You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.
Nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that
destroys at midday.
—Psalm 91:5-6
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ADVERSITY

It came smashing down like a bolt from the blue, like such news always does. From my good friends, Paul and Anne Marie Zook. Now, just before Christmas.

They are the typical American family, with two children. Cody, in second grade. And Adrianna, who will start first grade next year. Bright, beautiful children. I have known Anne Marie through Paul, and was present at their wedding in 1997. Paul and I have known each other since the early 1990s. I consider him among my closest friends, a very small group. During my own troubles this past year, he has been a constant presence, loyal, faithful and supportive. Always of good cheer, eager to help in any way he can. I was always welcome to drop in at their home unannounced. Since March, Anne Marie has quietly placed many a plate of food into my blue cooler.

Cody, Paul, Adrianna, Anne Marie

Last Sunday, after an MRI scan, Anne Marie was diagnosed with a brain tumor. On the right front of her brain, above the right ear. The operation is scheduled for Monday, Dec. 10 at 1 PM at Lancaster General Hospital. (Update 12/7 at 8:45 PM. Because of a heart condition discovered in pre-operation tests, the Dec. 10th date has been post-poned. As of now, no date has been set. Hopefully it will happen within the next week or two. Editor) The doctors are cautiously optimistic that they will be able to remove the tumor completely. Only post-operative tests will determine whether or not it is malignant. Anne Marie remains at home with her family until that day. She is on anti-seizure medication.

And so they wait. As do all of us who are their friends.

Such abrupt, devastating news shocks the senses and strains one’s faith. I can’t imagine what Paul and Anne Marie are experiencing. They must feel stunned, attacked by the creeping tentacles of fear, despair and dread. And somewhere, deep down, lives hope. That it will all work out and be alright.

One wonders, as one always does, why such tragedy invariably seems to zone in and strike those who have so much life to live, so much love to give. And always, almost without exception, somewhere in the mix, it involves young innocent children who look on with startled and frightened eyes and know no answer as encroaching clouds of apprehension and foreboding invade the sanctity of their home and the security of their world.

I saw and spoke with both Paul and Anne Marie this week. Anne Marie, a powerful prayer warrior, remains steadfastly resolute. She considers this a major skirmish in the spiritual battles she wages every day. And it may well be.

They both request your prayers and your thoughts, your humble approach to the throne of Grace on their behalf. That the doctors will be focused, their hands steady, the operation successful, the tumor benign. Above all, that they and their extended families might face and endure this bitter cup with grace and confidence and strength, that they will not falter, whatever the future holds. Or doesn’t.

Those who wish to do so may send letters and cards to the address below. Although they did not mention it, I know financial support would be deeply appreciated. And I’m sure Cody and Adrianna would be delighted for bit of Christmas cheer in the form of a small gift.

Paul and Anne Marie Zook
588 Meetinghouse Road
Gap, PA 17527
_______________________________________________________________________
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THE MUNDANE

“A bore is a man who, when you ask him how he is, tells you.”
—Bert Leston Taylor

We’ve now had our first little snow storm. Two inches or so. Maniac drivers caused a lot of accidents on the roads. But it’s still fall, and a strange one, weather wise. Late frosts, lots of nice sunny days and weeks. Only a few rain spells. But the leaves on the trees exhibited the oddest behavior. On the big oak in my front yard, the leaves all turned color, but refused to fall to the ground. For weeks. It got to the point where I was entertaining vague hopeful notions that perhaps they would not fall down at all, but just stay on the tree all winter. Who knows, what with global warming and all. Trees could change their habits. But then one day, and it wasn’t even particularly windy, whoosh, the leaves all came down at once. That morning when I left for work, the yard was clear. That night, the tree was bare, the yard coated with six inches of leaves. No lie. I was dismayed, particularly that my global warming theory was shot.

For a week or two thereafter, I clung to the feeble hope that the wind would take them. To someone else’s yard or field, to become someone else’s problem. But no such luck. They remained firmly anchored to the yard. So last Saturday, I attacked them with a rake and a large tarp. I dragged them to the small spot where Ellen usually planted her garden and deposited them there. A large pile. It can turn into mulch and sink into the ground, as I do not plan any garden in the future.

