh that this disease extracts.  a pound for a pound, helpless in the crush of a dementia that evolves slowly but relentlessly.

The next morning I woke up crying.  Paul snored as I tiptoed into the kitchen to grab a mug of steaming coffee and my Bible.

In the quiet of a home stilled with sleep, I began reading in I Thessalonians 5:16 and 18. “  In everything, give thanks…..rejoice always.”  I slammed down the Bible, a wave of hot anger engulfing me as I stalked out of the room.

He was a difficult God to worship.  I could not understand Him.  He seemed to demand joy in the midst of trials and troubles.  There just was no way I could possible please Him.

Still muttering to myself, I peeked into our bedroom.

Paul’s eyes flew open.  They were twin pools of terror.

“Miggy, my leg, it won’t move!”

I bent over him.

“Does it pain you?  Is it numb?  Should I call the doctor?”   I pulled the blankets back.

“Just help me move my leg.  Grab hold of it.  Do something!  Don’t just stand there1”

Gently lifting the disobedient limb, I helped him sit at the edge of the bed.  He clung to me, as I wrapped my arms tightly around him.

“What’s happening to me, Miggy?” 

I wanted to reply, You are starting down the other side of a strange mountain and I am just as frightened as you are.  But my words hung back. 

Like a slow rerun of our life, I re-lived the valleys that Paul and I had walked through, feeling the pain reel by reel, frame by agonizing frame.  That awful Monday morning when God called our six-month old baby, Martha, home, Paul led me into our bedroom and knelt with me.  We both wept for our tiny daughter until there were no more tears.

Then that September morning, two years later, Melissa Jane, our sixth chip was diagnosed with down’s syndrome.  Paul, again, was the one by my side soothing me in his comforting arms, gently pushing the hair from my face, tenderly wiping my eyes with his big white hankie. 

******

The days that followed crowded together to make weeks, and the weeks squeezed their discouraging days into dead-en months.  Days, weeks, and months of confusion and disbelief.  Then one year passed, a yo-yo experience at best, never knowing what to expect next.  Paul’s descent was alarmingly fast.  His comprehension faded, his coordination vanished.  I was terrified.

And then….one Saturday morning, when the two of us were all alone, Paul fell in the bathroom.  No bones were broken, but he could no longer stand or walk.  His life took another downwards turn.  It became a wheelchair-to-bed existence.

His speech went from bad to worse….a jigsaw puzzle of memory pieces trying to fit into some semblance of reality.  God was allowing this man’s mind to be taken from him, leaving only his outside shell to remind me of the man I knew and loved.  “For better, for worse, in sickness and health..had it been fifty-two years?”

*********

One morning, as I turned the calendar page, I saw that it was March the 13th.  Paul’s seventy-fifth birthday.  Bitterly, I wondered what was left to celebrate.

  A visit from our son and his wife with a cheery basket of flowers made the morning seem brighter.. Another ding-dong at the front door announce some friends with a Happy Birthday cake, candles, and every party plates.  Paul seemed to come alive.

“What all the fuss about?”  He whispered to me.

Again, a knock brought a big cluster of Birthday balloons, shiny mylar ones standing out midst a rainbow-colored assortment.  An apple and orange anchored them in a small net bag.  I placed the balloons in front of Paul as he sat in his wheelchair.  As he reached to get closer to these magical floating objects, I could sense his fascination.  

Paul sat spellbound when he saw his face in one of the big silver balloons.  He held it in both hands.  Turning it this way and that, he looked at his reflection.  then, he opened his mouth and made a funny face, and his mirrored image mimicked him.  He laughed aloud and we all laughed with him. 

When we sang Happy Birthday, he joined in off-key with a hearty “Happy Birthday, dear Jesus!”  We all laughed again.  He downed two pieces of cake,holding on to the balloons with a tight fist.  This was turning out to be a Happy Birthday after all.

This was his world, his joke, and we laughed together as we used to do.  He reached for my hand and would not let me go.  It was as though God had reached down and grabbed my hands to say, “My precious child, I will not let you go.”

