Bridge the Gap

   As we entered the large double doors, I locked eyes with a African American brother that was bused in with a large group from Philadelphia. We instantly locked eyes and he reached out his arms and gave me a big hug, reciting “Sista, maybe you be here to bridge the gap”. Without hesitation I responded, “Oh..., how I wish it were that simple”.
   My eyes scanned the walls that were lined with beautiful paintings depicting different stories from the Bible. One painting in particular was of Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist. Never before had I seen paintings representing the biblical characters in black. My mind raced as I processed how we had Americanized Christ with blonde hair and blue eyes. I really had never given it much thought but their depiction was probably far more accurate than ours. Jesus was a Jew and from an area where the majority of people had dark skin. A thought that since has troubled me and my Hollywood embossed mentality.
   The foyer was filling up with woman wearing hats with feathers and bows laden with grandiose splendor. It struck me much like a movie set of My Fair Lady. The presentation with all of it's finest pomp and circumstance.

   We were but a handful of white spectators not fully understanding what we were about to embark. We sat silently as the celebration began. The church was filled with the sounds of Negro spirituals. The walls shook and the people swayed. A procession began as a group of men and women filled up the center aisle wearing white gloves. The energy abounded with their singing and movement. This was something, I had never witnessed or felt before.
It was spectacular!

    It wasn’t until a year later that a professor who taught about African American culture, and being African American himself explained what we had indeed witnessed. You see, when our African American brothers and sisters were not allowed to partake in the church services with us white folk, they would form a procession and make their way out into the woods. They would gather and worship a true worship, knowing full good and well of persecution. The Negro hymns were soulful and heartfelt because they endured what no man should have had to endure. They endured feeling less than. They often times endured being treated much less than a common dog. In many ways their procession is a mockery of the times they were cast away because, we felt entitled. Entitled to feel that we were any less of a sinner? Entitled because we carried a different pigment of skin?

   I have come to embrace that we are all one race, created from the same God, descending from the same parents and adapting to our given locations. How ignorant we are to follow the mindlessness of a given thought that provides such hate and contempt for any brother or sister. I too wait until we live in the land of eternity. A land where we no longer have to bridge the gap.

C.A. Bresin
  

Even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference:

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;

Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus:

Romans 3:22-24  (KJV)

A Watchful Shepherd

As a shepherd of a flock of Jacob Sheep their health and safety are primary. Most of our sheep are used for breeding stock but unless one can sell the rams as future flock sires their purpose becomes a sustainable provision.

After the butcher is done with his process, he calls us straight away to pick up the hides. It is very important that the hides are kept cool and the process of fleshing any remaining meat begins promptly. The deterioration happens quickly and the loss of the beauty and quality of the hide are quite noticeable.

One of my more memorable days occurred when our butcher called for us to pick up some freshly butchered sheep hides. We loaded the dense box into the back of our pickup truck and unloaded them at our farm. We set up a fleshing table under the shade of our flowering Mimosa Tree. As we removed each hide they were wet and heavy from being saturated in blood. We laid them out with the fur side down and began the process of removing any remaining meat and fat with a skinning knife. After we have carefully completed this process, we began to generously salt the entire hide coating the outer edges liberally. The hides will then be drained for the next couple of days as the salt works on the tanning process. During the process the hide is kept on a slight angle and the liquid pools. Each time we drain the liquid, more salt is added in the same manner, until the hide is completely dried.

This process is a messy blood laden job. We carefully remove each bit of meat and fat with gentle accuracy so that we don’t produce any rips or tears in the hide. This would ruin the finished hide and make it impossible to be sold to any perspective customer.

