The Promised Land is Very Near

This day is getting very near for my father-in-law

What a day that will be,
When my Jesus I shall see,
When I look upon His face,
The one who saved me by His grace,
When He takes me by the hand,
And leads me through the promised land,
What a day, Glorious Day that will be.

I love how songs speak to me during difficult times. What Dad will soon see is so much better than what we have here on earth. But oh I will miss that man. Fly away Dad to your place in the promised land. Thanks for the memories. I am so fortunate to have known you.

Sometimes a Pictureless Memory is Worth More Than a Thousand Words

There are some things that are etched into your memory that you will never forget. In this day and age we are always snapping pictures to capture "the moment" and I am as guilty of doing that as the next person. But sometimes it is just good to put away the camera and capture the memory in your heart.

One of the memories that I have of my mom is several weeks before she died. Steve and I were at Landis Homes visiting her on a Sunday afternoon. We usually took her to the cafe at the Home for supper but she said she was really hungry for a hot dog and that was something they never served there so she hadn't had one for a long time. At first Steve and I were just going to pass it off and say she would just have to do without one and then we kind of looked at each other and said, "well, why don't we try to get her one." We loaded her into our car and drove to a nearby Sonic where we purchased her a hot dog and she happily ate it. It was sort of an inconvenience but it meant so much to her that we were glad we made the effort to find her one. Four days later she was suddenly no longer able to swallow and keep food down and in a few short weeks she died. I cannot tell you how many times since then Steve and I have mentioned how thankful we were that we took Mom out for a hot dog that day. No, I don't have a picture of her eating the hot dog, but I sure will never forget that memory.

On Thanksgiving Day, because Steve's dad's health has been declining, we decided to take the meal to their house. Over the years, I have often had Steve's mom and dad at my house on Thanksgiving Day as Steve's siblings had family gatherings with their spouse's family. When my dad was alive, he would join us too. I would also invite any of my children who didn't have other plans as well, and normally some of them came, but usually not all. This year, when I mentioned to my children that I was making the meal and taking it to eat at Grandpa and Grandma's house, they all said that they would come as well. Some had other gatherings at noon but all felt it was important to come for supper.

I left Mom make the turkey  (I knew she would want to do something) with instructions that we would get there early to carve it. Kristen made the desserts (huge help for me!) and I made everything else. I spent most of Thanksgiving morning making food and then we packed it up and drove to Mom & Dad's.

Dad was weak and using his oxygen most of the time. When it was time to eat, we helped him to the head of the table and Steve asked if he wanted to say the prayer. We all bowed our heads and Dad thanked the Lord for all our blessings and family and food among other things. I wondered if this was the last time I would hear him leading the prayer before a meal. The food was passed and everyone ate more than they needed to. It was rewarding to see Dad fill his plate and eat it all and then take seconds as well.

After the meal, we helped him to his chair and he put his oxygen on again. When the dishes had been washed we all gathered in the living room around Mom and Dad. I gave them each a bag with the words on "I'm thankful for Grandpa because.... and "I'm thankful for Grandma because..." Inside were strips of  paper on which each of us had written down something that we were thankful especially for them. They took turns pulling the papers out of their bag and reading them out loud. After they read one they had to guess who had written it. Some were easy like, "I'm thankful that you introduced me to Julissa," and some were more difficult for them to guess, "I'm thankful that you love me" (Alexis).

I did not pull my camera out to take a picture, but I didn't need to. Sitting there and watching them pull those papers out of their bags and reading them and looking around the room and trying to guess who wrote it, will always be a picture in my mind and I believe in my children's as well. As the slogan goes, "it was priceless."

The next day, Dad was much worse. As I write this, I don't know if that may have been the last time that he will have been able to really enjoy our presence. Maybe there will be more times and maybe their won't. However, I'm pretty sure (barring a miracle) that he will not be with us for another Thanksgiving Day. I know that I will always look back on that day with thankfulness that we went the extra mile and took the meal to their house and that Steve and I and our children and grandchildren got to spend that special day with them. No picture needed.

Thankful Jar

In less than 48 hours it will be Thanksgiving Day. We are looking forward to spending a good part of the day with Steve's parents and our children and grandchildren. Steve's dad is still doing fairly well, but we thought it would be easier to take the Thanksgiving meal to them at their house rather than have them travel to our place like they have often done for previous Thanksgivings. We will enjoy a special day with family and as with any time when we get together with Steve's dad it will be in the the back of our minds as to whether this is the last time we get to celebrate an occasion like this with him present. We continue to take one day at a time and appreciate every moment that he still feels well enough to join in the festivities. 

