By John W. Vander Velden
The Optimist
By John W. Vander Velden
I would consider myself an optimist. I think being an optimist is a good thing. It means that you are hopeful about what lies before you. Seeing the better, if not the best, drives me to trust others. But being an optimist carries a price…and sometimes that price is high. For seldom do things follow the perfect path and often optimism leads to disappointment. Disappointment leads to questions, questions about many things, but most often whether my hopes have been well placed to begin with.
I am not a fool, or at least I hope I am not a fool. During those times I have been crushed, I recognized that hopes and reality rarely mesh completely. Yet, I continue to hope for the best but remain certain I will have to settle for what comes. Seems a bit ridiculous doesn’t it? Maybe it is. But, to me, it beats the alternative. Should I expect disaster on every turn and be surprised when destruction does not come? Would living in such a “dark cloud” improve my daily life? Yes, living so would eliminate the moments of disappointments, but would not everyday be filled with depressed feelings of a world filled with impossibilities.
That type of existence does not seem a “living life to the fullest” kinda’ life. But perhaps I understand that darkness more than others. For though I would call myself an optimist, I deal with a chronic darkness. Few would know that facet of my health. I do not mention this weakness for sympathy or some misplaced honor, but rather as a statement of fact…it is something I have to deal with every day. Everyone has battles they face, unknown to all but their closest, and this is one of mine.
Perhaps optimism fuels depression. Who can say? Perhaps feeling deeply about things fuels it. I couldn’t tell you. But I am an optimist. I hope for things that seem beyond the normal range of possibility…even though I understand those results are unlikely. Optimism sees the candle in a dark room. Pessimism stands near that small light and only sees the blackness. Which would you prefer to be?
I see God in what others might believe a cold dark world. If that is the only light I see…then let me be the optimist!
(387 Words) 3-7-2017
More Than a Dash
By John W. Vander Velden
Recently one of Jackie’s cousins passed away. The obituary revealed the man had lived an amazing life, what some might call the dash. The dash has been described as the mark carved into a tombstone between the day of birth and time of passing from this world.
After reading that lengthy piece in the paper and attending the funeral, I was led to thinking. Most of us never figure that our time on the green side of the sod is significant. To us our dash means very little. For we are just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. We never even take a moment to consider our own dash, the people around us whose lives intersect with ours, or any of the other ways our dash has and continues to affect the world.
But when we do so, we forget one important thing. For though we might be unable to see it, our dash is not some random mark of no consequence. For I know that each of us has been placed on this globe at this specific time, for a specific reason. God gave you life, for a purpose. It is up to us to find that purpose, to seek it out, to fulfill that place in the mechanism, that is the human race. You are not some random speck. You are not some biological accident. You walk this earth for a reason.
And that reason is more than a dash, more than the list of accomplishments or awards. It is more than the years given to a job or profession. It is more than the heirs we will leave behind. For as unique individuals we fill a space that none other can fill.
Be assured you are more than some lines that one day might be printed in the local paper. For you are more than a dash.
(309 Words) 1/26/2024
Love is More Than Four Letters
By John W. Vander Velden
On a cold Sunday afternoon, I watched as a man, well into his eighties, with the arm of a bent old woman looped through his own. They moved with care across the parking lot of a restaurant — together. Those that took the time to observe, understood a lifetime shared. You see, love is more than four letters. It is more than words spoken. Not that words have no meaning. Not that words need not be shared. But real love is revealed by simple acts — continuously.
There are those that foolishly feel that it takes gifts, large and small, to prove affection. Some feel cheated when they are not the recipient of some grand thing. And though the sharing of gifts can bring joy, love is more than diamonds. The patient listening to a day’s challenges. A supporting word, when confidence has failed. Knowing that no matter what, you will never abandon. These are the gifts that carry the highest value.
Some feel that passion is loves only measure. That physical desire controls every need of those connected. That with passions waning, the human bond fades. Surely intimacy is vital to any that seek connection. The private sharing — the quiet times — the together-aloneness — needed. Love is more than any physical act. It is the knowing — the believing — and understanding of another. Those thing only grow with years. Sharing time and space — laughter and tears — achievements and disasters — with time, can bind two people tighter. Two living individuals, yet teamed to battle life’s wars together. Each bringing strengths and weaknesses – complimenting – reinforcing – as they face futures unknown. Those are the signs of true intimacy – and life is their passion.
