P U BL ISHE R
WHO WE ARE... From 2007 to 2012 we, the Millers, adopted our first three children, a preschooler on the autism spectrum and two babies with Down syndrome. We published our first issue of Plain Values in 2012 to highlight biblical ministries, share the beauty of adoption, and to cultivate anchored community. In 2018 we welcomed our fourth child in a surprise adoption, this time a baby with Mosaic Down syndrome. We homeschool our family and enjoy working together to grow and raise food on our twelve acre homestead.
Marlin Miller SA L E S A DV ISO R
Matt Yoder SA L E S A DV ISO R
Aaron Stutzman SA L E S A DV ISO R
Chris Conant Q UA L IT Y A SSU RA N C E / BO O K K EEP I NG
WHAT WE BELIEVE... Our values are plain values, steeped in the rich traditions of yesterday. We enjoy the simple things in life. Gathering eggs from the coop, getting our hands in the dirt to grow food, and cooking meals from scratch. Sometimes we sit around a fire and share life. We strive to walk humbly to strengthen authentic relationships with our families and neighbors. And, yes, we have taken a fresh pie to a front porch and surprised a friend… we didn’t even text them before! We just stopped by, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door! Just the way our grandparents used to do on a Sunday evening. They called it living in community. We seek to serve our neighbors. Plain Values began with a prayer, hoping to play a small role in connecting a child with Down syndrome to his or her forever family. We have checked that box more than twenty times—and counting—and we will not stop until the orphanages are empty! We will rest in Heaven!
Sabrina Schlabach P RO DU C T IO N M A N AG E R
Isaac Hershberger M U LT I- M E DIA P RO DU C T IO N
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May 9, 2023 WR IT E R – CO N F E SSIO N S O F A ST EWAR D
Joel Salatin
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May 2023 // Issue 119 THE REDEMPTION ISSUE
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CONFESSIONS OF A STEWARD Land Redemption: Idol or Idyllic?
ROOTS + WINGS Cancel Culture
COLUMN BY: JOEL SALATIN
COLUMN BY: RORY FEEK
Romans chapter 1 clearly warns against worshiping creation, but is viewing our land as something more than dirt and rocks idolatry? I suggest not.
"What if, instead of being a 'cancel culture,' we were a 'redemption culture,' where we are quick to forgive and believe in the hope of tomorrow."
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HOMESTEAD LIVING Clover the Cow
THE HEALING LAND Teresa's Pasture
COLUMN BY: MELISSA K. NORRIS
COLUMN BY: SHAWN & BETH DOUGHERTY
When Clover died, Melissa wasn’t sure why God had brought her into their lives only to have her exit what felt so prematurely. But, believe it or not, God redeemed this story for good.
Teresa was young, only thirty-eight, when we learned that she was ill. The diagnosis was not hopeful, but there was little fuss.
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ON THE COVER Shawn and Beth Dougherty, heralds of the One Cow Revolution. photo © Landon Troyer Photography
Room to Bloom Report One Minute with Marlin Pure Gift of God
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THE GRANDFATHER EFFECT Part Three – Cracks
THE ROUNDTABLE Amish Insights on: Forgiveness
WORDS BY: BRIAN DAHLEN
COLUMN BY: JERRY D. MILLER & IVAN KEIM
This month, we continue our multi-part series with Brian Dahlen as he examines some of the events leading up to the destruction of his family's relationship with his Grandpa Tom.
Forgiveness is an instrumental part in restoring our relationships. This month, Ivan and Jerry answer the question: "How do you practice forgiveness in your community?"
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THE WIDOWS PATH Everyone Needs Some Mothering
HONEST CONVERSATIONS WITH WENDY Untethered
COLUMN BY: FERREE HARDY
COLUMN BY: WENDY CUNNINGHAM
Man or woman, married or not, we can all mother someone; that means we’re supporting, encouraging, and helping them know that they matter... that they’ve not been forgotten.
"I don’t want my desires to get in the way of what God might want to do through my obedience. I trust that He would only have me give something up to make space for something better."
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One Minute with Marlin
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RECENTLY, I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY to attend an event featuring a visual artist I have come to appreciate
realized you cannot have redemption without brokenness and suffering. Jesus himself chose to walk that road,
very much. Makoto Fujimura shared of kintsugi, a 15thcentury practice of mending broken tea bowls with a lacquer mixed with powdered gold. He held in his hands a kintsugi bowl, one more beautiful, more valuable, precisely because of the imperfections. The event was held the week before Easter and Mako highlighted Jesus’ wounds still with Him today. He will return victoriously, but with scars from His time with us a few thousand years ago. As my friends and I drove home that evening, we discussed our many thoughts and feelings, and one caught me square. Gabe said he is struck by the fact that life, beauty, and redemption are interspersed with suffering— and quickly added his wish of it not having to be that way. I have sat in those ashes since that conversation and
bringing redemption out of suffering, and we simply get to follow those footsteps inside our daily experience. The Lord takes the broken fragments of our lives and rebuilds them into exquisite examples of His sovereignty. It never ceases to amaze me. As always, may you find joy in the simple things. //
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MARLIN MILLER publisher, always looking for more friends
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Confessions of a Steward WORDS BY:
JOEL SALATIN
Land Redemption Idol or Idyllic? REDEMPTION PERMEATES THE BIBLE as the ultimate healing of the human problem. But like many theological concepts, God offers practical object lessons to physicalize spiritually heady principles. Obviously, the kinsman redeemer concept epitomized by the Boaz-Ruth relationship is one stellar example. Boaz, an older bachelor, redeems Ruth’s legacy and brings this young widow directly into the lineage of David and the Messiah. How cool is that? At its core, redemption is about restoration. In the human experience, it’s restoring all that was lost from Eden’s eternal state. As such, the Biblical redemption story is intricately woven with Creation, Jerusalem, the New Jerusalem, and new earth. To dismiss the physical earth as a visible, visceral object lesson of spiritual restoration cheapens the human privilege and responsibility toward the land.
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Too often, the Christian community dismisses visceral land responsibility with the notion that “we’re just pilgrims passing through” and “it’s all going to burn up someday anyway.” Of course, Romans chapter 1 clearly warns against worshiping creation, but is viewing our land as something more than dirt and rocks idolatry? I suggest not. If one physical thing responds dramatically to stewardship, it’s the soil and the land. It can be abused to barrenness, or it can be redeemed into abundance. The story of human civilization and agriculture specifically follows a pattern of abuse, not redemption. Perhaps no place on earth demonstrates this as dramatically as the land of Israel. I recently spent a week there visiting farmers and encouraging them. The ministry HaYovel (Jubilee) hosted and
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photo by Millpond Photography
"Is viewing our land as something more than dirt and rocks idolatry? I suggest not."