As I've shared before on this blog,

{Excerpt from Blog-December 2, 2013...Well, here we are at the busy time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually never feel settled at this time of year for a number of reasons. Although I absolutely love Christmas music and beautiful lights and the significance of Jesus' birth, I always have the feeling that there is something that I need to do, and someplace that I need to go, and something that I need to buy, and that somehow I never quite do the whole Christmas season as well as everyone else does. I suppose it is just too much looking at what everyone else is doing, how beautifully they are decorating, and how many dozens of Christmas cookies that they made etc, that makes me feel inadequate and think that I don't do this time of the year justice, and that my poor family suffers because of it...}

sometimes I let the pressures and demands of this season of the year overwhelm me. Right now, there are some things in my life that feel worrisome and I can let myself be consumed with anxiety as I wonder how everything will work out. Add that to the typical stress I feel over the holiday season and I can easily become depressed and lethargic. However, on the bright side, there is also a lot of good things going on in my life and it is on those that I want to put my focus on the next month. I have decided to make a "Thankful Jar" for this season. Each day, starting Thanksgiving Day and ending on Christmas Day, I am going to write on a piece of paper something specific that happened that day for which I am thankful and put it into the jar. 

I am actually really looking forward to this activity. I think it will help with my overall outlook on life and maybe it will open my eyes as to how much I really have to be thankful for. Hopefully there will be days when it will be hard to select one thing because there are numerous ones I could choose from. On Christmas Day, I am going to open my jar and read through them all. That will be my Christmas present to myself!

Anyone want to join me? Steve? J

ALL RISE!!

**Sorry for the length of this post. I guess I got a little carried away with my story telling.**

In March of this year, I got a notice in the mail that I needed to report for 3 days of federal jury duty in Philadelphia the end of April. In all my 55 years, I have never, ever been called for jury duty. I wouldn't have minded going to the Lancaster County Courthouse but I wanted no part of traveling to Philadelphia. However, this order is not something that you ignore, so I dutifully lined up a motel (I would be reimbursed for lodging since I lived more than 55 miles away from the courthouse), and resigned myself to the fact. I was scheduled to begin my service on a Monday and when I called on the Friday before to receive final instructions, I was told that I would NOT need to report this time, but  would be called again within the year. I was ecstatic! Surely I had escaped and hopefully that was just something they said and I would never hear from them again.

Unfortunately, true to their word, I received another official letter the beginning of September which stated that I was to report for jury duty Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, October 28, 29, and 30. I again lined up my motel and hoped desperately that I would not have to actually go.  On Tuesday evening, October 27, I called the number to listen to the recording that would tell me if I needed to report. I was number 108 and the recording informed me that only numbers 0 through 64 needed to show up at the courthouse on Wednesday, October 28. Numbers 65 through 300 would need to call again the following evening to get their instructions for Thursday. I was cautiously optimistic. Hopefully there was a low number of cases on the agenda and I would again escape actually having to serve. However, when I called the next evening, the monotone voice informed me that numbers 65 though 224 needed to be present for jury duty the next day.

I hurriedly threw clothes in a suitcase and Steve was kind enough to drive me to Philadelphia to the motel. He stayed overnight and then left early Thursday morning to go back home. My motel was within walking distance of the courthouse so a little after 8:00 in the morning I walked the four blocks to the James A Byrne Federal Courthouse. After going through security I arrived at the the large jury waiting room and sat with the other prospective jurors.

It was a long day. One thing we all learned is that when the clerk tells you that he will return in fifteen minutes, count on it being at least an hour and a half. In the morning they called the names of 40 people to be dismissed to a courtroom for jury selection in a criminal case and in the afternoon  24 others were called for selection in a civil case. Each time, I breathed a sigh of relief when my name was not called. If I could just make it through the day, hopefully they would dismiss us and not make any of us come back on Friday. Those that were called but not actually chosen to sit on the jury in either of the above two cases, eventually returned again to the waiting room. We all waited anxiously for the clerk to come back and give us the next day's instructions. Finally, about 3:45, he returned and told us that there would be no more jury selection today so we were dismissed BUT all of us had to come back tomorrow. You should have heard the moaning and groaning. A young girl, Brittany (not her actual name), who was sitting in the row behind me was so angry. She sputtered that she would not be back tomorrow because she couldn't afford to miss any more work. Some of us around her kind of smiled, because even if you say you are not going to return, everyone knows that you actually will. Believe me, there were a lot of people leaving that room that did not want to return the next day.

I spent a relaxing evening in my motel room. I did go for a walk and found where I could get the El train that would take me to the 30th Street Train Station so I could get the train home Friday evening. I was hoping I would be finished with my jury duty by early afternoon and be home in time for dinner.

