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I feel somewhat like Elijah who told the Lord from his hiding place in the cave, “I, even I only am left.”

The still small voice says, “I have many people in this city” “(Acts 18:10).

My mind goes back across the years to how my good friend Gisela now rests in Glory after God led her to the Church in the city. Soon her grandson will walk down the aisle with his bride, a home built on the Rock.

Henry, the agnostic man, who started attending the Church in the city when he lost his eyesight has also gone to his eternal reward. His epitaph reads, “Now I see.” At the end of life he said, “There is nothing left but the blood.”

Sister Bisi’s baptism was at Sugar Hill, the Church in the city. She lives in Poughkeepsie where her and Brother Reuben are raising their family in the Church.

The Mifflinburg congregation gets to have Brother and Sister Benn worshipping with them. Their baptism was also at the Church in the city, and their daughter, Helene Berniece, will forever be a city girl who loves bubble tea and the beach.

And now one of our own, Sister Abigael’s marriage to Brother Brandt Nightingale has blessed the Church in the city. God sent a complete double rainbow as a witness on the eve of the wedding. Don’t forget this.

I could write of Ismari, Maxeau, the Vicentes (whose story isn’t finished), of attendees, and of visitors from out of town whose lives have been changed by the Church in the city. City outreach continues. God’s Word will not return unto Him void.

Berniece

P.s. Tell how your life has been touched by the mission in NYC.

“As the mountains surround Jerusalem,
so the LORD surrounds his people
both now and forevermore” (Psalm 125:2). The past few mornings, we’ve enjoyed coffee at sunrise, when the glow of morning bathes the snow of Pikes Peak – that mighty mountain – in light.

I began that post and never finished it. I rarely return to a draft, but this morning from the confines of our apartment bedroom, my mind wanders to the beauty of Colorado where the mountains stand solid from Creation (or the Flood) to the Crashing of the Ages.

“Fear not.” Like Pikes Peak and the mountains surrounding a small Airbnb in Divide, Colorado, our God surrounds those people who trust in Him.

Today, we will worship at the mission church in Manhattan. It’s a 40 minute to an hour train ride from our apartment in Queens. A week ago, we worshipped with the Meridian congregation at Hesston, Kansas. We drove a black minivan that fit in on the church parking lot. This coming Saturday, we expect to witness the wedding vows of Abigael Daramola and Brandt Nightingale at the Reformed Dutch Church of Poughkeepsie (a congregation since 1716 with the present church built in 1921 and on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places).

“God does not dwell in temples made with hands” (Acts 17:24). His presence is in each of the above places as it was there in Colorado where we worshipped with my cousins in a lodge that had a marvelous view of Pikes Peak. Now and forevermore, God surrounds his people. We can trust Him on this journey to the place of Eternal Worship.  Berniece

P.s. Where will you worship today?

By living here I traded the prairie for the city.

English for the languages of many lands.

Dresses for saris and colorful aprons.

An all American grocery for Asian markets.

Hamburgers for sushi, macaroni and cheese for Indonesian noodles with fried egg.

A ranch style house for an apartment.

Sedate walks for dance.

Quiet parks for noisy playgrounds with people of every tribe and nation doing their thing.

A washer and dryer for a laundromat.

A car for public transportation.

Seas of waving grain for the Atlantic Ocean.

A large congregation for a mission church.

Sunsets for a sky awash in sunset colors.

A garden for a farmer’s market.

A farmer for an Elmhurst Hospital employee 😊.

Kansas kindness for NYC rudeness.

A ride to my destination for running in the rain.

A wave for being ignored.

I ♥️ New York City with its chaos, color, and crowds.

Berniece

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). This foundational verse throughout my life first inspired me when as a needy 17 year old I knelt beside my bed in the upstairs room of an old farmhouse.

This morning, over 45 years later, from the porch of my parents’ home, I see the hospital where I was employed, the place where I became friends with the world, only to find worldly friendships didn’t fill the inner longing. Then God gave me His Word: “peace not as the world gives, but the peace I give,” a peace that flooded and filled me to overflowing. You’ve known this peace.

Life’s given blessings innumerable since that time. However, anyone who’s reached my age also knows hard things. The Word this morning says that no matter the difficulty, I can have “peace like a river” (Isaiah 48:18).

Hugh brush piles line the streets of Halstead, telling of storm damage. Still the birds sing. The sun rises. Lush green beautifies this small town, and there is peace!