That old couple understood. They knew that love is more than four letters…
Disappointments and Difficulties
By John W. Vander Velden
What can I say? The title seems to say it all. But I, like everyone, have faced times when things did not go as I had hoped. And just like you have found myself struggling to deal with things in general.
I was led to thinking on these subjects last month. You see, after a few wonderful days venturing off and around, I came down with COVID. But what made it seem incredibly unfair was that I had endured the virus only thirteen months before. I had followed the guidelines, been vaccinated repeatedly. But alas it was my fate to be exposed and to develop the illness.
Surely you understand I was disappointed and what followed were difficulties dealing with COVID and its aftereffects. Some of those difficulties I continue to face even today.
I will not go over the symptoms and the weakness that has followed. No, this is about a more general topic, the disappointments and difficulties we all face, and how, in the face of them, we can see something positive. For positivity is a choice and so it is up to you and me to see things through a different lens.
I use myself as an example. Ture, I wanted to wallow in self-pity last month, and there are moments I did. There are moments I still do, when stairs seem nearly impossible to climb. But I use these moments as a contrast of what I had before, and realize I took for granted so many gifts that God has given me.
So, I refuse to allow disappointments become a consuming dark cloud, at least for now. But knowing that at present my strength is lacking and the difficulties that might cause, I am driven to fight for recovery, knowing full well that battle will be difficult. So, I find gratitude in the will to endure, in the will to fight on today…tomorrow…and all the days God gives.
So, as I remind myself of life’s joys, of my experiences, those of I enjoy in my present state, as well as those past days, I find the sting of this particular disappointment weaken. When I consider all the difficulties I have endured in the past, and how I had pushed through those problems, I understand nothing of value comes easy. I thank my God for bringing me this far with the confidence that God will take me further, if it is His will.
For though I am disappointed. And yes, once again I face difficulties. But I am not yet beaten.
Therefore, I face the days ahead, and in doing so I find joy in overcoming my disappointments because God has given me the courage to face life’s difficulties. For in the end, I will be a better…stronger…man as a result of the Disappointments and Difficulties I face.
And you can be as well!
(471 Words) 11-24-2023
Love’s Difficult Journey
By John W. Vander Velden
August 29th, 2023
August has not always been an easy month. Jackie and I have faced many difficulties during the eighth month of the year. For it seems that of all the months it is August that we have faced the most separations. I will not take the time to tell of all the partings that have occurred, or their significance, but I will share the latest.
Why I woke at midnight I do not know. Not that it was so unusual for me to become conscious during my sleeping time. But I did wake, and after I glanced at the clock I slipped out of bed. Our small and only dog, Cloey, had become ill late Monday afternoon. The dear thing had difficult evening, and I feared she was fading.
We had done everything we could to make her comfortable and prayed that once again she would rebound, or at least hold her own until we could take to the vet. But Cloey has had serious health issues for more than three years. An arthritic hip was the least of her difficulties. A collapsing trachea had caused concern most of her life. Then to add to those things was her heart condition. We have known for a long time that our dear fur baby was on borrowed time.
Cloey had endured a difficult summer, yet always carried a cheerful disposition, a sweetness that I could never explain accurately to others. It is said that if we are fortunate, we will have one really special dog. I was blessed with two, but that being said, Cloey was the very best.
As I mentioned before, I woke and made my way to where Cloey lay. The living room was only lit by the outdoor security light and a bright moon, light that slipped through the windows. But my eyes could see things well enough. She lay exactly as she had at ten-thirty. Cloey lay so very still that fear came to me there in the dark room. I lay on the floor to see my wonder dog closely. Then something happened, as I stroked her nose, I heard a puff of a breath. For a moment I felt my fear was ill placed, but as I lay beside my dear special friend, I held my breath waiting to hear…to hear anything. And I knew that Cloey had left us, and gone to the special place reserved for the very best dogs, those that had dedicated their lives, and given all their love to those who loved them as well.
So, you see, as of this morning, August 29th, another parting has been accredited to the month. I am not certain when the tears will dry, but it will take time. For loss is most profound when what we lose is greatest. Even if it is, as some might contend, the greatest dog, one could ever have.
But Cloey, arriving as a mere pup of two months, gave us thirteen years and seven months. She gave us the best…and the place she held in our hearts is now so very empty…
Yet I know…that love takes us to places we do not wish to go…but go we must.