There would still be times of happiness ahead, times of laughter and a time for love. “Rejoice?  In everything?”  Was that what God had said?  Big tears ran down my cheeks and splashed on the wheelchair.

I felt a surge of unparalleled happiness sweep over me.  Joy was a gift, straight form God, joy in anything …..joy in everything!  Even this.  I separated the balloons and kissed Paul’s face all over, his eyes, his nose, his forehead, and finally his great big smile.

He glanced up at me, traces of icing on his cheeks and the last half of a fine on his mouth. 

Looking around, I saw the same room, same people, same heartbreak.  Nothing had changed.  Except me!  Kneeling down by his wheelchair, I hugged him to me, my cheek next to his.

I saw our faces, side by side, in the shiny mylar balloon.  He smiled at the balloon.  I smiled, too.  Then he stuck his tongue out, and we laughed together. 

Then, very slowly, Paul pulled the balloon toward his mouth and planted a big wet kiss….on my face….in the balloon!

My Earnest Prayer by Mildred Krentel

Lord,

Send me a surprise,

One that catches me off guard

And makes me wonder,

Like Easter.

Send me a resurrection

When everything looks dead and buried.

Send me light,

When my mind is empty.

Send me a thing to do

When I am just waiting around.

Send me a new friend

When I am alone.

Send me peace

When I am afraid.

Send me a future

When it looks hopeless.

Send me your resurrection

When I die.

I Thessalonians 4

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God.  First, the believers who have died will rise from their graves.  Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.  Then we will be with the Lord forever.  So encourage each other with these words. 

A Bag Of Tools by Sharpe

A favorite poem of mine…..to share and ponder. DKH

A Bag Of Tools

By:  R. L. Sharpe

Isn't it strange 

That princes and kings,

And clowns that caper 

In sawdust rings,

 And common people 

Like you and me

Are builders for eternity?

Each is given a bag of tools,

A shapeless mass, A book of rules;

And each must make - 

Ere life is flown -

A stumbling block,  

Or a steppingstone.

Don't you just love it?  I wonder……..

Do we so distract ourselves with busy-ness that we can’t focus on this process of building? Do we even realize that our everyday experiences and actions should be building on one another for God’s greater good?

Thought: Stepping stones are used to make our journey easier….over water, rough paths etc. Easy to follow .......with a clear end.  What do these stepping stones for eternity look like, do you think?…. …..love? hope?  peace? kindness? How we work out our salvation.......

 What’s spilling out of your “bag of tools”? Are we fully using them?

Please note: I will be posting for the next few months, every other Tuesday. Not each week. Many of the upcoming postings will be writings of Mildred Krentel which I have recently uncovered in her files.  I think you’ll enjoy many of her pieces, as I have.  So, don’t forget me……just visit me every other week.  

Discipline, A Perspective….” by Diane Krentel Hodge

Ok, I get it.  I know that there is a whole new way of discipline nowadays and I must adjust.  But sometimes, when I go out in public and watch the behaviors of some over-indulged children, I nearly bite my tongue, clear through! 

I’m sixty-six now and I bet younger people think I don’t have any real experiences quite like theirs to even share on the subject. You know,  I wonder if they feel that I can’t empathize because I am too far removed by age or that I’m retired and “out to pasture” so to speak.  It’s kind of funny to me because I joke, that there are not too many people lining up at my door to ask me about how to discipline effectively. What worked ALL those many years ago may not be relevant anymore!

When I was “in the trenches”of child-rearing, I remember asking my Grandmother how I was doing. I didn’t expect she would answer, but after a poignant pause, she said sweetly, “ Don’t forget to be firm and consistent in what you say! Do what you say!”  She went on to explain when you set clear standards of behavior with understood consequences, both positive and negative, make sure you follow through with what you set up.  If I hadn’t asked, I would have continued to muddle through trying this and that hoping to land on something that brought peace in our house. 

