A Common Thread

The Center From A Cross-stitch Table Cloth

The other day I went looking for my sewing box to begin a hemming project that I have been putting off.  I found it in a box with some table cloths and table scarfs that I had embroidered years ago.
It brought back a lot of memories and the hours I spent at embroidery and the challenges of keeping the underside all going one way.

The Under side

One of my all time favorite poems came to mind, Grant Colfax Tullar's poem, The Master Weaver's Plan, 1893.

However, just tweaking it a bit:
My life is like embroidery between
My Lord and me.
I try to choose the
                                                the colors but He
  

                                           worketh steadily with
                                                what he chooses.

                                                In foolish pride
                                                I just see the underside
                                                while He see the upper.
                                               
"My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me;
I may not choose the colors–
He knows what they should be.
For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side
While I can see it only
On this, the under side.
Sometimes He weaves in sorrow,
Which seems so strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment
And work on faithfully.
‘Tis He who fills the shuttle,
And He knows what is best;
So I shall weave in earnest,
And leave to Him the rest.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned."

 Something, I recently read:
" Many times through the years I have looked up to my Heavenly Father and said, “Father, what are You doing?” He has answered, “I am embroidering your life.” I say, “But it looks like a mess to me. It seems so jumbled. The threads seem so dark. Why can’t they all be bright?”

What ever the master embroiderer may have for me, he knows best.  I do not understand the needle pricks or the colors he has chosen.
The passage of time reveals more of what he has embroidered into my life and helps in trusting him.
God's wisdom far exceeds mine.

It IS official! I am....

It is official.  Yes, I have retired from my nursery work at GCC.
I will be shifting more of my attention to senior home care and serving those involved with Alzheimer's care as well as a multitude of other intended projects.

A Favorite Activity

I have thoroughly enjoyed working with the young children and have many, many memories to the hours spent in the church nursery.  I have worked in all the nursery rooms at one time or another.

In 1994 my status changed from volunteer to staff, taking a three month leave of absence in 1996 and then in 2006 through 2010 another absence to care for a dear Lady with Alzheimer's.

I would like to leave these lasting impressions of one of my days working with primarily pre-two and two yr. olds.
AN ODE TO TWO YEAR OLD'S

One child tearfully kissed his mother goodbye.
snuggled a little closer in hope that she would
change her mind.  His heart began to race.
His lips began to quiver. Apprehensiveness
gave way to anger as he clung to her blouse
and her hair, knowing that eventually he must
let go.
The young mother pulled him away, quickly
guided him in.  She faded immediately into
the background with sounds of his cries.  She
hesitated in the hallway, lingered, then hastily
made her exit.  His wails turned to sobbing as 
he resigned himself to being left.
Breathless with anticipation, poised at the 
swinging gate, with this occurring scene, I 
welcome each child.  They are all joining us
for another opportunity to be in  room 162.

As parents disappear, each child struggles in 
their own way. One throws himself on the floor.
 One sucks her thumb while
fingering a blanket for comfort.  Another child
pulls up his shirt to play with his belly button.
Others don't mind being there and soon 
disappear into the room full of raging sounds
of laughter, crying, screeching, noises of 
banging toys.

Some make it a dominate drive to climb on
everything climbable or aimlessly wander from
one toy to another.  Grabbing, tantrums, poking
eyes, pulling hair, scratching, etc. are a part of 
this scenario.

It can be very tiring and even exasperating at
times working with two year olds yet on the 
other hand this is such a fascinating age group
to minister to.

They are very lovable, curious, and can be
delightful.  It requires great energy, patience,
nurturing ability, vigilance, consistency, 
alertness, and basically a devotion to two-
year-old's.
I have had the privilege of spending most of
my nursery hours with two year old's.  ~Becky (1998)

I certainly served with the strength
that the Lord provided.

My Mother's Note Book: The Recipe

The Note Book

              

I am always amazed at what I find when I am sorting through various things.

