Post #1 of My Sixtieth Birthday Series: People Who Helped Shape Me (First Decade)

I turned 60 last week. On the approach of this milestone birthday and since, I've been thinking a lot about how I got here. How I came to be the person I am today. I believe I owe it to God, of course; it is in Him that I "live and move and have my being", as it says in Acts 17:28. But I am also indebted to the individuals He has placed in my life. So many people have influenced me in one way or another over the years. It's a delight to ponder this special group of contributors and their contributions. 

I've decided to do a blog series that documents some of my reflections as I consider this journey one decade at a time. Perhaps you will find yourself in one or more of the categories in the different decades, and if not, please know that I'm including you anyway. After all, I wouldn't be a blogger if it weren't for the people who actually read my stuff, so there you go. Thank you for your part in helping to shape me into who I am, as of June 14, 2025: Danette Martin, a brand-new sixty-year-old! 

First Decade: 1965-1975, ages newborn to 10 years old

My mom, Eva Kauffman Schrock 

Not only did Mom do her part in shaping me physically, she helped to build my character, and was a strong part of my spiritual formation in those early years. Because of her, I have freckles, I do household chores with precision, I inherited a propensity for getting into a giggle fit at inappropriate times, I talk to God about things as big as world leaders and as small as a lost toy, I get grouchy upon spending too much money, I love teaching, and my heart goes out to suffering creatures, human or otherwise. 

My dad, Daniel Schrock

He's the reason I am particular about doing things right even if it takes a long time. He's deepened my passion for words and The Word, for close family relationships, for good music, for creativity in photography, for learning new things, for taking an interest in people and remembering their names. Because of his example as a father who not only expected obedience but also offered much understanding, acceptance, and affection, (and still does, to this day) my concept of God takes on a similar shape. 

My twin sister, Annette Schrock Bechtel 

She's the one who taught me the joy of togetherness by living it with me as my look-alike in facial features, many expressions and actions, and dress (for the first sixteen or so years of our lives, anyway). With her as my co-experiencer of life in a myriad of ways, I learned to be as companionable and compassionate (hopefully) as I am competitive. Without her example, it wouldn't be as easy for me to be grateful, organized, discerning, and encouraging. I also wouldn't be so apt to hoot with laughter and get teary in the same minute during a phone call, to get a cold sore the same week she does, to buy her the same card or give her the same type of birthday gift as the one she gives me.

My brothers Todd Schrock and Tim Schrock 

As we were growing up, they gave me plenty of opportunity to hone my childcare skills, although they would give the talent a different title, such as Biggest Boss of Brothers, perhaps. While I appreciate their help in developing my ability to take teasing, I can thank them even more for forming my idea of brotherhood by their partnership in creative play, comradeship in work projects, and their fellowship around tables and in vehicles. (How many children can fit, a.k.a. squeeze/cram/squish, into one car on a school run?) By the value they place on staying connected with family, they continue to enrich my life and shape my sense of worth.

Grandpa LeRoy and Grandma Anna Schrock 

(L to R behind us twins in the photo: Grandpa Kauffmans, Great-grandpa Levi Schrock, Grandpa Schrocks) 

Grandpa Schrocks instilled in me the importance of church by their example of being there on time, sitting up front, Grandpa sharing a story (through tears) during testimony time and heartily joining in the singing (especially A Wonderful Savior is Jesus My Lord), and Grandma willingly and thoroughly cleaning the church building during the week. They influenced me through their generosity at home, too, sharing popcorn and pink peppermints, fun toys like Fisher Price little people and fun music such as the Medical Mission Sisters and Harmony Three on vinyl records, and speaking words of admonition and encouragement. 