I was motivated to rake the leaves last Saturday because the weatherpersons were gleefully forecasting dread and disaster for the whole weekend. Rain, freezing rain, sleet, then just rain. On Saturday evening, after returning from a night out with friends, I cleaned out a portion of the garage and parked Big Blue, as I’ve named my truck, inside, sheltered from all the crap that was supposed to fall. Of course, next morning, the roads and sidewalks were completely dry. Not a drop or flake of anything had fallen. To be fair, it did rain some later, and it is nice to have garage space in which to park Big Blue during future snow storms.

Then, on Monday, a great wind, the one I’d hoped for BEFORE all the raking, swept through the area. Had I not raked, it would have taken all the leaves. It took about half the leaf pile anyway. The neighbors now cast grim dark looks. I avoid their glares.

Last Sunday evening as I entered the bathroom at home, I caught a glimpse of a fleeting, instantly vanishing shadow. A mouse? I couldn’t decide if that’s what it was or just my imagination. Nonetheless, I immediately got into Big Blue, drove to Giant and bought little packets of poison to distribute about the house. This time of year, the mice come in. Nasty little things. Dirty too. I’ve had my experiences with them.

In 1989, while attending Vincennes University in Indiana, I shared a trailer with two other guys. I was there only on weekends, when back from college. Around Thanks-giving, all of us left the state to be with family. I was the first to return, on a Saturday. No one had been in the trailer for about a week. Almost immediately after I entered the trailer, a fat mouse ambled across the living room floor, not even alarmed at my presence. That mouse did not live long. I sensed there were more in the trailer.

Later, I went to bed with some trepidation. In the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up. Something was scrambling around on top of me, between the covers and my body. I instantly snapped wide awake. Once my brain communicated that a mouse was in bed with me, I instantly shot straight up into the air off the mattress, yanking the covers off on the way up. A small dot flew through the air, regrouped and shot across the floor into the closet. I was shaking with horror and revulsion.

I decided to check out my still absent roommate’s bedroom and maybe sleep on his bed. I opened the door and snapped on the light. Not knowing that before he left, he had set out poison in his room. Several dead mice lay strewn about. In the very center of room, almost dead, blinking groggily, sat a large rat. I shut the door and jumped halfway back down the hall in one motion. My heart palpitated with horror and stress.

After calming down somewhat, I spent the rest of the night half sitting on the couch, dozing off occasionally. I was late for church at Mt. Olive the next morning. For those who inquired, and they did inquire (to make sure I wasn’t slipping spiritually), I had a valid excuse.

Mice are bad, but as rodents go, rats are the absolute worst. The epitome of pure evil, a rat. Many years ago, in Aylmer, my cousin, Edwin Wagler, walked into his chicken coop to feed his chickens one day. A rat was sitting at the feeder, eating. Edwin walked right up to it. The rat did not see him coming until he was right on top of it. Startled, the rodent dashed up the first hole it could see, which happened to be Edwin’s pant leg (the Amish in Aylmer wear large, floppy pants). The rat crawled up his leg and clawed up his stomach under his shirt. With far more presence of mind than I could ever muster in a similar situation, Edwin rolled up his shirt sleeve. The rat crawled out, scrambled down his arm, jumped off and ran away. Edwin let it go. (About then, I would have been lying on the ground with a heart attack.) Every word of this story is true, so help me.

On Friday evening, Nov. 30, Graber held its annual Christmas banquet at Doneckers of Ephrata, an upscale restaurant. We had our own decorated banquet room, in which we partook of ample and delicious food. Although a bit early in the season, it was the date that best suited everyone. Our total group was a bit smaller than last year this time, but we all had a jolly good evening. Rodney and Lillian Smoker, the musical newly-weds, provided the evening’s entertainment.

Christmas banquet

Lillian and Rodney singing

Mary June and Patrick with gift from employees

If you are reading this blog on hard copies, printed out, you may have wondered why some words are hyphenated seemingly at random. One of my Amish readers mentioned/complained about it to me last week. It happens because my blog format is a different width than a printed paper. So when I hyphenate words to make them fit on the blog, they are hyphenated sometimes in the middle of the sentence on your paper. I’m not doing it to give you fits. It just happens as it does.

Finally, how did everyone like the way the refs handed the Patriots the win against the Ravens last Monday night? Flag after biased flag on the last drive, until the Patriots just reached out and received the gift handed to them. The fix is in. It’s a conspiracy, I tell you.

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