I found in the most random place a recipe that my mother had written out for me years ago.  It was faded and slightly beat up with stains on it obviously used many times.
I have used this recipe on and off through-out the years and used variations of it.
I think I am the only one who really liked it.  I do not know where she got it and I have not gotten rave reviews on past creations.  It could of been passed down to her from her English heritage or an adaptation into the German culture to which she wedded.

The Recipe

MOUSE
1/2 pkg. of cut up dried fruit
w/a little sugar
and 2 c.water.
Boil until tender
Add 2 c.or more
milk w/1 T.cornstarch per c. milk.
Bring to boil &
take off stove.
Add 1 tsp. vanilla and 1/4 tsp.
cinnamon(optional)

So being raised in Mexico, I got to thinking of ATOLE.  I really liked atole and there are many variations of it.

"Atole is a popular, grain based hot drink in Mexico, which celebrates the use of corn. In some ways it bears resemblance to gruel, and the drink may be thick or thin depending upon a person’s tastes. Recipes for this beverage date back to pre-Colombian times. Like many of the Latin American foods we enjoy today, it is a tribute to the ingenuity of the Latin American people as another inspired recipe that made use of the main grain source in Latin America.

This beverage consists of cooked cornmeal and water mixed with cane sugar blocks, which are called piloncillo.porridge like drink. Cinnamon is then added, and other ingredients can produce the final result. Chocolate and fruit are the most common additions. The atole is thoroughly blended and then heated.

Piloncillo

This makes a thin or

When chocolate is used, and this is one of the most popular variations, it is called champurrado. Chocolate atole is especially enjoyed during the Christmas season. Both chocolate and fruit atole are both commonly served on the Day of the Dead, which is the first of November. Some recipes suggest ladling pureed fruit on the top of the drink instead of blending it with the other ingredients. Tamales typically accompany the beverage, although it can also be eaten or drunk by itself as a breakfast meal."

So as the holidays approach one thought leads to others and the memories I acquired by living in another culture keep accumulating.
I just may try making some atole this coming week.

TEN BENDS IN THE RIVER: Profile

TEN BENDS IN THE RIVER

Part One ~ My Own Faith ~ The Beginning

Serve by the Strength that God Provides

My parents’ faith became my own at the age of seven.  I do not have any memories of what led up to that pivotal decision, however, etched in my memory is that exact moment, kneeling on the cold concrete floor
beside the cold steel bunk bed with a sensitive heart warmed by that decision I had just made.

Thus began MY JOURNEY with MY LORD, A ROAD NOT TAKEN YET, A ROAD LESS TRAVELED:
“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I~
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost

Part Two ~ Life is a Journey

I have always marveled over past events that have led up to my present status.  What at present was perceived as unfortunate have made me what I at present am and my journey continues.                  "Each of us may be sure that if God sends us on stony paths He will provide us with strong shoes, and He does not send us out on any journey for which He does not equip us well." --Alexander Madaren.
              God allowed or thrust me out of the nest what I perceived as prematurely but God provided me with strong shoes, God's Word and a Godly grade school teacher.
 He, however, did not thrust me out in sandals, slip-flops, or high heels.  He sent me out with "The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding" and with "My presence will go with

you...Ex.33:14.  He sent me out with a two-edged sword.  He sent me out with the source of all comfort as a merciful father, Cor.1:3.   Many times, multiplied, sometimes gladly, other times with a touch of sadness and often with profound sadness alone and unattended or accompanied to undertake yet another year of school away from my parents. 

Part Three ~ Incidents

 How stimulating were the romps on trails and hillsides in Mexico.  I had a rather free, eager, venturesome life and enjoyed the outdoors.  Staying indoors was torturous and positively unpleasant unless it was raining.

 On one of those drizzling days (I was about 10), I foolishly ignored my mother’s warning to stay indoors and had better plans.  I was always fascinated by these "bush trees" with pretty shiny leaves, the hollow branches of the castor bean trees.
 I got this idea that if we cut some of those branches, we could make them into flutes.  So sneaked out of the house, grabbing a sharp machete on the way out and proceeded down a wet, slippery slope where one of those trees stood.
  Just before I got to the tree, I slipped and fell, the machete fell across three fingers of my right hand, slicing each one.
  This incident occurred the day before I was to begin school.  I had to do most of my school work orally which was very unpleasant.
  Now I am getting ahead of my self.

