Journal: He Is Risen, and He Lives!

Last Monday night, Robert called to tell me that our son-in-law Jeremy’s younger brother Roy had decided to buy Loren's house.  (With his fiancée’s permission, I’m sure, hee hee.)

I’m happy about that young couple.  Not because they bought the house, you understand; but because I really like them, and I’m happy that they chose each other.  The young lady is a cousin of sons-in-law Bobby and Kurt.  Our families have been friends back through parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents.

Loren would be happy about it, if he understood.

Houses are selling like hotcakes around here.  Other houses that Roy and Samantha had toured were sold a day or two after they looked at them.

Tuesday afternoon, I went to the post office to mail a birthday gift to Keyara, Keith’s stepdaughter who is turning 16.  We gave her a set from Lilla Rose of hair clip, hairband, and a chain connector for the hairband. 

How about this:  Keira’s birthday is April 16; she’s 4 now.  Keyara’s birthday is April 17.  Keira’s and Keyara’s birthdays are one day apart.

I also sent a package to Dorcas containing some of Janice’s crochet books, a few of Dorcas’ photographs that I found with Janice’s things, a Country Handcrafts magazine with children’s things and afghans, a painting Dorcas had given Janice, and a painting on a wooden hanging heart done by my maternal grandmother, Grandma Winings.  She was in her late 80s and in a nursing home before anyone realized she was skilled at painting.  Dorcas’ painting reminds me of hers, so I thought she might like it. 

When Dorcas received the package, she sent me pictures of both my Grandmother’s heart painting, above, and one of her own, right, which she has hanging on her wall right now.  Just look at that! 

I think Grandma was 90 when she painted that heart.

There were 40-mph winds that day; they ’bout blew me off me pegs.  I had to park a block from the post office and walk against the wind and the blowing dust and dirt, because the street in front of the post office is all torn up, as they are redoing it.  Furthermore, it was hot – 91°.

Before coming home, I stopped by Loren’s house and took pictures and a video.  The new plush gray carpet matches the new flooring in the kitchen and dining room so nicely.  We are pleased.

The high winds the previous week took down another of the Douglas firs, this one on the south/front side of the house.  The F1 tornado that went through on December 15, ending about a mile northwest of Loren’s house, weakened many of the trees, and this one fell last Friday.  Winds had been gusting over 60 mph.  The tree stood until wind direction changed – and then a 35-40-mph gust leveled it.

On my way home, a little way south of our house, I passed a flatbed truck that was stopped on the shoulder.  It was hauling the farm equipment.  The driver was up on the trailer fastening and refastening various pieces of equipment so they didn’t blow around and get damaged or come loose entirely.

Farmers are having a hard time getting their fields ready to plant, as we have been having days upon end of unrelenting high winds.  Finally they just try to choose days when the dust won’t blow across the highways and create hazards for drivers. The loss of valuable topsoil can be significant in winds like these.

Here’s the video:  Loren’s House

The winds continued to get stronger throughout the afternoon and evening.  By 7:30 p.m., we were getting hit with 70-mph winds.  It sounds like they were ripping the house apart.  There were tornadoes off to the southeast.

I called Larry, and learned he was stalled atop the bluffs south of town, because a bad accident had happened a little distance in front of him.  He could see a semi with a reefer tipped over in the ditch, cab smashed and windshield out, and both a pickup and a car that looked damaged; but he thought more vehicles were probably involved, because several ambulances had arrived, with others coming as we talked, along with more police cars and a sheriff. 

Larry’s truck and pup (trailer) were fully loaded, but the wind was rocking that big truck, even though it weighs well over 100,000 pounds when it’s loaded.

He later heard that there were 5-7 semis involved, and 3-5 cars and pickups (depending on who told the story).  We have found absolutely nothing online about the accident.

I did, however, find this photo of trucks getting blown over on I80 that day.

By 8:30 p.m., the wind had ‘died down’ to 55+ mph.  The temperature began dropping.  Fast.  By 9:30 p.m., it was snowing hard near O’Neill, 100 miles to our northwest.   With the high winds, the weather stations were soon giving warnings of near-blizzard conditions.