coordinated the visit, and I spent the entire time in Judea and Samaria, where 80 percent of the Bible took place. The anti-Jewish world calls this area the West Bank, which is a way to refuse to acknowledge it’s a part of Israel and is really owned by Jordan. The contrast between that land today and what it was during Biblical times is quite profound. It’s been fought over for thousands of years. When you realize that during King David’s time, the land had bears and lions and enough trees to lose armies and hang Absalom, could any place on earth be more indicative of abuse and exploitation? Mile after mile has not a tree on it. Several feet of topsoil has eroded, leaving nothing but a jumble of rocks. Walking is extremely difficult due to the wheelbarrow-sized rocks and truck-sized boulders. As I stood with farmers looking out on their acreages, I found myself completely intimidated by the barrenness. And yet these farmers, coming back into these lands to fulfill the Genesis 12 Abrahamic covenant, see themselves as restoring God’s control and fulfilling prophecies about blooming deserts and new abundance. Avri Ron, an early farmer once the lands were restored to Israeli control after the 1967 Six Days’ War, told me that, “A man who does not believe in miracles is not realistic.” He recited numerous miracles he’s witnessed restoring his own farm. “The soil is to the farmer like a bride to a groom,” he said, pointing out that the root etymology of “man” and “land” are the same. “Every mountain is my wife and my life. When you come to the land like you come to your wife, it will respond to you. You love her; she loves you back.” Describing the 2,000-year Jewish vacancy in the land after Rome conquered Jerusalem in 70 A.D., Avri said: “When the man goes away, his wife
wears widow clothes. Now the man has come back, and the land is wearing her marriage clothes. Even when you’re 99 you still plant trees because 1,000 years from now couples will come and eat and kiss under the tree you planted.” Yes, as Avri spoke, big tears rolled down my cheeks. If this kind of language doesn’t light the fire of your heart, your wood is wet. In Western society, we don’t talk like this. Is this idolatry? No, it’s a deep love for what God made. He is building soil and bringing back production where rocks prevail. Let’s push the envelope a bit further and listen to some Native American talk. How about Sitting Bull, Sioux chief in 1875: “Yet hear me, friends! We have now to deal with another people, small and feeble when our forefathers first met with them, but now great and overbearing. Strangely enough, they have a mind to till the soil, and the love of possession is a disease in them... They claim this mother of ours, the Earth, for their own use, and fence their neighbors away from her, and deface her with their buildings and their refuse. They compel her to produce out of season,
and when sterile she is made to take medicine in order to produce again. All this is sacrilege.” These are not the words of a Christian (to our knowledge), but they certainly speak of a different ethic than what was exhibited by protestant Americans. William Apes, a Pequot Indian, became a Christian at age 15 and eventually became a Methodist minister and eulogized controversial King Philip in 1836: “How inhuman it was in those wretches to come into a country where nature shone in beauty, spreading her wings over the vast continent, sheltering beneath her shades those natural sons of an Almighty Being, that shone in grandeur and lustre like stars of the first magnitude in the heavenly world; whose virtues far surpassed their more enlightened foes, notwithstanding their pretended zeal for religion and virtue. How they could go to work to enslave a free people, and call it religion, is beyond the power of my imagination, and outstrips the revelation of God’s word. Oh, thou pretended hypocritical Christian, whoever thou art, to say it was the design of God, that we should murder and slay one another because we have the power.” PLAIN VALUES
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"...the fact that [God] created and then entrusted humans to caretake His creative masterpiece should give us all pause. We should come to our farms reverently and redemptively."
Strong words, but again we see a deep spiritual connection to the land and how we should live on it. This is a far cry from the Conquistadors, who came for gold, and the British colonists at Jamestown, who came for quick treasure. They had no land ethic. They had no moral compass regarding how to live with respect on the earth. Indeed, much of the Mosaic law prescribed protocols regarding what trees to cut and which ones to leave (fruit trees). God gave specific agricultural cycles about rest and property rights. He even had rules for cooking, eating, and spinning. Jesus used numerous natural and agricultural frameworks to flesh out His teachings.
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“The earth is the Lord’s” is not something we should take lightly. As we step outside our farmhouse door each day and interact with the land, it is not some inert substance to be treated however hubris allows. Yes, God is preparing a New Earth, but it’s a New Earth, not a New Pluto or New Mars. This ball that hangs perfectly in the cosmos is a demonstration of God’s power and attributes we can’t comprehend. Why did God make a world? Did He need it? Why did God make the soil under your feet? Did He need it for enjoyment, for additional satisfaction? These are questions we can’t begin to answer in our finiteness, but the fact that He created and then entrusted humans to caretake His creative masterpiece should
give us all pause. We should come to our farms reverently and redemptively. When our family purchased our farm property in 1961, it was a gullied rockpile. Had it gone through 3,000 years of abuse like Israel, it would have been nothing but rocks. Even so, good Lutherans, Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians over the years destroyed several feet of topsoil. I wonder what they were thinking as they took the income from this abusive relationship and tithed it in the offering plate? How many missionary barrels did these landscape rapists fill with the proceeds of their dominion? These are hard words, I know, but Ezekiel is especially full of physical, visceral land restoration prophecies as the rightful caretakers of Israel return to their birthright. I’m not Jewish, but I’m convicted to think of my own land in that prophetic way, to imagine the gullies filled with soil, the rocks covered with trees and grass, springs flowing stronger and purer. Then visitors to our farm can see redemption. When our pastures are green during a drought, that’s redemption. When our chickens are healthy while others struggle with disease, that’s redemption. When our farm team is happy while
What Would You Like Joel to Write About? Joel is always looking for reader suggestions on which topics to cover. Please email all suggestions to: reachout@plainvalues.com
others are depressed, that’s redemption. When our customers are healthy because our food honors God’s principles, that’s redemption. To think like this is not idolatry; it elevates our land stewardship to a place of sacred honor and duty. It is not dirt and rocks; it is God’s dirt and rocks. If a king gave me his coat to hang up, would I just throw it on a rack? No, I would ask how he wanted it hung. I’d fold it, take out creases, and hang it just right. God has given us a visible coat of His provision; we call it Earth, land, farms: let’s display it respectfully. Let’s take all the creases, stains, and tears out of it because, when the King takes it back, restoration is our worship, and faithfulness our measure. //
Joel's Upcoming Speaking Events May 27
Orlando, FL (Florida Parent Educators Association)
June 2–3
Columbia, TN (The Homestead Festival)
June 9
Richmond, VA (Home Educators Association of Virginia)
June 21–22
Walnut Creek, OH (Food Independence Summit)
June 30–July 1
Kootenai County, ID (Pacific Northwest Homesteaders Conference)
July 17–18
Swoope, VA (Polyface Intensive Discovery Seminar)
July 21–22
Swoope, VA (Polyface Intensive Discovery Seminar)
July 28–29
Lancaster, PA (Family Farm Day)
August 4–5
Swoope, VA (Polyface Intensive Discovery Seminar)
August 17–19
Swoope, VA (Bio-Fert Seminar with Jairo)
August 25–26
Marshfield, MO (Ozarks Homesteading Expo)
September 7
Columbia, South America (Expo Agrofuturo Medellin)
September 12
Victoria, Texas (Victoria College Lyceum)
Sept. 30–Oct. 1
Wheeling, WV (The Vineyard Church)
October 7
Greenville, SC (Farm Where You Live Fair)
October 13–14
Front Royal, VA (Homesteaders of America)
October 21–22
Indianapolis, IN (Indiana Homestead Conference)
Joel co-owns, with his family, Polyface Farm in Swoope, Virginia. When he’s not on the road speaking, he’s at home on the farm, keeping the callouses on his hands and dirt under his fingernails, mentoring young people, inspiring visitors, and promoting local, regenerative food and farming systems. 15
A video shoot of "The Times They Are a Changin" in 2021 16 PLAIN VALUES MAY 2023
words by:
cancel culture May 2023
"You can hardly go a week without hearing in the news about someone who has been caught in a lie or some facts about his or her past have been revealed, and they’ve been 'canceled'…" – rory feek
rory feek
IN THE LAST DECADE OR SO, there’s been story after story of celebrities and influential people, along with regular everyday folks, who have been “canceled.” You can hardly go a week without hearing in the news about someone who, no matter what their life was before—what good they may have done in the long or short life they’ve lived so far—has been caught in a lie, or some facts about his or her past have been revealed, and all that they’ve done or been is suddenly null and void... replaced, it seems, by an unforgivable sin or story that now becomes the sum total of their life. I’ve watched this happen again and again and seen the damage it does, not only to the people who have often made a mistake or struggled with something that they couldn’t get a grip on—but also to people who may not have done anything wrong at all, or the facts haven’t been checked before the story is spread. Either way, they are judged guilty by the media, mostly by a rapid viral-spreading on social media, until proven innocent. And, if and when that happens, and they’ve made reparations, or the truth has been revealed, the news has often moved on to the next attention-grabbing headline, and the real story never gets through. I can’t help but wonder what if, instead of being a “cancel culture,” where we’re so quick to condemn and forget any good thing anyone has ever done, we were a “redemption culture,” where our first thought was of their pain, of their struggle, and were quick to forgive and believe in the hope of their tomorrow.
Rory Feek is a world-class storyteller, songwriter, filmmaker, and New York Times best-selling author. As a musical artist, Rory is one-half of the Grammy-award-winning duo, Joey+Rory. He and his wife Joey toured the world and sold nearly a million records before her untimely passing in March 2016.
