Fourteen Years

Once again, not one of those weighty multiple-of-five years occasions. While solemn, neither somber nor maudlin. After church, will gather later with Charm City daughter, SIL, two grands and my sister (a.k.a., our beloved Auntie S–) for a meal showcasing the Wheel of Wonder and @Jeff Mion’s Atlantacized crabcakes.

I was inspired and encouraged in the weeks leading to today by a friend marking 40 years as a quadriplegic. Celebrating, actually. He along with other valiant victors whose worlds have been rocked by trials far more severe, but who nonetheless press on and do the next thing continue to set a standard I hope to emulate. In their particular “captivities,” they rebuff despair, endeavour with herculean effort, and prosper, imperceptibly, maybe gradually — infusing those spaces they occupy in time with great dignity. I have a way to go. Chapeau to that worthy group.

Grateful for God’s mercy during a year that included shared medical turbulence (blood pressure challenges, abdominal surgery, and two hospitalizations), and the sudden loss of our aging van’s five lug nuts and their associated right front tire while doing 60. For seeing every day of the Tour de Frronze, For forty years of marriage. For the marriage of another son. For countless agents of mercy who, at varied moments, times and periods, in close and from afar, briefly and over the long haul, rehabilitatively, therapeutically, materially and relationally, have encouraged and helped me and my family.

At the top of this list I place the lovely and heroic Alice Heidel, my eight children, my four sons in law and two daughters in law (+1), my six grandsons and three granddaughters (+2), my sisters, Dianne Irving and Sue Heidel, Grandma Betty Marvin, and my Uncle Sonny and Aunt Chris. All others are in a tie for first, and newcomers will be next year.

But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold.
Job 23:10 ESV

With full attribution and echoing my 40-years-a-quad friend:

“Thinking about life today, my biggest need is not figuring out how to continue to live with and overcome the physical effects of quadriplegia. Rather, my biggest need is spiritual: I am a sinner in great need of the Savior. So, most of all, I thank the Lord Jesus Christ who has indeed saved me by dying on the cross to bear the punishment of my sins. As a free gift and not due to any work of my own, He has given me faith to trust in Him. And through the work of the Holy Spirit, He continues to help me repent of my sins daily, dying to self while living unto Him. I truly look forward to the day when all those who belong to Christ will be with the Savior in heaven with new, incorruptible bodies. I would love all of you to come to know Him as I do.”

1 Peter 1:3-9 ESV “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Life like this is still, if counter-intuitively, rich and worth living because of these trials, these provisions and blessings, and because of you all.

I am and remain profoundly thankful. Blessings to all of you this day!

https://wheeledwords.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/six-years-on/

Blackberries, Or Bushes Afire?

Thanksgiving has become a calendar marker more significant than other holidays for several reasons. Time and Distance are two. But more significant are certain events on Thanksgiving Day 2009.

While our expat and eldest daughter and her family (five in all) are living lagom in the distant realms of Sweden, we travel southwest this year to central Virginia, joining seven remaining stateside progeny, three sons- and one daughter-in-law, five grands, and my sister (who wears the mantles of Auntie and Great Auntie).

Tryptophan ground zero is Swift Run Farm. Scenic, pastoral, and featuring three distinct, well-appointed dwellings that will sleep and feed us all, Swift Run was graciously made available to our troupe by Drew and Madeline Masterson, parents of son-in-law, Drew 2.0.

As I scribble, some watch the umpty-umpth Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Adults are distractedly looking for the University of Missouri Tigers Marching Band (my Mizzou leather head football playing dad’s alma mater). Kids are hoping to see gigantic Bluey and Ultron float by. Those strong of back, are moving tables and chairs into place, while the more gifted are chopping, dicing, mixing, tasting and basting – prepping for a late afternoon meal.

Shaping up to be a fine family time.

At the bottom of this post, I cite a link to our Thanksgiving Experience in 2009, that I hope you’ll enjoy.

