The Most Meaningful Time of Life
Written Spring of 2010

My father struggled with finding the right job for his skills. In his lifetime he had at least 17 jobs but never seemed to find his professional niche. But there was one time in his life where he shone brightly. This was when he was called to go into Civilian Public Service at age 24.

His life broadened when he left for CPS. The country was at war, and these years seemed to draw in Daddy a newfound strength and courage. He dealt well with the crisis mode of the time, went to his Mennonite bishop, John Lapp, and told him he wanted to be classified as a conscientious objector when he was called by the draft board. So John wrote a letter to the draft board, most likely the Lansdale, Pa., draft board, confirming Daddy’s decision. Soon, Daddy was called to Grottoes, Va., the former Civilian Conservation Corps camp where many in Franconia Conference began their CPS tenure.

I have heard many heartwarming stories of men Daddy met in Grottoes and later Bowie and Clear Spring, Md., but above all, I believe, Daddy experienced a spiritual awakening and a personal epiphany like none he had ever experienced. I believe he was nurtured and entrusted with responsibility and a strong faith in God to overcome some of the ways he was put down as a child. He laughed with the other men, worked hard and experienced life to the fullest. He also witnessed other denominations in the camp and in that way was exposed to people and other faiths outside the small confines of his Mennonite community.

It was a whole new world to have a Peace Committee formed by the Mennonite Church and to present its ideas for an alternative service option to the President of the United States. There was a lot at stake, and the Franconia Conference believed in their young men, supporting them financially, emotionally and spiritually, believing that in this time of great pain around the world, their young men were making a difference. It was a strong statement made by the peace churches: Mennonite, Brethren in Christ, and Friends. They went up against the powers that be that told them they needed to fight against an enemy as in World War I and said we need an alternative for our peace-abiding young men.

This had a profound impact on my dad, who was the sixth boy in the family. He had a determined cry as a newborn, which led him to be slapped across the face for wanting to be nursed so often. He looked bad enough that he could not be taken to church that week. He was named Charles Merrill, after his dad, in hopes that that might bring about a girl in the family. As was typical of the time, Daddy never heard that he was loved by his parents. His mother seemed to prefer his mild-mannered brother, who shared his feelings more readily than Daddy, who was by nature more emotionally distant. His dad taught Daddy to hunt and spent many days with him pursuing grouse, squirrel and pheasant. He taught him to trap muskrats in order to sell their skins, but apparently he rarely laughed or expressed much affirmation. Many in that day believed that to praise your children would create in them a false pride, which could damage their faith.

But during CPS, John Mosemann took a personal interest in Daddy and had him lead worship with chalk talks and found ways to encourage and pull out Daddy’s gifts. Daddy was artistic and saw the beauty in God’s creation. He also had organizational skills and could type, which helped him earn an office job while serving in Clear Spring. The men had nightly Bible studies that challenged them and helped them experience God’s calling in their lives. They were called to serve in this time as a witness of God’s redeeming presence and felt the importance of it.

In a file that my dad kept while in CPS of all the incoming and outgoing CPS “boys,” one campmate wrote: “During my time at camp, I learned to know God better. I know I’ve benefited by it greatly spiritually. I had more time to think on and study His Word than if I had never entered CPS. I also think this life has given me a chance to prove my faith in God to a certain extent, for I think we have gone through some persecution, although not to the fullest measure. Another highlight of my camp experience is meeting and associating with so many fellows I never met before. It is interesting to see how they live and what they think about religious things. I found out that there were a lot more faiths and churches than I ever thought there were. Still another highlight is how much new country I saw. It was interesting to see the Rockies, the big trees of California, the Salt Lake, the prairies and many other beauties created by God. Living close to nature helped me feel the power of God. I am glad for my experience but very anxious for peace and [going] home.”

But things were not easy when these boys came home. For my dad, he had a newborn baby girl and a family to provide for upon his release in 1946. He started working at a broom factory in Telford, Pa., and soon at a shoe factory, then back to the hosiery mill of his father. It was a rude awakening for these young men to come home after being spiritually and emotionally nurtured for four years. Leaders of Souderton (Pa.) Mennonite Church saw unique abilities in my dad, enough to include him in the spring 1948 ministerial lot.