First Grade

                      I began that part of my journey with the few memories of my first year of school in 1955.  As a six-year-old, blond-haired, I started on a 22-hour trip, with my father, to school in our Willy Jeep.
  This was in September when Hurricanes Hilda and Janet were causing havoc along the Gulf Coast of the Republic of Mexico (My parents were missionaries.)  Flooded rivers delayed our travels and my father left me with another missionary family to continue that trip to my first day of school.  About six weeks later, I arrived via airplane to our destination.
  There were no telephones and the telegraph lines were down.  We landed in a "cow-pasture" airstrip with no one to meet us.  My first day of school began in October, in a one-room school with five other students. 
                                                                                 One day, I found myself hopelessly lost in the vast rain forest-like property that surrounded the home we were staying at while attending school.(I was about 8 or so).  My friends and I had set out for a brief walk.  I willfully ignored an older friend in charge and set off in another direction, thinking it was a short cut back to the house.  I eventually found my way back, scared, sober, relieved, however, afraid of the consequences of my behavior, I hid under the bed, not telling anyone I was safely back.          
Another day, I was allowed, with no supervision to use the stove and oven to bake a cake. (I was around 10)   The stove was run on butane gas tanks that were parked outside.
  It did not have a lighter so to turn the burners or oven on, one had to light a match to get it lit.  On that occasion, I thought I had lit the burner in the oven.

 The oven was not getting hot so I opened the oven door, smelled a little gas but in my foolishness I did not wait to relight before all the gas had been cleared.

  So I lit another match and all the dust bunnies under the stove and gas exploded, singeing all the hairs on my face, hands, and arms.  The back of my fingers were burned.
 Looking back on these memories, I see the protection that God provided.

Part Four ~ A Milestone

I was privileged to continue this journey, on often stony paths, with a rich Christian heritage, a home in the outback in the heart of Mexico, a product of missionary parents.

Part Five ~ Adapting & Transition

With a touch of sadness, my Mexico days were slowly drawing to a close.
  I was to undertake yet another year of school away from home.  My brother and I packed our meager belongings and with Dad accompanying us to the border by bus, we began our journey to Oregon.
  At the border we were met by relatives and we then traveled by car to San Francisco.  Arrangements had been made for us to live with our paternal grandparents. 
Although, I was looking forward toward these new adventures, there was some profound sadness at leaving my mother, my sister, and younger brothers.  In those days home schooling was not a favored option.

1962

A milestone in my eager and venturesome life and spirit led me, a thirteen year old, to join with others in Baptism in the Sempoala River.  This perhaps was a pivotal point in my life as shortly after that I was to embark on a roller coaster of adventures that would test that validity and lead me through many bends of the journey.  (Sempoala being the Indian name for 'ten major bends' or more like 20 bends in that river.)

 The transition into public middle school was brutal.  I was ridiculed and bullied; my brother began having horrendous migraines.  My grandmother was a great source of comfort, a great prayer warrior, and a great influence.  Although she was not well educated, she was a very godly woman.   I preferred the company of my grandparents to my peers, as I felt so insecure.   tend to think that this was where I was first drawn toward my future in CARE GIVING.

Part Six ~ Thriving

After a tumultuous transition into the American culture, I was fortunate to attend a Christian high school for two years and school was kinder to me although I still felt a sense of relief at stepping off that school bus at the end of the day.  Walking up that long, long driveway gave me time to decompress.
I continued to do poorly in most subjects but English saved my GPA so I could eventually graduate.   I took classes seriously but with great effort, still could not capture those illusive higher scores.  My brother, being 13 months younger, and I were in the same Science and Math classes.  With his help I passed those classes.                     
I was unusually slow in physical development, extraordinarily thin and thought myself to be unattractive which led to much insecurity.  However, I did continue to have the stability of a caring and influential grandmother and my spiritual life thrived.  We attended the Salem Christian & Missionary Alliance Church.  I continued to avoid many of my peers, preferring to join my grandparents in their activities and Sunday School class.   Although, God's Word had always been a part of my life, it continued to provide the anchor to my somewhat chaotic emotions and insecurities.