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What would happen if the most virally spread news stories, the things that caught and kept our attention, were stories of people who have made mistakes in the past and are working hard to become new? If our concentration was on the good that people are doing, in spite of the missteps or bad choices they’ve made in the past. What if our focus was on tagging someone redeemed and worthy rather than canceled and unworthy? I’m not saying there aren’t some horrendous things that have been discovered about people or that damage hasn’t been done that should be accounted for. I just think as a culture, especially for us as Christians, we should remember that Jesus was all about repentance and redemption. It’s why He came and why He died. To take away the stains of our sin and make our hearts pure and white as the snow. When I became a Christian, every single mistake, bad choice, or wrong turn I ever made was forgiven in an instant. I was no longer defined by what I did, or who I was, but instead by who I am now, and who He’s going to 18
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make me into in the future. Ironically, God’s message is exactly the opposite of the message our cancelculture sends. Another concern, especially in this digital age where information and misinformation spread like wildfire with the push of a smartphone button, is that it creates fear in all of us. Fear that we won’t live up. That we’ll make some mistake, big or small, and be found out and humiliated and ultimately canceled. Unfollowed. Deleted. And that is a tragedy. First off, it’s incredibly sad that so many of our young people seem to find so much of their personal validation in the number of followers they have on Instagram, or how many views a photo or video they’ve shared has received, but also that they now have to live in fear of something that, honestly, most of the time isn’t even real. I’ve been taking a sabbatical from the web for nearly a year now, and if somewhere during that time I was canceled, I’m not sure I would even know about it. I’m sure my friends or family would let me know and be worried for me, but since my day-
"I have always loved the word redemption and the power that it has in all our lives. It reminds me that it doesn’t matter what our yesterday was… our tomorrow can be different." to-day life—my real life—isn’t about clicks or metrics or followers, I doubt it would change much. Because I have a considerable online presence and am human, I completely expect to be canceled sooner or later. I don’t think it’s possible to be someone who has a positive story and following to not fall from digital grace at one time or another. It’s bound to happen. Whether what they say or report is true or not, it doesn’t really matter online. But in the actual world, it does. And luckily, I’ve been forgiven for my shortcomings, and I will be forgiven again. When I make mistakes in the future—and I will—I hope I’m quick to apologize and repent and start over with a clean slate. And though I know God will forgive me, I hope those around me, who know me and love me, will also forgive me and stand beside me as I begin again, new and redeemed. And when those around me fall, as I know they will, I want to be the kind of friend who’ll stand beside them, a friend who’ll brush them off and walk with them 'til they get their footing again. I don’t want to be someone who’ll judge them, turn away, and leave them in their greatest time of need. I have always loved the word redemption and the power that it has in all our lives. It reminds me that it doesn’t matter what our yesterday was… our tomorrow can be different. Each and every day, we have the opportunity to turn from our mistakes and walk a new, better path. And I’m always watching for stories of redemption, whether in movies like Hoosiers, where coach Norman Dale overcomes his stormy past, or my nephew Mikel who, after years of struggling with alcohol, gets sober and begins building a life he never dreamed was possible. But both of those, and
all redemption stories have to have a moment where a person hits absolute rock bottom. And it’s only there, at that moment, that they can rise from the ashes to become what they were always born to be. The truth is, when I hear a story about a celebrity or someone who has fallen from grace online, someone that the world has canceled, my heart breaks for them. My first thought is of the opportunity and blessing in this low moment because I know what an incredible story can follow it. The next time you hear a story about someone being canceled, try to remember that we are all human, and we’re bound to fall short while we’re here on earth. Chances are they are like you and me, and they’ve done some good things in their lifetime, maybe even some incredible things, but we are all going to make mistakes. This is the moment when their humanity can be turned into hope. The question isn’t if they have—or we have— walked a sin-free path. What really matters is how quickly we get back on track when we wander off. Let’s not be quick to cancel. Instead, let us be quick to forgive. For this is how redemption stories are born. //
rory
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PART THREE
CRACKS
Special thanks to Brian Dahlen and Moody Radio for allowing us to share this series with our readers.
WORDS BY: BRIAN DAHLEN
Last month, Brian Dahlen recounted how his father Bill was drafted into the Army. Brian’s parents lived with his father’s parents, Tom and Betty, from March to June of 1975 until they moved into an apartment nearby. Six months later, tragedy struck. Brian says that this “Was likely the beginning of the end of my dad’s relationship with his father…”
ON DECEMBER 31, 1975, Grandpa Tom and Grandma Betty boarded a plane in Hawaii and headed for home after a relaxing vacation. Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, my Grandma Betty had a massive heart attack. By the time they landed in San Francisco, it was too late. Both the hospital and her pacemaker couldn’t save her. She was dead at age 60. I’ve always wondered what would have happened if my grandmother wouldn’t have died so young. Would she have kept the family together? Would she have brushed off the birthday card incident? I can’t know for sure, but a recent discovery may hint at an answer. My mom did some digging in storage and found a priceless treasure. One of those cassette tapes passed back and forth from Thailand was sitting undisturbed in a box for decades. One more US Postal service trip brought that old tape to my home in Ohio, and I listened intently.
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I hoped I could catch a few words from my Grandpa Tom. Nope. My parents were the last ones to use the tape, so they recorded over virtually everything my grandparents said. But the last 57 seconds on the second side of the tape gave me chills. I’d never heard Grandma Betty’s voice. But there it was, suddenly appearing in midsentence after my parents signed off. And this was her 28-second-long Minnesota goodbye: “Well, we’re kinda really stringing this one out. We hate to give up an inch of tape, but we’ve come to the end. Daddy and I send our love to you both, and write when you can. Your tapes are so much fun. We’ve saved them; we haven’t erased them at all. We played it for Grandma, and she really enjoyed it. She was a little
One detail that stood out to me was that my dad had no clue how his parents met. How’s that even possible? My grandparents never told him their love story. And my dad never asked. My mom confirmed that there was much about Grandpa Tom’s life they didn’t know about. Brian’s Mom: “I don’t remember much [from the first time I met your grandfather]… I don’t recall much interaction with him. People weren’t close to their parents the way they are now. Your parents didn’t talk to you, you didn’t ask questions. And when you did ask questions, you didn’t get much of an answer.” After an hour of questioning my parents, I think I’ve identified three specific incidents that set the stage for the infamous birthday card disownment. These
mystified at first and thought it was very long, and she only heard the first half. But here it goes. Much love.” Did you catch that? She said, “Daddy and I [both of them!] send our love to you both.” Her last words were, “Much love.” How does the man affectionately labeled “Daddy” end up completely abandoning his son, daughter-inlaw, and two grandsons? If there’s “Much love,” what happened to it? It was time to find out. I dragged my parents into a recording studio and spent over an hour grilling them about the past. Brian’s Dad: “He [Grandpa Tom] was a pretty laidback guy, man of few words. He worked a lot and Mom [Grandma Betty] really ran the house, so he was more to himself. That’s about it really.”
are the three relationship cracks leading up to the shattered relationship between Grandpa Tom and my family. So here they are—I’ll call them 1) the inheritance check, 2) the disappearing train set, and 3) the AAA road map.
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Crack #1: The Inheritance Check After Grandma Betty died of a heart attack, she sent my dad and my uncle each a check for $500. Brian’s Mom to Brian’s Dad: “Your mother had a savings account in her name with you and your brother as the beneficiaries. And that was the payoff after she died. And we assumed that your father [Grandpa Tom] had initiated that somehow. So you called to thank him and he didn’t know anything about it and he wanted the money back. We were poor [and needed
"I think I’ve identified three specific incidents that set the stage for the infamous birthday card disownment... relationship cracks leading up to the shattered relationship between Grandpa Tom and my family."
the money]—we didn’t have anything! It was before the kids were born or any of that stuff, and I was not very happy with him. I thought that was very wrong. Your mother wanted you to have this if she died… and now he wanted it back.” After Grandpa Tom took the check from my dad, he turned around and gave it back to my dad. Brian’s Mom to Brian’s Dad: “I don’t know if he [Grandpa Tom] did it to your brother, but I remember him giving it back to you and saying, ‘Now spend this wisely.’ And I thought that was really uncalled for. I thought it was mean… they were given something by their parent who died and now you want it back?” So that was crack one—a murky and confusing interaction based on a check. Was it intentional? Mere forgetfulness? I don’t know. But it didn’t seem like justification for such a longstanding separation. So, I asked about the second crack: the disappearing train set.
Crack #2: The Disappearing Train Set My dad shared that Grandpa Tom didn’t have a lot of hobbies of his own since he worked so much. But he did have one—an extensive model train set in the basement. Brian’s Dad: “He worked quite a few hours, but I know he had this model train down in the basement that we didn’t use a lot, but it took up much of the basement… it was a pretty elaborate set up.” Brian’s Mom to Brian’s Dad: “I remember we asked him for it when you kids were little, when we all had kids. Your brother had two girls, and we had the two boys, and so we asked if we could have the train set for the boys and… I don’t know what he did with it,
but the next time we were over, it was gone… he just got rid of it somehow! We never found it; we never saw it again… I thought it was weird.” Brian’s Dad: “Yeah I don’t even remember what happened there.” So they don’t know what happened. The disappearance of a train set—whether innocent or sinister—represented further distance between members of our family. So here we are at the third crack: the road map.
