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“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

God’s providence put a book into my hands about the ministry of ordinary places, about being present and reaching out in my neighborhood.

God knows I’m an introvert. (Laurence disagrees as I expect you do too. 🙂) I think He likes it that way, so He can push me out of my box and use me the way He wants to. He’s given me many years of reaching out practice in NYC.

But what about my neighbor? I see the Irishman (or any number of others) from the building up ahead, and I slow my steps so that we won’t enter at the same time. I know he’ll want to visit, and I just don’t feel like it.

But aren’t we called to ministry in the place where the Lord has placed us? The last while there has been some interesting happenings with the Lord putting neighbors in my space:

I met the Malaysian neighbor in the elevator. She told me she’d been wondering how she could get a hold of me as she wanted to go with me to market on Saturday. She did and now we are friends.

My father’s passing has opened a door for sharing with neighbors. In a laundry room visit I heard about the grief for a Bronx mother-in-law who passed away last summer.

A few days ago, I was going out as Jose came in. “How’s it going?” he asked. I hesitated. Was he in a hurry? Should I tell him something personal?

Then I said, “My father passed away on July 5.” Jose looked stunned. He said, “My mother passed away two years ago on July 6. I still haven’t gotten over it.” We stood there for 20 minutes while neighbors went in and out, and while I held the front door open so as to not feel confined in the small vestibule.

“Were you close with your dad?” he asked? He wept as he told me of his mom’s passing. Before we parted, Jose encouraged me to find comfort in prayer, “I can see you are a person who prays.”

Today, I met the Chinese woman who lives above us. We greet when we meet, which isn’t often. We might discuss building matters, but we never visit. I  have not found her friendly or sociable. But maybe I haven’t appeared approachable. Today, we talked about life here versus living in the country, about old age and death, about her parents and mine. (She’d like to have her parents come from China but her 95 year old grandmother still lives.)

Ministry sounds like opening our home to others. Perhaps it starts with opening our hearts.

Berniece

The heat broke. A nice breeze comes in the opened kitchen window and the one by the fire escape. I hear the 7 train as it rattles over the overhead tracks at 82nd Street some blocks away.

Our lovely vacation is over, and Laurence has returned to work at Elmhurst Hospital. He messaged me yesterday: “I’m in MPC (Medical Primary Care) today, working with Joy.” 😊 He worked until 1 p.m., and then came home for a quick lunch before going to an eye appointment. Dr. Dayan, the surgeon, said that his eye is healing well. We figured it was but it is a relief to hear this from him. We’ve been somewhat ‘gun shy’ after how it went after the first surgery. It will be eight weeks tomorrow since the second surgery. The gas bubble in Laurence’s eye is still there, but it’s very small, and soon won’t be at all. 😊

Laurence could not have flown to Dad’s funeral even if it would have been a month later. I sometimes find it hard to grasp that he missed it. God knows. However, we as a family still feel incredibly blessed with the beauty and the timing of Dad’s passing.

That doesn’t mean we don’t miss him. I thought of Dad often on vacation. So many of the places we were, we had been with Dad. I can see Dad laughing at Wolfman with his rickety old car buzzing beside the train we rode at Clark’s Bears, and how Dad and Laurence walked one evening after hours to see the bears. I remembered that Dad said he was going to someday ride the cog train up Mt. Washington again, and how I lost every game we played in the old Saranac Lake cabin.

Life has returned to routine, to coffee in our bedroom first thing in the morning, and to long walks in the evening. I do laundry in the basement laundromat, and shop at the local grocery store on Wednesday when I get senior discount. Saturday is the farmer’s market. On Sunday, we worship at Sugar Hill. Laurence works 12 hours on Mondays. Tuesday the library opens at noon. On Thursdays, I write a thankful list. Friday, I pack a lunch for Saturday, I clean, and prepare something for Sunday dinner at the mission. Saturday evening, we figure out an ethnic restaurant to go to – often on Rockaway, and then we walk by the sea.

I appreciate and enjoy routine life. Berniece

The mountains are shrouded in fog this morning while I sip coffee on an Adirondack chair in front of Cottage 6. Rain softly fell on the roof as we slept and a water puddle sits in a low place of the gravel driveway. The trails will be muddy today. We hiked yesterday to the top of Mount Willard where we had an incredible view of the Presidentials and of Crawford Notch. We could see where we’d ridden the scenic railroad into the Notch. We live outside when we’re up here. We take our meals outdoors: breakfast, dinner, supper. Coffee too and devotional time. We have interesting conversations on the trail (“You’re the best dressed person on the trail”), or while waiting in the ice cream line.

Why then, do we live in the city? Sometimes, I wonder. Laurence says how he walks to work. He comes home for lunch. He has weekends off, health benefits, and vacation. People are there. We’re fascinated by culture. Even out here, Laurence will say to me of the tourists, “Did you know that they’re South Koreans?” NYC is foodie heaven. It’s a feast for the eyes as we observe the sights of every block different from the last one – the little shops, the Asian markets, the street vendors and on and on. A bus takes us to the sea or to walk the wooded trails of Forest Park – so much variety in the city. The mission church is there.

Most importantly, God wants us in the city, a place where life has its joys and sorrows. God blesses us with this time in the mountains. It’s a gift, and we are thankful. Soon we’ll return to Queens. Our heart is there. It is home. (And my coffee is cold. 😎 Today, we get to meet the Brent Loewen family and their company for the bear show by Lincoln, NH.) Berniece