Golden Age

    I survived a weekend of parties. We had our family Christmas dinner on Saturday. There were 34 at the tables plus two infant great-grandchildren. 

  

   We had roast beef this year instead of the usual turkey or ham. The meal was followed by the usual singing and gifts. Our newest grandchild is concealed under that red plaid shirt. He/she missed our Christmas by about six weeks. Stay tuned.

I gave Leroy a model hit-and-miss engine he was wishing for a long time.

   The afternoon ended with Cheryl showing pictures of their trip to Europe. Daryl showed his from India, and Gene from their trip to Greece. Our family logged a lot of miles across the globe this year. So thankful everyone traveled safely and was here under one roof.

   We had our dinner a week early this year to combine it with Leroy's 80th birthday on Sunday. We had not recovered from Saturday's party when we started over to do it again. Our children all came back after church for a soup and salad lunch. We were ordered to stay in the basement while the women went upstairs to get the food ready. While they thumped around up there Leroy started to understand why I was in such a hurry to get home from church. Everything was ready by 2 p.m. when the first guest arrived. 

   

Five of Leroy's nine siblings and his 100 year-old mother came to the party.

 

They gave him a box with a pull tab. He pulled and a long string of money came out. The longer he pulled the bigger the number on the bill. 

   The black and gold color scheme was appropriate for an 80th birthday. This is the golden age of life. There are pros and cons to being eighty. There's less stress but also less strength. It's just unbelievable how fast the years rolled around to reach this milestone. We know how fast ten years can go and that's scary. He is in basic good health and if he takes after his mother he could live another twenty years. We thank God for a good life and know however long life lasts on earth our future is secure in Him.

Ornery People

    In my post last week I encouraged listening to the words of the Christmas songs we are hearing. I am taking my own advice. 

    We listened to the Lancaster Meistersingers program on Sunday. It was a great program. One of the songs they sang was "I Wonder as I Wander." 

I wonder as I wander, out under the sky,

How Jesus the Savior did come for to die

For poor ordinary people like you and like I.

I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.

When Mary birthed Jesus, all in a cow's stall,

Came wise men and farmers and shepherds and all,

And high from the heavens a star's light did fall;

The promise of the ages it then did recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,

A star in the sky or a bird on the wing,

Or all of God's angels in heaven for to sing,

He surely could have had it, 'cause he was the king.

For the first time, I clearly heard the third line "For poor ordinary people. . ." I always thought it was "ornery people." Go ahead and laugh, but it fits, doesn't it? We are ornery people in need of Someone to save us from our own ornery selves. I surely do wonder why He bothered with such ornery people. He could have washed His hands of the whole mess and left us stew in our own juice! The only reason I know is love. Undeserved and unearned love from a God who is the essence of love.

Here is the story behind the song (from Wikipedia).

"I Wonder as I Wander" is a Christian folk hymn, typically performed as a Christmas carol, written by American folklorist and singer John Jacob Niles. The hymn has its origins in a song fragment collected by Niles on July 16, 1933.

While in the town of Murphy in Appalachian North Carolina, Niles attended a fundraising meeting held by evangelicals who had been ordered out of town by the police. In his unpublished autobiography, he wrote of hearing the song:

A girl had stepped out to the edge of the little platform attached to the automobile. She began to sing. Her clothes were unbelievable dirty and ragged, and she, too, was unwashed. Her ash-blond hair hung down in long skeins. ... But, best of all, she was beautiful, and in her untutored way, she could sing. She smiled as she sang, smiled rather sadly, and sang only a single line of a song.

The girl, named Annie Morgan, repeated the fragment seven times in exchange for a quarter per performance, and Niles left with "three lines of verse, a garbled fragment of melodic material—and a magnificent idea". Based on this fragment, Niles composed the version of "I Wonder as I Wander" that is known today, extending the melody to four lines and the lyrics to three stanzas. His composition was completed on October 4, 1933. Niles first performed the song on December 19, 1933, at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. It was originally published in Songs of the Hill Folk in 1934. 