Crack #3: The Road Map After some time, my parents moved from downtown Minneapolis to Burnsville, a suburb fifteen miles south of the city. Grandpa Tom decided to make the twenty-minute drive out of the city to come and visit our family. Brian’s Mom to Brian’s Dad: “Do you remember the one time he came out to the house you gave him directions but for some reason he wasn’t confident in them… he was a member of AAA, and he got them to give him a route map to get from Minneapolis to Burnsville, which is about fifteen miles or something.” A map. Seems functional, no? Was this a product of simply needing a map? Or was it a personal charge against my dad’s ability to provide directions? This incident feels like the representation of a lot of possibilities. Needing directions. Wondering where to go. Trust issues. Doubt. Next month I’ll share about the last incident, the one that shattered the relationship completely: the birthday card. //
TO BE CONTINUED...
Brian Dahlen became a Cleveland morning show host after working at Moody Radio in Chicago as a radio host, producer, and co-host of a weekly podcast. Brian caught the radio bug while teaching history at a public high school near Minneapolis, where he was co-host and producer of a weekly radio program. After teaching six years and graduating with a master’s degree in education, Brian lives with his wife and five children in Broadview Heights, Ohio. For more information on Brian and The Grandfather Effect, visit www.moodyradio.org/grandfather.
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AMISH INSIGHTS ON: FORGIVENESS
This Month's Question: How do you practice forgiveness in your community?
Answered by:
Jerry D. Miller & Ivan Keim
Painting by Elsie Beiler in 2006 in remembrance of the Nickel Mines shooting.
Jerry: In any close-knit community, forgiveness is the elixir that cures disease. It cleans the cancer from the joints and makes things pliable again. The spiritual WD-40 that lessens the creaking and groaning. Forgiveness is counter-cultural. It flies in the face of conventional thinking. Society teaches us that we claim what is ours no matter the cost—we claim our rights. Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek, and not only to turn the other cheek physically but inwardly as well. A heart change that expresses itself in a daily walk with my neighbor. Maybe one of the most visible displays of forgiveness in recent history was the Nickel Mines incident when a troubled young man entered an Amish schoolhouse and took hostage 10 young innocent school girls, bound them, laid them in a row on the floor, and proceeded to shoot them execution style. Five died and all the others were left to deal with scars—both emotionally and physically— that we can only imagine. The young man then proceeded to kill himself. The public display of forgiveness went viral— nationally and internationally, people could not understand. How can you extend the olive branch under such circumstances? This bitter young man was known locally in the community—his parents had provided taxi work to some of the victims' families.
Yes, I know the public display of spontaneous forgiveness was beautiful. I also know the private battle endured as they shed buckets of tears." The response was immediate, showing up at the perpetrator's door, simply embracing the raw emotion by extending an open palm. No hard feelings. We forgive. We’ll get through this together. It stunned the watching world. While we don’t believe such a heinous act is the will of God, we do believe God can use such acts to portray goodness through His people. Yes, I know the public display of spontaneous forgiveness was beautiful. I also know the private battle endured as they shed buckets of tears. The slow process of healing, the hard work of every morning once again renewing the vow to forgive was a long journey. Perhaps one of the first Bible verses most Amish children learn to memorize is the Lord’s prayer. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.1 The reality is, as we are willing to forgive others, so the Lord forgives us. We are all sinners, and we all fall short of God’s grace. We would do well to realize that not only
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do I have to put up with my neighbors' shortcomings, but really, he has to put up with mine. The refusal to forgive causes bitterness, it jaundices our view of our fellow man. And so very often, the very things we cannot forgive, we become— because our focus is wrong. Forgiveness not only releases others; it releases us. It is good for the immune system: it lowers blood pressure, slows the heart rate, lessens depression, calms anxiety, releases strain on the vocal cords, and strengthens marriages. It is completely opposite of what society teaches us. “To err is human, to forgive is divine,” as the saying goes. Vengeance, we believe, is God’s work, leaving us with little energy to settle the score ourselves.
In most Plain communities every spring and fall— twice a year—the church gathers for what is called “Ordnung gma” or council meeting, a sort of moral housecleaning ceremony where members are reminded of their Christian obligation to be honest and upright; to simply be neighborly, to help where help is needed, to exercise our hearts in the moral responsibility towards our fellow man—and this includes forgiveness. In the Nickel Mines case, no edicts were needed, no appointed ambassadors, just human beings doing the hard work of mending relationships and restoring harmony. Remember, God’s grace is sufficient for every situation.
Five pine trees silently lift their branches skyward, a memorial to what happened. No great fanfare, no big applause. Just five trees commemorating where Nickel Mines Schoolhouse used to stand. A monument of what happened by God’s grace—His marvelous gift of forgiveness.
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Ivan: Forgiveness is one of Jesus’ key messages that he taught his disciples when he walked on this earth. It is also one of the hardest things for our carnal nature to practice. Jesus’ teachings from the Sermon on the Mount included… And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.1 Many of our ancestors suffered for their faith in Europe before coming to America. Dirk Willems gave us a good example of forgiveness and loving your enemy. In the winter of 1569, in the country of Holland, Dirk Willems was to be apprehended because of his faith. As he was running to escape, he was being chased by a “bounty hunter.” Racing out over the wintry countryside, he treacherously made his way over the ice. When Dirk reached the other shore, he heard the cries of his pursuer as he broke through the ice. He could have raced to freedom. He could have made it home to his mother and his sister, but he chose to inch his way out over the ice and pull his
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pursuer to safety. This act of kindness cost Dirk his life. When he arrived on the shore after his heroic efforts, he was promptly captured by the town burgomaster and was later convicted of heresy because of his faith in Jesus Christ. He was condemned to be burned at the stake. Dirk chose to turn the other cheek and put the teachings of Jesus into action. Monumental decisions like this do not happen in the spur of the moment, but rather by a lifetime of smaller decisions that lead up to it. Dirk’s decision to risk his own life to save the life of his pursuer was not made at the moment that he stood on the shore, but more so by his conscious effort to live out Jesus’
teachings in his daily life. It is easy for us to know what we should do, but it is a lot harder to put it into action. The following story happened in our community a number of years ago. On a beautiful summer day, with not a cloud in the sky, 15-year-old Jeffrey* leisurely rode his bicycle down the road. At the same time, Mark Stevens* was distracted by something in the car and crossed left of center, hitting Jeffrey head-on. The impact left no hope of survival, and Jeffrey was pronounced dead at the scene. The community and neighborhood fell into shock as they prepared for the funeral. We do not plan for situations like this. How do you respond to a situation like this? We can choose to
About Ivan and Jerry Ivan, Emma, and their four children live on a 12-acre homestead where they strive to raise as much of their own food as possible. Each year they have a large garden, harvest from their orchard, use raw milk from their own cow, and process chicken, turkey, beef, and pigs for their freezers. Ivan is a minister in the local Amish community. He builds tiny homes and animal shelters for a living. His models can be seen on tinyhomeliving.com or by calling 330-852-8800. Jerry and Gloria Miller, along with their six children, operate Gloria’s home farm, a 173-acre organic dairy. They milk between 60 and 70 cows with a few small cottage industries supplementing the farm income. Jerry is a deacon in his local Amish church. Questions and comments can be directed to Jerry at 330-600-7481. 30
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"Unwillingness
to forgive is like
drinking poison and hoping our offender will die from it." – Ivan Keim
be bitter, or we can choose to forgive. Following is part of a letter by Jeffrey’s parents that was read at Mark’s sentencing… “We forgive Mark for the accident. He is very sorry. He is very likable with good manners. We feel very sorry for him.” If we choose to forgive, it releases our pent-up emotion and allows us to begin the healing process from a wrongdoing or an unkind remark about us. It could have been accidental or intentional. In turn, if we hold a grudge, we cannot begin that healing process and will relive the incident, making it harder and harder to heal. Unwillingness to forgive is like drinking poison and hoping our offender will die from it. If we are faced with a decision to forgive or to hold a grudge, let us be reminded of Jesus’ words on the cross. Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.2 // 1) Matthew 6:12, 15 2) Luke 23:34 *names changed to protect identity
Submit Your Questions! If there's a question you'd like The Roundtable to answer, email it to: reachout@plainvalues.com or mail it to: The Roundtable, P.O. Box 201 Winesburg, OH 44690
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WORDS BY:
Melissa K. Norris
Homestead Living CLOVER THE COW
DEATH IS NOT something our society is very comfortable talking about. There has been a shift towards avoiding any pain or hardships in recent decades. While I don’t purposefully set out to cause myself pain (it’s human nature to protect ourselves), it is a fact of life here on earth. Growing up on a farm, one is more aware of the cycle of life and death. At eight years old, I was the only child still at home (my older seven siblings were adults, and my two younger brothers hadn’t been born yet; for those of you who don’t know, I’m one of ten children). Though we had a herd of one hundred and thirty cattle, my father still worked his day job as a log truck driver. When the on-site butcher came, it was my job to show them which cows and steers were being butchered. Obviously, the goal is to only butcher steers, but when using a bull (no AI), you don’t get to pick the gender. If we had a year where more females were born than males, that meant some cows would get butchered. Because I was the only remaining kid at home, I helped my dad feed the herd every evening through fall and winter. I learned to drive a stick shift at eight, even though I could barely get the clutch all the way to the floorboard because my legs were so short. I tell you what, there’s no faster way to learn not to pop the clutch than having your dad standing on the tailgate and throwing him off.