But I also know that love will carry us through…
(545 Words) 8-29-2023
Been Thinkin’ About…Fathers
By John W. Vander Velden
It would seem suitable that June would be a time to think about fathers. With the holiday approaching my mind has moved in that direction lately. For most of us Father’s day takes our thoughts to our own fathers…and that’s good. It is good to think outside of ourselves. It is good to remember our dads. Those of us that are fortunate to have had fathers worth remembering in any case. I was. But growing up television programs were filled with fathers. Father Knows Best, Make Room for Daddy, and hundreds of other programs that showed families headed by strong good nearly perfect men. Though there is no “reality” on television…never was…these “characters” did often revel noble attributes. But they could never be a true measuring stick for men facing the real challenges of real life. I hope none of us measured our dads against these actors moving about in perfectly manufactured scenes.
But lately my mind has focused on another father…me. I wonder, constantly, how do I measure up? Being a father was always part of my life’s plan. I’m big on plans…too big. As I look back I understand that I stepped into the role even before my son arrived. Now twenty-two years later, I’m still at the job. There’s no retirement plan folks. Yet I wonder. How did I measure up? For so many years, work’s obligations stole moments my son rightly deserved. Was I there when I needed to be? Did I have enough energy to give? Was I always fair? Life in our home was different. I believe each home is a unique environment. But did I give enough, not things but of myself?
People see my son and tell me I’ve been a good father, as if I could have forced him to become the fine young person he has become. I remind them that the jury’s still out on that. I’m not certain that even Nick will have the platform to judge my success, and his character can not be the measure of my inputs alone. I had a lot of help. His father might be responsible for his height but perhaps little else. You see everything about “fathering” was new to me. Each challenge a first time thing. It was kinda’ like traveling an “unknown country” with so many events coming and me feeling so unprepared and wondering if I handled them best.
As I consider Father’s Day and my actions as a father, perhaps it would be wisest to dwell less on what I consider successes and failures, and just trust my heart and continue on…continuing on. To understand that I am flawed and it is unreasonable to expect perfection in all of my actions. To trust that love will guide when I stumble along wondering what is best. To just be…and not second-guess…the best father I can be at the moment…each moment…every moment…and accept that I will be good enough.
So another Father’s Day approaches and I think about my father and the grandfathers I never knew and all those male ancestors to the beginning of time. I think about effort and sacrifice. I know that they too had moments of self-doubt. But I am grateful…so very grateful for them all. I think about my son. I wonder if one day he too will make the conscious choice to join the ranks of fatherhood. Yes, on Sunday, gifts will be exchanged and words spoken and that’s nice too…but…I’ve been thinking about fathers and what that really means….
(596 Words) 6-10-2016
By Chance
May 28, 2023
By John W. Vander Velden
A few weeks ago, we went hiking in the Hocking Hills area. We spent three days wandering the trails of the state park. But our final walking place was not in the park proper, but the adjacent, Conkle’s Hollow State Nature Preserve.
There are two trails at Conkle’s Hollow. One of which is a mile long at the bottom of canyon, with sheer cliffs on both sides. We first took the trail that ran the length of the gorge right down the middle. A very nearly flat mostly paved pathway along the stream, that had over the eons, cut the Black Hand Sandstone.
A light drizzle fell off and on as we wandered at our own pace admiring God’s creation. Had to scamper over and around some rocks for the best views of the two small waterfalls at the trail’s end.
It was one of the rare two-way trails of the area, and we spent an hour and a half, maybe a little more, among the trees in that canyon while being surrounded by those stone walls.
After a very quick lunch beneath the lifted hatch of our Jeep, as the rain continued, we prepared for the last trail on our list of things to do. The Conkle Ridge Trail. A two-and half-mile hike along the top of the canyon. A one-way horseshoe trail far above the canyon floor. The warning sign at the trail’s beginning was identical to the signs we had read on many of the others. It did not seem overly concerning.
A fine stairway of ninety steps, (I counted them), began the journey. Those stairs took us about two thirds of the way to the top. The remaining upward portion of was an earth covered trail. As we went, we would pause and allow those that had lived fewer seasons that we, to pass us. However, there was one younger couple who indicated they liked the pace we were taking and would continue in our wake.