Meanwhile, Larry was eventually directed by the State Patrol to the top of the hill, where a gravel road met the highway, and there he was able to turn around and go back to another country road where traffic was being detoured.

It was 10:00 p.m. before he got home.  On his way home from Walkers’, he encountered a cattle truck that had gotten blown over as it turned from Highway 81 onto the bypass.  Local ranchers had hurried to the scene with sections of corral, livestock trailers, etc., to help round up the cattle and get them to their destination about 20 miles to the east.  The driver was not hurt, but pretty shaken up.

Here’s one of the pictures I scanned that day – Teddy, 9 or 10, walking with Aleutia, our Siberian husky.  

Aleutia used to come running when she’d hear us scraping out a peanut butter jar.  She’d seat herself in front of us, ears straight up, bright blue eyes staring into ours, drooling and licking her chops until we got the jar sufficiently clean.  We would then hold it down for her while she licked out the rest.  We still think of that doggy every time we scrape out a peanut butter jar.  💖 

Wednesday, the table organizers arrived.  I cleared off the table, set the organizers in place, and strewed our TJF (Table Jetsam & Flotsam) artistically in the drawers and cubbyholes.  There.  Much bettah.

Thursday, Judy wrote to tell me that she and her son Alex had visited Loren that morning.  I was glad, since Larry and I both had colds, and I thought it might be better if we didn’t visit Loren Saturday.

Keira’s birthday party was that evening, and we weren’t able to go to that, either.  waa waa waa

Thursday night, I finished scanning the big album that says it holds 600 pictures – but I must’ve put a few extra pages in it, because I got 607 pictures from it, and didn’t even scan every last photo, as a few were blurry.

Friday I got an entire album scanned – but this one only had 151 photos in it.  Still, that’s a pretty good quota for a day. 

Saturday, I would only get 113 pictures scanned, including this one:

I love hyacinths.  Once upon a time when Victoria was a wee little thing, we discovered that one of the three hyacinths I’d planted the previous autumn was blooming.  Victoria exclaimed in delight when I pointed it out to her.  She then leaned waaaay down to smell it, lost her balance, tipped over, landed on it nose first, and snapped that big blossom right off.

She scrambled to her feet, eyes huge and starting to brim with tears.  She hadn’t meant to behead the poor flower!  

I hastily snatched it up and consoled her, “It’s okay; don’t worry.  We’ll put it in a glass and set it on the table, and it’ll make the whole kitchen smell good.  The other plants will bloom soon, and this one will bloom again someday.”

So she smiled, and skipped into the house to find a pretty glass.  She still remembers that, and she was only a couple of months past the age of two at the time.

That afternoon, Dorcas sent pictures of Trevor and Brooklyn in their Easter clothes.  Dorcas crocheted Brooklyn’s bonnet and the booties.

Poor old Tiger kitty isn’t doing so well.  We’ll have to tell him goodbye soon.  We talk to him... and he still talks back, sweet ol’ thang.  We pet him each time we walk past him... I help him to his feet when he’s struggling to get up... we give him wee tidbits of our cheese, or chicken, or fish (he didn’t even know how to take things from our hands, when he first came to us)... and I brush him often, since he no longer takes care of his fur.  He loves to be brushed, and I brush very, very gently.

Here he is in his plumper days.  When he first came to us, he was a butterball, over 25 pounds.  I got special food for Senior Cats for him, and only gave him small tidbits of Teensy’s Fancy Feast.  It took awhile, but he lost five pounds, and could get around better.  He’d probably have lost more, but he feasted on the local rodents – and sometimes the bunnies and the birds, the ill-mannered feline.  😕😧

I weighed him a couple of days ago, and he’s just 14 ½ pounds.  He’s too thin now, for his considerable height and length.

