Cows, Raggedy Ann and Broken Legs.

This week's portion of my mother's life story reflects the joy she had with her new husband and her growing family. I love reading this part of her story. I wasn't around yet for most of this, but my family talked about it so much that I feel like I was there in some small way—if only as an observer, like a foster child trying to fit in to a family unit already in motion. Their story became part of my story too.

Bertha's story continues:

"Orville divided his time between teaching Chemistry part time at Messiah College and working the farm. Life there was rich with gardening, animals, beekeeping, and cycles of the seasons. In the winter we went tobogganing, ice skating on the pond and cut down our own Christmas trees from the woods.

We had food from our own garden, we had our own meat from the beef and chickens we raised; I baked our bread and our one Jersey cow gave us milk and cream from which we made butter and ice cream every week."

Frances here: (This could very well be where I learned the habit of eating ice cream at least once a week...I needed this evidence to convince my husband, Tom, that it's in my "blood" to crave ice cream weekly. When we go for motorcycle rides in the summer evenings, it's hard for me to not beg for a treat...which always means ice cream!)

My father milking our jersey cow; Doug (left), Adriel (middle), Brenda (right).

"Sewing many of our own clothes was very satisfying to me; I said to Orville one time, "I feel like I'm really living when I'm sewing!"   One year, I even managed to create Halloween costumes—Adriel's was a burlap-bag bear, and Brenda (Aspen) was a Raggedy Ann. They both won prizes in the school costume contest."

"One time, we were boarding a horse for someone, and our 7-year old Brenda had been guarding the special food for the visiting horse from a cow who was intent on eating it. When the cow wouldn't shoo away, Brenda kicked it in the hindquarters, and the cow kicked her back. Orville heard the screaming and found Brenda flat on her back, picked her up and carried her to the house.

She of course, was crying and screaming in pain, and her leg was dangling in such a way that it was obvious to me that a bone had been broken. And I exclaimed, "Why, her leg is BROKEN!" And Orville looked at me and said "SHHHH!" as if we could keep it a secret—don't let HER know that!
Even in the midst of it, though this was not fun for Brenda, I had a moment of great laughter because of how ridiculous it was to me that Orville thought he could keep it a secret from Brenda. It makes me laugh out loud, still, to think of it."

Brenda (Aspen) with Woody, her school bus driver, first day of school (1965).

"But the next story I want to tell regarding God preparing my heart prior to a tragedy, is......."

Frances here:

This is the part where my life begins to intersect with the little family already in place on Willow Springs Farm. Their world was about to be turned upside down.

Seamstress or Songstress?

How do you figure out who you were created to be? It's a hard question to answer when you're young and even when you're old.

Recently I found an autobiography I wrote back in high school. Now that I'm 51 years old, I see life so differently than the teenage girl who wrote that. This excerpt from it evoked a sudden, deep belly laugh.

"I am not good at door to door witnessing, but if I could have my own home and bake things for the hungry and sew things for the needy people, and concentrate on one group of people for the sake of Jesus; my children, I would be happy. I would have my children with me and could concentrate on raising them to love God."

My mother and her bread!

Mother & I in the kitchen.

I can see the influence of my mother all over that paragraph. She loved making a home for us children. That's the picture she painted for me out of her own giftedness. She was a grand cook, seamstress, gardener and mother.

But when I'd slice my mother's freshly baked bread, I'd cut the slices into deformed shapes and mess up the rest of the loaf. (You have to cut a second slice to straighten the first.) I couldn't even do it right the second time. I still smile and think of her when I cut a crooked slice and can feel her smiling at my inability to slice bread.

A rabbit I made.
I don't know how I did it!

I tried to sew but I wasn't nearly as good as she was and I'd quickly get frustrated. 

That idealistic description of my high-school-self was a direct reflection of who my mother was and what she was good at. Not who I am.

Recently I spent some time with a friend who just turned 70. I've started asking my older friends what reflections they'd have for younger folks. This particular friend paused for a moment and then spoke thoughtfully: "you start to become comfortable with who you are and you don't have to try to be anything or anyone else."

I spent much of my life trying to be all that my mother was and that's not all bad, but it took me a long time to figure out who I really am, apart from her. I finally discovered something; I DO sew and cook.

I sew lyrics and melodies together providing garments of joy and laughter for people when they listen to the tunes. I marinate thoughts and truths in my slow-cooker brain and serve up hope in creative ways for people to sit and partake of food for their soul. So I guess you could say that I have the same gifts as my mother - they just express themselves in different ways.

It can take a long time to figure out who you really are and what you're really good at, but the journey is worth it and it's part of the pleasure of growing older. If you still find yourself trying to be what others are (or think you should be), hang in there. Life and time have a way of helping you figure out who you really are.

• Pray often - asking God to lead you on this journey - spend time listening for His leading
• Look for clues from your childhood - what did you love to do when you were young
• What did other people tell you that you were good at? (maybe they still tell you)
• Experiment - try new things

As you age, you'll see clues from childhood that point you in the right direction. Through years of living and hours of prayer, you begin to find a groove and rhythm to who you are as a person, and then you can sit back, enjoy the creation God made you to be and not care about anything else.

And when you reach that point, you feel very free.