How Great Thou Art

This past Sunday we were blessed with some wonderful songs. The one that really got me was when we sang “How Great Thou Art”. This is a great song whenever it is sung. But this past Sunday the song leader reminded us that it is in various languages. So we heard people singing it in Spanish, English, Dutch and Ukrainian. Perhaps it was also being sung in Arabic, but I could not really ask our visitor from Syria. 

The day before many of the members were out at our place for a birthday bbq. There are several members who have a birthday ij the summer months. And we like having an excuse to get together and a church family. So we prayed for good weather, planned for rain and met up with plenty of food and time for each other. 

This is one of the few times that our sister Nel gets out of the house (other than going to the store or the doctor). The kids had fun playing with Lego and cups and even a little disc golf (which I have in the yard). Some of the brothers took a walk out to the canal and talked while others sat around the table in the midday sun, enjoying encouraging conversation. 

We took a minute (or 5) to talk about how God had blessed us this year so far. Family, travels, daily blessings, visits with grandkids, safety in our country and more. Our Syrian sister told us (through the ingenuity of a translation program on a phone) that it is so good to be part of a family who helps her and cares for her. The kids were thankful for vacation and the little things of every day. 

It was a simple weekend. A bbq on the Saturday (and it stayed dry!), time to worship our amazing God on Sunday and encourage one another. We are so thankful for our family in Maastricht and in so many other places around the world. We can truly sing “How Great Thou Art”. 

Where Oh Where Wednesday: Redu

Years ago, when Stephan was a baby, we visited our friends who lived in Nottingham, England and together we traveled to Hay-on-Wye. This is a beautiful little village that has basically been turned into an antique book store. The whole village is full of houses which sell antique and second-hand books. We still have a copy of “Pilgrim’s Progress” which our friends purchased as a gift for us. 

Years later I read that there was the same kind of set-up in Belgium. We visited the town of Redu with my best friend when he came to visit. Most of the books are in French, of course, since Redu is in the French-speaking region of Belgium. Still, it is a beautiful, picturesque village - even if you don’t care about books. There are places to sit and drink a coffee or enjoy a pastry and the surrounding area is also beautiful. If you are not into books, the Euro Space center is just down the road. 

We have not been back to Redu in many years and I have always wondered if it is still the same. The landscape of books and reading has, after all, changed dramatically. These days we have e-readers and audio books. Do people still purchase second-hand books. I imagine that the market for antique books has remained the same, but what about books that are simply old? 

We still love the smell of books. We both still read real books (as opposed to e-books or audio books). We know plenty of people who fully enjoy their e-books and our son (who was present in Hay-on-Wye at that first acquaintance with this place) listens regularly to audio books. What do you do? If you are looking for a nice holiday destination and you are a book lover, consider either Hay-on-Wye (Wales) or Redu, Belgium. 

The Walnut

While I was finishing my studies at Abilene Christian University (ACU), I was able to do some work as a substitute teacher. I was able to step into all sorts of classes. I taught middle school math or science. I was able to teach English (which was my area of expertise). I even substituted in a school which was the last stop for kids who couldn’t seem to make it (because of their behavior) at any other school in the city. All of these opportunities confirmed that I wanted to be a teacher.

I graduated in December of 1988 and did a lot more substituting in the semester following. But in September 1989 I was able to start as a real English teacher at Abilene High School (AHS) downtown Abilene, Texas. I had 10th grade English groups and an 11th grade literature group. The 10th graders came into the class needing to learn the basics (past what they had already learned). This meant that I was also teaching some composition. 

For one section, I wanted to introduce poetry, explaining what it was and how it worked. We talked about the different sorts of meter, rhythm and rhyme. We looked at various examples, including some songs and rap (which was beginning to make its way in the music world - even in Abilene, Texas). To help my students practice writing their own poetry, I brought certain visual elements into class and explained how they could be used.

Whenever I gave my class a task, I took part in the task as well. That way they knew that I was not asking them something impossible or simply time-consuming and boring (although they may still have thought that). For this project I brought along a worn out sneaker, a stone, a walnut and a few other items. 

At the end of the class the students could share, if they desired, their poetry with the class. They were required to hand it in (so that I could see what they had done). They asked if I had done anything, which I had. I had written a poem based on the sneaker and a poem based on the walnut. 

The poem on the walnut turned into this song about a conversation between a grandpa and his grandson. A few weeks ago I played the song at Family Camp, billing the act for the talent night as “First time grandpa” singing “The Walnut”. We have become grandparents since the end of June this year, so I thought the song fit the event. 

Afterwards someone asked me when I had written the song, thinking that it was new. I looked up as I recalled the years and replied, “1990, I think.” The questioner was surprised. “What? But didn’t you just become a grandpa?” So this song has been waiting in the wings for some 30 years (Stephan was only just born when it was written) until the right moment. But the thoughts remain true, no matter when they are passed on. 

How do you think of your grandparents? What do you do with them? How are you as a grandparent? What do you enjoy doing with your grandkids?

Whensday: The beginning of plastic

Before the world went crazy for corona rules and we started finding blue face masks everywhere along the streets, discarded along with used tissues which no one dared pick up - even if they had wanted to - the talk in all the media was about reducing plastic use. Straws were outlawed and paper sacks were even returning to grocery stores. In the stores in Europe you had to pay if you wanted something in a bag, whether the bag was plastic or not. 