Grandpa Andrew and Grandma Aletha Kauffman 

Grandpa Kauffmans, through no real intention on their part, gave me the experience of having one set of grandparents living far enough away to warrant a trip to get there, and often staying over a few nights. Visiting them taught me a love of country life, as well as pushed me into learning new things, what with opportunities to play by the creek, hike in the river bottoms, fish with a bamboo pole, mix up a pretend "stew" with field corn kernels and tiny pinecones, gather asparagus from the garden (and later try to choke down the compulsory bite or two of it, cooked) and pad barefoot through the straw (and squishy bits of chicken poop) in the hen house to gather fresh-laid eggs. I also watched Grandpa Kauffmans interact with neighbors and community people, which showed me what sharing Jesus' love with others looks like.

Other Relatives 

Uncles and aunts, especially the ones that weren't married yet or were newly married and not quite so involved with raising my cousins, became my heroes as they paid attention to me, inviting me into conversation, games, walks, or even - wonder of wonders - a road trip with them! Some of them taught me how to do new, frightening things like striking a match to light the fire on the trash in the burn barrel, and some were kind of scary (but kind of sounding just like mom) when they made threats like, "If anybody walks in that muddy garden one more time, they're going to get it!" But they sure produced some fun cousins to admire, make forts with in the snow, play rousing outdoor games with, and later, to confide in, attend Bible School with, and eventually compare parenting/grandparenting notes with.  

Church People 

I look back on the small group of people that comprised my church community, and feel so blessed to have had their influence in my life. Some left a posititve impression on me by the way they taught the Sunday School and Summer Bible School classes I attended, or had a memorable "children's class" in a Sunday evening service. Some led the singing engagingly, or interacted meaningfully with us children in the audience during a devotional at church. The informal times in their homes had an impact, too. Whether it was sharing their actually-too-big-for-me bike for riding on their amazing trails in the woods, delicious homemade food at sewing circle, a nut-cracking bee - a social event for all ages, or singing at the local nursing home, they gave me the joy of belonging. 

Schoolmates in Public School 

Although they only had one year to do it, my teachers and classmates at Hayward School helped to shape my views on education and the experience of learning in community. Because of them, I believe that Grade One teachers should have the gentleness and patience of Miss Bowman, that assistant teachers can foster learning by rousing curiosity and excitement (such as having students guess what you're shaking in a tin can and allowing each student to have one of the candies after you've disclosed that it's lemon drops rattling around in there), that girl drama happens early in school life but it can and usually does resolve at some point, and that first-grade boys, although popular opinion might lead you to believe otherwise, can be quite charming. 

Neighbors 

In my young life, our neighbors provided hospitality, entertainment, and wonder. They helped to expand my knowledge and to shape my sense of community. Because of them, I learned that there are different languages in the world, a variety of ethnic dishes, and there are various ways of adding humor to one's life. The Frys and Sperlings, the Phillips and Leffingwell (sp?) families, the Smiths and Dietz's, the Cormacks and Hamblins and Froemels, and so many more, all contributed something to our lives by being themselves and sharing their particular interests and abilities. I'm sure that our Northwoods Beach neighbors Earl and Grace had no idea that they inspired in me a lifelong love of word games when they introduced to our family the newest sensation in word-lover circles, a fascinating board game called Scrabble.  

Am I the Only One?

 

Am I the only person who...

...gets a little thrill out of color matching (with or without trying) such as the hanger to the garment on laundry day, or the chip clip to the snack bag's prominent graphics on any day?

...kind of hesitates to throw the first piece of trash into the wastebasket after replacing the full garbage bag with a new one, not wanting to mess up the clean look?

...thinks that the McDonald's workers may actually be trained to slap the slice of cheese at an angle one-third off the patty when assembling a fillet of fish sandwich for the customer? 

...has separate and distinct pronunciations for the words hock and hawk?

...sometimes silently shares an unsolicited tip with someone on social media: proofreading is a marvelous writer's tool (eliminates calling your elderly friend a dear old soup, for instance)?

...likes to end a full-course meal with eating a little bit something salty yet?