Lord willing, we fly home tomorrow. We’ll treasure the memories of Colorado with the cousins, of Pikes Peak at sunrise, of hiking Rainbow Gulch, of quiet times with our parents and noisy times with the great nieces and nephews, of worship services, good food, and fellowship. And now, a small peaceful apartment in the midst of city chaos calls us home.

The plane tomorrow lands at JFK, not LGA where we took off from. I think I have it right this time. 😏

God bless you with His peace today and always. Berniece

Laurence’s vision is 20/20. We’ve completed the journey that began on February 9 when Laurence first noticed floaties in his right eye. It’s a long story, but I will skip to a quiet cubicle on a quiet floor – quiet because it’s Sunday – where we waited in preparation for retinal surgery. Two surgeons stepped in. “I hear you want to go to Colorado,” the older one said. The younger of these two super nice surgeons had informed Laurence that he would have a gas bubble in his eye. We would not be flying. Though disappointing, we readily concurred an eye is more important than to fly.

The older surgeon wanted to talk about Colorado. He’d lived there for three years. “We’re going to see if we can get you there,” he told us. They departed. On that quiet Sunday morning, May 5, in a small cubicle, Laurence and I prayed for the surgeons and the surgery.

The eye journey didn’t become easier but it continued. Interestingly, every appointment would begin with the younger surgeon mentioning the trip to Colorado. Laurence’s vision improved. The gas bubble became smaller. But would it be gone? Thursday morning, Laurence knew it was no more. Gone. Yesterday, the younger surgeon marveled at the surgery’s succuss. “The bubble is gone. What timing. You can go on your trip.” (No quietness in the Eye Infirmary during these appointments.)

This morning, we wait in Terminal B of LGA for our flight to Denver. It’s been a journey to this place , literally and otherwise. Due to my thinking that straight through flights to Denver only leave from JFK, we boarded the subway early this morning to the airport where we stepped into the AirTrain. (No small deal. We live by LGA.) Both of us tried to see where Terminal B was, but the train only stopped at Terminals 1, 2, 3, and 4. No A, B, C! We hopped off before the train pulled out, went down the escalators, and called Uber. Mr. Dominican was immediately there and whizzed us to LGA in 10 minutes. What a city! ♥️

Next stop Denver. Berniece

Somewhere in South India I have a sister. She wears a sari, a scarf covering her long black hair. Her name is Ady. One evening, Ady nervously walked into the mission at Sugar Hill in Harlem to attend the Bible study. When we knelt for prayer, she knew she had found home. Her husband, James, eventually followed her through the church door. Baby Rachel joined the family. Ady’s mother brought curry to the baby shower. The husbands decided they would not miss out on the spicy meal and so gathered in the church fellowship hall. That evening we all learned a lesson of God’s amazing power. A young man from South India came to the gathering with his (our) friend David. Much to the surprise of James, Ady’s husband, he realized he had taught this young man as a lad in Sunday school in South India!

If my big God could bring two men from South India together in a small church in Harlem then He must know where Ady is at this moment. Ady, who knocked on our bedroom door in her Tuscon, Arizona, home to serve us tea. Ady, whose husband prayed for safety every time we drove even if we’d only stopped for gas. Ady, who after prayer stood in a circle with Ed and Yvette, Kyron and Melanie, Wayne and his late wife, Letha, and Laurence and me and told us her experience of finding God and the Church. Our hearts melted together in that circle; we were one.

That night, many years ago, we said goodbye. Will our big God someday bring Ady, my sister, and me together in the same room? I believe in miracles.

Berniece

P.s. The thoughts for this post began with reading Psalm 103:2, “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.” Ady taught this verse to her small, small daughter, Rachel. I haven’t had any contact with Ady for many years.

I am not a mother, but I am part of a village. And what a fun village it is! I’ve been teased mercilessly by some of the young men of this village. Now these are all grown up with children of their own who they’re soberly teaching the ways of God.

I’ve been surrounded at times by the little ones of this village. I’ve enjoyed bubble tea with my favorite Bee, and we’ve flown a kite on the beach at Rockaway. (Bee declared, “This is the funnest day of my life!”) There have been many special moments with these children: eating mangos on a park bench with Jacob; listening to Hannah play church in the magnificence of the Winter Garden; ball games with Joshua during recess at Hudson River Christian; climbing up to see a scary skeleton in Wichita with the great-nieces and nephews . . .

The grown up children of this village like to return to NYC where we carry on long conversations while eating ethnic foods, touring, or hanging out in our apartment. They share their blessings with us, and their hurts and sadness too.