BUT FIRST, I’m happy to step out of the way of my good friend, Frank Smith III, over in the Hook. Frank’s a far more gifted writer than I am, whose spot-on Thanksgiving missive, emailed annually, I am pleased to share below. I’m pretty sure you’ll be blessed by it.

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

Reading the headlines, listening to the news, glancing at the faces of people traveling or passing on the street… one is reminded again of the hardships and fears that are part and parcel of a fallen world. As we continue to navigate through, seemingly daily, such profound sadnesses, facing a strange new horizon every morning, the ground can certainly seem more thorn-infested than ever.

I’m so glad this morning, therefore, for the day that stretches before us. A day in which we pause — take a breath — and remember why we have reason not only for thanksgiving, but for praise… and great rejoicing as well. Thank God.

Earth’s crammed with
heaven,
And every
bush afire with God;
But only he who sees takes off his
shoes;
The rest sit around it and pluck
blackberries.

(Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Aurora
Leigh,” Book VII)

I read Barrett’s beautiful poem again this morning, as I do every Thanksgiving since I discovered it. The poem says it all, and says it well. So few have the eyes to see that, as the Seraphim cry out in Isaiah, “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord of hosts… the whole earth is full of His glory.” Ps.19:1 tells us, “The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.” Rom.1:20 says, “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine
nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made.”

Take a few moments, and silently list just a few of the ways in which you are blessed every day. The tolling of distant church bells on a crystal clear, frosty night… the touch of a child’s hand, or a grandmother’s cheek… the warmth of a friend’s arm around your shoulder. The taste of a turkey that your beloved labored over for hours. An expanse of dark green, snow-capped forest under the rosy-pink of early dawn. A dog’s eyes, expectant and bright, when he brings the ball back. For the fifteenth time.

Forgiveness. Lovingkindness. Justice.
Grace under pressure. It’s hard to stop, isn’t it? This is our Father’s World. And how He reveals Himself to us, in it…

Yes, the world has fallen, and until Christ’s return, the creation groans: longing for things to be made right and for freedom from sin and death. There are wars, and rumors of wars, as there have been in every year since that Fall. Amidst the beauty thorns of many kinds and shapes sadly “infest the ground”.

But still, He walks our paths alongside us. God’s amazing handiwork still shines through, causing awe and wonder to well
up in our hearts and pour forth in thanksgiving. Praise Him.

And praise Him also, that even when sin and sinners mar His work… He has willed to redeem those actions for good. A far deeper good, a greater and more far-reaching good, in fact, than the enemy
could ever imagine… and a good that will one day reflect His sovereignty and His wisdom and His love for all eternity.

Remember Joseph, whose dreadful fate turned into the salvation of his family, and his family’s people. And then, remember Jesus…! And say out loud with Paul, as he marveled at God’s handiwork in Romans 8, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

***

So. See with new eyes, the handiwork of the One through whom all things were made, and have their being. And look also, as the Spirit even now moves and heals and transforms, and love grows in human hearts where there was none before, and God’s Kingdom advances.
And watch as Our Lord — already Victor over sin and death — continues to roll back the darkness and prepare our world for His Second Coming: that time in which, as John writes in Revelations, “… He will dwell with (men). They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them, and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes… and there will be no more death, or mourning, or crying in pain, for the old order of things will have passed away” (Rev. 21: 3-4).
See, look, watch… and be thankful.

***

Thanksgiving 2009

A Thanksgiving Re-Tale

He Is Risen! Just As He Said.

Happy Easter!

Diabolus now holds sway in mere feigned absoluteness. Our once great and horrible adversary, the king of terrors now the atonement-silenced accuser. Death now vanquished and stingless. Dominator turned doorway.

A favorite song of mine below. Watch “Easter Song” on YouTube https://youtu.be/8ClwvRJMmZY

Hope you dig the ’70’s moog-synth riffs.

A Wee Bit o’ Surgery

I re-read these this morning. I needed a chuckle and a boost as I go under the knife this afternoon for a few plumbing repairs.