Peace on Earth

   I am enjoying the Christmas music we are hearing this month. The carols are so familiar we can sing them without thinking about the words. I challenge you to think about the words you sing. There is a lot of truth packed into them. 

   I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day was written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow during the Civil War.

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play

And mild and sweet their songs repeat

Of peace on Earth, good will to men

And in despair I bowed my head

"There is no peace on Earth, " I said

For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on Earth, good will to men.

   The Civil War ended long ago but nothing has changed. War is raging in multiple places on the earth today. At Jesus birth the angels announced "Peace on earth, goodwill to men." That was two thousand years ago and wars have never stopped. Where is the peace on earth the angels said Jesus would bring?

    Jesus did come to earth to bring peace but it will not be a global peace as long as men rule the nations. Yet, Jesus does give us peace on earth. It's on an individual basis. 

Joy to the world, the Lord is come

Let Earth receive her King

Let every heart prepare Him room

And Heaven and nature sing

   Every heart that receives Jesus will have peace on earth and ultimate joy in heaven. We can have peace on earth here and now. It's not an impossible dream but a reality for everyone who receives Him in their hearts. 

Peace I leave with you,

My peace I give unto you.

Let not your heart be troubled,

Neither let it be afraid.

John 14:27

New Every Morning

    As Thanksgiving day approached, I thought about all the things I am thankful for. My life hasn't been all peaches and cream, but as I look in the rearview mirror at the past seventy-five years I have been abundantly blessed. Even the hard times came with blessings concealed in them. Then I held the mirror in front of me and looked at myself. I am not worthy of all I have received. The only way to account for it is the mercy of God.

   "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:22-23).

   NEW every morning. I am far from perfect and mess up too often. But every morning comes with new mercy from God and a chance to try again. His mercies are NEW every morning, not used, leftover, or past the expiration date. His mercy is brand new every morning.

   A NEW SHEET,

He came to my desk with a quivering lip, 

the lesson was done.

“Have you a new sheet for me, dear teacher?

I’ve spoiled this one.”

I took his sheet, all soiled and blotted

and gave him a new one all unspotted.

And into his tired heart I cried,

“Do better now, my child.”

A NEW DAY,

I went to the throne with a trembling heart;

the day was done.

“Have you a new day for me, dear Master?

I’ve spoiled this one.”

He took my day, all soiled and blotted

and gave me a new one all unspotted.

And into my tired heart he cried,

“Do better now, my child.”

Photo by Federico Respini on Unsplash

Salvation Medley

  After a two year wait, the virtual choir our son Daryl sang in has been released on You Tube and can be seen without a subscription. Each person in the choir recorded themselves singing at their own location and submitted it to Praise & Harmony. Then it was compiled into a virtual choir. 

   Watch for Daryl in the lower right corner (bald, maroon shirt). He appears most at the end from 12 to 15 minutes.

   As I listen to this and see the pictures of the singers I think about the choir made of all nations and tribes and peoples that will be assembled in heaven someday.

   

Burkholder Line

   I wrote a post about my Burkholder ancestors in January 2011 and another with newer findings in June 2014. A friend of mine said, "History doesn't change but what we know about it sure changes." That is true, and our story changes as we find more facts. The Burkholder story has changed dramatically from what we believed for many years. Now it's time for another update on the latest and greatest findings. The credit for finding the facts goes to Dale Burkholder who went to Switzerland to mine the records and find the true story.

   As long as I could remember, were told and believed that our immigrant ancestor, Christian Burkholder (1746-1804), was the son of Christian and Elizabeth Burkholder who migrated from Switzerland to Germany before immigrating to Pennsylvania. There was a Christian Burkholder in Gerolsheim, Germany, but he was not our ancestor Christian's father. In the 1990s, tax records were found in the Jura Mountain region of Switzerland showing Christian's parents were Ulrich and Barbara Burkholder. 

    Ulrich and Barbara lived on one of three farms on the mountain above the village of La Heutte. Ulrich died there and then widow Barbara and her six children immigrated with a group of other Mennonites. They arrived in Philadelphia in October 1754 on the Phoenix.