Friday night, I decided it was high time I tried on the clothes I’d gotten for Easter.  The fancy-schmancy skirt that’s a size 8 is too small – more like a size 4.  We’ll save that for Emma for Christmas.  Or maybe Elsie, ten Christmases from now.  The mohair sweater that feels so soft to the hand is itchier than all get-out.  When am I ever going to learn that I simply cannot wear mohair?!  And to whom shall I give it?  >evil sniggle<

When I stopped with the scanning Saturday night, I had 27,783 photos scanned.  I’m all done with the upstairs totes and well into the middle floor hope chest.  Just as I think, Wow, I’m really sailing right through these albums! – I come upon one like that big one I finished Thursday.  Because I am editing these pictures carefully, making each one as good as I can, I can only get around 100 pictures done a day.  However, when I’m scanning photos taken with my good Minolta SLR cameras, very little editing is required.  One day I got 185 pictures done.  That’s the most I’ve done in a day.

Since we would be going to our Sunrise Service at 7:00 a.m., I went to bed a bit earlier than usual.  I was tired; I should be able to sleep.  Right?

Wrong.

I laid there... and laid there... and laid there.  I should’ve been able to sleep, but my brain refused to turn off.  I finally fell asleep around 2:30 a.m.  My alarm went off at 4:30 a.m.

I was ready by a quarter after six. 

Larry was not. 

About the time we should’ve been halfway to church, he picked up speed.  We walked out the door and got in the Mercedes at 6:50.  It takes 7 minutes to get to the church.

If we can get there a minute late, or even 30 seconds early, couldn’t a bloke get himself in gear just ten, or even five, minutes sooner, and arrive on time?!!

Answer:  No.

Larry pressed the Start button.

Nothing happened.

I knew it wouldn’t, because when I opened the door and got in, no lights came on, and no little chime played to remind me to bring my key. 

The key was already in there.  Larry had forgotten it in the vehicle the last time he drove it, back on Wednesday night.  And we have belatedly learned that leaving a smart key in a smart vehicle runs the stupid battery down!

Larry hurriedly hooked up his battery pack – and the car started.  This time, I turned off the ‘Economy’ switch that makes the Mercedes turn off each time we come to a stop.  I usually just leave it, in the hopes that if the car turns off often enough, Larry will remember to press that button and turn it off when we first start driving.  Such an aggravating feature of new vehicles!  Ugh.  Furthermore, it puts unnecessary wear and tear on the starter. 

But I knew that as soon as we stopped at the first stop sign and the Mercedes turned off, it would not be a-startin’ again when Larry got his foot off the brake.  We had no time to lose.

Amazingly enough, we got to church a minute before the piano-and-organ prelude began.

We sang the beautiful old Easter songs... we listened to the men’s choir as they sang Hallelujah to the Lamb... and then Robert gave a sermon from part of the Easter story.

After the service, we had breakfast in the Fellowship Hall:  hard-boiled eggs, cheesy scrambled eggs, milk, doughnuts, muffins, ham, sausage, fruit, and juice, coffee or tea.

We headed home a little after nine – or at least we tried.

The Mercedes was dead again, and the battery pack didn’t have enough oomph to start it.

Fortunately, Caleb knew of our plight, and hadn’t left yet.  He hooked up jumper cables to our vehicle... and it still wouldn’t start!  So Larry hooked his battery pack onto Caleb’s battery, and then it started.

When we got home, Larry connected his big charger to the Mercedes, after first getting the BMW out so we could drive it instead.

You know, we thought the BMW was an excellent little SUV – until we got the Mercedes.  Now if we climb out of the Merc and get straightaway into the Beemer, it feels pretty much like we traded a limousine for a lumber wagon.  It doesn’t help any that there’s a bit too much air in the tires.  But the Beemer doesn’t even have heated seats!  You’d think Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengeselleschaft (aka Bavarian Motor Works) would be too proud of their cars to ship out any, sans heated seats!

So the Benz sat cooling its heels – er, jets – and off we went a little while later to the next service.