While teaching, I remember the time when I had 34 children in my second grade classroom; each child with different abilities and challenging behavioral problems. Recipe for disaster and burnout. But for the most part, we got along just fine all day and even had lots of fun in the process of learning.  Not to say, that everyday was golden, it wasn’t, but for the most part it was a pleasant and a rewarding experience. 

A key factor of success in the classroom was having a discipline plan. Good classroom management correlates with good discipline.  Having no goal in this area means reaching just that…nothing..…and this fails to meet! Each child in your care whether parenting and teaching, is a gift you are responsible for! There is so much at stake with each precious one. They learn so much from you. Long-lastingTraits they  bring with them into adulthood.  

At home and in school, how can we set clear standards of behavior with consequences, both positive and negative to help discipline? 

I have been dying to put it “out there”, so to speak. So here is a list of suggested “old fashioned” ideas that worked for me both as a parent of three boys and an elementary school teacher. 

We can set clear standards of discipline by…….

• Modeling positive behaviors for child to imitate e.g. “Watch Joey say ‘please’ when he wants another cookie. Isn’t that polite and good? I know you can do that too!” If children see you modeling  and praising the behavior you are trying to teach them, the impression it makes is imprinted in their minds as children always look up to you to firmly lead the way.

•Using positive peer modeling.  Children learn quickly from their peers, so exposing them to other well behaved children who have a certain skills that can be shared often in friendship….. teaching the observers much.

• Exercising praise for positive behaviors ….e.g. “I just love the way you help Mommy pick up the toys. You are such a responsible boy!” A few positive words or pats on the back go a long way in making someone feel proud of themselves and able to “reach the sky”.  Praise, praise, praise…….There can’t ever be “too much”! But it has to be commensurate to a real positive behavior!!! No counterfeits!  Kids know!

• Following through consistently when boundaries are over-stepped.  e.g.  Mommy told you that if you continued to hit Billy, you would have to sit in the No-No chair.  Then make sure on the first reminder, that the consequence is carried out! Not after the second or third infraction. Kids learn really fast who means what they say and who doesn’t.  Firmly, yet controlled. Letting a situation escalate to the anger level means that boundaries and follow-through haven’t been clearly delineated in the past and the child knows that. 

•Rewarding targeted behaviors with positive rewards. Let’s say you have had some difficulty with “Johnny” being polite in public….You set up a token system which is not only fun but practically makes the child focus in on the desired result.   e.g. Every time I see you say please and thank you, a token goes in the Happy Jar…..(building up to some desired end…e.g. Ice cream, or token toy). I have used this successful from everything from potty-training to limiting “hissy-fits” for attention when things go wrong.

•Sharing honestly and calmly with a child when you are displeased e.g. an infraction occurs ….at the same time letting them know they are loved or valued in spite of what happened. BALANCE is important here. Also speak to this, as close in time to the infraction as possible.  If you wait too long, the child has already moved on to new things that demand his/her attention.

•Responding appropriately to upsetting situations.  The more you coddle a child with too much sympathy, when something little happens to upset him/her, the more you loose an opportunity to teach the child resiliency. Resiliency will be needed all through their life.  A way to develop this key trait is too model problem-solving or working through a problem calmly with clear steps and words to express their feelings versus outbursts. During times like these we need to lighten up on the sympathy. 

• Building  behaviors to produce intrinsic motivation for future patterns of behavior.  Eg. Don’t you feel good inside when you  help others with a happy spirit.  If a child learns that he/she will receive a certain positive feeling  inside from doing something                          

right, the behavior will be much better reinforced.  Not all disciplines and directives should be extrinsic. The child can learn better if he/she sees the benefits of positive behaviors in making himself/herself more happy. All on their own!

Thanks to all for letting this “old gal” share some really old ideas that worked like a charm in my day.

What works for you?

I'll never  be too old to learn a thing or two,  so feel free to share how you feel about this subject.

Old Age is Not for Sissies (continued)

Finally, I have to keep reminding myself that I am not alone.  Neither are you! This is something I say to myself, out loud, and then I say it again.  I am not alone.  God is in this with me!  He is in this for you. We can cry out to Him and He will listen.  I try not to sputter or fume about the happenings  of the day.  After all He is God.  He is in control.