   Another breakthrough gave us Barbara's maiden name. She was the daughter of Ulrich and Elizabeth (Stucki) Schenk. Her parents were not Anabaptists, but the Schenk Chronicle handwritten by a family member in the 1700s confirms she married an Anabaptist, Ulrich Burkhalter from Ruderswil, moved to the Jura area, and immigrated in 1754. A letter the Mennonite immigrants brought with them lists Barbara Schenk as one of the poor people who received assistance from the church in Switzerland for their travel expenses.

   Having established that Ulrich came from Ruderswil, it was possible to find his birth in the church records and go back two more generations. Ulrich was baptized Feb. 11, 1699, in the Reformed church in Ruderswil. He was the son of Benedict and Anna (Kohler) Burkhalter.

   Benedict was baptized December 1, 1661 at the same church in Ruderswil. He was the son of Joseph and Elizabeth (Widmer) Burkhalter. 

  Joseph lived on a farm named Steinberg on a hill above Ruderswil. The farm was passed on to Benedict and Ulrich grew up there. This is the newer Steinberg house today. 

  The old Steinberg house is at the bottom of the hill. It probably is not the same house that was there in the 1600s but we can at least see the lay of the land and where we came from. I will never forget standing on the hill looking down at this farm. My heart knew I was Swiss and I had come home.

   Although Joseph and Benedict were not Anabaptists, records indicate there were Anabaptists in the neighborhood. In Swiss tradition, the farm was passed to the youngest son. Being the youngest, Ulrich would have been expected to get the farm but it was passed to his older brother Hans. It appears Ulrich became an Anabaptist, was disinherited, and moved to an Anabaptist community in the Jura mountains. Persecution was less severe in this French-speaking part of Switzerland. 

    There was no birth record for Joseph Burkhalter in Ruderswil so that was as far as we could document our Burkholder line. Thanks to Dale Burkholder's diligent research, we now know that Joseph was baptized June 6, 1623, at Lutzefluh, a village near Trachselwald. He was the son of Jost and Katharina (Kuhni) Burkhalter. They lived on the Haslimatt farm, on a hill overlooking the the village of Trachselwald and opposite the famous Trachelswald Castle where Anabaptists were imprisoned. This photo of Haslimatt farm was taken this month from the tower of Trachelswald castle by our daughter, Cheryl Miller. (Click to enlarge)

  

   Finding Joseph Burkhalter's birth record took us back two more generations. His father, as stated, was Jost Burkhalter. He was baptized at Lutzefluh on November 26, 1587, and married Catharina Kuhni on February 6, 1612, in Trachelswald. Since Joseph was not the youngest son of Jost, he did not inherit the family farm and moved to Ruderswil.

  Jost's baptismal record identifies his father as Hans Burkhalter but no mother's name is given. Hans Burkhalter, probably born sometime in the mid-1500s, is now our earliest known ancestor.

    Dale Burkholder wrote a beautiful book on our Burkholder ancestors. The title is taken from a song written by Christian Burkholder, Christ is Full of Love and Power. It contains many color pictures and the complete known Burkholder story. It is available from Grace Press, 2175 Division Hwy, Ephrata, PA 17522. Phone 717-354-0475.

Hans Burkhalter

Jost Burkhalter bap. 1587

Joseph Burkhalter bap. 1623

Benedict Burkhalter bap. 1661

Ulrich Burkhalter bap.1699

Christian Burkhalter/Burkholder (1746-1804)

I am the seventh generation of Christian's descendants in Pennsylvania. All of these generations stayed in Lancaster County where he settled until my parents moved across the county line. And there still am I. We find what we like and stick with it!

Love Is The Only Way Forward

The following was written by Shane Claiborne and is very well said.

For hundreds of years, Jewish people have been the victims of horrific violence. That historic backdrop of pain and trauma does not justify the crushing apartheid policies they’ve imposed on Gaza and the West Bank for over 50 years… but it does help explain it.

