“I’d give both of mine to charity, and expect my reward in heaven,” the Quaker said.

“I’d give my two cows to the colony, and they’d keep my family in milk,” the Hutterite said.

“I think I’d keep one of my cows, and trade the other for a bull,” the Amish man said.

–Today’s laugh is from The Amish Family Cookbook by Jerry and Tina Eicher

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A group of Alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned to complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the Professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups-porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive and some exquisite, telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said, “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cup–and you began eying each other’s cups.

“Now consider this–life is the coffee, the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of the life we live. Sometimes by concentrating only on the cup we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. God brews the coffee, not the cups. Enjoy the coffee.”

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The following is this months problem…If you want to, write your answers on the blog, and it might make for an interesting discussion here.

“Next Problem….

“Is there any advice out there for our situation? My husband loves to drive spirited, half-trained horses. He gets a thrill out of an exciting ride to church.

“Meanwhile, I am simply terrified. I do not look forward to Sunday mornings, and face them with an actual dread. My problem is my fear of these horses. I lay awake nights and feel sick just thinking about it.

“When the horse does act up, I freeze in terror and start being a ‘back-seat driver.’ I have tried many times to keep my mouth shut, but it seems I am powerless to do so. It drives my husband to anger. He thinks I really could get rid of this fear if I’d want to. I have told him honestly how I feel, but it makes no difference.

“So we need help before this subject cracks our marriage foundation. What can we do? Is there any way to settle this difference? How can I change if he won’t? What can he do if I won’t? We are both waiting and we need help.

“P.S. I know every question says, ‘Please hurry.’ But PLEASE HURRY! He’s thinking of getting another horse!”

“Editors note…May we hear some commonsense suggestions to defuse this tense situation? Are there any voices of experience out there? Any tips from wives who have overcome their fear? Any encouragement from husbands who have learned to get along with a nervous and timid wife? Let us hear your views and experiences. Thank you.”

(printed here from the April issue of Family Life)

My note…Don’t take the expression about the marriage foundation cracking, too seriously. She’s doesn’t mean divorce, probably something more on the line of yelling at him.

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When I walked in the evening before the funeral, I had remembered to wear black. At my grandmother Eicher’s viewing, I walked in with my light colored traveling clothe. The whole room literally came to a complete silence until someone whispered, loud enough for me to hear, (es is da Jerry.) It is Jerry. Conversation then resumed, and I was accepted.

This evening I shook hands with the women first, since they sat up front. They again had a hard time figuring out who I was, but since I was in black they were relaxed about it until they got it straight. Many of them were my aunts, from both sides of the family.

The uncles were the surprise of the evening. Usually they are nice enough, but don’t pay me much mind. That evening they gathered around, shook my hand and chatted. Didn’t take long to figure out the reason why. My first novel, (A Time To Live) which featured many of them, had been a hit. Turns out they liked it.

I was pleased of course, as I hadn’t been certain what their reaction would be. The novel is based on my childhood in Canada and Central America, written from memory. Obviously, I made up the conversations and other details. One uncle, Matthew in the novel, said he couldn’t tell what was true and what wasn’t. Which I thought was a compliment, although it irritated him for some reason. He wanted it written either as fiction or non-fiction. I had said it was fiction based on a true story.

Another uncle, Dan Ludwig in the novel, said the others had been calling him Dan Ludwig, and that he wasn’t Dan Ludwig. When I chuckled he said, “Well. Wait a minute. Perhaps you’ll be famous some day. Maybe I’ll be Dan Ludwig then.”

The day of the funeral the roads were full of Amish, walking, driving in, black, black, everywhere. The service was nice, obviously it helps if you can understand it. The bishop, my cousin, told the story of a blind girl who had an operation to restore her sight. On the day when her mother took off the bandages, the little girl, for the first time in her life, saw. Her words to her mother, who had tried to describe the moment, were, “Mom, you just never told me everything!”

The bishop then said he believed Grossmom spoke something similar to Jesus when He first showed her heaven. With tears streaming down his face he pointed with his hand, in that preaching style so uniquely Amish, and said with great passion, “Only through the blood of Jesus.”

Anna Stoll, born Jan. 12,1912, married to Peter Stoll, Dec. 12, 1933, widowed Oct. 7,1971, died Dec. 25, 2007.

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