Welcome!
I’m Rhoda, wife of Keith Martin. We are parents to 3 lovely daughters, ages 13, 11, and 7. In May 2023, we transplanted from Lebanon County, Pennsylvania, two hours north to Wilke-Barre. We are active members at Wilkes-Barre Mennonite Church, a 10 year mission outreach in the city and our children attend the mission school. Our 2 acre property is tucked away in the mountains of Bear Creek and we enjoy observing the wildlife up close. We are not hunters, but would rather feed the deer dried corn or apples from our hands. Keith manages an egg distribution center (owned by Martins Quality Eggs, Lancaster PA) called Henny Penny Farms, about a 30 minute drive from home, near Brodheadsville.
In May 2018, my health began to spiral downward and for the next six years, I floundered in the darkness of vague chronic illness: doctors, nutritionists, many supplements, severe food sensitivities, a gallbladder removal, nothing changed. I was not able to retain any nutrients, continued losing weight, and wasn’t able to eat any food or drink water without being sick. In January 2024, I began a gut healing protocol by Dr. Michael Ruscio and have gradually been gaining back my health.
In August 2024, I began online college classes with Lancaster Bible College and joined their Psychology program with a goal to gain a bachelor’s to be able to work with children therapeutically.
There is another, more obscure character behind In Search of a Woozle: Surprised by Grace and I’m sure you’ve met him before.
Winnie the Pooh may be an ancient relative of mine. The Bear of Very Little Brain now rests beside his forest friends in a glass case in a New York museum, but his spirit remains kindred to my own. Please read his story again, especially “In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle.” For, when A. A. Milne breathed life into Edward Bear and the other nursery animals, some of the magic floated across the wide waters and stirred within my heart, too, a pulse. Another voice was born – not quite as growly – but timid, dreamy, and filled with outdoor hums.
Most days, I am a stuffed animal with a head full of fluff, bumping down the stairs backwards, held tightly by the one who loves me. I am anxious and adventuresome, witless and playful, deluded and creative.
Most days, I am a stuffed animal with a head full of fluff; adored, perfectly understood, and held lovingly by one I call Master.
Also, I hunt for things: belongingness, my health and sanity, and elusive words buried under thick brain fog. Often, I track nameless, mysterious Somethings, earnestly tramping in circles, until a kind friend blessedly intervenes. (Unless, of course, they don’t, which is quite nasty of them, don’t you think?)
At the end of the search, or in the middle, (rarely at the beginning), I always find the same two somethings: myself (which is to say, a less deluded version), and an Observer, who is smiling and means it: chuckling, light-hearted even.
Perhaps, then, I am tracking down grace. Yet without fail, grace catches me first, which is always a surprise. Grace gives me a moment to catch up with my deslusions and then kindly asks to join me at my house for a little smackerel of something. Grace laughs often, which is also surprise.
Life really doesn’t need to be as hard as I think, most times. Not with grace as the second set of footprints.
I’ll meet you in the hundred acre wood!