For decades the Palestinians have endured daily doses of terror, discrimination and abuse from the State of Israel. That does not by any means justify the violence of Hamas… but it does help explain it.

The current violence of both Hamas and the State of Israel create the conditions for more violence, adding fuel to an already combustible fire.

For many people the evil we are seeing daily by both the State of Israel and Hamas makes more killing justifiable. But violence only leads to more violence. Hatred begets more hatred. We cannot build a better future by killing each other’s families.

Jesus was right - if we live by the sword we die by the sword. Violence is a dead end. Love is the only way forward, even the audacious love for our enemies.

Love requires treating the person on the other side of the wall as nothing short of sacred, a child of God made in the image of God.

Killing babies is terrorism, whether it is done with bombs or with guns or knives - it is evil. Violence is always evil, no matter what flag it’s wrapped up in. Let us continue to work for peace… and do all we can to interrupt the war… and grieve every life lost… and commit ourselves to building a world where every person is sacred.

God's Math

   Our Sunday school lesson yesterday was on the contest between 450 prophets of Baal and one prophet of God. Elijah laid out the challenge for the contest. Each contestant would lay an animal on an altar and the god who sent fire would prove to be the one true God. Of course, Elijah's God won the contest because Baal was a powerless figment of their imagination and did not exist.

   We can learn some lessons from this story. First, Elijah had great faith in his God. He laid out the challenge and trusted God to send fire in answer to his prayer.

   Second, it might seem he was taking a great risk. What would happen if no fire came? Elijah was not afraid because he knew his God. What He says He will do. Do I have such great faith? Do you hesitate when God asks you to do something that seems impossible? "For with God nothing shall be impossible."

   Third, Baal was a pantheistic nature god. They believed he brought rain. God had shut off the rain and Baal was not able to do anything about it. God could have used some other method to deal with Israel, but the three-year drought underscored the truth that the rain god was a fraud. Baal let them down in bringing rain and failed again by not responding to their frantic pleas for fire. The false gods people serve today (money, fame, etc.) will let us down too. There is a God-size hole in our hearts that only He can fill.

   Fourth, when the fire came down and totally burned up the Elijah's sacrifice, (wood, stones, water, and dust) the people acknowledged Elijah's God was the true Lord God. The prophets of Baal were destroyed and the drought was broken with a tremendous rain. Repentance always brings blessing. 

   I had the lesson prepared when I went to bed Saturday night. Before I was fully awake Sunday morning, God's math equation popped into my head. Adding faith subtracts fear, multiplies blessing, and divides sorrow. It was the cherry on the top of the lesson.

100 Years and Counting

 The extended Stauffer family always has a chicken bbq the Saturday after Labor Day. Since Leroy's mother's birthday is September 1, her birthday is always recognized at the bbq. This year the bbq was expanded with a full-fledged 100th birthday party. We rented a school for the event, which was a good thing because we had the largest crowd ever and it rained and hailed just as we were ready to eat.

  Here are a few pictures that tell the story.

Sarah with her birthday cake

Chicken bbq, baked potatoes, baked beans, homemade bread

The salad bar

The crowd enjoying the meal

Sarah with her ten children

Twenty of the 29 grandchildren (4 deceased, 5 missing)

Some of the 71 great-grandchildren

Seven great-great-grandchildren, held by either a parent or grandparent.

There have been a lot of changes in the world in 100 years. But the earth keeps turning and God keeps sending new people to replace those who died. What will the next hundred years bring? Only God knows. What we know is that He keeps His promises and we are secure in Him no matter what happens.

The First Hundred Years

 Yesterday the Stauffer family celebrated the 100th birthday of their mother, Sarah Stauffer.

Seven of her ten children and their spouses met in the Richland Home where she lives to have lunch with her. There will be another birthday party for the extended family on September 9. Leroy is the oldest of her ten children. How many people who are about to turn eighty still have their mothers? What a blessing! (My parents were both gone when I was 46.)

We had a nice lunch with a long gab session afterward.