Our brass band played a collection of several songs before the main service at 11:00 a.m.  Bobby writes the arrangements for the music, and he leads the band.  Aaron plays the French horn.  Larry likes to tell them he enjoys hearing them ‘toot their own horns.’  😂

I especially loved the last two songs:  The Unveiled Christ and Crown Him with Many Crowns.  The musicians loved it, too, I think, judging from how they poured heart and soul into it.  The congregation then sang Crown Him with Many Crowns while the horns accompanied us.

I love the Easter music; it’s so lively and majestic.  

At the end of the song service, the mixed choir sang He Paid the Ransom for Me.

There was a continuation of the earlier sermon.  The wonderful Resurrection!  How can anybody say it’s not true?  It’s a well-established fact, for Jesus was seen by many credible witnesses after He rose again.  Why, even His enemies knew it was true, and the rulers paid the soldiers to spread about the lie that His disciples had stolen away the body while they slept.  Of course, if that was true, the soldiers would have been executed for sleeping on the job.

After the service, we gave Keira her birthday gift – a ‘new-born-baby’ doll and a red plaid nightgown with ruffles and lace.  The baby girl who started out at 2 pounds, 8 ounces, is 4 years old now!

When we got home, Larry disconnected the battery on the Benz – not an easy job, as it’s under the passenger’s seat – and took it first to Advanced Auto Parts and then to O’Reilly’s, where it checked out perfectly fine and dandy.  Huh?

He had noticed when he lifted the seat that the band that’s supposed to go around the battery and hold it snuggly in place was not where it belonged, and a couple of the connections were a bit loose.

He came home again, put the battery back in, and made sure everything was tight, and the band was in place.  Then he attached his big charger to the car and let it charge until last night.  We drove the BMW to the evening service.

Our string orchestra played a medley of songs, and we joined them to sing the first congregational song.  Before the sermon, my great-niece Danica and her cousin (who is Jeremy’s youngest sister) sang Thirty Pieces of Silver.  That was the price they paid Judas to betray the Lord Jesus – ‘just the price of a slave’, as the song says.  That’s one of my favorite songs.  (Yes, yes, I know.  I have 3,602,985 favorite songs.)  The words and music were written by Ira Stanphill in 1949.  Or at least the first two verses were.  The third verse was written by my friend Penny Golden.  Here are the lyrics:

 

THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER

 

1.              There’s no satisfaction in riches or in fame,
If our Savior is denied;
Every castle tumbles and life’s a broken dream,
Without Jesus by our side.

Refrain:
Thirty pieces of silver was the price they gave;
Thirty pieces of silver, just the price of a slave;
And my heart I have given to this Christ betrayed,
And I know just how much He loved me by the price He paid.

2.              From His ivory palace He came to such as I,
But I scorned His love for me;
Sold Him for the silver of things that I regret:
Sorrow, pain, and agony.

Refrain

3.              Bring your precious ointment, Anoint the blessed Lord,
Counting all your life but loss;
All that you surrender, He richly will repay,
If you daily bear the cross.

Refrain

 

If you would like to hear this beautiful song sung by Danica and Laura, it’s here:  http://www.bbccolumbus.com/Fortyseven.htm  Go to the Sunday PM April 17, 2022 video (the bottom one, last on the page), and take the slider over to minute 29:16.

We had a luncheon after our evening service.  We visited with our children and grandchildren and numerous friends.  I held Baby Willie, and he smiled at me.  That’s a fine way to end the evening, don’t you think?  ’Twas a good day.

Before coming home, I signed the purchase agreement for Loren’s house.  We’d better hurry and finish cleaning out that garage!  We won’t have to take the John Deere tractor, though; Roy is going to buy it, too.

Robert told me that they took Lura Kay on a jaunt to Plattsmouth, where Daddy’s first church was located, then Union, where he preached a time or two for Rev. Don McMillan, a good preacher friend, and Nebraska City, where Rev. McMillan’s main church was.  Rev. McMillan would preach at the one in Nebraska City, then drive to Union and preach again, as their little church had no pastor.  Daddy substituted for McMillan at the Union church once or twice.  Union is 15 miles south of Plattsmouth, and 12 miles north of Nebraska City.  The population of Union in 1950 was 277.  In 2019, it was 142. 