...tries hard to avoid touching a picture of a spider or snake? (especially its head) (especially if its fangs are bared) 

...gets a runny nose from eating hot food (both from spicy hot and temperature hot)?

...collects malpropisms and other fun/funny word stuff? (Who will steerhead it? They came to a stallmate)

...overuses parentheses?

...thinks you should comment on this blog post and tell me one of your quirks, (or unique habits, if that description suits you better) since I told you some of mine? 

Finitude and Gratitude

Finitude. It's not a word I come across very often in my reading or listening, and it is certainly not one that I've used myself in conversation. It came up as a theme in a podcast episode I heard this week, though. Author Kelly Kapic and Jonathan Rogers, the host of a writerly podcast called The Habit, used "finitude" numerous times as they discussed Kelly's book, "You're Only Human", published in 2022. 

We humans possess finitude which means we are finite, and therefore have limits or bounds. Kelly claims that our finitude is not a sin, but rather, it is a gift of being human. Thinking carefully about our "creatureliness", says Kelly, "will reveal limits, dependence, love, reliance on the grace of God, and worship." According to him, a proper view of finitude expands our joy of being a creature, and brings the freedom of resting on the promises of our Creator. 

Finitude. What a timely word for me to ponder this week, since the third of May marks the thirtieth anniversary of Mom-Eva's Homegoing. Cancer was a stark and cruel reminder of my biological mom's finitude. It pulled in her limits and bounds relentlessly, too tightly, too soon. She was 51 years old when she died. Finitude means that I have now lived a longer time without her than the amount of time that I knew her when she was alive. 

I shrink from the memories of her loss - the fading of her signature strength and vitality - and our loss - the fading of a beautiful light in our lives when she left us. I shrink from the realization that I, her daughter, have also inherited her finitude. It saddens me, this finiteness does, and sometimes my sorrow edges toward despair. Finite just sounds too much like...final. 

That's why I'm grateful for Kelly's reminder to think more carefully about creatureliness. Are we humans made earthen vessels, ordinary clay pots we might say, for the purpose of containing Treasure? The cracks of our finitude allow the light of God's excellence to shine through. What if our limits are to showcase His boundlessness? To remember we are creatures is to acknowledge that we have a Creator. We don't have to get it all nor do we have to be all, because He is. We are free to be finite because He is infinite. 

I wonder if Mom understood this better than I realized. I know she sometimes struggled with having high expectations of herself and then feeling frustrated when she couldn't meet them. But she definitely developed ways of expressing her joy of living. She also knew what it was to rest on the promises of her Creator. I can't think of a better legacy to impart. 

That's why, in my reflection on finitude, I come to gratitude. I'm grateful for Mom's example of doing both outer and inner hard work. She had lots of ambition and accomplished much, whether it was gardening, cleaning resort cabins, making Sunday dinners, raking the lawn, writing family histories, or raising us children to adulthood. 

She also recognized her need for intellectual and spiritual growth. Mom read widely, studied Scripture, participated in Sunday School discussions and meaningful conversations, and prayed (and got us children to pray) about everything no matter how large or small. And while I have no idea what all she and The Spirit discussed during His Training Sessions, I know she had definite marks of His beauty as a result. 

I'm grateful for the way that Mom loved life and how she demonstrated that love in spite of and in the midst of her limitations. A distinct memory I have of her illustrates this well. There was an open field in front of our place, from which hefty summer breezes would sometimes sweep across our yard. These winds would frustrate me with their power and persistence, and I would rather stay indoors than to go outside and be at their mercy in force and unpredictability. But Mom relished being out in the gale. She'd stand out in the yard, lifting her arms and grinning broad with satisfaction, exclaiming to anyone who cared to listen, "Oh, I just looove the wind!"

When the cancer had her in its tightest grip, Mom showed us what it means to have one's "inner man renewed day by day" even as the "outward man is perishing". (II Corinthians 4:16) Even as I remember her example all these years later, it helps me to "not lose heart". 