I and my fellow prospective jurors arrived back at the courthouse on Friday morning at 8:30 sharp just as we had been instructed. At 9:15, the clerk came in and took attendance. He called out everyone's name and all answered that they were present except for one. Brittany was not there. Those of us who had been sitting close to her were surprised. Even though none of us wanted to be there, we would have never had the brazenness to just not return. She was only twenty-three years old and I guess saying no to the United States District Court didn't faze her.

The clerk assured us that he would return within 15 minutes to call another jury. One hour and 15 minutes later he was back. He informed us that 24 prospective jurors would be called from which the Court would be choosing 8 to serve on a civil trial. He began calling names and the 4th one was Brittany! After being told that she wasn't there, he muttered around and passed her name off to the other clerk that was helping him. (I really wonder what, if any, her punishment will be). I held my breath as he continued. "Number 13, - Mary Lehman." With a sigh, I took my place on chair number 13 (well actually 12, because Brittany wasn't there and they didn't replace her.)

The twenty-three of us were ushered up to the 9th floor and into a courtroom. As we filed in, the attorneys and their clients who were already seated, stared at us. We sat down on the first two rows of seats in the gallery. I was the last one on the first row.  Suddenly the clerk called out loudly, "All rise!" We and the attorneys and their clients scrambled to our feet and in swished the Honorable Mark Kearney in his black robe. The judge took his place, smiled at us and told us to be seated. He told us a little about the case and that they expected the trial to last until Wednesday of the following week! I thought, "oh no! Please don't choose me!"

The judge then asked all of us some general questions, to which we were to hold our number up if the answer was yes. He started out with asking if any of us knew the attorneys, the plaintiff or defendant or if we had ever heard of the two companies they were representing. He continued to ask some more questions and I only put my number up once when he asked if any of us or our spouse owned a business. After that he called a few of us up privately to ask some more questions with him and the two attorneys present. My number was called and I was asked exactly what kind of business we operated. When I responded with "composting" they wondered what we composted. I answered as best I could all the while hoping desperately that being involved in a business would get me dismissed from being chosen.

The attorneys passed notes back and forth and within 15 minutes, the clerk announced that the jury was selected. She would call out 8 numbers and if your number was called you were to rise and walk to the jury box. She called in order, so I listened while 4 numbers ahead of me were called. "1, 4, 9, 12." I was thinking, "please, please don't say 13." "Thirteen!" she said. Reluctantly, I got up and seated myself in the jury box. Three more numbers were called and then those that hadn't been chosen were dismissed to go back to the jury waiting room. I watched longingly as they filed out the door.

The judge then looked at the eight of us and said something like this, "I know probably none of you want to be here, but jurors are a very important part of our judicial system and without you the trial cannot go forward. Thank you for your service to this Court." After some further comments and instructions the trial began and the attorneys made their opening statements.

When we were finally given a lunch break, five of us went to the Subway across the street and got to know each other a little bit. One of  the questions we asked each other was where we were from. When I responded, "Lancaster County," one woman looked at me and said, "me too! I'm from Millersville!" That was pretty amazing that two of us lived so close to each other. I will call her Annie but that is not her actual name. I found out that Annie had brought the train to Philly and was planning to return home on it that evening. We made plans to travel together. Although I had not purchased my ticket yet, I figured that I would have time to do that when we got to the station. We were hoping to make the 5:35 train.

After a long afternoon listening to testimony, we were finally dismissed at 4:45 for the weekend, with instructions to return on Monday at 9:00 and not to discuss the case with anyone or look up any of the parties on the Internet. I told Annie that there was no way I could make the 5:35 train because I still had to go back to my motel and check out and that she should just go on without me. I would catch the next train which left about an hour and a half later. However, she insisted that she didn't mind and that she would just tag along back to the motel with me so we could stay together. She thought if we hurry there was a slight chance we might still make the train. We dashed back to the motel where I checked out and made reservations for the following week.

I had assumed that we would get the El train to the 30th Street station, but when I mentioned this to Annie, she said that she never takes a subway or bus but prefers to use a taxi. Since we could get a taxi right from the motel, I thought it might be faster and agreed. Wrong! Taking a taxi through Philadelphia between 5:00 and 5:30 on a Friday afternoon is not a fast way to get through town. As we got into the back of the taxi I made the remark that I couldn't remember ever being in a taxi before. Annie looked at me incredulously like I must have just arrived from Mars, but then she commented that she didn't think she had ever been on a bus or subway so I guess we were just from two different walks of life.

