Author Archives: Berniece

A tall scantily-dressed person stood in the corner of the subway car. I cannot tell you if they were created male or female, so it is early Saturday morning when the all-night parties end. (Mostly though it’s medical workers in uniform , construction workers in blue jeans, and people like me who clerk at a farmer’s market.) How, I wondered does God love this person? I picture him/her as a old woman: bent over, stringy gray hair, crazy.  Haven’t we seen many, many of her kind in their old age, shuffling down the sidewalk?

Then the Lord put another picture in my mind of the two of us leaving the subway car together. We both were bent over and had straggly gray hair.

Does the Lord look at us both the same, loving this person as much as He loves me?

Another day, we walked past the clock in the great room of Grand Central Station. People, people everywhere. “Lord,” I said, “Show me how much you love these people.”

He replied, “You couldn’t take it.” I understood that to see mankind running to and fro and not caring about the One who loves beyond my comprehension would be more than I could bear.

John 15:12: “This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” What kind of love is this?

Berniece

The slim, dark-haired woman strode into the coffee shop and threw her arms around my friends and me. Though we’d gained weight and had gray hair, she called us by name: Edith, Donna, Karen, Bev, Gaylene, and Berniece. We six Mennonite women had come to Halstead, Kansas, to meet four of our former classmates who we had gone to music, gym, lunch, and library together with at Halstead Public School. That was over 50 years ago. Still, we connected.

One of our former classmates had lost her husband in 2023. Another’s grandson passed away only a short while before we met. A third cried because her sister’s cancer has metastasized. Sobriety replaced the foolishness of childhood as each of us recounted life’s journey in the years since we’d walked across the gym floor to “Pomp and Circumstance” at eighth grade graduation.

Skip forward to today’s worship at Sugar Hill Mennonite Mission in the heart of Harlem. I can confidently say that nowhere in the conference  did such a diverse group meet to worship. (Ghana, Germany, Nepal, Nigeria, Maine, Michigan . . .) The pure Light of Heaven shone in the chapel as truth was preached and eager hearts drank from the well of living water.

Some of us sat in the backyard of the mission after lunch and listened to the cry of a seeking soul. The young woman with us softly prayed at one point when she wanted to explain what was happening in her life.

This past week I gathered with people from my childhood. Today, I met with these people of my present life in NYC.  Yesterday, I had the opportunity to be touched by and to touch the lives of a multitude of customers. Each person placed in my life by God’s providence for such a time as this (Esther 4:14). Berniece

P.s. Edith Koehn Jesser, Donna Dyck Wedel, Bev Johnson Base, Karen Koehn, Gaylene Smith Koehn, and myself along with our husbands had an Airbnb in Newton, Kansas, for three nights. We six girls who went to grade school together live in six different states.

Queens Night Market where thousands (20,000) of foodies meet and eat on a Saturday night is a sensory experience in the flavors of many countries. Prices capped at five and six dollars mean it’s possible to move through the market to purchase from different vendors: Mexico, Turkey, Venezuela, Philippine street food or Hong Kong, Venezuela, Ethiopia, and Haiti, Ecuadorian ceviche or Polish perogies. The list goes on. To order Burmese Bites, Tibetan momos, or Malaysian burgers means standing in a long line.

While you wait someone passes with a scrumptious-looking dish. Suddenly, I wonder if I am making the right choice. “Where,” I’ll ask, did you get that?” This question delights a foodie, and they’ll go into detail about where, what, and how good it is!

Conversations continue at crowded picnic tables. The Brooklyn girl with freckles and pigtails understands our love for the city. A couple about our age surprises us by saying that they are Antabaptists. Like us, they once lived in Upper Manhattan.

Last evening, Laurence and I visited with a group of Mennonite youth. Most of them were from Brooklyn. As we exited the market, we noticed a group of men wearing Gideon Bible t-shirts. What a blessing to see active Bible-placing Gideons. The blessing continued after we boarded the 7 train and the woman beside me commented on my dress. Turns out, she lived in Wichita and Salina Kansas for a couple years, but now resides in Long Island City with her husband and three wiggly daughters. (I’d tell you about Long Island City, but you have to live here to understand.)

Before leaving Night Market, we ordered a blueberry creme brulee. The smooth flavors of the custard entice me to return another Saturday.

Berniece

P.s. Written while riding the train to church.

“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ” (Colossians 2:8 NIV).

