Friday, February 13, 2026
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Sandel time
If only my people would hear me,
and Israel walk in my ways,
Quickly would I humble their enemies;
against their foes I would turn my hand.
In 2024 I visited my Aunt Vera in Peoria and we facetimed with Uncle Merlie. Their birthdays are both this week. Vera will be 95, Merlie is 100. Uncle Merlie’s daughters invited the whole family to come to North Carolina to honor their dad, and on Sunday we’ll get together and celebrate.
My father, born the oldest in 1922, was one of four farm kids. Vera, whose nickname has been Sandy all her life, is 95 and Merlin is 100. Uncle Merlie mows his own grass in North Carolina, even though two of his daughters are just around the corner. Sandy and Merlie are comfortable driving within a few miles of their homes. Uncle Merlie farmed for years. He and Dad exchanged dairy herd duties while each family took occasional vacations. He still reads Successful Farming magazine every month.
As we talked it was easier and easier for them to recall bits and pieces of central Illinois farm life during the Depression and World War II, and for me to remember my own dairy farming life in the 1950’s. Together we have lived through a healthy span of years, decades, generations in the 20th and 21st centuries of the third millennium since the birth of Jesus.
During our conversation I discovered that Merlie writes poetry now, and that his brother Roland (my dad, who died age 80 in 2002) played violin and a little guitar when they were growing up. All four Sandel kids have written reminiscences of their growing-up years in Beason and Mt. Pulaski, Illinois, before the war divided them temporarily. Hard work, they all say, marked nearly every day on the farm.
When Sandy and Merlie mention that now, the smiles leave their faces for a moment, but then they remember something funny or sweet or kind, and the smiles return. Their spouses are gone and their two siblings Roland and Eugenia are also gone, but they love each other and talk often, along with their brother-in-law Bob. Their hard work as kids and teenagers hardened their muscles but not their hearts, and they have worked hard ever since.
Looking through an old notebook I found a scribbled quote from Alphonsus Ligouri, a seventeenth century priest-become-saint. Fr. Ligouri is a bit famous for making a vow never to waste time. He wrote,
“For those who waste time, there is never enough.”
Margaret and I have a favorite belief that in every circumstance, we have been given “more than enough.” St. Ligouri’s thought caught my eye. I think Uncle Merlie and Aunt Vera never gave hard work a second thought, and after their childhood it came naturally to them for the rest of their lives. Of course they wasted time, don’t we all? But not much, and not intentionally, and not without a quick realization.
Wasting time does not mean sleeping or vacationing or making retreat or Sabbath. Those times are actually the least wasted. Time confuses all of us often. Here’s part of a good short blog that if you choose to read it, will not be a waste of time:
To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade.
To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.
To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.
To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the friends who are waiting to meet.
To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train.
To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.
To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.
Open our hearts, O Lord,
to listen to the words of your Son.
(1 Kings 11, Psalm 81, Acts 16, Mark 7)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
#