I remembered Mom's example again this morning during the sermon at church. The speaker emphasized the importance of having a firm foundation for structures in the physical world, and much more so in our spiritual lives. He pointed out that it is in hard times that the sureness of our foundation is tested. This also provides an opportunity to glorify the builder. If a house is still standing after a hurricane has gone through the area, people will notice, and say "That's the kind of foundation I want! Who built that house?" 

My Mom was an imperfect, finite human but she had a perfect and infinite Builder. I'm grateful to know that she experienced much joy in living for Him while she was on earth but my heart overflows with gratitude to know that she is now in His presence, where there is fullness of joy forever. 

An infinite Giver gave me a mother with finitude. I'm grateful to Him for the gift of being her daughter, and for the gift of remembering her. 

For Teachers, A Week Before Christmas

 

O Word made flesh, You dwell among us

in the classroom

during the last week of school before the Christmas holidays

during the language arts test they must retake

because not enough words and their ways

would take the first time.

Help us, when words fail us (we use too many or too few),

to partake of Yours.

And we shall find our weary, hungry bones

take on flesh,

and live.

 

You dwell among us

during the Christmas party

when they are too much,

whether in volume

or sweetness that is merely in the food.

Remind us that You were young once, too,

when You barely knew the difference

between eager participation, and overload.

Did your emotions run high on Your way to the Temple?

Remind us that You were there.

 

You dwell among us

when we’re over in the church auditorium

practicing up on stage for the program

that’s happening for real a few nights from now

and they forget their lines

and they pester their neighbor

and fidget

and…hey, what’s that out the window?

O Word made flesh,

when we’re on stage,

the center of our self-made stage,

breathe audibly enough to let us know

You’re waiting

in the wings

with Your wings

to cover us with

Your Peace.

Trip to South Africa - Part Three

Day Nine

~ We visited a farm that is part of a Two-a-Day Group. Judging by their name choice, I’m guessing they want to promote the healthy habit of eating two fruits daily. I loved the setting of this farm. It was like an oasis in a desert, with lots of green space (because of constant watering) and a beautiful little river flowing through the property. The owners are welcoming people; besides managing the orchard, they run a small campground and mini resort area (with stone cottages by the river), and rent out a hospitality center as a venue for events such as weddings and parties.

Beautiful corner in the welcome center

~ We rode out to the orchards in bin trailer trains again. Yep, we did a back home no-no for the second time on this trip!😦It wasn’t the most comfy of rides. The day was very hot, so we sweated in the blazing sunshine and jounced along the rutted laneways while sitting on a narrow bin edge that didn’t have any give. Fording small streams and crossing the river on a low water bridge with the tractor and wagons was a cool diversion. On the last ride, I discovered that I could stand on a little metal platform between the bins, instead of climbing into a bin over the side. If I’d have known about that earlier, I could have saved myself some un-lady-like moments.

~ I got orcharded out already before lunch. At one point, I followed the example of some other tour members and sat down on the grass in the shade of a tree row while the speaker gave his talk. This far into our tour, root stocks and vigors and spray concentration rates have ceased to interest me, if they ever have, truth be told.

V-style tree training system

~ Lunch, a welcome event, was held at the shaded hospitality center. We got to experience eating an authentic Cape Town dish, lamb braai, that had been roasted on a spit over hot coals, and was served with a special sauce. We also had a very large lettuce and garden vegetable salad, a barley salad with a creamy, mustardy dressing, garlic bread, and couscous with roasted vegetables. All were superb dishes. Dessert was koeksisters, deep-fried doughnut nuggets that are dipped in a syrup with spices right after they are taken out of the hot oil. They are typically served cold. Some pretty sweet immersion, right there.