In the evening, the Home had an ice cream party for all the residents and their families. It was a lovely evening for an outdoor party.

Mom had a hard start in life. Her mother died when she was ten years old. She was shuffled around among relatives and strangers for many years. She was the last of her siblings to return home after her father remarried, and then she soon got married herself. She lived through the Depression and two World Wars, was a farmer's wife, and raised ten children who are all still living. Maybe a tough life made her strong enough to live 100 years. As one centenarian once said, "The first hundred years are the hardest."

Mom has started her second century. How far will she get in this one?

Chances and Choices

    Life is a strange mix of geography, circumstances, and choices. I often wondered what my life would have been if I had been born at a different time or in a different place. Would I have been one of those who saw and rejected Jesus when He lived on earth? Would I have been a starving African or someone killed in the war in Ukraine? Who would I be if my mother had married someone else? Who would I have married if I had lived in another state? 

   Those questions have no answers. I can only believe the time and place I was born was not by chance but determined by God for a reason and thank Him that I am here now. 

   The other variable is the choices our parents and we have made in life. When I was five years old my parents were asked by their home congregation to help start a small mission outreach in Berks County. After commuting back and forth for many years, they decided to move closer to the church. My dad left a good job and lost the possibility of a large pension in making the move. My mother said many times it was not the best decision financially but the best for the family spiritually. Their home church had become more liberal and continued to slide until today it is barely surviving. Mom often asked, "Where would our family be if we had stayed there?" Good question. Would we have had the backbone to stand alone when the church started sliding? Were we doing what we did because we believed in it or because that's what was expected? Was our belief strong enough to resist peer pressure? The choice to be part of a conservative church removed the peer pressure of the liberal trend in the home church.

   Sometimes when I see the choices some young people are making, I wish I could make the choices for them. But then, I wasn't much different at that age. I thought about the here and now instead of where that choice might lead. I've seen so many people start making small changes that led to more and bigger changes. They left their church for something more liberal and kept on going until, in some cases, they completely lost out spiritually.

    The most important choice in my life was choosing to accept and follow Jesus. I have not been perfect, but that choice has spared me a lot of trouble and sorrow. The second most important choice in my life was who I married. I was too young and foolish to make a good choice myself. It was God who led my husband and I together. We balance each other out and work well together. Either one without the other would be severely handicapped. 

   We have made some choices in life that were not so good, like making a poor purchase or missing an opportunity. We made plenty of parenting mistakes and personal failures. But underneath we had a solid foundation on the Word of God to help us correct the course and try again. I'm glad I have a God who allows second chances when I make poor choices. 

   

Frozen Pie Fillings

   We are in the thick of the annual canning and freezing marathon of summer. We are eating like kings with all the fresh fruits and vegetables that are in season. And with what we are preserving we will be eating good all winter. 

    One of the things I have been doing for years is freezing fruit pie fillings. With a supply on hand, I can easily whip up a pie on short notice. I had used up all the fillings I had and started a fresh supply of peach pie fillings today. It's quite simple and requires no cooking.

Here's the recipe:

Peel and slice enough peaches to fill a 9 in. foil pie pan.

Mix 3/4 cup of sugar with 3 tbs. instant clear jel

Add peaches to the dry mix and stir until coated

Put pie filling in the foil pan, cover with foil, and freeze.

To bake:

Remove pie filling from foil pan and place in an unbaked pie shell.

DO NOT THAW

Sprinkle with nutmeg and cinnamon.

Dot with butter

Top with crust or crumb topping.

Bake at 350 until fruit is soft and bubbling (45-50 minutes)

I also make apple and cherry pie fillings like this too. Any kind of fruit can be used.

I always get compliments when I take one to a meal somewhere because they taste like fresh fruit. The secret is not thawing them.

Big Sister

    Our youngest son and his wife were married nine years when their first child was born. Her birth was the culmination of years of tears, prayers, red tape, and medical help. She was conceived an unconventional way through embryo adoption. For an explanation on how that is done, see my blog post from March 6, 2020.