The above verse is enough. Nothing is more clear than the Spirit speaking through the Word of God – not Ann Voskamp or some other deceptive religious philosophy.

Laurence asks, “How many people are beginning the day with caffeine and Ann Voskamp?” It is tempting to take up reading material besides the Bible before moving into the day’s work.

Sunday morning in the sanctuary at Sugar Hill Mennonite Mission, Minister Paul Raber stood with the Bible held high in his hand while humbly encouraging us to say a small prayer before we begin to read it, asking God to give us the portion we need for the day. God will supply. Every time! (Personally, I am often amazed at what God knows about me that I hadn’t realized.)

Minister Shawn Becker’s wife, Bernice, asks, “What does 2 Corinthians 5:14 mean to you?”

“For Christ’s love compels us” (2 Corinthians 5:14). For this reason, I write this blog. The truth is in the Word of God, in the writings of our forefathers, and in present day writings of the brotherhood. These truths give a safe place for our soul. It’s drinking living water from a well that never runs dry.

We must be saved. We must not be deceived. May the peace of God be with you today.

Berniece

What does unity look like? It appears as a Light in an historic chapel in the Shaker Village of Enfield, New Hampshire.

We were twelve women along with our husbands (those who could make it) who spent three nights in the ‘retiring rooms’ of the Great Stone Dwelling built in 1841. The clattering of Shaker dishes filled the dining hall with its Shaker furniture. And talk. Though we were middle aged, a little bit old, and young; though we came from different parts of North America; though all of us had never known everyone gathered, the conversations flowed. Sunrise found Ed and Landon in the kitchen brewing coffee. Small group visits continued long after sunset in simple gathering places at the end of wide halls. (Early morning coffee for us and no late night visits.) The men toured in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and experienced fall beauty in Vermont while we ladies met in the Great Room to improve our writing techniques. (Which somehow meant we needed Kleenex boxes on the table.)

However, the most anticipated part of the day were the morning and evening devotionals – that time of singing and scripture – in the ornate stone chapel. The glory of the Lord literally filled that gathering place. (This happened the fall before the Pandemic. I often thought how God knew we would need this time of fellowship to reflect back on.)

The next summer during vacation, Laurence and I stopped at Enfield Shaker Village. Precious memories flooded back, and it hurt to be there without our friends. We toured the dwelling house before going up the steps to the chapel. To my surprise, instead of Light and Glory, a dark, dank sanctuary greeted us. Our brothers and sisters of like precious faith weren’t there.

God bless you with Light as you gather with His people today.

Berniece

P.s. A total of two members, down from thousands,  live in Shaker communities today.

My husband talks about these caffeinated folks who board the train with their coffee and yap, yap. I just walked through the Winter Garden and bought a pumpkin spice latte. Now, I can write. 🙂

(Overhead, “She has a four-sentence plan. It’s, run, Spot, run.” The two women walked on, and I heard no more of the plan.)

Yes, a pumpkin spice latte. Not apple, or chips and salsa, as I read on some statuses. I feel certain that the chips and salsa instead of everything-pumpkin guy would give most anything to be here where I am beside the East River at World Trade Center with an awesome view of Lady Liberty.

A FDNY fire boat and a police boat circle in front of me. Security has the 9/11 Memorial closed off for a service with those who lost loved ones on that day. We remember. I walked from the E train and into the Oculus over the same exit I’d always take to work at the WTC Farmer’s Market back in 2011. I went into the Winter Garden where I’d eat lunch on cold days. I remember.

The weather is gorgeous today just like it was on that 9/11. There’s a generation of people who weren’t born on that 9/11. If I could have looked ahead, I would have been surprised to see myself 23 years later still here. God has been so good to me!

If I am sad, it’s not because it’s 9/11. It’s because my dad died. This evening is Grandpa Night, but Dad won’t be there. Life moves on.

I remember the billowing river of rolling smoke we witnessed from a top floor of Elmhurst Hospital. I realized then that one day (soon) this city would be ashes. (We look) “for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.”

Berniece

P.s. What are your 9/11 impressions?

Tonight we walked on the beach at sunset. The sea lapped at my bare feet as I left footprints in the sand. We first noticed a NYPD helicopter circling above the sea. As we looked into the skies, we spied two drones. On the shore the lights of emergency vehicles suggested something amiss. As we drew closer, we could see a couple men paddling with surfboards. Emergency personnel and citizens all stood looking to the sea.