As my dad used to tell the story, there were four men on that Sunday morning, across from four Bibles, when one of the other men took the Bible in front of my dad. I never heard Daddy say he felt like he should have been the one chosen; he only spoke of the honor of being called to this task, his willingness to serve if the lot had fallen on him and a solemn relief tinged with a tad of wistfulness, wondering what might have been. I’m sure my dad wondered how his life would have been different had he been called to be a minister at Souderton.

As Daddy’s search for a good job continued, his family was growing in size. He remained active in the church and held roles such as Sunday school superintendent while working nights at JW Rex Heat Treating Company. By 1961, he had five children and was still searching for that elusive right job. Mom and he attended the CPS reunions every year, and Daddy enjoyed this time of reminiscing. This was a constant among layoffs and company downsizing.

Life felt like a constant fight to provide for his family, so when a call came in 1956 to serve at Salem Mennonite Church, Daddy felt like he couldn’t do it. Somewhere he had lost his peace and contentment of camp days, and the fight to keep his head above water had won. No wonder he talked so lovingly of people he knew in camp, including the guy who said, “Could you be so kind and condescending, so obliging and back-bending to extinguish your nocturnal illuminator?” And the guy who wanted to be awakened in the middle of the night just to know what it would feel like to be able to go back to sleep. He told these stories with a big smile on his face and an irrepressible zest for life.

Over the years, Mom and Daddy traveled to places around the country, including Oklahoma and Montana, to visit “camp buddies.” He didn’t often write letters but managed to stay in contact with a Martins in Oklahoma and a Hostetler in Montana. When Daddy passed away, there were many camp buddies that needed to be contacted of his death.

There is nothing like feeling God’s calling in your life and feeling like you are fulfilling God’s purposes for you. Perhaps this wasn’t discussed much in my dad’s time, but if I read between the lines, I see that the one time my dad felt called was during his CPS service. A few years before he died, he said he wanted to be remembered as a “faithful member of the church, as someone who faced responsibilities squarely (paid bills on time and saved for a rainy day), tried to encourage other people, especially his children and grand-children, and gave four years of [his] life for a principle—nonresistance.” This he did.

 Also published at http://www.themennonite.org/issues/13-12/articles/The_most_meaningful_time_of_life

God’s Redeeming Love
Written Winter of 2005

Easter is just around the corner and the warm breezes of spring are calling us to go outdoors.  We want to again experience the new life, the resurrection power present in spring.  Sometimes the heaviness of winter and its depressing issues force us to plead for the increased light and redemption found in spring.

I felt tremendous sadness recently when I heard about a local coach who lost his job due to a crime he committed 20 years ago.  He had committed the “unpardonable sin” in our society today:  child molestation. He was actually a good coach and had been well-liked till someone found a record on the internet of what he had done many years earlier. While I agree that this is an egregious act, I felt sadness that someone in his shoes can’t redeem himself by good behavior, even after 20 years. So, I was wondering if we make sexual offenders the “lepers” of today, the ones that are too ugly to get close to, afraid that their sexual sickness may pass on to us?  I don’t know what I would do if I ever found myself in this position with no hope of redemption.

One of my favorite literary lines is from Raisin in the Sun when Mama says, “Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most, when they done good and made things easy for everybody?  Well, then you ain’t through learning—because that ain’t the time at all.  It’s when he’s at his lowest and can’t believe in himself cause the world done whipped him so.”

So, I wish for all of us a cleansing spirit in this Easter season.  Let’s let go of the old prejudices and hatreds that hold us back, and cling to the acceptance and forgiveness we see in the cross: Christ’s redeeming act of love. –BBM

Beauty of Compliments
Written Spring of 2006

I heard on Oprah recently that if you want to improve your marriage, a good way is to tell your partner three things you appreciate about him or her every day.  This counselor said that he and his wife give each other three compliments, big or small, each night before they go to sleep. It could be as little as “I appreciated the way you cleared up the dishes tonight” or “I liked the color blue that you wore today.” This made me wonder how many other relationships could be improved if we focused more on the positive rather than the negative. Who knows, maybe even my relationship with my two teenage boys could improve with compliments.

I know that traditionally Mennonites have been more reticent and perhaps felt like complimenting others encouraged false pride, but I’m not sure that is biblically-based. In fact, it almost seems like Philippians 4:8 encourages such a positive, affirmative outlook on ourselves and others, when it says ” Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” It’s just so much easier to think about negative characteristics of ourselves and others, isn’t it?