As I was carefully fleshing one of the hides, our dogs began to bark aggressively and ran to the fence facing our neighbors house across the street. I paused to see a man walking around the side of their house and heading towards the back. Both of our neighbors were away from their home and I became alarmed at the intruder. Without any thought, I ventured into the street with knife in hand and blood spattered down my legs. In a firm voice I called out to him , "May I help you?" He stopped dead in his tracks and nervously sputtered in his speech as he answered, " No Ma'am!"  I could see he was very anxious, as I further pushed and asked what he was doing. It was at this time that I noticed a plastic tag hanging from his shirt for identification. He sighted that he was with the Department of Agriculture and they were checking for some strain of pox that were effecting the fruit trees in our area. I explained, that we also had some fruit trees but he never seemed to venture our way. I later chuckled at the fright, I must have caused him by my appearance. Even in the quiet life of a watchful shepherd, the behind the scenes scenarios can produce some amusing stories that will last a life time.

Reflections

Memories run like a slow motion picture in the shadows of my mind. Christin, Kati and I sat in a circle with our neighbors in their front yard. Some boys from the foster home across the street joined us as we chatted and laughed. The oldest boy for no apparent reason got up and slapped me across the face. Without missing a beat my unexpected response was to embrace him tightly. He looked confused and I asked why he had struck me. His face was lifeless and he shook his head in disbelief. It was not until later that I was given the story that the boys mother had shot herself in front of them. What a horrific picture for one to hold in the presence of their minds. There I sat with two lively and well loved daughters laughing and enjoying life. He was jealous but could not put his finger on the muddle that had unfairly been handed to him. The boys traveled back and forth from their foster home to our humble abode. They would spend countless hours in our small front room talking, laughing, playing cards or watching cartoons. One day the big question arose, could I adopt them. My heart sank, I had grown to love these two boys. I had to explain that I just did not have the means but would have loved for them to my sons. Shortly following that day, they came to tell me that their father was coming from California to pick them up. He had decided to take them back from the state and provide a home for them. This particular day has been deeply etched into my mind. I watched from my window as a man approached the door of the foster home. He loaded the boys suitcases into the trunk and the boys somberly climbed into the car and slowly drove down the street then vanished as they turned the corner. I was left with tears streaming down my face knowing that I had no control of the outcome of this situation. Through out my life, I have hoped and prayed for those two boys. I have prayed that they would be safe, that they would be loved and that most of all they would come to know the saving grace that is freely offered by excepting Jesus as their Lord and Savior.

John 3:1-6 (KJV) 1There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: 2The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. 3Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 4Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother's womb, and be born? 5Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. 6That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.

Papa Richard and Mama Darlene Mummau

This past week our dear Papa Richard went home to be with the Lord. Yes, a Papa to many across the United States and abroad. Little did I know when I had asked some questions about the Conservative Mennonites and their beliefs, that this man and his wife would come visit our family. They entered our home with a large bag of popcorn in hand. Once we finished our visit, he welcomed us into his growing family. He was Papa, Dawdy and Grandpa to countless. Like so many, I waited for his Family Letter. This was a letter that he wrote weekly. Sometimes more, sometimes less depending on his busy traveling schedule. Papa kept us informed of his daily activities and his travels to meet other families. We shared in his life and other church members joys and sorrows. We were connected, we were loved.
About a week ago, I received a Family Letter. Papa shared that he had been short of breath and that daughter Mandy had helped him do the weed whacking. He mentioned that he had thought about dying but that he was here until God was ready to take him home. The next Family Letter was from Papa's Pastor. He had let us all know that our Papa had gone home.
Easter day we went to the viewing. My husband David signed the guest book. A man handed out an additional paper, that we read as we stood in line. The paper was written by Mama Darlene telling us of Papa's final moments.
This day was Papa and Mama Darlene's fifty fourth wedding anniversary. Papa had gotten up at 5:00 am. to write a love letter to his wife and slip it into their mail box. A surprise for Darlene to find later in the day. Just thirty minutes later, Papa had a massive heart attack. That afternoon the room was filled with church members discussing and deciding on the funeral arrangements. Amidst the planning, the door bell rang. A delivery for Mama Darlene. It was beautiful red roses, attached was the card signed, from her loving husband.
In memory of: Richard Eby Mummau (December 6,1936 - April 5, 2012)
"May God bless you real good" "Keep on keeping on!