~ Ken and I had some time to walk around the oasis grounds between the last orchard tour and the bus-loading before heading back to the hotel. I took pictures of flowers and things that interested me. I tried getting a shot of some birds that were entering and exiting a large communal-looking nest in a thorny tree, but I couldn’t get a decent one. I would have at least liked to know what kind of bird I was watching. Where are my birder friends Merle & Edith when I need them? 😊

Weaver bird nest

Unknown fruit

~ We had a free evening back at the hotel in Stellenbosch. We like those. We went on a short walk, had excellent burgers for supper at one of the many eating places on “our street”, played Boggle, and did our phone challenges for the day. We solved the Connections puzzle quite decently, for once.

Day Ten

~ The day arrived sunny and hot, like usual. We were on the bus about an hour and twenty minutes before arriving at the farm where we had the final orchard study of our tour. This farm raises mostly what is known as stone fruit: peaches, plums, and nectarines.

~ I knew we were going to a fruit farm, so it surprised me when we drove in the lane and the first thing we saw was a herd of Holstein cows in a field! We later learned that there are five brothers in the family that owns this farm. Several of them run the dairy side of things and the others do the orchard operations.

~ The nectarine trees we saw were lovely, laden with their deep-colored fruit. It seemed like that block was close to harvest. The most intriguing kind of peaches were the flat variety. Sometimes they are called doughnut peaches, for good reason. Ken gave me a bite of the flat peach he picked, and the “stolen fruit” was indeed sweet. Not to mention juicy and warm, as if it had been heated in an oven. Sun-baked, in this case, though.

~ Our group had lunch at Nuy On the Hill, a gorgeous spot on a rise overlooking valley crops in almost all directions. When we got inside the restaurant, one of our guides told me that the coordinator she was conversing with at the moment has the same name I do. The coordinator was as pleased as I was to discover another Danette. I knew exactly what she meant when she said there are not many of us in the world. 😊

~ After we were all served our delicious hamburger and fries lunch, we enjoyed a fruit-tasting session that had been prepared for us by a company specializing in developing new fruit varieties. We filed by tables with displays that had several varieties each of cherries, peaches, plums, apricots, and nectarines. There were knives available for slicing off samples of the fruit; we were welcome to try any of the kinds we wanted. What a fun and tasty session!

~ In the evening, for our farewell party, our group went to a large venue that was made over from an old farm equipment storage building. I thought the renovations resulted in a blend of rustic and elegant, if that is possible. Our meal certainly was elegant! Its main feature was filet mignon, with melt-in-your-mouth taste and tenderness.

~ During the time of mingling over appetizers that we had outdoors before the dinner proper, I enjoyed chatting with Lisa. She and her husband Harald are fruit farmers from Norway, and she was telling me about some of their country’s customs. The couple’s wedding followed the old farm tradition with its festivities lasting parts of three days, the wedding party and family going out in a boat on the fjord at one point, fiddle-playing, gun-firing, the bride and groom dressing in traditional garb (called a bunad) and the bride wearing a crown, and villagers that were not invited to the wedding coming at 11pm on the middle day to join in the dancing and partying for one full hour. To me, the customs of people and places different from my own are so very fascinating!

~ Some of us left the party earlier than others. We joined the fuddy-duddy group (Carla’s term, not mine) on the first bus going back to the hotel. We enjoyed interacting with Carla and Corey, fruit farmers from Lancaster, PA, throughout the week. When we exchanged goodbyes with them, they invited us to stay with them the next time we travel to Lancaster. Although it likely won’t happen, I would love to be able to keep up our connection with them in that way. 

Days Eleven and Twelve

~ We are beginning our lasts here in South Africa. This morning we had one more breakfast in the Stellenbosch Hotel Kitchen, where there was always a colorful display of fruit, yogurt, meats and cheeses on the breakfast buffet. We took one more walk in town together, mostly along “our path” beside the boulder-lined stream, taking in the wonderful view of the mountain in the background. (Does anyone else adopt certain places and habits as their own after spending a week or two in a strange place, or is that just us?)

The courtyard of our hotel was so lovely.