I am glad, thankful, and humbled by being a part of this village. I love you all. Be faithful to the end. Let’s pray for each other.

Happy Mother’s Day! Berniece

“She writes well because of the difficult things she’s been through,” Laurence informed me when I spoke of my admiration for the late Margaret Penner Toews’s writings. While I didn’t say it aloud, I determined in my mind – those many years ago when I first began to write for publication – that would not be my lot.

I smile now at my younger self that wanted the quiet Miss Read life. 9/11 came unbidden. Relationship difficulties affected my mental health. We did not want to be the Pandemic Epicenter or have to deal with long COVID. Today, I walk with a rod in my leg. We’ve spent more hours than I want to count in the Elmhurst Hospital emergency room, and then last Sunday found Laurence and myself alone with two super nice surgeons at the Eye Infirmary in Manhattan. (Laurence continues to recover from surgery for retinal detachment and a large tear.)

In these difficulties, we have been brought into the presence of God. Over and over He has made “the storm a calm” (Psalm 107:29). Yesterday, we stood under a blue, blue sky beside the blue, blue waters of Oyster Bay on Long Island. All seemed right with our world. “Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.”  Berniece

P.s. Happy birthday to Abbygirl!

The MetLife building is below the cloud cover but clouds obscure the top floors of the Empire State Building. These buildings show me which way is north; I am south of them. The streets of Lower Manhattan were quiet when we came here before seven this morning.

I’ve noticed that not many people are on their cell phones during early morning commutes. Instead, they catch a little shut eye while riding the train to their day jobs. Bikes along with their riders took space in the train cars we rode on. Today is the Five Boro Bike Tour.

That’s where I quit writing quite a number of hours ago. They brought Laurence back to the hospital room where I waited for him while he had surgery to repair a tear in his eye along with a detached retina. It’s not how we planned to spend Sunday morning. The surgery was a success and now we, especially Laurence, will need to follow doctor’s orders and be patient so that his eye will heal properly, and his vision be restored. Please pray.

Your love, support, and prayers mean a lot. Minister Isaac Akinyombo and the Daramola family stopped by after church at Sugar Hill Mennonite Mission. We sometimes might think we’re alone in the city, but in times like these, we realize, that we aren’t. (I was quite cheered by the people who streamed in here when I broke my leg in January 2021).

Actually, we are so blessed. Last night, we relaxed while watching the waves roll in at Rockaway Beach before having yummy raman soup filled with noodles, seaweed, bok choy, ginger, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, chicken, and a hard boiled egg in miso broth. It was a nice bus ride home from the tiny restaurant on Rockaway.

So for Laurence to do nothing but keep his head face down for a short while should be tolerable. During this time, we can and will pray for others. 

Berniece

The p.s. will come in a few weeks. 👁️

I’m not a coffee shop blogger like so many are, but there is a sense of community in this environment, so here I am in Elm Rostery with a lavender latte. These people of Queens are my people. I don’t pretend to understand the various cultures surrounding me, speaking in languages I don’t know, but I feel at home here with these humble, hardworking people, many of whom came to Queens from war torn countries and Communist regimes.

Yesterday, I went to Domino Park on the Brooklyn waterfront. The old Domino Sugar Factory facade still stands, the inside converted to luxury apartments. There are awesome views of Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty, and the Manhattan and Brooklyn skylines from the park. However, I did not feel at home. I walked quickly through the park, trying (not with complete success) to focus on the beauty of the sunshine glinting on the East River rather than on the wealthy liberals sunbathing. (Yes, God loves them as much as he loves me, and I count some of them as friends!)

This blog took off in a completely different direction than I planned. And now I’m not certain where to go with it. I sigh a prayer.

God feels at home with the humble. I remember the patron near us in a crowded Italian restaurant. All mealtime, he visited about his brilliance, his expensive car, and the beautiful woman he dated – everyone in the room turned to look when he walked in with her.

As I type those last words, I hear, “Lord, I pray that you bless our community.” I look to the table beside mine and observe two young men and a young woman praying. It’s so beautiful.

“Lord,” I pray, “Clothe me with humility.” Berniece

P.s. I moved over to have a heart to heart visit with these young people – two from South Korea and one from Malaysia. A barista (he owns the coffee shop along with David, one of the South Koreans) came over to meet me and offered me a free coffee. (“Thank you, but I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”) God is working in Elmhurst. 😌