Jackie and I enjoy hiking, we enjoy the outdoors, we enjoy seeing new places that reveal the magnificence of our God and creator. We didn’t particularly enjoy the rain. Past experiences had taught us to come prepared. You know, carry some water, wear the right equipment, such as hiking boots and rain jackets. We have hiking poles, so we began this trail confident in our abilities.
Tree roots. that have had the soil washed out from around them, are our bane. Rain makes them extremely slippery, so you need to watch each step. It made progress slow and tedious, but we had the time. And it would have been worth it, but even as the trail ran very near the edge of the precipice, seldom could see beyond the trees.
I became the designated leader, and kept us moving along the trails edge, furthest from death. For the path of soil, stone and thousands of tree roots was slippery. Yet our spirits were high as we wandered the way, slowly becoming acquainted with the couple that followed, sometime near, sometimes a bit further back. When we came to the bridge over the stream that leaped off the cliff and formed the waterfalls we had observed earlier, we paused for a few minutes. That area offered the best views of the canyon from above.
That bridge also meant we were halfway.
By that time my knees were planning a rebellion.
I have never taken a hike that I wished would be over―before. But the rain, the mud, and the uncertain footing, had ended the fun of this walk, by the time we had reached the bridge. So, I trudged on, helping Jackie navigate the wet stones and many of the other more difficult obstacles. But alas, I failed her, for she slipped on a particular set of roots, and found herself prone in the pathway. Bruised, but not broken, with her glasses and hiking pole bent, upset with herself for allowing that fool root to cause her crashing.
Fortunately, our new friends were right there, and that was our official meeting with Antony and Jill. Antony helped me get my beloved to her feet, while Jill, who had worked as a technician in an eye doctor’s office, straightened Jackie’s glasses and attempted to return the left lens back into the frame.
These wonderful folks helped us finish the hike, for what waited at the conclusion, was a difficult decent, not of stairs as on other trails, but a series of worn stone slabs eighteen or more inches thick that you needed to crawl/slide down.
Some may say that it was by chance, that Antony and Jill happened to walk the trail that rainy afternoon. That by chance, they were willing to follow an older couple on difficult trail. That by chance, they were with us at the very moment, Jackie fell.
By chance?
I don’t think so…
(824 Words) 5-27-2023
Spokes
By John W. Vander Velden
Even the spokes of a bicycle wheel have their purpose.
We might think the most important part of a bicycle wheel is the tire. Those of us that have had to deal with flats might agree. It is the obvious…you know… “where the rubber meets the road”. The tire seems important. Life is like that. There are people that we notice, important people. How easily we overlook all the others as we categorize the populace. But if I were to go the store and buy a bicycle tire…just the tire…how far would that take me? For the tire would be nothing without the tube inside to hold the air. And the tire and tube would be of little value without a rim to mount it on. It becomes a “this bone is connected to that bone” kinda’ thing doesn’t it?
That’s the point. Every part of a bicycle has its purpose…even something as simple as the spoke. And though I have ridden a bike with a broken spoke, the wobble in that front wheel proved that the loss of even one spoke mattered.
If each spoke matters to a mechanism like a bicycle, doesn’t each person matter to the greater mechanism, the human race?
Life sweeps us along, and we do not notice our place in that grand piece of machinery. We do our jobs, take care of our families, pay our taxes, just live, and by doing so never recognize our contribution to the larger picture. We are like bicycle spokes…perhaps unnoticed, but vital. Each of us has a unique purpose, a purpose that only one person can fill. Each of us must find what that purpose is…at this particular time. For our purpose changes during this journey we call life, and we need to accept those changes in order to move ever forward. We need to recognize our place, not only in our small portion of the world, but in the larger community. For our purpose must be greater than our own household, our own friends and family. For we are the spoke and the wheel needs us, and the wheel is but part of the whole world and all that fill it. Each has a purpose, a need that only that person can fill.
(382 Words) 3-25-2017
Where Does Christmas Find You?
By John W. Vander Velden
As each of us move about our lives, we face challenges and obstacles. We have achieved successes and found unexpected blessings. We have dealt with failures and loss. We might be among those we love most or find ourselves staring at empty furniture. Three hundred and sixty-five days of living each year, how do we face one set apart from the others the way Christmas is?