“Shh, my child, now really, is this what you were crying out to me about? Quiet now for I am here with you.  Can you stand up?  There!  Now, take my hand and let’s climb out of here.”  So He pulls and I hang on for dear life. Then we talk.  Oh true, I mumble and grumble, but I have concluded that God will never let me go.  He hushes my whining and listens to what I have to say.

Goodness…..this has all the earmarks of the sermon of the century, does it not?  But honestly, God is in the driver’s seat.  God has thought this age-thing through.  Remember that old man called Caleb?  He was that spy way back in the Old Testament?  You remember…..Joshua and Caleb….did Caleb run out of gas?  Not once.  Listen to Caleb talking—-

Now then, just as the Lord promised,

He has kept me alive for forty-five years

 since the time he said this to Moses,

 while Israel moved about in the desert.  

So here I am today, eighty-five years old!  

I am still as strong today

 as the day Moses sent me out’ 

I’m just as vigorous to go out to battle as I was then.”

Joshua 14: 10,11  NIV

Lord, this day give us Caleb-confidence!  Grant us patience, dear Lord for today and all the todays that might follow.     Miggy Krentel

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” 

Psalm 90:12 NIV

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” 

Psalm 90:12 NIV

Old Age Is Not For Sissies by Diane Krentel Hodge

Someone has said that in life, we only stay young long enough, to strengthen our backs for the burden of old age. Have you noticed that for each new phase of life, there seems to be great preparation and celebration preceding it?  The wonder of young love and marriage…..planning the “perfect marriage”ceremony…..attending marriage seminars…celebrating anniversaries, etc.  Then, another phase evolves…..the excitement of getting ready for a new baby:……”learning how to” classes on breathing and labor,  painting the nursery,  studying manuals on discipline and care….buying scrapbooks and cameras…. just to mention a few things.  Even for our mid-life there are more preparations: celebrating the joys of raising a family….. attending graduations, weddings, baby shower while entering the height of a promising career… Experiences that build on one another to prepare us for each stage of life we were in.

And then, the “harvest” age comes and we find ourselves in an unfamiliar journey….old age.  It sneaks up on us when we are in the “prime of life”.  Suddenly, we are in a new world where there is little, to no preparation for.  No map, instruction manual, or encouraging seminar to navigate through its deep challenges. “Physically, our bodies are telling us, mentally,  that the two are no longer in sync.  Our children look at us with unbelief as if we can snap out of it.” (MEK)  Our extended family watch us as if we have always been old and discount what we try to say and do.  Yet, inside, we feel as if we still are young and wonder why they can’t quite see it. 

As we look around for the “normal” button for this period of life, you might enjoy some of Miggy’s (my Mom’s) journal entries about old age. Her writings should bring a smile to your face or a tear to your eyes. These views are very honest about this complicated time of life. I must say, she never felt she belonged in this age category called “old age” at all! She lived almost 92 years and was mentally alert right to the end! 

For the next few weeks, I will feature other entries she made about surviving in this world of the elderly. 

Here is one short entry:

“Why is it each and every year, on one special day, we locate those short stubby sticks of paraffin hiding in a kitchen drawer and place them, one  by one in the middle of a mound of sweet stuff on top of a cake we call our “birthday cake”?  Each year we sing “Happy Birthday to you.”  But along with each successive birthday, Life seems to lose a little of that giddy happiness we felt when we blew out sweet sixteen.

Why?  I think I know.  As I have now amassed almost ninety of these occasions I know for sure that “old age is not for sissies.”  There are many of you that know that these are the years your feet hurt before they even hit the floor, your head aches and your joints protest.  You grab your raincoat only to discover your eyes have tricked you again and produced the foggy world you think you see out the window Your eyeglasses are all smeared again…..the sun is shining gloriously.  Things are not a they seem.

