Author: mymennonitememoir

Reflections of Lee Eshleman

/ mymennonitememoir / 1 Comment

TedandLee_G[1]

Written Spring of 2007

It’s been 12 days since it happened and I still can’t seem to forget it. I think a lot of persons in the Mennonite community may feel the same way. Why would someone so well-liked and so talented take his own life? It nags at me like a splinter in my finger. I go on with my life, but the thoughts keep returning to Lee Eshleman and how someone so full of life and vitality could end his life in suicide.

I have a lot to learn about depression and bi-polar mental illness. I do know that when I’m depressed I can’t function very well. I’m tired yet can’t sleep. I’m thinking yet can’t form cognizant sentences. I’m aware of others yet can only focus on my own hurt. There have only been a few times in my life when the pain was too great that I felt that I couldn’t go on. I heard college friends and even one of my own children talk of suicide. So why is his story any different?

It may be because I just saw Lee perform in “Jacob and Esau” two months ago at Souderton Mennonite Church. I witnessed first hand Ted and Lee’s incredible gift of making the scriptures alive, in a way that will stay with me the rest of my life. I found myself relating to the Biblical characters in a way that I never had before. In contrast, when I read about them, they feel frozen in time and I forget the choices they had and the conflicting emotions they must have felt. But Ted & Lee brought that home in a powerful, hilariously funny dramatic presentation.

I went on the Ted & Lee website to hear in Lee’s own words a clip from the Cathartic Café. He speaks of the times that torment people late at night…

Oh, Lee I remember you and our talks from our Eastern Mennonite University days. I can hear you ask me to pose for one of your pictures and how I turned you down. It wasn’t you…I didn’t like my own body and was afraid of what would be asked of me. I’m sorry, Lee.

I laughed and laughed at you and Ted when you recently performed “Jacob and Esau.” I wanted to talk to you afterwards and tell you what an amazing actor you’d become. I didn’t. But please know, I miss you and I wish I could tell you…

Note: This was found among my writings and I resurrected it with a few extra lines after spending a weekend with Ted and reading his excellent book, Laughter is Sacred Space.  Please order a copy of your own at http://store.mennomedia.org/Laughter-is-Sacred-Space-P1206.aspx

Jordan’s Calling

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

bob 2 034[2]old man - Copy
Written Fall of 2012

After the Haiti earthquake of 2010, my son Jordan, a quiet 17 year old, found himself in a house in Passe bois d’orme with 10 other persons from his home church including our leader, Jim Frankenfield associated with Water for Life. Jim wanted to help the people most affected by the earthquake, so we all headed to Cote de Fer, a nearby recovering town. But Jim wasn’t prepared for the sensitive Jordan by his side when we came across an old man stuck on his porch with a broken leg and no way to get to the hospital. Jordan saw the old man just as we all did, but his heart went out to him, and he pleaded with Jim that we had to do something.

The next morning, Jim came to me with his concerns. He wanted me to know that he was sorry we couldn’t do more for the old man but more importantly, that we would be disappointing Jordan who was counting on us to help him. Then Jim and I discussed how Jordan kept coming to him repeatedly the previous day with pleas for the old man, saying “We got to help him.” Jim knew as we all knew that the old man needed help immediately and was in danger of dying if his leg was not treated. I told Jim that I would talk to Jordan. I was amazed how much Jim was concerned about my son in the midst of the earthquake damage and our uncertain trip home. He took a lot of time to explain the situation to me and above all, did not want to hurt Jordan in any way.

Well, we did make it home safely and a few days later when we were all together at Jim’s house, the first thing he wanted to tell Jordan and me was that the old man was still alive and had received help soon after we had seen him lying helplessly on his porch. We were all so glad, but Jim especially wanted Jordan to see for himself pictures of the old man on the internet and assure him that he was alive and well.

Jordan did seem to go through some culture shock after his experience in Haiti, but he recovered. In his freshman year in college, he came to me and said, “Mom, the only thing I can ever see myself doing is being a doctor.” I was shocked since I had thought molecular biology was a pretty good major. But I understood…it all went back to his wanting to help the old man in Haiti…

Thank you, Jim….

Even if the Healing Doesn’t Come

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

546990_10151243484039222_1003030940_n[1]

Written Fall of 2012

During this joyful expectation of the advent season, it seems wrong to think of death, but many of us are grieving the loss of Emilee Laverty, Wendy and Jim Laverty’s daughter on Nov 1, 2012. She was only 19, but died tragically of dedifferentiated chordoma. I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked, but her sister, Lindsey has spent a lot of time in our home since she is one of our daughter’s friends.