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Due to the butcher’s schedule, they could only come mid-week. Dad couldn’t afford to miss a day of hauling, so it was my responsibility to meet the butcher in the field and point out which cows were to be harvested. Dad went through the list with me the night before, “The two-year-old-bald face steer with the red mark above his eye, the one with the horns, and the curled-hoof cow.” We didn’t have numbered ear tags. Dad knew each cow, how many calves she’d had, and if she was a good mom or not from being with his herd. Not to mention it was an extra expense we couldn’t afford. When the butcher showed up, I met them in the field. I pointed out each cow according to Dad’s list. The last cow was the curled-hoof one. We waited for the butcher to gut the cows to get the tongues, hearts, and livers (those are taken at butcher time, on-site). I gasped in horror when they processed the curledhoof cow. She was carrying an almost full-term calf. I’d picked the wrong cow. There were two curled-hoofed cows in the herd. One was pregnant, and the other was not.
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Hot tears burned my eyes. Sorrow gripped my chest in an iron grip. With the advent of social media, I’ve seen many a person claim if you raise animals for meat, you’re heartless and cruel. Most of these folks haven’t a clue about what a farmer goes through. We care deeply about our animals. We understand sacrifice. I’d dare to say we understand it at a level someone who has only bought their food from a grocery store never will. We sacrifice under the hot days of summer when hay must be brought in. When our skin glistens not with the drops from a sprinkler or quick dip in the creek but from sweat and bits of itchy hay. In winter, we’re breaking ice, draining hoses, and feeding extra portions, multiple times a day. When an animal is sick or in trouble, we will stay up all night, in any weather, to nurse it back. We cry when they don’t make it and rejoice when they do. This past January, we battled for a full week to save our milk cow, Clover. She birthed a breech, upsidedown, large bull calf. For two days, we were out every four hours, in the wee pitch-black hours of the morning
"But isn’t that the beauty of redemption? Even when something is hard. Painful. It doesn’t seem to make sense… until redemption."
and the cold sleeting hours of the afternoon, fighting to keep her alive. She was buried in our back pasture on a Friday afternoon. For the next 24 hours, I cried almost nonstop. Her death hit me harder than any other animal we’ve shepherded in my forty-two years of farm life. I am a day late turning in this article because, though I felt God nudging me to share this story with you, my heart didn’t want to relive it in the telling. In the moment, I wasn’t sure why God had brought Clover into our lives only to have her exit what felt so prematurely. We’d only had her for nine months.
But isn’t that the beauty of redemption? Even when something is hard. Painful. It doesn’t seem to make sense… until redemption. We’re going to have pain in this life. We live in a broken world. We cannot change that fact. No matter how much we want to or how hard we try. But God can take those broken circumstances and, from the ashes, create beauty. If we’d not had Clover go down and require the use of hip clamps, I wouldn’t have put out the SOS call on social media to locate a pair. Which means I’d have never met the lovely dairy farmer and her husband who came to the rescue of complete strangers on a dark January night. We’ve since become friends and are now attending a Bible study together. I know we’ve yet to see all God will bring from our having met. Redemption means despite all the things I’ve done wrong in my life—and there are many—God
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forgave them. Not only does that mean I get to go to heaven someday to be in His presence, but He’s actively redeeming situations in my life here on earth. And yours, too. As I thought of a recipe to share with you here, I couldn’t find one more fitting than this. My great-grandmother passed down many things in our family, and though I never knew her, I still think of the woman she was whenever I use her recipes or sieve while making applesauce, raspberry jelly, and blackberry syrup. I know she was a God-fearing woman and an excellent baker, hence her recipe for Heavenly Chocolate Mayo Cake is still our go-to recipe. I wonder if she had any idea her legacy would live on in my home. //
Blessings and Mason jars,
Melissa
Grandma's Chocolate Mayo Cake & Caramel Frosting Cake Ingredients •
2 cups flour (I use fresh ground soft white wheat, but all-purpose or cake flour is fine.)
•
1 cup sugar
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1/2 cup cocoa
•
1 teaspoon baking soda
•
1 teaspoon baking powder
•
3/4 cup mayonnaise
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1/2 cup cold water
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1/2 cup brewed coffee
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1 teaspoon vanilla
Frosting Ingredients •
5 Tablespoons butter
•
1 and 1/2 cups brown sugar
•
3 Tablespoons boiling water
•
1 teaspoon vanilla
Instructions 1.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Stir all dry ingredients together. Combine wet ingredients with dry until smooth. Pour into greased and floured pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes for a cake or 16 minutes for cupcakes. Cool completely before frosting.
2.
For frosting, beat butter and vanilla together. Slowly add in sugar until creamed together. Pour in boiling water and beat until creamy. Spread over cake/cupcakes.
Melissa K. Norris is a 5th generation homesteader who married a city boy… but that city boy quickly became a country boy and turned into a bonafide farmer when they moved to Melissa's family property. With their two children, they believe in keeping the old ways alive. She is an author, blogger, and podcaster. Learn more by visiting: www.melissaknorris.com. 36
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WORDS BY:
Shawn & Beth Dougherty
Teresa's Pasture WITH THE GRASS GREEN AND THICK and all the cows on fresh pasture, it feels like spring has really come. Last month, Easter-blooming tulips and calving cows issued a promise of spring, but sudden snowflurries or settled, sodden rain will throw a chill over the most sanguine hopes. Today the sun shines on pastures bright with dandelions, and six dairy cows—brown, black, and black-and-white—graze the east field, the one we used to call the hermitage pasture. This year, though, and from here on, it has a new name. Sister Teresa’s pasture, it is called now, named for the single grave and gravestone we set here last winter.
The Way is Easy Cows walk willingly to the dairy at milking time. We used to lead them one by one until we found that they would walk just as readily without guidance, drawn toward the milking parlor as though by invisible strings. Now at milking time, we just open the pasture gate and follow the cows up the lane. Slow haunches swing from side to side; tails flick casually. If we weren’t behind them, the cows would pause to graze in the orchard. Teresa was young, only thirty-eight, when we learned that she was ill. The diagnosis was not hopeful, but there was little fuss. Her family, originally from the Dominican Republic but living now in New Jersey, made frequent trips to see her during those months of illness. Sometimes she went home to visit her many aunts and uncles, and some of her sixty-nine cousins. When she had to she would spend a week in Cleveland or Columbus, submitting with humor to the
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speculative therapies of an admittedly baffled medical community. Mostly, though, she was home, and we often met her as we drove the cows to be milked.
Call to Prayer You can tell what is happening in the milking parlor even if you happen not to be right there. The progress of the evening chores is obvious from the sounds that issue from the barn: the thud of a stanchion bar locking into place, the rustle of hay being pulled from the rack, the sharp clank of a bail handle dropping against the side of a stainless steel bucket. Unconsciously, you tally the clanks until they reach six, signaling that the last cow has been milked, the last bucket of milk emptied into the tall cream cans. From the convent comes the ringing of the five o’clock bells, the call to vespers. If we were talking to her when the bells rang, Teresa would drop her head in submission to the call, even in the middle of a sentence. She would begin the backward step that would turn her toward the chapel, even while her dark, almond-shaped eyes rose up wordlessly to meet yours, and you could see the laugh—her teeth were very white and just slightly crooked, so endearing—that said she was sorry to leave you, but delighted to go to prayer. Much as she enjoyed just plain living, it was evident her heart was focused on something else.