A few years earlier, a young Dutch man had come up with a way to clean up the plastic soup - the plastic found in the ocean gathered together and formed islands after having been tossed in the rivers which flowed to the seas. Plastic was one of the worst environmental disasters. This was stated unequivocally, even though we could probably not survive without plastics anymore. 

Plastic comes from oil. They can also be made from natural gas, corn or cotton - all products which can run out, can be used up, becoming extinct, or which must continually use resources to be grown. And if plastics are made from corn, the idea of taking the food out of someone’s mouth comes to mind )as with ethanol). 

The first synthetic plastic was made back in 1909 with the Belgian Henricus Baekeland. It was made from a reaction between phenol and formaldehyde by this Belgian chemist and inventor who lived in Yonkers, New York. You would know it as ‘Bakelitte” if you know it. You might have seen an old (and I mean old) rotary telephone, almost always black and quite heavy. Or a radio made of a mottled brown material. But you could also find colorful jewelry or silverware with fanciful handles. This was bakelite. This was the beginning of the plastics industry. 

These days plastics are in everything, including your clothes and tea sacks. Recently in Belgium the coffee pads and tea sacks, which one previously would have dumped in the green container for composting, were no longer welcome in the compost container. This was because the papers used for the pads and sacks was now most often made of or included plastic. 

How much would your life change if you were to drop this invention discovered back in 1909 by a Belgian chemist living in New York? 

On the Family Side

As a congregation we often pray for our “children and grandchildren”. Recently someone remarked that Shirley and I are no fully part of that group. We are indeed very thankful for the safe arrival of our first grandchild, Sophia Ruby. In Dutch a grandchild is a “small child”. A grandparent is a “great parent” (same idea as in English). A great grandparent is an “over great parent”. 

Both Shirley and I grew up without knowing much of our grandparents. Shirley met her maternal grandmother once. Her paternal grandparents are still a mystery that we are trying to solve. Scott met his maternal grandmother once as well, but had some contact via his mother. He met his paternal grandparents once as well, since his family traveled quite a bit for his father’s military duties. 

Our boys, with us living here in Europe, had of course much less contact with their grandparents than others might have. Shirley’s father passed away before the boys were even born. I fact I never met Shirley’s father either. The boys did get to meet Shirley’s mother at least twice on our return trips to the US. 

Scott’s father met Stephan as a baby and then the boys met him again in Denver when they were young. They met one more time when Sean was a teenager and we had dropped Stephan off at Harding University. The boys had more contact with Scott’s mom throughout the years. We stayed at her house when we dropped into Colorado on our visits. She even came to visit in Belgium after Sean’s birth. 

So both of us are more than aware that grandparents can be present from far away, as much as they might want to be closer more often. It is not always possible. The interesting thing for us was in how to name the grandparents. In Dutch grandpa is most often called “Opa” and grandma is “Oma”. That is what we had the boys call their paternal grandparents. Shirley’s mother was still “Grandma”, as often as they were able to use it. 

We have been wondering how we might want to be called as grandparents. Having the other language means that we can choose for something different. But it is also true that Stephan calls me “papa”. For many in the US, this is a term for grandpa. And Shirley was not so thrilled with the sound of “oma”. It sounded too “old” for her (imagine “grandmother” spoken full out every time by your grandchild). 

So we have let Stephan and Natalie know that we would like to be called Omi and Opa. Of course, we look forward to the time that Sophia can see us and say for herself what we will be called for her - even if it is “mmmphhnnn” or some such sound. What do you call your grandparents? And how are you known by your grandkids? 

(The picture above references a song about Grandpa's that you can listen to here).

Talking to God

This past week we were down at camp with the teen group looking at how to swim against the tide, or live upside-down. This was based on the various things that Jesus teaches in Matthew 5-7, including talking about telling the truth, how to treat others, dealing with anger or desires, and how we look at what is most important in our lives.

The group of teens we had were a real encouragement to us all, really getting into the lessons and putting them into practice each day with one another. The full week of (mostly) rain couldn’t stop the fun. In fact, they even had a water-fun day in the middle of the rain. They were already wet, after all. 

We also talked about prayer during the week and had plenty of opportunity to put the things we learned into practice. During the week one of the campers fell and broke her collar bone, but it was fairly late. We had to wait the night out and she was able to go home in the morning to be treated. We also practiced being kind to one another and worked on how we use our tongue. 

During this week, I went off for the afternoon to lead a funeral in Eindhoven of a dear sister in Christ. We were able to share time looking at her life and combining two families: her blood family and her church family. We were so thankful to be able to share what she had learned in her life with Christ and to see how God had used her characteristics in her new life. Her family (who are not believers) were pleased to see that her church family also knew who she was. 

When we got home from camp and were able to catch our on emails and messages and more (there is no internet at camp and poor reception), we were confronted with the news that our young nephew (25) had passed away, leaving behind his wife, son and son-on-the way as well as his parents and brothers. We are so thankful that we know that God not only hears us, but is very much aware of what is happening and what we need. 

This is also what we are talking about this week down at Family Camp. I will be teaching one of the lessons based on “Give us today our daily bread” but am also teaching the teens every day for the second lesson of the day. Today’s lesson was on God’s kingdom. It is thrilling to see how these young people are willing to examine what the Word says and to talk about how God can be part of their lives. 

Thank you for you prayers and blessings for my birthday, for the messages we have already received about our family, and for the prayers offered for our camp weeks. We are so thankful that we have these opportunities to share what God has brought us and taught us. Know that God knows who you are and is listening. Now we need to ask ourselves if we are willing to listen top Him.