Part Seven ~ Springfield

I do not recall the reasons for my next move however, I embraced it with a stoic attitude.  Again, I packed my meager belongings.  This move found me in Springfield, Ore. in the home of an uncle and aunt with three young girls.
  Here I attended my senior year at a public school, however, I was much more prepared as well as having three good friends from church to share experiences with.  I found myself caught up in the many activities of a young person, losing some of my fervor for spiritual things.  It was difficult to find a quiet place to nurture what I did have.

 It was here that I was introduced to living with the mentally challenged and stressed-out parents. The kitchen became my friend and it was here that I experimented with meals as the rest of the family struggled to cope with daily living.    For two years I assisted the family as well as completing my senior year of high school and later taking classes at Lane Community College in Eugene to transfer later to a Bible College.
 A childhood friend had been killed in a car accident around this time just upon graduating.  This incident spurred me on to renew my spiritual commitment.    The Lord led me to Multnomah School Of The Bible (Multnomah University now) through circumstances that I do not recall.
 The next four years were spiritually exhilarating, emotionally devastating and physically exhausting.  The demands on my life sent me on a roller coaster of emotions and mental exercises I had never experienced before.
 I had just come from a summer of working at the Alliance Convalescent Hospital in Glendale, Ca. as a nurses aide where I had just got my on-the-job training.  I recall with horror of some of those first experiences.   Upon returning to school, I secured another job, at The Manor, also as an aide, juggling classes and work.

Part Eight ~ The Diamond
For a time, I reveled in the fact that I was engaged to a wonderful man and began making plans for the future.  On Thanksgiving Day, 1970, he broke that promise.  I sadly returned that gorgeous ring. 

I was completely devastated and an emotional wreck, however, these were times that I had to totally depend on God to help me work through this time, at times doubting the validity of my relationship with Him.  I had many dark days and it took all effort to stay out of depression. darkest-days-of-my-life CLICK HERE
 I immersed myself in my studies and pressed on to graduation that same year.  I had also quit my job at The Manor due to some difficulties.  God in his graciousness opened up an opportunity to live-in and help take care of a lady with Alzheimer's.   When that ended, I was provided another position as a companion for an elderly lady not far from the school.   God continually proved that He was providing for me and taking care of me in a way I had never been cared for before and this was to continue till the present.  Jehovah Jirah, the Lord provides...

Part Nine ~ SoCal

 Upon graduation and a fine summer of getting reacquainted with my family, my sister and I loaded our meager belongings and headed for Southern California. (July 27,1972)  My previous negative impressions of SoCal put aside, I considered this opportunity for a good clean break from the memories of the past year.  The change brought new horizons, new hope, and new experiences.    We found a cute apt. near where the Glendale Galleria would be built in the future.  I was again blessed with an aide job at the Broadview Convalescent Hospital in Glendale.  I began getting acquainted with friends at Church Of The Open Door where I began attending and hanging out with an uncle and aunt who were on staff at Gospel Recordings.  I was invited for a tour of the facilities and later invited to spend the summer as an intern.   When that summer ended, I did not feel led to go back to my old job, deciding that Gospel Recordings was where God was leading.
 For the next 20 years my life revolved around that ministry, working in the shipping and ordering department.


Part Ten ~ Care Giving
I met my future husband there   .  The Lord brought us together only to have that relationship disolve temporarily to resume later after sorting out issues.   December 13,1975, we were married at Montecito Park Union Church by Highland Park.

  Our first home was a shack-like house in a back alley in the heart of LA.  A year later we heard excited friends describe this wonderful church out in the Valley and decided to visit. We made it our home church.  That church was Grace Community Church.  We then purchased a house one mile from church where we still reside.   In this home we raised three daughters and one son.   We experienced the excitement of all home births and did much home schooling. God had other plans for the other three to be with Him.  September l,1994, I shifted some of my ministry by coming on staff at church, working in the nursery, primarily with two year olds.  This was to be my ministry with periodic breaks in between for the last several years.