We as a church body prayed tirelessly for Emilee’s healing, keeping abreast of the current obstacles she was facing through her parent’s diligent efforts on caringbridge.org. It affected our church and the whole community as we patiently waited for God’s miraculous hand of mercy. He did show himself in small healings along the way, but Emilee did not receive the ultimate healing we were all hoping for. It felt like a hard pill to swallow so close to the holiday celebrations of November and December. How could a merciful God allow this to happen?

For a while after she passed away, I found myself doubting my prayers for others. Was God really around? Did it really make a difference that we pray?

I found the words of this Kutless song encouraging:
Even if the healing doesn’t come
And life falls apart
And dreams are still undone
You are God You are good
Forever faithful One
Even if the healing
Even if the healing doesn’t come

And in Galatians 2 (The Message):
Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not “mine,” but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that.

Pleasures in Life

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

72_ESL%2520students%2520and%2520laptop[1]

Written Fall of 2012

Pleasures come in all varieties.  Pleasures of travel, pleasures of reading, pleasures of laughing, pleasures of family, pleasures of learning, and pleasures of teaching.  I find that the older I get, the more I enjoy simple pleasures.  Laughter with a friend or family member is paramount. Hugs and kisses every day. Snuggled in a homespun blanket and reading a good book is essential.  But (and I’m not sure why this is) going to Christopher Dock High School and tutoring ESL students….priceless.

If Only We’ d Known

/ mymennonitememoir / 2 Comments

Bev's pics 445 Bev's pics 26777431531_131907018260[1]

Written Fall of 2012

One of the saddest stories from the Heebner side of my family is about my uncle Norman and the challenges he faced all his life.  He was born in 1921, the third child and first son of Albert and Alice (Rittenhouse) Heebner.  It is believed that Alice had a difficult labor and delivery at the time of Norman’s birth and that the doctor tried to assist Alice with his hands, but Norman was born with a bloody fontanel. Alice and Albert spent many years making trips back and forth to Philadelphia to find help and hope for their newborn son that did not seem to be developing according to the doctor’s schedule. The doctors suggested Norman go to a special school but Alice and Albert didn’t want that.

Albert raised Norman on the farm doing chores but was often frustrated at Norman’s inability to accurately complete simple tasks.  A time that was most vivid for my mom and her siblings is the time that Albert lost his temper and Alice prayed earnestly for God’s help. Albert was in a rage at something Norman had done which may have happened many times in the Heebner household. But this time was most memorable because Alice’s response was to fall on her knees on the kitchen floor amidst the yelling, quietly calling out to God in desperation for peace. Alice and Albert loved their son but were at a loss to know how to handle a child with compromising brain injuries. At school Norman encountered many children that didn’t understand his limitations and treated him badly. One time Norman even ran away for a few days.

Eventually, Norman married an empathetic woman named Kathryn. She said she knew how to handle persons like Norman. They did seem to love each other and loved their children, despite the world’s harsh requirements of providing a steady income, food and shelter.

This kind of unknowingness was in my Benner family as well.  My uncle Eddie (born 1913) had classic signs of autism that were never diagnosed.

People with autism may:

  • Have unusual distress when routines are changed
  • Perform repeated body movements
  • Show unusual attachments to objects
  • Not be able to start or maintain a social conversation
  • Not adjust gaze to look at objects that others are looking at
  • Not make friends
  • Be withdrawn
  • Not respond to eye contact or smiles, or may avoid eye contact
  • Prefer to spend time alone, rather than with others
  • Show a lack of empathy
  • Have a heightened or low sense of sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste
  • May withdraw from physical contact because it is over-stimulating or overwhelming
  • Seem to have a heightened or low response to pain
  • Get stuck on a single topic or task (perseveration)
  • Have a short attention span
  • Have very narrow interests
  • Be overactive or very passive
  • Show aggression to others or self
  • Show a strong need for sameness
  • Use repetitive body movements

Eddie lived in different homes of his siblings after his parents passed away, but it’s uncertain if he ever felt acceptance for his uniqueness.  He died a couple blocks from his birthplace, found alone after suffering a heart attack at the age of 75.

Another sad chronicle from the Benner family came with the infant deaths of two Benner boys in 1908 and 1917.  Jacob died in 1908 at one year of age from unknown causes, but could have died of an influenza that in that time killed many young children. Claude was two years old when he died.  The story is told that Claude was very sick and burning up with fever when his mother, Leanna, not knowing what to do to help her screaming baby boy, gave him a cracker. It’s said that he died soon afterwards.  A drink for the feverish boy may have been more effective but who are we to judge? Leanna loved her newborn sons and would have done anything to help them…if only she’d known.