Revelations 21:3-5 (KJV)

3 And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.
4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
5 And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.

The Secret

Growing up in a moderate home and being surrounded by the expanding city of wealth and abundance, I struggled to find balance in a place that I did not belong.
In my later years, we moved to the country where I embraced and marveled at the open fields and country roads. I reconnected with the people and the lifestyle of my ancestors. Throughout my journey, I have come to realize that even in the times that were scant, I have learned skills that have brought about depth and character. The blessings have included; learning to plant a garden, raising and butchering an animal for our yearly provision, grinding wheat and turning it into a loaf of bread, milking a cow and turning it's cream into homemade butter, heating our home with fire wood, taking raw fleece and spinning it into yarn and the list goes on... For some, this seems backwards or even an impoverished lifestyle but like the manna provided in the wilderness, there is abundance with less. There is joy when you are in need and learn to embrace His secret of contentment. There is depth as He refines us to completion in all of life's circumstances.

Philippians 4:12-13
12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (KJV)

A Prayer of Faith

My dad had been diagnosed with cancer and his prognosis did not look hopeful. They had given him only months to maybe a year at the most.

One evening the dreaded phone call came, my dad was in the hospital and not doing well. In fact there was not any hope for him to live.

I quickly made arrangements to fly home to Phoenix. Some friends of the family greeted me soberly at the airport. On our drive to the hospital they tried to soften what I was about to see. When I entered the room of the hospital my dad was blown up twice his size. His gown had been cut to give his bloated body more room to expand. His skin was oozing liquid as a tumor was wrapped around the main aorta of his heart.

There are no words for the emotion that swept throughout my heart and soul. I unexpectedly dropped to my knees and began to pray out loud.
The doctors later came in and informed us that he would not make it through the weekend.

While sitting next to his side, I picked up a Bible and it opened to James, chapter 5verses 14-15 "Is any among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: 15 and the prayer of faith shall save him that is sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, it shall be forgiven him." (ASV Bible)

My extended family was Catholic but it did not matter to me who anointed him with oil but that he was anointed. My heart of hearts reached out in obedience but knew that this anointing would not guarantee his survival. The one thing I did know for certain was God's words were loud and clear, that it should be done.

I spoke with my mother and she agreed and called a priest. We stood and prayed and watched his body slowly return to his normal size.

On Monday morning a Jewish doctor was doing his rounds and peeked in to see us all sitting in my father's room. We were helping my dad eat and regain his strength. I will never forget that doctor as he stood in the door and shook his head and repeated, "Miracle, miracle!" and silently vanished into the hospital hallway.

I was able to speak with my dad about the importance of excepting Christ as his personal savior. We prayed together and I later witnessed him telling others how the room lit up when he prayed.

I often reflect on the reason that God granted this miracle. My reason was because I did not want to see my dad leave but I believe God's reason was he wanted to bring another safely home.

My dad passed away a year later. I am comforted to know that I will see him again in eternity. What a grand reunion it will be!

The Last Flight

We looked across the darkened horizon as the bright lights approached. The twin engine plane was moving at such a low altitude that we stopped and watched with anticipation. As it passed over head, we could only hear one of the engines and the other was struggling as it resonated with a low grumbling sound. The pilot looked to be approaching a near by private airport within the city limits. His plane faded into the distance and we filed the event into the back of our minds. Without further thought, we returned to the routine of our evening farm chores. It was not until later that night that we heard that the plane had gone down and pilot had been killed. The event played on fast forward through my mind. I wondered, had he cried out to G-d for His infinite help? Did he have the assurance of his eternal destination? We all seem to be focused on the immediate, never anticipating that within a moment, it could be our last flight.

James 4
14Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.(KJV)