I tend to worry easily and early, before seamlessly shifting to grumbling and resentment. My DIY stress management.

It’s a better idea and a good thing to make time to remember God’s faithfulness, particularly when facing scary stuff involving smart steady-handed guys in masks, general anesthesia, scalpels, forceps, 3-0 silk and sutures, because we are otherwise dim witted and woeful, complaining forgetters.

Read both. Be encouraged.

Dominoes, Pigs, Vacuums & Providence — Musings, Mutterings & Meditations on Wound Care

Dominoes, Pigs, Vacuums, and Providence Unfolded

2020 Heidel Holiday Greetings

This year’s Heidel Holiday card is placidly inattentive to 2020’s global virulence and U.S. political throes, themes of which we were daily and painfully aware. If you squint and count carefully, you will see a new grandbaby and a new in-law. Daughter One added a son, and so we welcomed grandbabyboy #5. Daughter Four was out the door, taking a fine husband and adding sonnyboyinlaw #4 to the extended family roster.

The compulsory family mob shot is set at a lovely nearby herb garden in the Upper Chesapeake region — wedding venue and site of the husband-taking. The knot was tied as our fair state’s “Guvnah” made ever stricter proclamations almost daily, reducing the number of people who could legally assemble indoors. Even though he was not invited, his honor did not shut down our celebration — there’s a good chap — so from rehearsal dinner through wedding day, we planned activities with PPE, social-distancing, and elbow bumping de rigueur. And in his honor, I bought local, sporting Route 1 Apparel’s snazzy sublimated Maryland state flag patterned facemasks, with complimenting socks and ties. My Rehearsal Dinner outfit accessories featured a dizzying yet tasteful blend of Orioles, Ravens and Terrapins colors, while my Wedding Day accents were a more serious but whimsical charcoal grey and black theme. A good time was had by all. Understandably, some friends and family did not travel as COVID-19 positivity rates climbed, including Number One Son and and Number One Daughter, and their families. Through the marvels of technology, they and quite a few others were able to participate virtually via Livestream, but their absence put a bit of a dent in the event. You’ll see them below the fold on the card’s B-side. And, having been excluded from last year’s card, Nellie Johnstone (aka, Number One Pooch) returns looking quite self-important.

Having downsized in 2019, this summer we tacked on a garage and full driveway — both great conveniences. I continue to work gratefully, as many I know were furloughed or lost jobs due to marketplace contraction brought on by COVID-19. August 2020 marked my eleventh spinal cord injury “Accidentiversary.” Alice continues daily to exude loveliness and heroism as she cares for me. My health would seem to be stable generally, but minor intestinal surgery planned for October was postponed by the sudden onset of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) — blood clots in my left leg. I’m hoping to have DVT matters sussed out soon and to have that surgery in late winter.

I continue to pray for political calm and stability, and scientific, COVID-19-killing advancements. While it is easy to feel distrustful, fearful, and isolated, it is better to remember what we know, and by remembering to regain hope, confidence, vim, vigor and pluck. Though not commonly associated with the Advent season, I love William Cowper’s* God Moves in a Mysterious Way:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform:
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour:
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own Interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

(*1731-1800, pronounced “Cooper”)

The hymn above reflects God’s omnipotence and sovereignty in song. Remember also His Advent, foretold and fulfilled, is about His well-ordered, purposeful, most holy wise and powerful governing and preserving all His creatures and all their actions. Think about that. More importantly, own it and rest in it. These observations are but the tip of why we can and should be hopeful.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

Take heart — God’s goodness crowns the year! For all the Heidels, I bid you the Happiest of Holiday Seasons, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. And so does Nellie.

Heidel Holiday Greetings

It’s that time of the year again when holiday cards are exchanged (send me one and you’re gonna get one). And so, Shutterfly’s 30% Off promotion dangled in front of me, we once again received 100 holiday cards and envelopes, we bought 100 holiday themed postage stamps (two for a dollar), and out they went.