Too many focus on what cannot be, unable to see the grandness of each day. Yet Christmas comes to us all, those ready for the tinsel and lights, and those that are not. But Christmas is grander than holiday specials, perfectly cooked meals, stockings, and ho-ho-hos. It is more than the lights on trees inside and out, or glowing inflated snowmen. Christmas is not limited to December 25th.
Christmas is the firm proof of GOD, and the binding HE has with each of us. For on that night long ago CHRIST was born, Emanuel, GOD with us, born for you and me. CHRIST is the proof, the solid definition of love and shows us just how far GOD is willing to go on our behalf. Christmas comes each year to remind us of that infinite love. That love is not fixed to a particular date. That love isn’t fastened to a holiday. GOD’s love is broader…it is bolder.
Christmas comes to find you where you are even when you are most vulnerable…or at your weakest. Christmas comes to find you where you are especially those times you feel broken…shattered…beaten down. Christmas comes when everything seems to be going wonderfully, but it also arrives when your world seems to unravel.
Christmas finds you no matter where you are in your life.
For GOD so loved the world…that means you…that means me…that means your neighbor…that means the stranger on the street…that means the one that wishes to be your enemy…GOD loves us all.
That he sent HIS SON…that is a child born under the humblest of circumstances to ordinary people that act in extraordinary ways. Jesus was born in Bethlehem…the angels proclaimed HIS birth to humble herdsmen of the field. Common folk of sweat and toil. Later grand men of wisdom came following heavenly signs. From the poor to the wealthy all are welcome to meet the CHRIST.
That whoever believes in HIM…recognizes that JESUS is, was, and always will be, the SON of the MOST HIGH…GOD in human form…
Shall have everlasting life…Jesus saves…can save…will save. Life everlasting is not some “pie in the sky” someday thing…for those that truly believe, it has already begun…and will never end…
Is your heart open to Christmas when it comes? Will you recognize the grandness of GOD’s love for you?
So I ask…where does Christmas find you?
12-24-2020 (465 Words)
Just a Ripple
By John W. Vander Velden
There are times when I consider the where I belong. Oh, I know geographically the real estate, the bit of earth that I find myself – the place I consider home. It is good to have that knowledge of something solid, something true. But that constant is not what I mean.
Perhaps I should approach it in another way. On some early morning, stand at the edge of a pond, large or small. Look carefully over the water when it is smother than glass. Then select a small pebble — the smaller the better. Now stretching your arm forward, allow that stone to fall into the water. Watch as it breaks the surface. Allow your eyes to follow the rings moving outward. I would contend that you have changed that pond. You have changed the pond with those ripples that race outward and though may go unnoticed reach the far side. That change will soon disappear. But you have changed the pond in ways permanent – ways you do not see – ways you cannot know. For that bit of rock settles upon the bottom, a new feature. Animals, perhaps microscopic, must move by a different path because that stone now lies, a barrier, in their route. Other plants and creatures may with time use it as a foundation for new growth. Who can know all the changes that just one small pebble causes – changes greater than just a ripple?
There was a day – to me it seems very long ago – when I was just a pebble dropped into this pond. And my birth may have been just a ripple. To some those ringlets were large as ocean waves, but to most of those that shared the world with me, the new arrival, the wavelets went unnoticed. But just as that pebble changed the pond, my entrance changed the world. However there is an important difference. You see the pebble has no control — none what so ever. I on the other hand have abilities, gifts – can make choices. Through those choices, I affect those around me. How I use the gifts I have been given, changes this pond we share.
So I look about the world I share with you and so many others. A world I share with those I know. A world I share with so many I have yet to meet. A world I share with those I will never have the opportunity to see, some near others much distant. I wonder where I belong, and more, what can I do so that God makes me more — than just a ripple.
(434 Words) 9-26-2014
Each of Us Needs a Purpose
By John W. Vander Velden
Fact is we need a reason to get up every morning. It seems most of our lives we are rushing from one thing to another. It begins when we enter our school years. Looking back I realize that those early years were training for such a large portion of my life. Getting up in the morning stuffing breakfast in my mouth and being ready for the bus to carry me and others to the building that contains us and gave me tasks to accomplish. Yes, I learned that 2 plus 2 equals 4, I learned the difference between a noun and a verb, and all the other information others were certain I needed to know in order to survive.