   Abi is a delightful little girl and will be three in September. Her parents wanted a second child so she doesn't have to grow up alone. There can be all kinds of complications when doing an embryo adoption. If things had gone the way they hoped, they would have had a second child a year ago. Again, prayers ascended daily as we went through three failed attempts (for various reasons).

    We are happy to announce that God had granted our desires and given life to another frozen embryo. What will it be? A brother or a sister? We will find out in January. 

    Thank you Jesus! We are getting one more grandchild in our old age. How about that!

Bloom Where You Are Planted

    "God answers prayer and sometimes He goes far beyond anything we thought could happen."

     Late last summer our son brought us a kitten and built a box to shelter it. We decided to put the box at the southwest corner of the patio where it would be handy for feeding during the winter. I had some Calla lilies planted at that spot so I dug them up.  The box was placed in position on an orange foam pad and the cat moved in. 

    Winter passed and spring came. I planted the bulbs I had dug up and stored in the basement all winter. In June I was amazed to see a Calla lily had forced it's way out from under the cat's box and had a small bud. I obviously missed one when I dug the bulbs, but how could it grow with the box setting above it and getting no rain?

    I wasn't praying for that bulb. I didn't know it was there. That it could grow and push out from under the obstacle above it was far beyond anything I thought could happen. 

    What major obstacle is in your way today? Take courage from the Calla lily. In its dark underground surroundings, it sensed the light above and reached out to it. There is Light above the darkness of your obstacle. Reach for the Light, push out from under the obstacle and bloom where you are planted.

Family Time

  The second weekend in June is our family time at a cabin. We have made many memories over the years. There was a point where the Burkholder family cabin was too small and we had to find a larger one. That one became full too, but we always managed to find a place for everyone to sleep. 

   This year we had the smallest crowd we've had in a long time. I saw this day coming years ago and knew the grandchildren would have lives of their own and not be there all weekend as before. This year five of the adult grandchildren were either living out of state or in another country. Some had other activities and some came for part of the time.

   The younger grandchildren had a good time and got along really well. Cheryl was in charge and had planned several activities for them. We had a good time visiting with our children and catching up with each other. It is a blessing to have a family that gets along so well. The pictures speak for themselves.

Abi loved the water balloons

Emma learned how to make a pom pom

Cheryl directed the tie dying

The generations blend with granddaughter Abi and 

great-grandson Elijah who are both two years old.

The five youngest grandchildren

Jay and Nick played a game

Abi rode her tricycle on the deck

while the adults sat and visited

and Gerald made chicken bbq for Saturday supper.

Now don't you wish you were a Stauffer?

Writer's Conference

    I am catching my breath today after being in Virginia for a two-day Writer's Conference sponsored by Christian Light. The first time I went was in the 1970s. I missed some years but have been there many times. It is always like a shot in the arm to get refresher courses from the speakers in various workshops. There are workshops on various kinds of writing and art, but I stick with the ones on story writing. It is also a place to "talk shop" with other writers and meet old friends I rarely see anywhere else. I came away feeling a bit overwhelmed and like I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I have a lot to learn.

   One of the best things that happened this year was an interview with some editors. I was feeling very confused with what I was trying to do and got some answers. Now I have confidence to move forward and continue. However, they also raised some more questions about future writing I will have to think and pray about. It doesn't look like they are willing to let me retire. I am not opposed to continuing to write but only if they are short pieces. I will not attempt another five-year project.

   The conference this year was especially sweet because both of my sisters were there. The three of us wore matching dresses both days, blue polka dot the first day and black print the second day. Sisters days are special no matter what we wear. I owe my youngest sister a debt of gratitude for taking me and making it possible for me to be there.

Inspiration or Perspiration?

    I've had a lot of nice comments about my writing but most of the people who read my books have an unrealistic idea of what goes into writing a book and even less what is involved in publishing of it. Let me state first of all that writing is not done in a flash of inspiration. That flash of inspiration is only the birth of an idea. Turning it into a book can be a long, drawn-out process. 