The Dump

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

Rewritten Fall of 2012

Today we’re asked to be “green” or to preserve environmental quality (by being recyclable, biodegradable, or nonpolluting).  But it doesn’t seem like that long ago that I climbed onto the back of a Chevy II station wagon to “take the cans to the dump.”  Steve and my dad loaded up a huge barrel from the garage that was filled with tin cans to the hatch door of the station wagon.

“You two sit beside it and make sure it doesn’t move.” said my dad.

It was so heavy that it made the whole back of the car tilt downward and, in fact, we often hit bottom on the dirt road below Halteman Rd. The Chevy II bounced and we desperately tried to hold onto the huge barrel. If one of us was inside the car when my dad started driving, the air thwarted and pushed against our faces till we could barely breathe. It felt like a wind tunnel with our vision blurred and tear-stricken, but we held on to our given responsibility.

When we neared the drop-off point, we had to drive off the road onto the grass up above the creek.  Then we all got out, releasing the white knuckled grip we had on the barrel. My dad sighed, and we knew what our job was.

“Now Steve, you take one side and I’ll take the other,” he said.

It was not easy to lift the big barrel, but they grunted and panted till the barrel was up, then a few bent-knee steps, then carefully, carefully they tilted the barrel’s contents down the hill.  I watched as the tin cans cascaded over the edge, each one going in a separate direction and then indistinct from the multi-colored rust of discarded cans, old carpet, bicycle rims and car doors.  It was a necessity in our lives and we didn’t question the odd expanse of ugliness screaming over the quiet, placid stream below.

How Do You Know

/ mymennonitememoir / 2 Comments

Written Fall of 2009

An attempt at humorous sarcasm

How do you know that your life sucks?  Is it when you quit your medical editing job to teach at a Mennonite high school, only to have the students organize a petition to have you fired?  Or is it when you see your church of 16 years argue and disagree over whether a sex offender should attend our services?

Well, 2008 was a doosey of a year where I experienced both of these…and lived to tell about it.  For awhile I thought I might have to take my life, but then I decided to write.  I’d write about these awful experiences and perhaps show others that there is life after public humiliation and church dissension.

The public humiliation came in 2009 when I went to hear the seniors speak from the Mennonite high school where I had taught.  I listened to 11 speeches and 4 mentioned me.  That seemed like a high percentage when I was only there for 5 months out of their 4 years.  Well, I knew I was in trouble when one of them started sounding very angry about reading only one book during her high school career.  She had read the Great Gatsby and it had been in my class.  No need to get a puffed head though because she was “made to read the book out loud every day.”  And if that weren’t bad enough, the teacher (me) made her behave or threatened to call her parents.  Well, they showed this teacher.  They got a petition signed to have her fired!

OK, well how do you quietly get up from a speech such as this without being noticed?  Do you talk to a few persons afterwards, casually acting like it didn’t faze you that you were discussed as if you were a neurotic teacher from hell?  Or do you slink out of the room with your head down as if the shame may erase the forged memory from people’s brains?  And how do you face the many persons, some friends, that were in that room listening to the speech?  Do you mention the fact that you feel like a piece of refuse that might as well jump off a bridge …or do you ignore the subject totally, keeping your pasted smile placid?  Is it appropriate that for the next few weeks whenever someone asks you how you’re doing, you assume they are referring to how embarrassed you must be? Is there hope for the publically humiliated teachers of this world?  Or is it best to just quietly pretend it didn’t happen….and look for other employment?

Life is a Service Adventure

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

Written Fall of 2012

“I always liked to travel, like my dad, so I volunteered to go to Greece as a ‘sea-going cowboy.’”  After graduating from high school at 17, Gordon Beidler became a “cowboy” tending cattle aboard the Samuel H. Walker in March of 1946 as directed by the United Nations Relief Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA) and the Brethren Service Committee of the Church of the Brethren. In 1943, the BSC organized the ecumenical Heifer Project (today’s Heifer International) around the concept of “not a cup, but a cow.” Sending cows, rather than powdered milk to people devastated by the war would enable the victims of war to feed themselves.

But Gordon was just a 17-year-old looking for adventure and not sure what he wanted to do with his life, but soon found himself en route to Athens, Greece.  His parents drove him to the Brethren Relief Service headquarters in New Windsor, Maryland and from there he took a bus to Newport News, boarded the ship and was off with 20 young men, 330 cattle, a veterinarian and a Brethren minister named Loren Rapp.  At first Gordon was very seasick, but after 3 days he tried eating just soda crackers .“You couldn’t get me sick after that.”