It occurs to me that it is high time indeed to prepare ourselves for the end of the race.  We want to finish the race gloriously even though some of us belong to a motley group of gray haired puff-a-billies limping for the goal posts.  If it were left up to me, I’d like nothing better than to pull off my sneakers for good and hang my feet up, but it looks like I’ll be here on earth for the full count.

(More next week) Miggy Krentel

Can you relate to any of this yet?  Maybe you are not there yet…but many of us are fast approaching it.

What's in a Reflection? by Diane Krentel Hodge

There’s a joke around our house about how long it takes me to get ready each morning.  It seems like there is a regiment of 54 steps,I must go through to look and feel ready for the day. My husband many times walks by me, as I am busily applying each layer of readiness.  He often says, “What step are you on, Honey?”  I always laugh and tell him some random number in response. 

I’ve never really counted each step, it’s just a routine we laugh about. Some mornings  I glance at my reflection and I see the task ahead is bound to be monumental.  I need a shower to start the ball rolling….then comes the hair washing and drying, putting in all those curlers and applying gel products…..then the 20 or more steps to applying the make-up, eyeliner, shadow, concealer, wrinkle cream, bronzer and so the steps add up to that magic number. 

 It just so happens, if I’m having a very good day, these steps actually work and I look “pretty good, “ (Now, you must know I never compare myself to those 25 years olds as that would be pure folly!)  Those positive days, my inner self remembers what it saw in the mirror and my footsteps are lighter and more carefree.   All day long, I don’t even mind surveying my image in a mirror or store window reflection.

 In contrast, the days when the reflection doesn’t tell lies, the opposite outcome can be true. I see very plainly that my hair doesn’t cooperate and there are bags under my eyes with deep shadows that the concealer can't cover; not to mention a new gray hair with accompanied wrinkles. But this time, this“glimpse” has a different resulting behavior. My steps seem much slower. The day seems extra hard to get through, and I reflect on my age more. 

Can you relate to this reflection problem?

Similarly,  our walk with the Lord correlates to a different kind of reflection. Beth Moore once said “We will reflect the God who we believe Him to be.”  We are directly affected by our concept of Him. 

Our belief system is key. Is our God BIG enough to give us that “bounce” we need each day to make it a spiritually victorious day?  Or is our God too SMALL and not even a reference point, as we face each day’s challenges? 

Is our belief system well developed?  

Do we often reflect on who God is and how much He wants us to graft ourselves deeply into Him, so that we can draw upon the power that He has to offer.   

Do our minds remember even a few of the characteristics of God? For example:

When we get discouraged, do we think God is my only real hope? 

When the task is unsurmountable, do we think God is mighty? 

When our mind is troubled, do we think God is good?

When we think you don’t measure up to God’s standard, do we think God is our salvation?  

One good way spiritually to “reflect” on the God of the Bible is to keep a journal.  I recommend making a spot in a journal to write down all the attributes of God we discover in our daily Bible readings . If we meditate and memorize them, our behavior will mirror that “true God” and His characteristics throughout each day . 

Here are a few characteristics that I would enter in the “God-page” in my journal:

God is a warrior Exodus 15:30

God is trustworthy Deuteronomy 7:9

God is too great to be described I Kings 8 ;27

God is gracious and merciful Nehemiah 9:31

God is good Psalm 34:8

God helps people when they are in trouble Psalms 46:1

God is mighty Psalm 50:1

God is our hope Psalm 71:5

God is near everyone Psalm 75:1

God is our salvation Isaiah 12:2

God is our Father  Matthew 6:9

God is all knowing Romans 11:33

God is approachable James 4:12  

This  beginning list should get us started.  There are many more characteristics,  I am sure we will discover as we dig into this study.

Take a moment and reexamine what and where our belief systems have come from. God can’t be manufactured in our minds as then He would be a false god. Who He is must be derived carefully from what the scripture teaches.

It kind of reminds me of going through 54 steps to be prepared for the day.  Spiritually, when I see a clear picture of who God is, my foundation is secure and my whole day is positive. When I take my eyes off of Him and look to something else for joy and security, the opposite is true.