It was at the little church in Union that my parents met a family with the last name of Crunk.  The Crunks would before too long move to Aurora, Colorado, a suburb of Denver, as the humid weather in southeast Nebraska was making Mr. Crunk’s asthma worse.

It also wasn’t too long before my parents, along with my three older siblings, would move to Pleasant Heights, Colorado.  Daddy had a little church there, and he also preached at the nearby town of Bennett.  Bennett, Colorado, is about 25 miles from Aurora, so Crunks attended church there.

My parents moved to Columbus in about 1953 or 1954, and it wasn’t long before the Crunks followed them back to Nebraska.  Their daughter Ann would marry a man named Arthur.  They would have six children, three boys and three girls.  Their oldest daughter, MaryAnn, is our son-in-law Andrew’s mother.  Their second daughter, Malinda, was our son-in-law Jeremy’s mother.  She passed away during childbirth in 2001.  Our granddaughter Malinda, Jeremy and Lydia’s little girl, is named after her.  Arthur and Ann’s youngest daughter, Margaret, is Robert’s wife.

Did you get all that?  There will be a quiz.

Robert sent me these pictures of Daddy’s church in Plattsmouth, and the churches in Union and Nebraska City.  The white house behind the white church in Plattsmouth (house on the right) was the parsonage where my family lived (not me; I wouldn’t be born for about ten years).

Larry and Jeremy flew out of Omaha this morning at 6:00 a.m. (by plane, not Jet Suit), heading to New Gretna, New Jersey, to get a Mecanil (Tree-Mek) grapple saw truck for Jeremy’s business, Precision Tree Service.  They’ll drive it home – 1,366 miles.

Jeremy’s birthday is in two days.  He got himself quite a birthday present, didn’t he?  😄

Here’s how a grapple saw crane works:  Grapple Saw.  Greater detail:  Saw Crane

Oh!  There’s a white-crowned sparrow just outside my window, singing like anything.  I didn’t know what kind of bird it was making that melody until I saw it, as the white-crowned sparrow does not mate or nest here, so we rarely hear its warble.  It will soon be making its way to Alaska and arctic Canada to nest and raise young.  What journeys these little birds make!

Upon reading that there was a full Pink Moon last night, and a nearly-full Pink Moon tonight, I walked out on the back deck a little before 9:30 and looked, and, sure enough, the moon was just starting to come over the horizon.  It was huge, and yes, slightly pink.

Brrrr... it’s only 34° out there.

I walked back out at 9:32 p.m. to get a better look ---  !!! 

The moon went back down!

Or at least whatever I saw (looking through the thick stand of trees eastward) wasn't there anymore.

I do hope the moon didn’t get losted.

Ooooooookay.  I looked it up on timeanddate.com, and I see that moonrise isn’t until 10:55 p.m.

Maybe I saw a tractor rising over yonder hill?  There are cornfields in that direction.  And the farmers have been working late seeding their fields, especially if the wind dies down at night.  Winds have been bad for the last month.

I set a timer for 10:55 p.m.  When it went off, I walked back out on the deck.

There we go, now the moon is up!  The bottom edge is still obscured by the town’s skyline.  And it’s not pink at all, but dark, fiery red.  It will lighten as it rises.

Here, let’s borrow a picture from National Public Radio.  They won’t mind; their photos are in the public domain. 

This is quite a lot like the moon I see from my back deck, except my sky is darker, and the moon is a deeper red.  Very pretty.

Larry just sent me a text:  “We are about 15 hours from home.  We got a motel, and will be heading out around 7am.”

That means they managed to drive about 6 hours so far.

And now I had better hurry to bed and sleep fast, for I’m planning to go to Omaha to see Loren tomorrow.  Hannah and Joanna are coming with me.  Let’s hope the Mercedes starts!

,,,>^..^<,,,           Sarah Lynn           ,,,>^..^<,,,