But the important thing I learned has little to do with the hours of lessons. I learned to schedule my day. For going to school was the purpose I had been given during those years. And was prepared…and longing for the next step when my formal education had been completed. For I like most of you joined another organization. The workforce.
By then I had learned the need of an alarm clock, how to find my own transportation, and how to schedule my week. For some their first job is only one stop of their working career. For me the location changed once, but not the job title.
My years of employment made up a very large portion of my life. But those years were not my complete existence, and a moment came when my working years came to an end. And I found myself among those that God had granted the time and resources to step forward when that moment arrived.
Retirement.
I believe each person has a unique definition of retirement. There are those that plan for the moment when their working life is completed. Others have the end of their career thrust upon them. Forced retirement. And there are others that find themselves unable to carry the burdens of their works obligation. Perhaps it is health issues, or just limitations that age forces upon us. Yet the moment comes when the discipline that had been part of our lives for so long is no longer required. Each faces that moment in their own way.
But even when, for whatever reason a person retires, that person needs a purpose.
When the day came, after forty-five years of farming, I found I had an advantage. Two advantages actually.
One: I had spent many years self-employed. To be successfully self-employed a person needs discipline. There is no one to assign the tasks I would tackle any given day. There was no one that would keep track of the time I started or finished my day. How many days a week I put my “shoulder to the wheel.” Those were among the responsibilities I alone carried. Self-employment has its blessings, but it also has its burdens.
But the discipline that was needed for all those years gives me “a leg up” when I entered retirement.
Two: I am a man of faith. I would hope that would be something I shared with the masses, but I have come to realize that it is not as common as I thought. It seems that over the years the number of people that consider themselves bound to a belief has diminished substantially. So if I consider this connection an advantage, and I understand it is not a benefit shared by everyone.
Having faith provides a deeper view of the world that surrounds me. But my specific faith in God, the Master of the Universe, reminds me daily that nothing is by chance and everything has a purpose. I include myself in that everything. I know I have a purpose for each day. I may not know what today’s purpose is, but understanding that I have a purpose, energizes me to seek what that purpose could be.
I do not fritter away my day staring at a glowing screen across the room. I do watch some TV in the evenings. But I have other things to take up my time. God has given me gifts, shouldn’t I, as long as I have the breath and energy, pursue them? God has placed me in places and circumstances I never envisioned, given me responsibilities I have not sought but must fill. Do I ignore those new obligations for my personal leisure?
The fact is I am too busy. The fact is I cannot carry all the possible purposes that are placed at my feet. But that’s alright. I have sufficient purpose for today…tomorrow too.
Each of us needs a purpose…a reason to get up each morning. I thank God I do!
(783 Words) 7-26-2022
40 Years Planted
By John W. Vander Velden
June 18th 1982 was the day I moved into a house in rural Marshall County. It is the residence I now share with my beloved Jackie and our small but very dear dog Cloey. Today, Saturday marks forty years that I have lived within these walls. I might have said beneath this roof, but for all points and purposes the roof has been replaced back in 2007 or so.
In this world where everyone seems so mobile that I have remained planted so securely in this particular location seems unusual. I was thirty when I moved here, the math is not difficult to guess what number describes my age today. But what kept me in this physical place is really simple. My profession’s demands for the most part held me near the source of those responsibilities.
But now that I am retired I can live where ever I choose. Providing Jackie agrees. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere apart from her. Yet all the same I like where I am living―for the most part. There is no perfect place, no perfect house, but this one’s not so bad. We have made it comfortable, to our liking. It is easy for us to go from here to the places that need our attention. We have friends nearby. And the folks next door are not next door, if you get my meaning.
I am planted here on this acre of hillside, with farmland on my south and east. I am planted here and over the years have managed to live the largest part of my life here.
I guess what I am saying is that I am content in the place I am planted and hope to remains so for a few more years. Content is, in my opinion, a decision made. It is different than being deliriously happy. For that kind of happiness is often temporary. I can’t imagine being deliriously happy for forty years.
No, life is primarily made up of ordinary days. But in truth there is something outstanding in each of those ordinary days if we take the time to consider them.
I have learned a great deal about myself during the span of those years. And I have been induced to learn a great deal about my faith by the people in my life, by the circumstances I have faced, by my successes during that time, by my failures as well, and through the sorrows that each life will endure, mine included.