Others will want what we have, if we prepare ourselves by knowing who God is and deepen our belief system. 

The more time spent with God, the greater the radiance!

DREAM CATCHER? By Diane Krentel Hodge

Mother…..the eternal dreamer…..the miracle-maker with words!   I can still see her holding her files of written stories, close to her chest like a priceless treasure. Her own words written, so creatively, with a clear purpose in mind.  At 90 +,  she was the only one at the nursing home that had a laptop computer and iPad to boot to make these dreams come alive!  But sadly, in the end, the computer kept getting things “all wrong” as she would press “SAVE” and off went her favorite words to cyber-space somewhere and she could never find them again.   She had always been computer-savy and had so much she wanted to share.  We, as her children, would run to her rescue and restart the computer,  trying, in earnest, to find her last edited piece, all to no avail.  But she always had her dull green folders of printed text with pencil corrections and additions to fumble through and contemplate. 

Later, after her passing, we found one of Mom’s proposal letters in one of those dull green folders:

“I propose a series of picture books for children, based on the Bible using numbers from 1 through 10, written in rhyme to capture a child’s attention, to enrich his love of literature, and to reclaim the “one-two, buckle your shoe” crowd.

The  picture books are Biblically accurate, sometimes humorous, but all are informative. The purpose is to present; not preach. Each tries to instill respect for the Word of God in a disrespectful world. Each uses repetition and a strong rhythmic pulse to persuade the child to memorize by the irresistible cadence found in each story.

An artist who is adept at comic-book-style illustrations and has a sense of humor will put these books on the cutting edge of what is presently being offered in the juvenile publishing world.” Miggy Krentel

Along with the letter was the name of her Agent and a detailed wish list of Bible stories. 

Two of the number books, Two by Two and I See Four  were already published books in the late 50's and early 60's but are OUT of print.  These stories make up part of the 10 books needed.  

They seem to follow this plan.

 
1. *One House Stood Still ( the story of the  wise man who built his  house on the rock)

2. *Two by Two  (republish  the book by MEK of Noah and his Ark)

3.  Three Along the Road  (The Story of the Good Samaritan )

4. *I See Four ( republish  the book by MEK about Shadrach,  Meshach and Abednego)

5.   The Five Loaves and Two Fish ( Feeding the Five Thousand)

6.   ?

7.   Seven Dunks in the River (Naaman the leper)

  8.* Samson, Strong as Eight Men (story of Samson)

9.   The Nine Foot Giant (David and Goliath)

10 *Ten Pennies and the Lady who Lost One 

 
(* completed works by MEK)

There it was, five stories in rhyme right in front of me. I could complete this dream or at least, give it a “college-try”.   Mom’s dream was clear enough, so I decided to get to work and “fill in the blanks”, so to speak………writing the other number stories to complete the set.  What fun it was for me!  (That is, all except 6, as I can’t really find something with 6 in the scripture (just the first miracle or the six days of creation. Open for suggestions.....)

Here is a sample text from I See Four to tease you:

Way........ high, UP in the sky! TALLER than either YOU or I! A big statue stood, its head in a cloud.  King Nebuchadnezzar was really quite proud!

He sat on his throne, checking over his list to see that no deal he wanted was missed! “Six cubits wide, let me see that’s........ nine feet. Ten fingers, ten toes, well, I guess it’s compete!”

“Now, call out the ‘Measure-Man’-tell him to try to see if this image is ninety feet high.”

“10 feet......move over, you’re sitting on 20! 30....here’s 40,” and on and on went he counting and climbing high in the heavenly. “50 and 60, it’s scary at 70! 80, then 90......” He’s reached the big crown!

Then he grabbed hold the tape....and SLID all the way down!

And so, it was finished! The statue complete from the shine of its head to the gleam of it’s feet! The crowd was delighted; it gathered around on the plains known as Dura from country and town! As they stood gazing, a sound pierced the air-”King Nebuchadnezzar- has this to declare!