   My most recently published book, The Flow of the Big Spring, is a prime example. It was five years from the day I agreed to try write it until the book was released to the public. I was working on the writing about three years and the rest of the time it was in the publishing process. The layout was complicated because there were so many parts to fit into the proper spaces---text, footnotes, photos, captions, and sidebars. The person who did the layout said it was like putting a puzzle together.

   After I finished that book I said I am retiring and will only write short stories and articles from now on---unless something really good comes along. Maybe I shouldn't have added that qualifier. Something good did come along. It would just be a small book with a story of something that happened in the 1700s. The history and size is what triggered my interest in trying write it.

   I was sailing along with the first draft and nearing the end when I discovered I had made a huge mistake in the timeline and correcting it meant starting over. I trashed it and started again from a different point in the story. Yesterday I decided that one isn't working either. I'm too stubborn to quit so next week I will start again for the third time. I may strike out but I hope this time I will hit a home run.

  All this to say, writing is not something you do on a Sunday afternoon while you sit under a shade tree. Inspiration does not write a story; it takes perspiration and determination.

Flow of the Big Spring

  In early May five years ago, I met with a committee who asked me to write the history of a farm that had been in the Martin family more than 200 years. After looking at the enormous amount of material and family heirlooms they had preserved and collected, I knew there was more than enough material to write a book. It looked overwhelming but I agreed to try.

  I began with the Native Americans who were the first to drink from the big spring and camp on that land. William Penn was the first European owner of the land, but it is highly unlikely he ever saw the spring. I worked through each owner from the first Welsh immigrant in 1734 until it passed out of the Martin family in 2007 and became a living history museum.

   The project stretched out year after year with many revisions and additions. After I was finished writing the text, someone else did the layout which stretched out due to unavoidable circumstances. At last, in March, it was at the printer. Then plans were made for a formal release date of May 2.

   The meeting was held at the Martindale Reception Center. We got there at 6:15 thinking we were in plenty of time for the 7 p.m. start of the meeting. People were already there buying books and shoving them at me to sign before I had a chance to sit down. I signed books before, during, and after the meeting. I was thankful I was not on the program and could just sit there and sign my name.

   The committee was surprised at the big turnout and so was I. 

   They had brought 800 books thinking it's better to have too many than not enough. We were nearing the end when someone reported we had sold 642 books and more were sold after that. People bought multiple copies and even cases to give to their families. Most of the 800 books were sold.

  The committee spent a lot of money to produce this book. I was paid by the hour for my time, someone else was paid to do the layout, and then there was the cost of printing. I'm glad there was such a good turnout and market for the books. They need to sell a lot of them to break even on the cost of production.

   I can't deny my name is known as an author, but I am not the main reason people came to the meeting. It is a nice hardcover book with a lot of high-quality color pictures that makes it attractive. I had nothing to do with that part of it except to submit a photo or two. The reason for the high sales is the fact that the farm was in the Martin family for six generations. The last owner was a bachelor, but the others left many descendants. The Martins are so prolific that Martin is almost a generic name, especially if it is coupled with John. 

   Some people can trace their lineage to this Martin family in more than one way. I knew when I agreed to write the book that I had a connection to it myself. My great-great-great-grandmother was born and raised there. Her name was Lydia Martin and she married Jacob W. Stauffer who was a leader in founding the Stauffer Mennonite (Pike) church.

   As the years dragged on, I sometimes wondered if I'd live long enough to see the book finished. I did, and it is always a satisfying feeling to see the finished product. May the story and preservation of the farm inspire and encourage people to treasure their heritage and pass it on to the next generation.

After all our hopes and dreams

Have come and gone,

And our children sift thru all

We've left behind,

May the clues that they discover,

And the mem'ries they uncover,

Become the light that leads them,

To the road we each must find.

O may all who come behind us

Find us faithful,

May the fire of our devotion

Light their way.

May the footprints that we leave,

Lead them to believe,

And the lives we live

Inspire them to obey.

O may all who come behind us
Find us faithful.