Gordon remembers being awestruck by the coast of Africa and the Rock of Gibraltar, being lurched abruptly when the ship barely missed a floating mine left in the Mediterranean Sea, and giving boys in Greece some Hershey kisses.  The ship didn’t go to Athens as planned because violence increased in that area, so they docked instead at Patras.  There they had time after unloading the cattle to take in a tour of modern and ancient times.  They even enjoyed a meal at a private home, using sign language and similar Italian and German words to communicate.

Gordon wanted to go on another cattle ship trip but after his return to Bally, Pa, his mom and dad discouraged him from leaving again. He started working for Bally Case and Cooler, Co and resigned himself to less traveling. For some excitement, he sometimes commuted to Little Eden, a Christian camp and retreat center in Onekama, Michigan for young adult weekends.  One year he met a beautiful young woman named Velda who had travelled from her hometown of Archibold, Ohio.  Velda recalls “going for a ride and sitting on [Gordon’s] lap.”  That was in July and the following October, Gordon got up his nerve to call Velda.  They had a courtship of TWA rides till their marriage at Central Mennonite Church the following July of 1951. After their wedding,  Velda moved to Gordon’s home in Bally, living alongside his parents,  Warren and Elizabeth Beidler.

“With two women in the house, I needed to work, “Velda recalls. “ I worked for Bally Ribbon Mills in the office, doing payroll. Then in 1953, Gordon was drafted for the Korean War and the couple went into IW service at Samuel G. Dixon State Hospital (tuberculosis sanitarium) in Mt. Alto, Pa.  They worked in dietary on the third floor cafeteria, setting food on the dumbwaiter, serving food to patients and utilizing the dishwasher.  “Many a day, many a night,” was a favorite expression of another IW worker concerning their duties.

Bishop John Lapp visited the sanitarium during their service year and the Bishop heard that Gordon had served on the cattle ships, he suggested Gordon write to General Lewis B. Hershey at the Pentagon about his service in 1946 and that the General may give him credit toward his current assignment. Gordon wasn’t so sure, but he sent a letter to the General anyway.  A few months later, Gordon received a letter from General Hershey informing him of 25 days credit.  The director of the sanitarium said, I’d like you to stay, but you’re free to go if you chose.”  They left the next day and returned to Bally after serving almost 2 years at the sanitarium.

While they were in I-W, Gordon became interested in flying and took lessons at the local Hagerstown, Maryland airport, receiving his pilot’s license in 1954. After they returned to Bally and their local jobs as truck driver and Bally Ribbon Mills employee, Velda also became interested in flying and took lessons at the Allentown Airport, receiving her pilot’s license in 1959.  Together they became instrument-rated pilots and joined the International Flying Farmers. In 1972, Gordon was president of the PA chapter of the IFF and as convention chairman greeted over 1000 members at the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia.

Gordon and Velda certainly enjoyed the new-found freedom of their pilot’s licenses, often splitting the journey with Gordon taking one leg and Velda taking the other. If they had a yen for salt water taffy, they could fly into Atlantic City, go for a walk, get the taffy and fly home again. They traveled all around the world, making almost a complete circuit. They flew through alarming fog and risky snowstorms, yet Velda, with her instrument-rated license, would provide a safe landing and an unexpected surprise to the men in the control tower and ground crew.  They enjoyed this lifestyle for almost 40 years, till Velda experienced some vision problems and eventually in 1991, they both retired their wings.

But together they had plenty of fun-loving enthusiasm left, enough for Gordon to conduct the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1995. He was asked to donate to the Orchestra, but only consented if he would be allowed to conduct a song at the next New Year’s Eve concert. So, believe it or not, the caller agreed and on Sunday, Dec 31, 1995, Gordon, in rented black tie and tails, conducted Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtomusik” (from Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major) to an enthusiastic audience at the Academy of Music.

Gordon and Velda Beidler have lived a life of service and adventure, dedicated to their local Bally Mennonite Church, but also their worldwide friends in IFF.  Today, they are well-known for the Valentine’s celebration they finance and produce for all Souderton Mennonite Home residents.  At 81 and 84, they are an extremely active and generous couple… and a gift to the community.

An Enos Adjustment

/ mymennonitememoir / 4 Comments

Enos and Emma Yoder on their 60th Wedding Anniversary

Written Fall of 2012

When I was younger, my dad had a remedy for most things that bothered me, “You need an adjustment.”  This meant lying on the couch with my dad’s hands spanning my back and jolting me up and down for as long as I could stand it. I was sure I felt worse rather than better after this therapy.  But none of my feelings deterred Daddy and his belief in “adjustments.”  Sometimes he even used a hand vibrator to massage my back muscles for particularly difficult ailments.