My Burden is Light Teresa was easy to find in the chapel, even among thirty women all dressed alike, because her intentions could always be heard. Let others be diffident about asking God for favors if they would, but Teresa always laid hers before the Lord in detail. Sometimes this winter, as the weeks dragged on cold and muddy, we
"Teresa could always see the fulfillment of promise in the least promising situations, a good reminder to folks whose business—farming—is entirely in the hands of God."
have tried to imitate her, telling God how anxious we were that the pasture should hold out until spring, the young heifers calve without difficulty. Teresa could always see the fulfillment of promise in the least promising situations, a good reminder to folks whose business—farming—is entirely in the hands of God.
The Way Home Young though she was, by October it was evident Sr. Teresa would be the first of this community to go, and as yet, no cemetery had been built. The east pasture was selected for her resting place, since it is the most level ground and closest to the road. We staked off half an acre, and in November the cows grazed it one last time before it was mowed close. In December, the snow lay thick on the ground. William drew plans for a low brick wall, neat paths, and in the center, a stone plinth and marble statue, the graves to be grouped around it. Even while they hoped that a miracle might cure their little sister, these daughters of St. Francis, who from long meditation are comfortable with the thought of death, prepared for it. Still, when the end came, it was, as death must always be, an upheaval. William had only three days to make the coffin, planing rough-sawn boards of cherry wood, joining plank to plank for sides, bottom and lid, lapping joints, smoothing all with a satin coat of beeswax. Two days after Teresa’s death, we stood in church, our foreheads marked with black ash; Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou wilt return.
In the Midst of Life The February wind was raw and the rain was cold the day we buried our sister. Umbrellas bobbed over a slow stream of dark coats flowing from the chapel door down the long drive to the east pasture. Teresa’s homemade coffin fit snugly in the grave, and we took turns passing the shovels around, returning the earth to its place. The Spanish prayers her grandmother sang as the family stood beside Teresa’s resting place were new to this piece of Appalachia but seemed very much at home; like our work and our landscape, the lovely verses were lilting, repetitive, yet always new. Orchard grass and red clover spread now from the lane to the woods, speckled over with late dandelions and daisies. We stand for a moment to see that all is
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"Our dairy chores are as routine as Teresa’s life of prayer; both are essential, both frame each day, making a bridge between the ordinary and the extraordinary, bodily life and spiritual life." well with our dairy cows, then hook the gate and step across to the lone grave. In this warm weather, milk needs to get to the house quickly, so there isn’t time to stop and pull the wild cress and lamb’s quarters that are coming up between yellow-and-white jonquils— faded now—and the budding irises and choir-boy poppies. Behind the gravestone two azaleas bloom, red and white, like God’s love and His mercy. We carry the heavy cans up to the house, where milk is strained into glass jars, some for home, some for the convent kitchen. Buckets, cans, and strainers are swilled with hot soapy water and set to dry on the
clean counter; the towel is hung in the sun to bleach. Our dairy chores are as routine as Teresa’s life of prayer; both are essential, both frame each day, making a bridge between the ordinary and the extraordinary, bodily life and spiritual life. It seems good to us that our dead should rest among us after they have passed. So much of them is in this land where they worked and walked, and so much do they remain in our minds and our talk, that we cannot think of laying them somewhere else, and among strangers. //
Shawn and Beth Dougherty live in eastern Ohio, where their home farm is 17-acres designated by the state as "not suitable for agriculture." Using grass as the primary source of energy, they raise dairy and beef cows, sheep, farm-fed hogs, and a variety of poultry, producing most of their food, and feed, on the farm. They are also the authors of The Independent Farmstead, published by Chelsea Green Pub.
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WORDS BY:
Ferree Hardy
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IT COMES AROUND EVERY MAY: Mother’s Day. Not everyone does something for it, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I, myself, have mixed feelings about it. Shouldn’t every day be “Mother’s Day?” And “Father’s Day?” After all, one of the Ten Commandments is “Honor thy father and thy mother.” (Ex. 20:12). But since the day is significant for many people, I’ve learned to add a little extra honor and respect to the mothers in my life by sending a card, taking time for a visit, or giving a gift. If your mother is still with you, Mother’s Day is a happy, extra opportunity to tell her that you love her. For some, though, Mother’s Day is kind of like when we were children, lined up and waiting for our name to be called to join a team on the playground. It’s a very insecure feeling. Will the team captain even see us? Will he or she call out our name? Will the other
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kids cheer and make us feel like valuable members of the team? Or will we have to walk over to the bench and sit all alone? Some mothers don’t know if their busy children will remember them. Other moms have empty arms where a son or daughter used to be. A widow, too, might be reminded more of her loss; it’s complicated, and the turmoil isn’t easy to describe, explain, or resolve. On the other hand, if our own mother has passed away, we might acutely feel her absence while the rest of the world spins on. Whether you wish you still had a mom you could talk to, or you are a mom who’s waiting, hoping to be blessed, everyone can use a little mothering. Even the smallest attention can bring the brightest
Gift ideas for widows with children at home: Family Fun Basket: Individual-sized bags of chips, pretzels, or popcorn for each family member, small toys, a card game, or a jigsaw puzzle, soft drinks, and something special just for mom, if you know what she likes. Otherwise, a houseplant or cut lilacs are usually appreciated by all. Fresh as a Daisy Basket: Handmade or fragrant soaps with scrubbies or new washcloths, potted flowers for mom, toiletries like new toothbrushes and toothpaste; sample-size lotions, lip balms, sunscreen; scented candles. Suppertime Basket: Why not a family dinner package they can use anytime? For example: Pasta Night—a package of spaghetti, a jar of sauce, bagged salad and
encouragement and make an unforgettable difference. The following ideas can be adapted for anyone in your life—not only widows, not only mothers, not only women. Plenty of widowers, shut-ins, and newcomers to your community would love to be surprised with one of these remembrances. They don’t need to cost a lot either. Homegrown or handmade is often superior to store-bought. A genuine smile and greeting the person by name are priceless.
dressing, garlic bread, and cookies for dessert. Add a red and white checkered plastic tablecloth to make it extra festive. Vary this with a taco or BBQ theme and decor. Or invite the family over for dinner at your place. A family breakfast basket for the weekend. Mix and match any of the following: individual boxes of cereal, a dozen eggs, bacon or sausage, frozen waffles, toaster treats, individual orange juices, bananas, instant oatmeal packets. Strawberry shortcake night. Surprise them with a basket of fresh strawberries, biscuits or pound cake (whichever they prefer). Include whipped cream or ice cream as an extra treat. Root beer float night. Provide some 2L bottles of chilled root beer, vanilla ice cream, and maybe even some large glass mugs to serve them up in. Don’t forget the straws and spoons. Check the dollar stores for glassware. Leave a flowering potted bush on her porch along with a pretty watering can. Plant a new tree in her yard, perhaps one of her late husband’s favorites (with her permission, of course). Be sure to water it well before you leave!
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"The best present of all, though, is your presence. Inviting a widow to join you for a meal means one less hour of loneliness for her." Surprise the family by having something delivered to the house that they can all enjoy: a box of chocolates, a bunch of helium balloons, or even a hot pizza. Add a gift card from a local ice cream shop or family restaurant to a “thinking of you” card. Getting a group together is a community strengthening time for both the givers and the receivers: At a group event, feature a cupcake tower. Provide individual boxes to take a cupcake home in. Get together with another family to provide childcare for a day, or an afternoon, so that mom can get some time to herself. Take the children out to shop for a gift or card for their mom. Schedule a day or half-day to send teams of people to help widows and shut-ins with home maintenance and repairs. Gift ideas for individual widows: A devotional booklet or a pocket Bible in a small cloth tote bag along with a potted herb. A gift card or cards, attached to a small bouquet of silk flowers. A greeting card from you, along with a personal note, or handwritten letter if you live far away and have news to share. A gift bag with a china teacup and saucer (there are lovely ones at most thrift stores), a box of herbal tea and some buttery shortbread cookies, or a jar of lemon curd and some fresh scones. A gift bag with a coffee mug, a bag of coffee, and some muffins. A gift bag for letter writers: include some good pens or pencils, stamps, stationery, or a box of all-occasion greeting cards.