Sculpture of a gold miner (titled "Digging for Happiness") 
that we passed on our last walk in Stellenbosch 

~ Ken and I had lunch with Niel, a friendly South African who is also in the fruit farming business. He works for Delecta Fruit, one of Martin’s apple suppliers. Ken and Niel talked apples and business while I mostly listened, but I was impressed with the way Niel made me feel included in the meeting. When he found out I’m named after my dad, Dan, he said his name is Daniel, too, but he has Niel as his nickname instead of Dan.

~ I was amazed at how many people Niel knows. A few times while we were sitting at our outdoor patio table, he called out greetings to people that passed by, even though it had been five years since he was back to visit in Stellenbosch. When I commented on this, he explained that he had gone to the university there years ago, so he still has friends in the area from that time. Besides, he said, people in the Western Cape fruit farming business are very connected.

~ Our long trip home went very well, over all. The two lengthy flights were uneventful as far as turbulence goes, and the eight-hour layover in Frankfurt, Germany went rather quickly, especially when I was able to snooze awhile on a somewhat-reclining chair. 

 

~ I’m sure not everyone could say their trip was uneventful, though. I felt concern for the person experiencing some sort of medical emergency during the flight from Frankfurt to Toronto. Twice, a stewardess made an announcement over the intercom regarding the situation, once to call for anyone with medical training to offer assistance, and the second time to ask for someone with Albanian language skills to help with translating. Knowing I couldn’t help out with either of these requests, I took the announcements as a call to pray for all involved.

~ We had some interesting conversations with other travellers this time. While we were waiting to board in Cape Town, I gave up my seat to Jose, a spritely 78-year-old grandma, for a time. She took that as an invitation to engage in conversation, which she swung into with gusto. She was on her way to visit her daughter who has three lovely, lively children who were sure to make their grandma exhawsted. After asking about the significance of my veiling, Jose made a note of the name Mennonite for future study into a group she’d never heard of before.

~ We also visited with a young man sitting beside Ken on the plane. He was from Poland, but is currently studying in Innsbruck, Austria to become an electrical engineer. He was on his way to visit a fellow-student in Victoria, BC, and this was his first time in Canada. He was very observant and excited as we approached Toronto and could see the city and landmarks such as the CN Tower. Another young lady struck up a conversation with us as we were waiting to deplane in Toronto. She lives in Waterloo, and was surprised to learn that we’re part of Martin’s Family Fruit Farm. She has visited the farm a time or two with her family. Traveling sometimes reminds me that it’s a small world we live in.

~ Traveling also reminds me that wherever we go, people are people. I observed this in the airports, when I saw people rush to stand in line to have their boarding pass stamped so they can walk briskly down the boarding ramp so they can wait in line to actually enter the plane so they can press into the aisle, bumping elbows on their way to stall behind numerous people nonchalantly stowing their baggage in the overhead bins.

~ Also at the airport, I learned that some women like to wear their perfume very strong. I learned that moms everywhere are susceptible to a natural response when spoon-feeding their babies: opening and closing their own mouth when they put a bite in the child’s mouth. I also observed that grown men in sophisticated suits are capable of reverting back to boyhood habits. The guy at the Lufthansa ticket agent desk is a case in point. He was picking his nose, I kid you not, in between handling our passports and tagging our check-in luggage. Oh well, he probably doesn’t have a cold right now.

~ Watching people cling to one another and cry over their goodbyes and linger in the airport corridor to look back and wave wildly multiple times makes me think that people’s relationships are still alive and well. To get these glimpses of love thriving among this world’s broken mess of humanity somehow gives me hope.

And this brings us to the end of our trip. It’s been fun sharing these updates with you. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

I like this piece of art commissioned for our trip. 
Fittingly, IFTA, (International Fruit Tree Association) 
and SA (South Africa) '24 are integrated in the zebras' stripes 
and the spots on the leopard are all tiny fruits.