My Bubbling Teapot

What do you do when your life totally falls apart? When it feels like there is no reason to keep living? It could be g rief of loss of loved one. It could be a missing family member in Haiti. Possibly a terminal illness. Or maybe a physical handicap.  Events and situations come into our lives that we didn't sign up for. Who asks to be associated with grief? devastating loss? missing persons? sickness? tragic events? These things give us an identity we don't want, and in fact, wish to run far away from. What am I doing here? Why do I need to wear these labels?  It's like a big sign around my neck:  "Mom of a kidnappee" "Grammie of Damien" "Sister of Esther"  or longer ago, I wore other signs I didn't ask for:  "Member of Schrock family that lost all those children" "Grandchild of that couple killed in car wreck" "Daughter that lost her mom" Often people know us by these things. They address us by asking about ho

 And as the days crawled by...maybe by the wedding...maybe by Thanksgiving...those days and weeks were pure torture for my soul. I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't pray, I wasn't functioning well emotionally. Yet we went through the motions. I along with all the mother's of the boys in captivity had the same thoughts in our minds...if the captives had their way we knew the women and children would be released first...we knew our son may be the last one remaining in the camp. And then what?...would my son be the one that would die for the sake of the rest of this group. So many tears were shed...yet, we felt a strange peace. I share with you the letter I wrote after their release.                                                                                                                                                       1/6/2021                And now sixty days had passed….our lives had set into a new routine. Every morning, those in captivity were the first t

One year ago, we had the wonderful news that two had been released from the gangster camp. And we also learned they were safe and all together and in good spirits. What balm to our ears. It's not much to ease any anxiety, but it was enough for the next few weeks we faced. It was also one year ago today that we celebrated a bittersweet day, the wedding day of our daughter. Here is what I wrote over this time.  December 7, 2021 Thirty days…forty days…fifty days…as we waited we began to look at the symbolism of these numbers. Biblically thirty symbolizes a man’s dedication to work or to a certain task…Forty symbolizes a period of testing, trial or probation…Fifty deliverance or freedom from a burden. As each of these days of significance in captivity came and went we thought surely on one of these days we would see a miraculous deliverance. But it hasn’t been. We continue to wait, to fast, to cry, and to pray. As Allison’s wedding day approached, so much uncertainty rested on us. H

Austin and Cherilyn on their wedding day Who would have imagined just one year ago that our dear son would be married to the beautiful girl he was in gangster camp with for 62 days? And not only that, but expecting their first child to be born in June? Who would have thought one year ago that we would be here today struggling with the whole story of our lives? I want to share some of my thoughts that I wrote during that time just to try to process the whole thing. It's been big and bittersweet, this kidnapping journey, a year later. (sorry to all who read this one year ago)   October 31, 2021 When has two weeks ever been so long? “You son is among a group of seventeen who were kidnapped,” came the words over the phone on Saturday morning, October 16. Kidnapped? We had just received word that he had landed in Haiti the evening before. Planning to spend 4-6 months down there helping the victims of the recent earthquake, our son planned to spend the weekend at the Christian Aid Mini

"Grief is real, and is suffered.  You're not crazy if you feel it;  it means you loved someone, deeply." I feel the murky waters of grief pouring over me. I feel sometimes like I'm going crazy. Waves of overwhelming muddy water wash over me. I feel like crocodiles of confusion, sadness, and mental stress are snapping their teeth at me. It's such hard work to keep my head above the stinking brown water of despair. I can't cope with the pull of the depths of this water. Slowly, I'm feeling pulled under by the water of gloom. Yes, I've been here before. I've read and heard and even experienced the stages of grief in the deaths of my mother at 13, the sudden death of 5 nieces and nephews in my 30s, my step mom and my dear grandma in my 40s. Yes, I know them and they are very true and real: 1. SHOCK & DENIAL 2. PAIN & GUILT 3. ANGER & BARGAINING 4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS  5. THE UPWARD TURN  6. RE

Some days I feel like I'm pouring out more than I'm receiving and I can feel downright sorry for myself. I screenshot this and sent it to my husband sighing to think of some truly romantic evening away. I'm ready when you are, I typed. This morning, I read the verse, "You have made known to me the path of life, you will fill me with JOY IN YOUR PRESENCE, with eternal pleasures at your right hand." PS. 16:11. Today I'm finding joy in the presence of God. Many times I can't understand the way He directs my life and the things He brings, but I claim this promise of JOY even when I feel like we are insanely busy. Would you be poured out like wine upon the altar for Me?  (I'm not sure if I have the strength, Lord) Would you be broken like bread to feed the hungry? (I'd rather just live my comfortable little life, Lord) Would you be so one with Me that you would do just as I will? (I want to, but sometimes I shrink from what you might ask) Wo