Daddy may have received lessons on how to give an “adjustment” from his Uncle Enos.  Dr. Enos Yoder was his mom’s brother, a chiropractor in Souderton. I remember him as a tall, lanky man in his 70’s with reddish-rimmed glasses.  As I followed my dad up a winding staircase, he said “Enos has to take care of Emma like a nursemaid because she is in failing health.” I heard the respect in my dad’s voice, but I never really knew my great uncle Enos.

Enos was born in Souderton to Jacob and Elizabeth (Moyer) Yoder in 1880.  He attended Souderton Mennonite Church where he once winked at the new girl that had been “farmed out” to a family that lived across the street from the church. Her name was Emma Bergey and she was intrigued with this Mennonite boy enough to start dating him and then later even marry him.  Perhaps she saw the Enos’ ingenuity and courage even then.  They were very happy together and Enos doted on Emma in a time when this was not done, telling her often how much he loved her.

Their oldest son, Earl, had an unfortunate accident when he was young, falling out of a tree and severely injuring himself.  Although he survived, he later had seizures that left his young parents desperate to know how to care for him.  They naturally did what most local parents did in those days: they took a train to Philadelphia to see if there were any doctors there that could help him.  Eventually, they found a chiropractor who not only worked on Earl but helped him experience some relief from the seizures. This discovery had a life-changing effect on Enos, who in 1917, with only a 6th grade education, decided to leave his wife and 7 children with his wife’s parents and take a train to Chicago to receive a degree from the National College of Chiropractic.

Enos asked Emma while he was gone, “Are you eating the chickens I left you?”

“No, we haven’t killed them yet,” Emma replied, reluctant to admit it felt like a luxury to kill the chickens and preferred eating radish sandwiches.

Enos wanted better for his family back in Pennsylvania, but when he remembered his former job at the cigar factory, he pressed on, determined to finish with a degree in chiropractory. Three months later, he returned and put out his shingle in Souderton, treating patients till his retirement in 1966.

I see now why my dad admired his uncle Enos.  I’m amazed that I am related to a person with such a pioneering spirit and enough belief in himself to achieve a goal that must have seemed impossible in that day. He had a desire to serve the community of Souderton through an education in chiropractory and wasn’t discouraged by his Mennonite roots. Despite my Grammy Benner’s desire that “none of her children do anything important…only that they become Christians,” I think my dad had unfulfilled aspirations.  I can definitely attest to the fact that he never wavered in his belief in the power of “the adjustment.”

Thanks to Phyllis Proctor of Peter Beck Community for her willingness to tell me about her beloved grandparents, whom she lived with as a young girl and heard their stories first-hand.   She helped me get to know my great uncle and great aunt, for which I am grateful.

Computer-Rape

/ mymennonitememoir / Leave a comment

Written Fall of 2012

“Mom, I think someone hacked your email account” was my son Jordan’s text.  I had just finished working for the day with no problems so it took me by surprise.  I signed in again to find I could not connect to the internet.  That was only the beginning of many issues that day and the next.   I called Dell to have one of their outside contracted Safecart personnel to look at my computer.  The native to India told me it would take 45 minutes, but after 3 hours he seemed still unsure of what my problem was.  He said I should delete Norton after my subscription was up and that I had space issues on my laptop.  Well, the next day everything came to a sudden halt when my laptop stopped working completely.

I had been praying for and encouraging the Laverty family about Emilee’s recent admission to the hospital and subsequent surgeries at the young age of 19 for dedifferentiated chordoma.  But I can’t tell you how distracted I was by my laptop issues and the obsession with getting my computer up and running again.  Suddenly, I couldn’t think of anything but finding a way to access my pictures, writings and be able to work for my freelance medical editing job.  It turned my life upside down and all I could do was worry that I had lost everything.  Finally, after several days, I ordered a new laptop with the help of my oldest son, Patrick.

I’m not someone who likes to think of Satan and how he intersects with my life because I prefer concentrating on God and his goodness.  But I can’t tell you how much this computer virus or worm felt like an attack on my own system.  I felt attacked with a new paranoia about some unknown violator taking away my laptop and my life. I know it’s a sign of how much we rely on computers to make our world go round, but it also felt like a breach of my personal safety and privacy.

It is almost 3 weeks since the initial incident and I am just now starting to feel any kind of confidence that my email is not being secretly viewed and sending out venom to others.  I still do not know how the initial computer-rape occurred and that alone degrades my confidence that it won’t happen again. The only thing that gives me some sense of peace is repeating the new passwords that I started using, such as “Be still and know that I am God!”  It seems to keep the powers of Satan or my own paranoia at bay.