I think we all could use more compliments. Sincere compliments are preferable, but after some thought I realized that I may appreciate a compliment from my supervisor at work even if it wasn’t sincere. (I really have no objection to delusional thinking!) Hank Fox, a humorous freelance writer says, “The really weird thing about compliments is that they cost the giver not one red cent.  And yet they can be gold to the person getting them.  You’d think more people would make the very slight effort it takes to do it.  And yet it seems most people don’t.”

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel like I am fighting a daily battle of gratitude versus resentment. Henri Nouwen suggests, “Healing happens often by leading people to gratitude, for the world is full of resentment.” I believe that God encourages us by His love to continue to see the beauty and goodness in others…and perhaps three compliments a day is a good way to start!

My great-grandfatther, Daniel Heebner, with one of his grandchildren.

Stories Passed Down from Generation to Generation
Written in Fall of 2003

When coming home from an evening program at Christopher Dock Mennonite High School, my dad would sometimes choose to cross the bridge on Cassell Road where my family believed the following events took place.  My dad (Merrill Benner) being very familiar with the story from my mother (Sara Heebner Benner) and her side of the family, would dramatically re-enact the events, complete with horse whinnies, screams, and the slitting noise of the penknife…all in our car, of course.  One time this got too intense for me and I dreamt about it that night.  But even after the childhood fears were gone, this sad story left an indelible impression on me.  My grandfather was Albert Heebner, father to Sara Heebner. This is a write-up from the time, believed to be written by Mrs Irvin (Eva) Kratz:

1898

Double Drowning Tragedy along the Skippack Creek

Shortly before noon on Sunday, May 15, there occurred a sad accident near the George Hartzel home when Daniel G. Heebner and family of four boys and one girl, Mary (the youngest child), and Allen, a son of Cyrus Clemmer of Hatfield, were on their way to visit Mrs. (Sallie) Heebner’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob S. Landes, a mile from the scene.

They started to cross the low plank bridge, which at the time was surrounded and covered with water to the depth of eighteen inches, due to a heavy rainfall on Sunday and the previous night. The height of the bridge was about four feet, and was often under water.  It had a railing on both sides, but the swollen stream had taken the right side railing with the tide.  The horse, a newly purchased animal, was leaning to the right near the edge of the bridge, and because of the waves on the left side, became frightened and unmanageable. He stepped down over the edge, dragging the wagon with him so that the one front wheel went down, too, plunging Mr. and Mrs. Heebner and the little girl headlong into the current.  Mr. Heebner caught hold of one wheel to save himself, grabbing around in the water for his wife and little girl, to no avail.  This was the last time the two persons were seen alive.  They were taken under the bridge with the stream.

Mr. Heebner stood wringing his hands when others came to rescue.  Horace, the oldest of the boys, quickly cut the cover of the back of the huckster wagon with his penknife, and with the help of the father, succeeded in wading across the water-covered bridge and walking to the home of the grandparents.  Jacob, the second oldest and eleven years of age, helped all but Albert, the five-year-old, from the water-filled vehicle.  Jacob dragged him to safety by one foot.  He had also grabbed Mary’s foot, he says, but being held too tightly by her Mother’s arm, she could not be saved.  Mary had been in the back seat chatting with her brothers during the journey, but within a short distance from the place of the accident, she became tired and begged to go sit on her Mother’s lap.  Mrs. Heebner is remembered to have responded, “Let Mary come up front.  She wants to see the water, too.”

After the accident, Mr. Heebner, a nearly frantic man, could not be persuaded to leave the site.  In the evening, at seven, when the rain receded, the search began for the bodies.  Mary was found, at nine PM. The search was kept up to a late hour, but the body of Mrs. Heebner was not found until Monday at one o’clock PM. The search had started early in the morning with boats and ropes spun across the stream.  Three hundred men were gathered.

Mrs. (Sara, referred to as Sallie Landes) Heebner’s age was 31 years, 6 months, 2 days.  Mary’s age was 2 years, 10 months, 27 days.  Burial was on Ascension Day, May 19, 1898 at the Plain Church (Plains Mennonite Church). Two thousand people witnessed and viewed the bodies.  The text of the funeral was Lamentations 1:12.