As we sat stuck in traffic, we realized that it was very unlikely that we would make the train. We mentioned this out loud and the taxi driver heard us. He tried to speed up and dart in and out of traffic but there was only so much he could do. I texted Steve, "not going to make the 5:35 train. Will have to wait for the next one." I told Annie that even if we did make it to the station before the train left, I still had to purchase my ticket. She suggested that I do that right there in the back of the taxi. Now, I am fairly proficient with my Smart Phone but buying a train ticket in the back of a taxi on the way to the train station was a little out of my comfort zone. I am much better with a big screen. However, since it appeared to be the best option I decided to try it. Finding the correct train, typing in my name, address, email and cell phone number along with my credit card information was challenging and it probably took me ten minutes with Annie looking on and helping me but eventually I persevered and the sale went through. By this time it was 5:25 and we were still not at the station and the driver was still trying to navigate through the traffic. Finally at 5:31, the driver crossed over the last line of traffic and got close to the station. There were many cars and taxis picking up and dropping off so we really weren't in front of the station yet but Annie and I told the driver that this was fine and we would just get out here. We paid him and I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and started to follow Annie as we rushed toward the building. Unfortunately, I had packed in a large suitcase and as I pulled it behind me I couldn't keep up with Annie. She saw my dilemma and offered to take my suitcase (she was younger than me). I gladly handed it over to her. We barreled into the building, looked at the big screen to see what track our train was on and ran (well, walked quickly) over to the escalator that would take us down to the track. The man said we could still make it if we hurried (what did he think we had been doing!). We were the last ones to enter the train and it was packed! We walked through several cars before we found one seat that I sank into and further along that same train car Annie found one. I'm pretty sure she wasn't even sitting when the train started moving. Thankfully I texted Steve, "WE MADE THE TRAIN!"

Sunday evening, Steve took me back to my motel. In the morning he went home and I walked again to the courthouse where I spent the day listening to testimony. One interesting thing I learned that I don't think I knew before was that everyone in the courtroom stands when the jury enters. I always knew that you stand when a judge comes into the room but I didn't know the same thing applied to jurors. Before we entered or reentered the courtroom we would line up. When we were ready, the clerk would open the door and yell, "ALL RISE!" Everyone (including the judge who was already seated) would stand while we filed in. The first time we came in after a break, most of us walked to our seat and sat down right away. Then the judge said, "you may be seated." We realized that we were to stay standing until the judge seated us. By the end of our jury duty we were pros at lining up and walking in. But it was still always a little funny to have everyone stand as we walked to the jury box.

At the end of the day on Monday, the judge informed us that the trial was moving along a little faster than they had anticipated and we should expect to begin deliberations by noon on Tuesday.  Hoping that we would be able to reach a verdict by late afternoon, I purchased myself a ticket for the 6:45 train home on Tuesday evening. (Annie's husband was with her and they were planning to stay until Wednesday so I wouldn't be traveling home with her.)

We did indeed begin deliberations around noon on Tuesday, but it soon became apparent that it was not going to be a quick verdict. I'm not going to stay much about the trial (that would have to be a whole other blog because this one is waaay too long already) except that it was a small company suing a big company for a breach of contract. While I am all for protecting the little guy, it was quite apparent that both sides had a lot of issues. We were miles apart on the jury when it came to reaching a unanimous decision. Some thought the little company should receive as much as they could possibly get and others thought a much lower number would be adequate compensation. Neither side had any intention of budging. The hours crept along and at 5:45 I realized that I probably wasn't going to make it home that evening. Apparently everyone else began to understand that too, and slowly both sides began to give a little. In the end we were able to come to a unanimous decision and reached a verdict.

Afterward the judge came and talked to us for another half hour or so. I will just mention that the judge was really nice. He was 53 years old and had just been seated as a federal judge in January. Did you know that the President of the United States is actually the one who calls and asks you to consider accepting the position of a federal judge? Judge Kearney said that "when you answer the phone and it is the President of the United States on the other end," you pay attention. He went out of his way to answer our questions and thank us for serving on the jury.

By the time I got back to my motel, it was 7:00 and too late for me to make the 6:45 train. I was tired and mentally fried and wasn't sure if I wanted to stay in Philadelphia another night or catch a later train. I really wanted to go home but didn't think I had the energy to navigate the unfamiliar El train to 30th Street. Then I remembered the taxi! Even though it cost a little bit more, it was much more relaxing to sit in the back of a taxi and be driven to the entrance of the train station and dropped off. So, after having never ridden in a taxi in my life, within four days I rode in one twice! I changed my train ticket and had plenty of time before boarding the 8:15 train to Lancaster. Steve met me at the station and I was very happy to return to Mt. Nebo and the life I am accustomed to.

I would not say that I enjoyed serving on a jury but I will admit that there were parts of it that were very interesting. I will not be disappointed if I am never called to be on one again, but I suppose I can look back on it and view it as an educational and enlightening experience.

A few days ago, I received a letter from the Honorable Mark Kearney thanking me again for conscientiously and willingly fulfilling the promise of "our framers who originated this jury system across the street from the Courthouse over two hundred and twenty-five years ago."

You are welcome, Judge Kearney.