In 2002 my Care Giving emphasis shifted even more, toward home care.  I took a position as a favor for a good friend.  It proved to be my most humbling, most challenging, most difficult three months of experience I have ever had in Care Giving.  She was an enigma.  This woman was in her 90's, very petite, somewhat frail with COPD, with Monk-like tendencies (OCD), and a very strong will, and lived on the 7th floor of Fickett Towers.   She constantly lectured on cleanliness and godliness, followed me around as I worked, constantly offering her expertise.  One day she said to me, "Honestly, Becky, Where did you learn to clean?"  I spent my days washing artificial flowers, fluffing and plumping up pillows and thick-like down comforters and avoiding her "WHITE SATIN SOFA".   I learned the difference between yams and sweet potatoes and introduced to organic grown foods and how to cook CARE GIVING STEW.  (Stephanie Stew)

Care Giving Stew

One day at not being able to meet her expectations of cleanliness and after three times taking dishes out of the cupboards demanding that I re-wash them, I was reminded of a statement I had heard once, "If you can't please man then try to please The Lord."    So I cried out to God in my frustration, He would answer and she would dismiss me courtly to leave the apt. or do something else.  She would constantly remind me that I was her maid, her housekeeper and her servant.  One day she told me:  "Never hire a missionary to work for you.  They are lazy.  They just sit at their desks on the field and write letters asking for money."  Hmmm, it was one of those days, and there were many that I left work close to tears.     
 For two weeks, I had to go down 7 floors to use the lobby restrooms, asking for the key each time after we had given her bathroom a thorough cleaning and with a sign posted for me "Off Limits".  My every move in the laundry room, 7 floors down, was augmented by a lecture on the fine arts of laundering or other matters pertaining to being the BEST provider according to her interpretation.   She felt I was incompetent and perhaps did not know that I had been doing laundry for 40 years and had cared for others.           One day after I had furiously cleaning her small apt.,  she commented on HOW TIRED WE WERE because of all the work WE had done.  The ironic thing about all this cleaning was that when I left each day the bottom of my feet were always black.  I was not allowed to wear shoes and often went bare footed.   I was not allowed to sit just anywhere.  I had my own chair that I was expected to use if I had to sit down.  She often told stories and one of them was about her apt. catching fire.    The carpets must not of been cleaned well after that.   Mystery solve to the black feet.  After taking such pains to clean and maintain that bathroom, the maintenance men traipsed through to repair the water heater much to her consternation.
     One day I had to drag out 3 large carpets that the Tibetan monks had made for her while she was in Nepal.   I vacuumed them and place them around in preparation for some visitors she was expecting the following week.  She shared, how horrifying it was to see the Tibetan children using her curtains and table clothes to wipe their noses on as everyone in Nepal had constant running noses. STEPHANIE'S STORY CLICK HERE
  The highlights of some of those days were listening to more of those stories and also I often read the Scriptures to her upon request.   We read the whole book of Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and other passages.    She frequently referred to the Scriptures as "PRECIOUS AND UN PERISHABLE".  After three months my Saga with Stephanie ended with enormous relief.  I had originally planned to stay 6 months at this position, however, she was making it more difficult by telling me how unhappy she was with me and that she could find someone better and that she already had.
I gave two weeks notice and when that dead line came, she begged me to stay on but I had another position I was to begin at that time.  Her parting words to me were bitter.  She told me that I had marred her character by telling her friends how mean she was to me.

 "Becky" she said "You are very proud and proud full."    A long silence prevailed, I bit my tongue, tears welling up.  I had just devoted 3 months of my life in the most humbling experiences. I got up, grabbed the trash bags and my belonging, walked out the door toward the trash chute, shoved it in with vengeance, listened for the faint thump as it landed 7 stories into the dumpster below.   I walked briskly to the elevator, pushed that button for the last time, waited for it to arrive, and down 7 flights, out the door to the car.