I learned that instead of looking for God, I could see Him everywhere I looked. In the rising sun. In the star filled night sky. In a snowflake. In a flowing stream. In the face of my newborn son. I now understand that God is not in some far off place, locked within the walls of some sanctuary, or high above in the halls filled with angels, God is here and everywhere, now and always. God shares the space I tread, even within the walls of this modest house. He is nearer than my next breath.
I have come to recognize that I am only human. But being human means I carry both greatness and insignificance. I have been blessed with talents and weaknesses. I am no more than others. But by the same token I am not, when taken as a whole, inferior to anyone. I am, as you are, a child of God. But I am also saved from myself, by the grace that comes from Christ.
And so I am as a seed planted and I have grown these forty years and continue to grow for whatever time God has allotted. Hopefully you have grown during your years as well.
(616 Words) 6-18-2022
Silence?
By John W, Vander Velden
Silence is never misquoted.
I thought there was wisdom in that phrase. And there is. But the more I thought about it the more I came to understand there is a place for silence and there is place for other actions.
For though we cannot be held accountable for the words unsaid. And there are times when shouting voices are best ignored. Yet there are times when our silence speaks words we should never say…may reinforce actions that we should not condone.
There is a time for silence. Just as the list in Proverbs speaks of a time for all things there is a time when our lips should be sealed. Often verbal attacks directly aimed at our person are best answered with silence. But when those verbal abuses are pointed toward the innocent not speaking on their behalf may not be the best response.
Each of us must decide what we stand for and what response we hope is best. But we must do so prayerfully, trusting our God to help us to choose our words and actions that form the best response to difficult situations.
To direct ourselves, in determining:
What do we stand for?
What do we believe?
What would God want us to do?
What would be the best result possible?
And do we have the courage to stand up and be counted?
The weak are always outnumbered by the loud voices of would be bullies. Do we have the courage to stand with the few, against the many? Do we have the courage to speak the truth when lies are believed by the masses?
There will be times that if we do not stand up…no one will.
Silence is never misquoted. But it not always God’s response!
4-5-2022 (292 Words)
Out of the Darkness
By John W. Vander Velden
I have not been afraid of the dark since I was very small. I recall when I was moved to a larger bed and a room upstairs, that my parents left the hall light on for my benefit. But like I said, that was a long time ago. Of course it would be easy to understand fear of darkness for we all are afraid of what we cannot see, and many things could be lurking within the shadows.
But there are other types of darkness that have the potential to engulf us. And this pitch does not evaporate with the movement of a light switch. There are those that endure within blackness of depression which attempts to suck all the light out of their lives. Many live beneath the stigma of fear and misunderstanding of the condition, and never seek the help they desperately need.
Often those closest to them have no idea of the weight depression places upon their love ones…or the danger. For there are those that live within that blackness who find themselves spiraling downward into a pit whose walls are so slippery that upward movements seem impossible. For them each day is a time of hopelessness and pain. For some the only escape, they may see from this blackness, is suicide.
Their pain is not imaginary. It is not something they can simply ignore. In many cases it is not something that will simply fade with time. And it is not caused by a lack of faith.
Depression is real!
But for many there is help, but it begins with understanding. For those who are near and dear to the depressed are often first to deny its existence. They close their eyes until it becomes too late, then stand confused about the causes of the tragedy that has unfolded at their feet. There are many of those within the darkness that do not recognize the condition they themselves deal with each day.
I do not write these words as a spectator, for I am a participant in the continuous struggle I face. For years I did not recognize or understand the darkness that came and went, the hopelessness, the mental anguish, I lived through. I will not go into the depths of the pit I found myself, or the solutions I considered at those moments within the pitch. It is enough to say that things changed and the darkness has faded. But it never disappeared.
At last someone coaxed me to seek help.
Now I stand in the light, or close enough that I feel its warm optimism. Yet the dark shadows are close enough that I remain constantly diligent, aware of how easily things can tumble in ways unwanted.
Why am I bold enough to admit to this weakness? This disease? Because of the stigma that depression and all forms of mental illness carries opens me to ridicule. But h ow do others find the courage, and it does take incredible courage, to seek the help they need, if I and others do not step forward and say, “I deal with chronic depression…there is hope.”
