Papa & Gramgram on the jet ski...

A Pleasant Surprise...

We were celebrating our 37th anniversary last evening at Carabba's, when we got the idea to go to Yanni's show--we 

really enjoyed it!

Trip to the Ozarks...

                           67' tall Christ of the Ozarks (2 million pounds)

(some say it looks like Willie Nelson in a dress or a milk carton with a tennis ball on top)

                              Lots of fish...
                            Beautiful place...

sidewalk art in newton

Trip to the Zoo

1968 Class Reunion--Sunday, May 24

Back row:  KT, Richard Harder, Bill Cornish, David Flory, Thurman Entz, Robert L. Busenitz, Arvin Busenitz

Front row:  Verna Busenitz Unruh, Jo Aldersen Webb, Judy Thiessen Wolfe, JT

My very favorite thing I did on our museum day...

The dear little Mennonite lady was reluctant to let me play the old pump organ--she said only museum caretakers were allowed to play it. Then she asked the other lady for permission and it was granted! Like I am going to vandalize it right in front of them!

Rooms from the 1950's

K--You asked about my favorite exhibits--
I loved the rooms from the different eras. These pictures are from the 1950's--brought back lots of memories! (Enlarge the pictures and you can see more details.)

My 2 favorite photos from Pioneer Village...

Trip to Pioneer Village in Minden, NE...

magic hydrangeas

I have never had flowers that got prettier and prettier with each day that passes. Now, 8 days later, they are bigger and more beautiful than ever! Thank you to Lilian, Sophie, Matt & Michele and to the One Who created such beauty...
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.
--John Keats, 1817

Sophie's wildflowers

Photoshopped the bruise right off of her forehead

Mother's Day Munchkins

One hailstorm later--the tulips are history

You just have to love spring in Kansas

The girls were playing like they were on vacation...

Quote from Dr. Paul

"All the grace we need is available for the asking.
Even unworthiness is not a barrier.
The challenge is in accepting the acceptance
and that takes a lifetime of practice."
--Breakthrough's Dr. Paul Fitzgerald

Quote from BT calendar for April 28:

"The influence of our loved ones lives on as we tell their stories."

You made Dad look short...

Forever Young

Wish you were still here...

Happy Birthday!

You are forever 27 in our minds,

you would be 63 tomorrow if you were still here with us.

I wish you could have met Matt, Aaron, Melanie & Annie

& all of their kids.

You would love them to pieces.

They would love you, for sure.

Congratulations, Pretty girl

STERLING COLLEGE GRADUATE!

Mozart's Requiem--my favorite!

 

KT--thanks for going with me! I was so lucky--they were singing The Requiem this evening at the Catholic church (Church of the Magdalen) right by us. It was really freaky when there was a booming thunder clap at the perfect place--the very end of a loud song--right at the Amen! How fun!

New glasses and a new x-men movie

L-cubed

Living Life Loved

Lili in downward facing dog pose

She matches my tulips

A visit to Lilian's gymnastics class

Fishin' at Texoma

A Story from "The Furious Love of God"

I have heard Brennan tell this story several times, but I loved reading it again in his new book--

"Since moving to New Orleans, I've gotten deeply involved in the only leper colony in the United States.  It's found in Carville, Louisiana, about twenty miles southwest of Baton Rouge.  I've been there many, many times.  I go from room to room visiting the lepers, victims of Hansen's Disease.

On one occasion, as I was coming up the front steps, a nurse came running toward me and said, "Brennan, can you come quick and pray with Yolanda?  She's dying, Brennan."

I always carry the holy oils with me to anoint any who desire it.  I went up to Yolanda's room on the second floor and sat on the edge of the bed.  Yolanda is a woman thirty-seven years old.  Five years ago, before the leprosy began to ravage, she must have been one of the most stunningly beautiful creatures God ever made.  I do not mean just a cute, pretty, or even attractive woman.  I mean the kind of blinding physical beauty that causes men and women on the street to stop and stare.  In pictures, Yolanda had the largest most mesmerizing, most translucent brown eyes I've ever seen, set in this exquisitely chiseled face with high cheekbones, long brown hair down to a slender waist, and a perfectly proportioned bust.  But that was then.

Now her nose is pressed into her face.  Her mouth is severely contorted.  Both ears are distended.  She has no fingers on either hand, just two little stumps.  One of the first effects of leprosy is losing all sensitivity in your extremities, toes and fingers.  A leper can rest her hand on a burning hot stove and feel absolutely nothing; this often leads to gangrene and eventually demands amputation.  Yolanda just had these two little stumps.

Two years earlier, her husband divorced her because of the social stigma attached to leprosy, and he had forbidden their two sons, boys fourteen and sixteen, from ever visiting their mother.  The father was an alcoholic, complete with frequent violent mood swings.  The boys were terrified of him, so they dutifully obeyed; as a result, Yolanda was dying an abandoned, forsaken woman.

I anointed Yolanda with oil and prayed with her.  As I turned around to put the top back on the bottle of oil, the room was filled with a brilliant light.  It had been raining when I came in; I didn't even look up, but said, "Thanks, Abba, for the sunshine.  I bet that'll cheer her up."

As I turned to look back at Yolanda--and if I live to be three hundred years old I'll never be able to find the words to describe what I saw--her face was like a sunburst over the mountains, like one thousand sunbeams streaming out of her face literally so brilliant I had to shield my eyes.

I said, "Yolanda, you appear to be very happy."

With her slight Mexican-American accent she said, "Oh, Father, I am so happy,"

I then asked her, "Will you tell me why you're so happy?"

She said, "Yes, the Abba of Jesus just told me that He would take me home today."

I vividly remember the hot tears that began rolling down my cheeks.  After a lengthy pause, I asked just what the Abba of Jesus said.

Yolanda said:

COME NOW, MY LOVE.  MY LOVELY ONE, COME.

FOR YOU, THE WINTER HAS PASSED,

THE SNOWS ARE OVER AND GONE

THE FLOWERS APPEAR IN THE LAND

THE SEASON OF JOYFUL SONGS HAS COME.

THE COOING OF THE TURTLEDOVE IS HEARD IN OUR LAND.

COME NOW, MY LOVE, MY YOLANDA, COME.

LET ME SEE YOUR FACE, AND LET ME HEAR YOUR VOICE,

FOR YOUR VOICE IS SWEET

AND YOUR FACE IS BEAUTIFUL.

COME NOW, MY LOVE, MY LOVELY ONE,

COME.

Six hours later her little leprous body was swept up into the furious love of her Abba.  Later that same day, I learned from the staff that Yolanda was illiterate.  She had never read the Bible, or any book for that matter, in her entire life. 

I surely had never repeated those words to her in any of my visits.  I was, as they say, a man undone."

--Brennan Manning