“When the sackbut, the cornet, the trumpet, and flute- the psaltery, and dulcimer, start in to ‘toot’-

Bow down and worship this beautiful statue and don’t run away-or someone will catch you!

“This is real serious, this is no play! This is a law that you HAVE to obey! Just look at that furnace roaring with heat waiting for those who think they can cheat!”

There were THREE Hebrew boys, I’m sure you all know.......Shadrach....and Meshach....and Abednego! They remembered God’s Words to  Moses of old; “Ye shall not make gods of silver or gold, nor worship nor serve them, nor bow down the knee, for thou shalt have no other gods before me!……………………….

Anyway, during this time, I also called Mother’s Agent and she told to start a blog just in case this dream came to some happy ending. Blogging……I didn’t even know what it was.  My son was kind enough to show me how it works and off I went into the world of internet messaging.  I dutifully complied with writing one post a week for almost a year, using Melissa Comes Home chapters, at first.  

Then, I took the plunge and I began writing my own pieces.  Writing is so very new to me, but I enjoyed it.  It’s like sending out a special message in words to someone and you don’t know who it is. You  wonder about the quality of what you put out ‘there’ in the first place and question why you are doing it. Sometimes, it seems like a regiment with no purpose. 

 But then, I remind myself again of the reason I am doing the blogging….a twofold reason:  to keep Mom’s picture book dream alive in the event the books ever were to be publish, and to share a testimony to the faithfulness of God in my life!

But no blogging magic has happened in all this time. No dreams fulfilled. Little feedback.  And the publisher, that was looking at possibly republishing I See Four and Two by Two, seems  no longer very interested for taking on the project any time real soon. Plus, there has been no positive developments from my Agent that would encourage this dream to continue. Purpose Number One seems to have all closed doors. 

Should I be a “Dream Catcher “ or not?  

That leaves Purpose Number Two….”giving testimony to God’s faithfulness.” Surely, I could do that!

But is this blogging effort really “God’s” will, or simply “my” will?

Perhaps, you would take the time to tell me what you think. 

Is blogging a worthwhile pastime? Should I continue to make an effort to keep Mom’s dream going? 

At this crossroads, your opinion will be valued.  Leave me a comment so I know how to proceed.  Thanks so much for visiting this site as much as you have in the past.

The Calico Heart

• Here is a short story ,Mom and I wrote during vacation, one hot day on Lake Winnipesaukee a few years ago.  The proposed picture book was based on Diane’s son’s experience with the fears of his first day of school.  Diane also used this idea many times in her first grade classes when she had a little one upset about leaving his/her  mom.  Magical! It works!

The Calico Heart

By Diane Krentel Hodge and Mildred Krentel

                         

Benji stared at his alarm clock waiting for the buzzer to go off. The first day of school!  His new clothes lay ready on the chair next to his spiffy light-up sneakers.  He made a mental checklist …..pencils, scissors, crayons, rulers and his new shining lunchbox!  All ready!  But slowly a great big frown crept across his face.

Benji inched out of bed, one leg at a time, and slowly dressed for school.  He lumbered down each stair towards the warm kitchen where Mother, in her soft fuzzy bathrobe, bustled around in preparation for the big day! 

Mother leaned over to give him his regular "good morning" hug.  Benji held on a little longer than usual.

He climbed up at the kitchen table, and began poking at the chunks of banana floating in a milky pool around his cereal.  Mother busily spread huge globs of mayo on his baloney sandwich and carefully wrapped it in foil. 

Resting his head on his hand, Benji thought about the school bus ride and meeting his new classmates and teacher.  The more he thought, the more he wanted to stay right where he was. At home, with Mom!

"Benji, the school bus will be here soon." Mother's voice was cheery and upbeat.

"Finish your cereal. Lunch time will be a long time from now."  

"I'm not hungry, Mom “  Benji looked as scared as a forlorn puppy. " I - - I have a stomachache. I don't want to go to school."  

Mother moved closer to Benji and said. "Honey, you know what?  I remember my first day of school and I felt the same way you do. “Oh....as a matter of fact, I almost forgot about something that you really could use today! .You wait right here!" 