Care giving with Annie

   With a great sigh of relief and a Praise The Lord shout, I started the car and headed for home.  I was never so glad to be greeted by my own messy kitchen.

 My next position was for a good friend with arthritic disabilities.  My duties consisted of mostly domestic ones and requests for the Care Giving Stew.

Jan

   Although my work environment was pleasant, I began to have some health issues of my own and had to terminate this job after only 4 months.   I then took a break from senior care giving but devoted more time to the church nursery for a while. 

May 4, 2006, I resumed my care giving journey and began my many adventures with the woman I call, “MY LADY”.

MY LADY

As her needs increased due to Alzheimer's, I took leave from the nursery work and was with her for 5 years.   Those 5 years were the most awesome years in all my care giving adventures.MY LADY~Part 1 CLICK HERE 
(For more on MY LADY  blog posts adventures with my lady.)MY LADY CLICK HERE 
 MY FIRST HOSPICE EXPERIENCE CLICK HERE
 After she passed on, I again resumed working in the church nursery and a part-time position for an agency and for 7 months helped give respite care to an AD challenged gentleman.    

Taking Care Of Frankie

Then for three weeks, I helped with a very gracious lady who had just had a knee replacement.  When she no longer needed my services, Laurie approached me about seeing if my husband and I could help out with some of Gary's needs, which brings me up to the present.

Gary

We are still caring for Gary and his needs twice a week and on occasion other times. (Sadly, Gary has passed away as of updates on this blog.)


My days on nursery staff at church have come to a close due to some health issues and some needed time to redirect my time into other ministries.

Check In

I do hope to visit and drop in to help occasionally.

I still devote time to the Alzheimer's ministry at
church and helping with their newsletter.
My 90 plus father has now been living with us for 6 months now and it has been a joy to provide him with the care he needs.  (Sadly my father passed away last year after living with us for 3 and a half years, at time of this update.9/13/18)

IN RETROSPECT
We all need some respite care-
Whether we are giving it or receiving it-
Taking it in different forms. 
“Help me, Lord to choose a beneficial activity during that time and use it wisely as to get the most benefit out of my tired weary body, and mind.  You promise that our minds can be renewed & refreshed.”

MY FATHER'S FOLDER: A Veteran of the Mexican Revolution.

Don Ricardo Garcia

     Memories of an extraordinary man from the past who had a great impact on my father as well as myself.  We all knew him as Don Ricardo.
     My father had the unusual privilege of working with him during the time that there was much persecution and hatred of the gospel in Mexico.
     Don Ricardo came into our lives with a colorful background and a tribute to the Grace of God.  He was a veteran of the Mexican Revolution as well as a veteran of the Lord's Army.
     While serving as a revolutionary, life was of little value to him.  He lived to please himself at the expense of others.  Murder was his favorite joy and drinking his favorite pastime, as he tried to drown his sorrows and heartaches.

Don Ricardo with his wife Maria & Daughter, Ofelia

     One day the Lord took hold of his heart, followed by tremendous enthusiasm and dedicating his energies to serve the Lord.  The Lord used him mightily in the salvation of hundreds and many villages were opened to the gospel due to that enthusiasm and encouragement.

On The Trail

     When persecution intensified in the State of Hidalgo and prevented him from continuing in that area, he came to work with Dad for two years in the Sierra Sempoala.  They traveled by horseback, mule and on foot, visiting one village after another.
    

Don Ricardo (sitting) with first Cuautempan congregation in front of our first home here in Cuau that we shared with Dona Emilia (Far right)

    Don Ricardo carried with him everywhere, a list of people he prayed for regularly.   At night he would wake up, take his flashlight and go over that list time and again until those prayers were answered.

A Baptism

     His wife, Maria was illiterate, but memorized countless Scripture verses.  She had more verses memorized than most literate Christians.
      One day Don Ricardo burdened to return to Hidalgo, sensed that conditions where more favorable toward the gospel than they ever were before, returned to his previous work of evangelism.
     One night during a service, he was forcefully removed at gun point, pushed along the trail, stabbed to death and his body thrown over a ravine.   
MORE ON DON RICARDO--CLICK HERE