I have not reached this place on my own. I have not found the courage to live on my own. I owe much to those near me that saw the depth of my illness before I could fully grasp what I was dealing with. Not everyone has the love and support that I was blessed to receive. Open you hearts and arms to help. For each of us know someone, a friend, a loved one, a family member, or a co-worker that is trying to find their way out of the darkness.
(609 Words) 3-20-2022
The Days Behind and the Days Ahead
By John W. Vander Velden
I remember a particular birthday. As February opened that year I recognized my birthday would be a bit different. You see that year I turned ten. I was led to this particular reminiscing because of the birthday I celebrated this week. For you see, once again I had completed a decade.
My family lived in rural central Florida on that birthday long ago. Our family would leave the home we had made in Alachua County less than two weeks later. I’m certain I gave no thought about the fact that in 1962 I had lived a full decade. No, not one. Rather I remember that it was a big deal for my age to gain a digit. For I would be ten.
I have lived a busy life. Hectic at times. Likely you have as well. But like I had in that winter in Florida, I have anticipated the approach of this birthday. But rather that puff my chest out at the idea I would no longer be described by a single place number, I wondered how I have reached this milestone.
For it should be impossible.
I cannot imagine HOW my birthday could be tied to such a large number. So I thought I would work the keyboard as I share with you the thoughts I have in the wake of finishing my seventh decade. As I said before, I thought about the boy of ten. Running over fields, down lanes of deep sand, playing in the nearby creek. Watching out for snakes, Diamond Backs and Cotton Mouth’s were too common. But growing up those years in that country had taught us where we could go and where we shouldn’t.
But even that boy of ten had lived in more than one home, more than one state. Even that fourth grader had already generated a wide collection of experiences, met people from different backgrounds. True my social interactions would not be considered broad to many. But even then I could say I had lived.
I had captured Blue Tailed Skinks. Been bitten by one too. I had seen that stream of water we splashed in during the intense heat of summer, swell after a thunderstorm. Hear the water’s roar long before I neared it. I had seen the ball of the sun when it appeared moon like in the thick morning sky. I had traveled from Indiana to the Sunshine State in a family friend’s 57 Ford Fairlane, for he had gone ahead with Dad’s truck loaded with all our family’s possessions. We crossed the Appalachians on two lane roads, because Interstate 65 was yet a dream, unfulfilled.
And that trek south was not, by my tenth birthday, my only road trip. For during those years we spent in Florida, my parents would return north to visit the only kin they had on the continent. Family meant a great deal to my parents and that thousand plus miles of separation surely aided in the decision to move back to LaPorte County Indiana.
But I have not only thought about the ten year old boy, I have thought about the young man of twenty. He cared little about that particular date. It was the next one that surely mattered to the thin college kid. I remember the depressed thirty year old, upset that his life seemed mired where it was. I had not yet reached even one of the goals I had set for my twenty-five year old self. I had considered myself a failure…then.
I think of the man almost three years married when he reached the next decade marker. He was just beginning to accept his place in the world…began to see his life more clearly. To understand…better…the world of which he was a part, and his place in it. I consider the fifty year old man with the beginnings of complaining muscles and grinding joints. That man was trying to raise the next generation of Vander Velden. His son was only nineteen months from completing his first decade.
It was during that sixth decade I faced an onslaught of emotional crisis. I had faced my mortality and the mortality of those I loved. The three days I spent in the Critical Care Unit changed me in ways time is unable to completely repair. But more the effect of losing my parents has left me scarred in ways no eye can see. But in the end I endured, and enduring is a victory. A victory to be proud of.
So what can I say about my just completed seventh decade?
These last ten years are a period of change.
Retirement…sorta. The aches are more obvious. The tasks I drive myself to do, are different. But perhaps the greatest change to this man now seventy is acceptance. For I try harder to understand others. To meet them closer to where they stand. But the person I have learned to accept, the person that matters most, is myself. That looking back and all the ups and downs…at all the achievements and failures…the bad decisions…the mistakes…I recognize blended within all that has happened is a greatness of this humble man God has created. Not a greatness of my own doing, but of God’s. I have found by accepting me as me, I can accept others for who they are as well.
So I look forward with optimism.
No, I do not know what the future holds for John Vander Velden. Or how many decades my God will allow me to wander upon the green side of the sod. But I take each day as the gift I have been given. I share those days, for now, with my beloved. If I have learned but one thing in these musings is that life is an adventure.
An adventure to be lived!
(974 Words) 2-10-2022
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