Journals, magazines, word searches, Sudoku, and crossword puzzle books are also nice additions to a card or gift bag. The best present of all, though, is your presence. Inviting a widow to join you for a meal means one less hour of loneliness for her. Stability and familiarity are precious commodities for people whose lives have been upended. Adapt these ideas to support your friends on a regular basis, such as once a month, or on certain holidays, but don’t make promises you can’t keep. A promise not kept is a hurt that’s hard to forget. Regular phone calls, letters, or visits mean a lot, too. But please don’t stop the gifts! All of the ideas in this article have an element of practical and financial help. The top two challenges of widowhood are loneliness and finances. These ideas help alleviate both. And don’t forget the widowed men and others I mentioned. They need your support too. If you’re the widowed person, don’t hesitate to reach out to others before they reach out to you. Helping other people is a surefire way to start healing from grief. Everyone needs someone watching out for them, someone who’s on their side, who believes in them and has worthwhile dreams for them. We all need to be treated kindly and encouraged—we all need some mothering every now and then. Use these ideas as a springboard to come up with your own ideas to help all year long. Man or woman, married or not, we can all mother someone; that means we’re supporting, encouraging, and helping them know that they matter; they’ve not been forgotten or sent to sit on the bench, alone. // Let's have Mother's Day every day,
ferree l
To learn more about widowhood, order a copy of Postcards from the Widows’ Path—Gleaning Hope and Purpose from the Book of Ruth. It’s a gentle, biblical guide for widows that has many saying, “This is the best I’ve ever read!” Mail a check for $14.99/copy (paperback, 248 pgs.), along with your address to: Ferree Hardy, 76 Grace Ave., Ticonderoga, NY 12883. Please allow 2-3 weeks for delivery. Free shipping for all Plain Values readers! PLAIN VALUES
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WORDS BY:
Wendy Cunningham
Honest Conversations with Wendy U NTE T HE R E D I LIVED IN SAN DIEGO for six years. Four years of college at San Diego State University, and then two years of trying desperately to make that degree in theater performance materialize into dollars and cents in the “real world.” As so many students discover, those first few years post-graduation were some of the hardest in my life. I was terribly lost. And it’s no wonder. From the time we’re five until we’re eighteen, we’re told where to go, when to show up, what to study, and how to succeed. If we do X and Y, we can expect Z results. Some of us go to college to continue in this vein—whether consciously or unconsciously. So long as we’re making it to class and pulling good (enough) grades, we can look our parents’ friends in the eye on Christmas break and have something compelling to report when they inevitably ask, “How are things going?” Then, suddenly, we’re adults. We’re on our own. No assigned schedule, no built-in friend groups, and no way of anticipating Z results. It truly is time to sink or swim. I did a little of both. I got my first full-time job, had an electric bill with my name on it, and learned how expensive health insurance is. I also realized that although I’d been an actress for fifteen years, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Just because it was all I knew didn’t mean it was necessarily what God had for me. At the end of that first post-college year of trying to make it as an actress (and an adult), I was in a tremendous amount of debt. I knew I had two choices: keep trying to make acting work in San Diego or move “home” to Northern California and regroup. My bank account told me it was time to regroup, but after my going-away party, I
"Just because it was all I knew didn’t mean it was necessarily what God had for me."
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decided not to leave San Diego after all. Instead, I temporarily moved into my friend’s dining room while I figured out my next move. Somehow, that sounded like a better plan. Nine months later, I was really out of money and had no choice but to go back home and try to pull myself out of debt—and depression. But after my second going-away party, I still couldn’t get myself to leave sunny San Diego. So, I spent several more months moving around with my mattress and a bag of clothes, renting rooms, crashing on floors, and trying to figure out my life. I remember standing outside of the most awful house from which I’d ever rented a room—a bachelor pad with four male friends and one bathroom—talking to a roommate about why I kept trying to leave San Diego. “I know some people say that to move forward you might have to take a step backwards. Well, I’d rather stand still than take a step back,” I said. I believed moving back in with my mom in northern California was going in the wrong direction. I’d love to blame my flawed logic on the fact that I wasn’t a believer at that point in my life, but it was more about a limited perspective. I wonder if Christians don’t fall victim to the same fallacies. We forget that in God’s order, the world only spins forward. Our setbacks are just setups for our comebacks. I couldn’t see that God was trying to untether me from something I wasn’t meant to be clinging to.
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"We forget that in God’s order, the world only spins forward. Our setbacks are just setups for our comebacks." My surrender was the first step toward my salvation. After my third and final (thank goodness) goingaway party a few months later, I packed up my Ford Contour and left San Diego. A week after settling in at my Mom’s, I went on a date with a friend from high school who had also recently moved back to our hometown. A year later, I married that friend. As you’ve learned from previous articles, he led me to Christ. I can see now what God was doing in that season. But as we know all too well, hindsight is 20/20—it’s easy to see things from this side of that difficult season. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t use our past lessons as lenses to see our future more clearly. God took me through the process of untethering, and because I was willing to get a clue, He allowed me the freedom to let it go. I’m so grateful for His grace. There is a difference between surrendering and having something removed. God could have taken me out of San Diego at any time and for any number of reasons. He could have
saved me the years I spent pursuing a career I was never meant to have. But He led my stubborn heart to a place where I was willing to give it up instead. What a blessing that ended up being for me. What a gentle and loving Father we have. Y’all, God will let us relentlessly pursue our own will. He will allow us to choose our own path all the way to our own destruction. In Revelation 16:10-11 we read, “The fifth [angel] poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues because of their pain and blasphemed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they did not repent of their works.” This breaks my heart. The people knew it was God who had brought this judgment. They acknowledged His
"Whatever it is, let me encourage you: Don’t focus too much on the thing itself. Instead, turn your eyes to Jesus." existence in their blaspheming. And yet they would not repent; they refused to turn back. God will give us our own way in the end. Even if it’s not His heart or hope for us. That’s the goodness of God. That’s the danger of free will. It’s an exciting time to be a Christian. It’s also one of the strangest times to be on earth. Culture is dominating the conversation, and right now, culture is ruled by the enemy of our souls. God is calling His Church to something higher, and we can’t afford to be distracted by the things He’s asking us to let go of. My husband and I have been discussing the possibility of selling some of our land to pay off the remainder of our mortgage. Of course, if I had my way, I wouldn’t let go of a single acre. It feels like we should be acquiring more land, not letting any go. And perhaps God isn’t asking us to do that. The point is that I don’t want my limited understanding and desires to get in the way of what God might want to do through my
obedience. I trust that He would only have me give something up to make space for something better. Remember, I know what it’s like to have a false perception of what seems like a step back. Heaven forbid I stand still again due to my inability to see what God has for me if I’d just surrender. What are you holding onto that God is nudging you to let go of? What do you need to surrender? Is it a job? A specific number on your bank account? A dream? Or maybe there is something you know God is asking you to step into, but you’re resistant. I can relate. Whatever it is, let me encourage you: Don’t focus too much on the thing itself. Instead, turn your eyes to Jesus. Trust that He has some seriously amazing things coming down the pipe… If only you’re willing to untether. // ~ until next month, Wendy
Wendy Cunningham is wife to Tom and homeschool mom to three amazing gifts from God. In addition to that calling, she is an entrepreneur and author. Her book What If You’re Wrong?, blog, and devotionals can be found at gainingmyperspective.com. She is also host of the podcast Gaining My Perspective. Wendy loves Jesus and inspiring people to step into their calling—whatever that might look like in this season. When she’s not working, writing, traveling, or podcasting, she can be found homesteading and chasing kids and cows on her farm in Middle Tennessee.
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WORDS BY: Sabrina Schlabach
ADOPTION IS JUST THE FIRST STEP in a lifetime journey. Walking through the adoption process can feel overwhelming, both financially and emotionally. That’s what prompted the beginning of Pure Gift of God. A nonprofit organization, Pure Gift of God believes that adoption is a beautiful correlation to being God’s hands and feet here on Earth as we were adopted into His family; adoption is the heart of the Father. Over the last 10 years, Pure Gift has given over 1.5 million dollars in grants. They are able to do this through individual and business donors along with fundraising events such as a Classic Car Raffle, Annual Banquet, and some organized running events. Through those funds, Pure Gift continues to give grants and has been able to branch out into counseling, training, foster care support groups, and, most recently, therapy.