This year’s card reflects a new address, a new grandbabygirl, and the usual cast of characters. The compulsory family mob shot is enacted twice – once seriously, and the other just a little less seriously (sic). Nellie B. Johnstone (aka, da dawg) was not afforded even the smallest of spaces on this year’s card and has been nigh on inconsolable, whining and howling all the live long day. The aforementioned family mob shot was taken at the luncheon we hosted 10 years following my August 2009 spinal injury — my Tenth Accidentiversary. Everyone stateside was on hand, and our Swedes (daughter Emily and her family) Skyped-in for the ceremonial remarks (and just a look at the delicious crab cakes). Not a dry eye in the house, as they say.

Despite that celebration — and there is a lot to celebrate — and my other clever non-sense, it has been a challenging year. Prevailing winds have often blown me into the doldrums, and my emotional rudder was often stuck hard-left, leaving me to circle there. On one of those days, I came across a few bytes of writing, set down by my daughter Ginny. They were a tonic for me, and I share her post with you. Even the Stones.

God’s goodness crowns the year. I bid you the happiest of holiday seasons, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Thanksgiving in the Time of COVID

Thanksgiving in the Time of COVID

It is a good practice to look back. Not an easy one, but a good one. There are lessons once learned, then forgotten, which we benefit by recalling.

Thanksgiving rolls around again tomorrow. Turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce . . . and a side of COVID. My state continues to tighten the rules and regs, constrict businesses, and recommend compressed, minimal in person interaction, even at the expense of holiday recognitions. A sense of guilt hangs heavy over those who might attempt a friends and family gathering, let alone presume to cross state lines to join such a gathering. I mean it’s not like we’re trying to pull off a — oh, I don’t know — a wedding. Really? A very strange feel to this Turkey Day, for sure.

So, I invite you to join me as I look back to an earlier Thanksgiving holiday. Things were tough differently then, but eleven years later I find encouragement revisiting the ways God worked, His handling of my situation. I hope you will, too. He is not different. And I am certain He will sustain us in and through the time of COVID-19.

A Thanksgiving Tale Retold

 

Out promised? Rifled? Emptied? Never.

I read and shared this Spurgeon M&E 5 years ago today when I was in the hospital for a few phased holiday surgical procedures a la derriere. In all, laid up for 40 days. As encouraging today as then. I hope you’ll find it so.

Isaiah 41:10 — Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Believer, till thou canst drain dry the ocean of omnipotence, till thou canst break into pieces the towering mountains of almighty strength, thou never needest to fear. . . . The same God who directs the earth in its orbit, who feeds the burning furnace of the sun, and trims the lamps of heaven, has promised to supply thee with daily strength. . . . Shall he that created the world grow weary? He hangeth the world upon nothing; shall he who doth this be unable to support his children? Shall he be unfaithful to his word for want of power? Who is it that restrains the tempest? Doth not he ride upon the wings of the wind, and make the clouds his chariots, and hold the ocean in the hollow of his hand? How can he fail thee? When he has put such a faithful promise as this on record, wilt thou for a moment indulge the thought that he has outpromised himself, and gone beyond his power to fulfil? Ah, no! Thou canst doubt no longer.

O thou who art my God and my strength, I can believe that this promise shall be fulfilled, for the boundless reservoir of thy grace can never be exhausted, and the overflowing storehouse of thy strength can never be emptied by thy friends or rifled by thine enemies.

C.S. Spurgeon. M&E 22 December

French Toast, Fireworks and Freedom: Epilogue

Late afternoon thunderstorms put the kibosh on Capon Springs and Farms July 4th fireworks, and power outage killed electricity and the elevator.

As plan B, lovely heroic Alice and I found lodgings a half hour drive away at the Winchester Marriott Courtyard where there was power and cooling a-plenty. Back to Capon late Thursday morning to conclude our final day in WV.

In fact, power was restored at Capon Wednesday evening, so the rest of the gang on grounds was able to run fans and stay reasonably cool. The elevator service was not restored until this morning. Grateful to have had options.