We asked a muscular Black man what was going on. He said he’d seen someone struggling a long ways out at sea. After more talk, he told us he’d taken a picture, and he showed it to us. He could not understand why someone would live so dangerously. He said, “That’s not how I want to to meet my Lord. I think my guardian angel would be disappointed in me.”

I replied, I just hope he was ready to go.” Our friend agreed.

Such a sad scene. (Not the first time we’ve been on Rockaway that someone has been lost at sea. The ocean and its rip currents are nothing to mess with.) Two police boats motored to the area.

We walked past the crowds facing the sea and onto the boardwalk. In astonishment we looked at the vast array of emergency vehicles, their lights on, lining the street. I have no idea how many to write that there were. Lots!

The effort to rescue the perishing was all encompassing.

“Rescue the perishing. Duty demands it. Jesus is merciful. Jesus will save.”  Berniece

“Come with me to a quiet place and get some rest” (Mark 6:30 NIV). I love the thought of spending time with Jesus in an alone place. I’ve experienced the wonder and blessings of only God and me in fellowship. However, I’ve been puzzled by this incident in Mark because “many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them.”

Did the disciples feel grumpy about all these people distracting Jesus from giving them His full attention, from the alone time? Finally, it seems to me that they’ve had enough. They go to Jesus and say, “This is a remote place, and it’s already very late. Send the people away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.” Then came the miracle of five loaves and two fish. We serve a God of miracles.

Was Jesus giving them (and me) a lesson on rest, perhaps showing them how they could lay their anxieties aside and let Him work? Did He, after all, take the disciples apart to teach them to rest in Him? Is God saying to me: “Long Covid? I’ll take care of it. A broken leg? I knew before it happened. Death? My presence will go with you and give you peace. Loved ones gone astray? My love draws them.”

In busyness, I can rest with Jesus. In the throngs and chaos of the city, I can lean on the Shepherd. When my soul is dirty with sin, God cleanses and gives me peace and rest. In the city or the country desert or mountains, alone and in throngs, Jesus promises, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). 

Berniece

I saw a whale out at sea from the beach at Rockaway this morning. Now I’ve seen dolphins and once, a frightened looking sea lion on the beach, but never, a whale.

It always calms me to walk on the beach. The sea is so big, and I am so small. Somehow, it seems like I have no problems at all.

Last week, Bee and I went to the beach. We flew a kite and yelped in surprise at being drenched by a wave. It was one of those happiest days of my life.

Sometimes, Laurence and I go to walk, or we take supper to eat where we see the sea. I recall the moon rising and casting its beams on the sea with young men and once, with Randalyn and Bee. So much beauty!

Hurricane Sandy destroyed the boardwalk, leaving only skeletal wood posts. Such a strange sight. That was when I decided I did not want a home on Rockaway after all.

Rockaway and the boardwalk bounded back better than ever. It’s no longer the ghetto it was during our mission years. (I’m kinda glad I got to experience it then too.) It wasn’t safe then for me to go there without Laurence. That’s changed. Today the people of the beach visited with me about sighting a whale.

Come join me for a walk by the sea.

Berniece

A week ago Bee was here. We went to the beach and flew a kite. We lunched at a colorful picnic table on the boardwalk and laughed at a wee lad intently chasing pigeons.

Tuesday evening, Laurence grilled peanut chicken at Forest Park. Bee pulled her campchair to the grill and played for a long while at roasting marshmallows. Wednesday, we had supper by the bay with a view of the Manhattan skyline in the distance. Bee feels pleased that she was born in The City. We laughed with the fisherman who tried to fly Bee’s kite as the sun set in a display of grandeur.

Thursday was one of those unexpected days that come along in life and surprise you with pure joy. Rachel joined Bee and me to take the ferry to tranquil Governor’s Island where we rode bike, ate lunch, enjoyed the views, and Bee paid $7.62 for a single serving of ice cream that she thought was worth every dime. Friday, Bee got to stay for chicken nuggets for lunch before Brother Benn picked her up.

Bee calls me Grandma Berniece. As a child, vacation at Grandpas’ for three days and nights with my cousins was the highlight of summer. Subconsciously, I thought my life would follow the pattern of Kansas living, children, grandchildren, and summer vacation. It would be the best life.

God’s ways aren’t mine. His are higher and better. We are so blessed with our life in Queens and to have Bee (and the beach and bubble tea).

Berniece