Benji didn’t move an inch.

Mother walked over to her sewing box and rummaged around until she found some red calico cloth and her funny scissors with the zigzag teeth. Then she carefully cut around the material, making the shape of a little heart. Grabbing a shiny safety pin, she hurried over to Benji who was watching her with a quizzical look.  

Stooping down beside him, she said, "Now, Benji, this is a very special calico heart. It's works like magic. You can wear it right on top of your new shirt, near your own heart. Whenever you feel afraid, put your hand over it, and as quick as a wink, it will help you feel brave! You know something? My mother made me a calico heart for my first day of school and whenever I touched it, I thought of her and didn’t feel so afraid.”

Benji's eyes were round as full moons. 

Talking really fast now, Mother took the little calico heart and the tiny gold safety pin and fastened it to his shirt, right on the front pocket. Benji smiled for the first time all morning. 

Then Mom helped Benji slip on his heavy backpack.

Out the front door and down the steps, Benji made his way to the street corner where he joined the kids waiting for the big yellow school bus. A huge lump caught in his throat as the bus snorted loudly to a stop. 

As the big doors squeaked open, Benji felt his right hand creep up his shirt, landing right on top of the calico heart. The giant steps loomed in front of him but Benji kept his hand firmly over the little calico heart.  One stair, two stairs, three stairs…his little legs stretched and climbed up each one.  All the way to the top! 

Benji smiled and looked for a seat near the front by the bus driver. 

 "Why! It’s magic!" Benji thought, "My calico heart makes me feel I can do it!" 

Straining to see Mother who stood waving on the front porch of his house, Benji hoped she would know the calico heart was beginning to work. He felt happy all the way down to his new sneakers.

The  bumpy bus ride was soon over and Benji arrived at his new school.  All the teachers were waiting outside waving big bright balloons, marking the place each class was to meet.. “ I can do this”, he reminded himself bravely.

And do you know? All day long, as easy as one, two, three…. whenever he missed Mom or thought he couldn’t do something, his hand would race up and cover the little calico heart.  Quick as a wink, he felt that magical “can do” feeling. And, all by himself, Benji was able to find his shiny new desk and cubby, sit with a brand new friend at morning Story Time, share his vacation picture at Show and Tell Time, and even open up his shiny new thermos! His brave little calico heart worked all day, just like magic!

Before Benji knew it, the after school bell rang loudly.  Time to go home. As he carefully gathered his papers and put on his backpack for the ride home, he had a surprising idea.

“I’m beginning to think that I don’t need the little calico heart quite as much anymore!  How magical is that?”  he thought.

Benji quickly grabbed his coat in the cubby and practically skipped down the hall to line up for his bus ride home.

Soon the big yellow bus screeched to a long stop.  Benji jumped down each big step.  He skipped along the walk in front of his home and leaped over the porch stairs and ran right into the kitchen!  

Mom was sitting at the table looking ever so happy to see him. 

 "Guess what, Mom? You were right! I had such a brave day!  Every time I missed you or was afraid, the calico heart worked. Like magic!” Benji blurted out. 

Mother listened closely as he chatted on and on about each detail of the day. The words just tumbled out of his mouth!  But Benji stopped talking when he noticed a small tear rolling down Mother’s rosy cheek.

He climbed up on her lap and slowly wiped the tear away with his chubby hand. "Why Mom, what ever is the matter?"  

"Well you see Benji, after you left, I walked all around the empty house. It was oh-so quiet.  All day there were no sounds of you playing, no endless chatter at lunchtime, no trips to the park.  I really missed you." 

Benji scratched his tousled hair and hesitated.  Then he reached down and slowly unfastened the little calico heart from his shirt. Carefully, he pinned it right on to Mother's apron. 

"Here, Mom I don't need this anymore. I think this might help you now," he said, throwing his arms around her. 

The wrinkled calico heart had a new home.  Mother's face lit up with a warm smile. 

"Calico hearts work even for big people!" Benji said as he touched the little calico heart. 

The End