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The Connection Center in Berlin, Ohio photos © Alyssa Beachy
Pure Gift believes in post-adoptive care, coming alongside families for as long as needed. Once an adoption is complete, that doesn’t mean there are never any more hurdles; it's just a transition to the next phase of the journey.
In 2022, Cheryl Mullet joined the team at Pure Gift of God to begin therapy services for children affected by adoption and their families. At the time, no one really knew what it could look like, but as they created the Connection Center, things began falling into place. Isn’t that just like our God? We don’t always see the big picture, but by placing trust in Him and stepping out in faith, He brings the pieces of the puzzle together. Located in Berlin, Ohio, the Connection Center provides a friendly, comfortable space for families to meet with Cheryl. Cheryl hasn’t always worked in therapy, but she’s always had a heart for children. While a student in China, they took a short trip to Vietnam. Standing outside of an orphanage there, she fought going inside. “I knew I would cry,” she shared, “because those poor children hadn’t had any form of touch. And that’s when God said to me, ‘Cheryl, you might cry, but they haven’t
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been touched.’” Cheryl went inside and, yes, cried, but that was when it became very clear to her that God was going to use her to work with—and love on—children from hard places. After her time in China, she moved to Thailand. Cheryl began working with a woman who ran a home for children that were HIV positive. However, some of the children that came into the home didn’t have HIV. This woman asked if she could give these kids to Cheryl and her team to raise and care for until they were adopted. Of course she said yes! Once back in the States, Cheryl got a degree in social work. She wanted to understand more about the system that many of these children were coming
"We don’t always see the big picture, but by placing trust in Him and stepping out in faith, He brings the pieces of the puzzle together."
"Often, once the adoption is complete, families are excited to have their lives back. However, that’s when families may face their greatest challenges and need the most support." from. That was a good learning experience, but it wasn’t where her heart was. So, she went back to school and got her master’s in therapy. Cheryl wanted to help make a difference in the life of a child rather than just the decisions on placement. All these steps were on God’s path for her toward Pure Gift of God.
When preparing to adopt, a family is examined from every angle. There is very little privacy. “Often, once the adoption is complete, families are excited to have their lives back. However, that’s when families may face their greatest challenges and need the most support,” said Cheryl. Bringing someone into your home, no matter how much you love them or how much information you have on their background, whether the child is an infant, toddler, or teen, there are biological reactions and past trauma to consider. If you find yourself in that place, Cheryl and Pure Gift want you to know you are not alone. “It’s okay to say, ‘I need help. This is tougher than I thought it was going to be,’” she said. “We are here for you with absolutely no judgment. Don’t live in your discouragement. You have good tools, but sometimes you just need a different set of tools. And that’s okay!” Cheryl begins meeting with children once a week. Consistency is key to build rapport and trust with a child. “We want to know what’s going on with the child’s heart. We want them to feel safe and valued and see themselves as the person God created them to be,” Cheryl shared. “We do this by play activities. There’s a lot of teaching that goes into play. The child doesn’t necessarily feel like they’re being taught, but they are practicing and learning.” Cheryl uses the TBRI (Trust
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"Another good tool is our sensory swing. It envelops the child, and they feel very safe inside. They can peek out and see me, knowing that I can’t really see them.” Based Relational Intervention) method developed to help caregivers build connections with the children based on the principles of connecting, empowering, and correcting. “You can’t correct a behavior until you connect with that child and they feel safe with you,” she said. Another reason for the activities is that play disarms fear and puts Cheryl and the child on the same level. They will play games that don’t have a winner and a loser. “We don’t want it to be about competing, it’s more about connecting,” said Cheryl. “I want the child to feel safe. The room is a safe place where the child can be themselves.” It takes a long time to build trust—
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sometimes a very long time for a child to feel safe and begin to really open up and share. At the beginning of each appointment, the child is allowed to pick a snack and perhaps some hot chocolate or tea. After that, they join Cheryl in her activity room. Here is where they play games, read books, perform puppet shows, play with a dollhouse or Legos, and do some activities that get their heart rate up. “Children don’t always understand what they are feeling as their heart rate rises or know how to bring it back down in a healthy way,” shared Cheryl. There’s also painting, coloring, drawing, and playdoh. “I’m not an artist and I’m not an art therapist, but I love what
art does in helping bring out some of the troubles that are standing in the way. And another good tool is our sensory swing,” she said. “It envelops the child, and they feel very safe inside. They can peek out and see me, knowing that I can’t really see them.” All these things are designed to help children feel comfortable speaking. And if the brain gets stuck, Cheryl keeps bubblegum on hand to help get things moving again. The parents are involved as much as possible, and communication is always completely open. The parents can be in the room, but Cheryl also wants children to feel comfortable without them. She shared that, especially in kids over age 7, they have things to say and are more comfortable telling her than their parents. “It’s amazing the shame and fear of rejection that make them afraid to tell their parents. I am their advocate. My goal is to help the child tell their parents. That can happen a few different ways. I try to get the child to use their voice, sometimes I tell the parents with the child there (with child’s permission), or I can help the child say it. I want to empower each child to use their words.” Cheryl also added that she doesn’t have one relationship with a kid and the mother/father has a different one. Her goal is for the parent and child to have a closer relationship. That’s where the healing happens. Feedback from the community and numerous therapy and support groups have helped Cheryl and the team of Pure Gift of God realize the great need for parents, too, not just the children. Another therapist was hired to help Cheryl meet these needs. “We are implementing a program that will provide parents with therapy and trainings. The program is called HALO (Healing Attachment Loving Outreach),” said Cheryl. Research is showing that this program is extremely effective at building more connection between the parents and child. “The parents are more confident in their ability and understand more of what is going on.” As the Pure Gift team rolls out this program, they want to involve the parents and child together in therapy, especially for children under age seven.
Everyone at Pure Gift of God understands that every family, every child, and every situation is different. But they all want to help families heal in the way that
they were created to exist. “We know that every child coming to a family through adoption is coming from a broken relationship —a loss. The only way that can be completely healed is through Jesus,” Cheryl said. “For me, as His servant, I get to be someone speaking those words of life into that brokenness and loss so that we see a healed, whole person be even stronger because they’ve not let that brokenness break them. They’ve allowed it to make them into the person God created them to be.” That includes both the parents and the child. Often, we only look at the child’s brokenness to be helped, but what about the parents who have adopted because of infertility or other loss? Those parents are also coming from a broken spot that needs recognition. PLAIN VALUES
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“Sometimes I feel like a farmer,” said Cheryl, smiling. “We’re out here creating a field. Do you know how hard it is to plow that ground for the first time? That ground is tough, and you lose a lot of energy in a short amount of time because it’s such hard work and you don’t know which direction to go.” She went on to say, “The truth of the matter is, those of us that are in the helping profession, we do that because there’s something in us that feels good when we do what we’re called to do. It’s only hard work if we don’t see our value as God sees us. It’s not about what we do and how we do it; it’s not performance driven. It’s recognizing that my value comes from who God says I am and not what I believe about myself, or the messages we picked up as kids— and still carry with us.”
The Pure Gift of God team feels very blessed to be working together. They are united, really relying on each other for everything. They’ve also been blown away by the community support, whether that’s materials, time, money, or volunteering. And prayer. Praying is a huge part of everything they do, as well as the community praying for the team and the families that seek out Pure Gift of God. Cheryl shared, “I pray that we always recognize the responsibility to steward
the resources that God’s given us for the Kingdom to be built and for healing to come to these families. It’s not to make a name for ourselves. It’s not about an organization. It’s about what God is doing in the hearts of these kids and families.” For the families that are choosing to adopt, we want to pray. For those who are struggling with brokenness, we want to pray—not just to “fix” the broken part, but for healing. This kind of prayer takes an entire community. One that’s praying for wisdom, patience, understanding, and all those things that come with helping people heal. //
If you have a heart to adopt, learn about it. Don’t be scared off by questions or financial costs. If you are fostering or have already adopted and are struggling, don’t be ashamed. Help is out there, and Pure Gift of God would love to walk alongside you.
Pure Gift of God P.O. Box 292, Berlin, Ohio 44610 330-795-4948
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www.puregiftofgod.org
Sabrina and her husband live near Ragersville, Ohio, and have been blessed with four spunky children. She values time with her family, loves to bake, and is an avid reader.
Pure Gift of God Fall Festival | photo © Twila Yoder
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