It’s an annual moment I wait 10 months to experience. After a long, cold winter, a finicky spring, and a Memorial Day weekend, the local pool finally opens for the season.

This year, as I made my way into the little kids’ end of the pool, the water on my feet, then ankles, then shins was cold to the point of nearly unbearable. It took all I could do not to turn around and leave, forfeiting the $2 discounted admission for evening-swim hours.

But I noticed the few other brave souls who had taken the plunge and not perished. And I thought of my literary mentor, Joyce Maynard, whose routine includes early-morning swims – naked – in deep, cold lakes in the New Hampshire woods each summer.

OK. I’ll stay.

To my surprise and amazement, once I just did it and dunked under, my body actually adjusted. A weird exchange is made: Suddenly it felt warmer in the water than  out.

This year is different. There are no more morning water aerobics classes or evening YMCA-instructed work-out sessions offered. I should be happy the pool is even open, and I am. City pools seem to struggle for survival. The YMCA pool in a nearby city is no longer in operation. Our town pool went through some choppy waters to stay afloat and now carries a hospital sponsorship.

Pools take a lot of money to operate. Doesn’t help that they are only open two months a summer now  because the kids return to school at the start of August. Always seems such a shame to see that shimmering pool on 100-degree August days, empty of patrons.

Water exercise is fins down my favorite. I detested running even when I was young and only a little fat. But in the water there is no sweating and I almost love it. So this summer I’m devising my own water workouts. A little running in place (no sweat); a couple minutes of rotating like a washing machine; some stretching on the wall, dog paddling forward, then back. The point is to just keep moving. And moving. I feel looser, more flexible almost instantly. And I sure sleep better too.

There are several times I can go. If I’m home, there’s the morning option, and I’m done for the day, plus a tad chilly for the rest of the day. I don’t go during the kids’ prime time in the day, but can also choose to go late in the afternoon for two bucks, or take the late option from 7:15 to 8:15 p.m., also cheap, but not my favorite hour as there are swim-team kids to work around in one area and some swim lessons going in others.

I’m just glad the pool is open and for two months, I’m in it often. 

On our recent trip to Illinois with friends Rick and Gay Kirkton, our first stop was Dixon, Illinois, population 15,000. This is the hometown of the 40th President of the United States, Ronald Reagan.

We toured the restored and immaculately maintained home where the Reagan family of four lived from 1920-1923. It’s a classic, two-story American home built in 1891 on a tree-lined street. As American as apple pie.

The Reagan family, which consisted of parents Jack and Nelle, and sons Neil and little brother Ron,  rented this and other homes in the area. There was no family wealth; Nelle was a homemaker and Jack sold shoes.

Ron lived in the home, sharing a room with his older brother, Neil, when Ron was 9-13.

The family attended the First Christian Church in town. Ron and his mother taught Sunday School there.

The home has few original furnishings, notably a quilt that belonged to Nelle is all that was pointed out,  but is filled with period décor. The bathroom tub is original, as is the woodwork and other features.

The original fireplace and tile surround on the floor are present and come with a cool story. Apparently Ron knew there was a loose tile and would lift it to hide small amounts of change.

Ron, Nancy and Ron’s brother Neil visited the home in 1984 when Ron checked out the tile and placed a few pennies there.

At that time, he was President and it was decided in advance that the Reagans might enjoy a quiet meal in the dining room. The story goes that during a pre-visit security sweep, Secret Service noted a window with a clear view of the table in the small dining room. They didn’t want to draw attention to the space, yet didn’t like the security aspect of the situation. So, they arranged to plant new landscaping just outside the window.

The situation looked as though the house staff was simply fixing up the place for the visit, but in reality, the new plantings created a block. The trees were removed after the President’s visit.

Ron had a variety of jobs in town as a kid. He worked at the Dixon Golf Club and spent six summers as a lifeguard where he is credited with saving 77 swimmers.

Ron went on to Eureka College where he studied economics and sociology. He was hired by a radio station to announce University of Iowa games and worked as a sports broadcaster for a variety of stations before moving to Hollywood in 1937 From there, his public career, which included being a fairly famous actor, took off.

Ron served governor of California from 1967-75 and U.S. President from 1981-89. He left office with a 68 percent approval rating. Ron spent his final years battling Alzheimer's disease, dying in 2004 in California.

Upon his 1984 trip back to town, Ron said, “My heart is still here.”

SO … I have a new writing project this year. It wasn’t something I set out to do, but I’m happy that the project found me.

Isn’t that how life goes sometimes? I didn’t originally plan to write a book a few years ago when I started playing around with a story in the same way that a girl might play house.

What happened this time is that my church, Ovid Community, is featuring a devotion a day for 2018 about facing our fears on its Facebook page, Ovid Community Church (https://www.facebook.com/groups/45792486945/).  Anyone can join the public group.

Daily through the year, you’ll see a short piece from a rotation of writers who pen devotions, including our Senior Pastor Keith Wooden.

Back in February, Keith asked me to write one. I’ve written press releases, speeches, eulogies, news and feature articles, columns, blog posts, essays, freelance magazine articles, contributed to one book, and, wrote two of my own. But I had never written a designated devotion.

Then I remembered something surprising that happened to me last year during Bible Study Fellowship. A member of our discussion group whom I admired and who shared numerous insights with the group, one day looked me in the eye and told me if I wrote a book about my life's God stories, she would read it.

Something about her comment prompted me to start compiling my own personal God stories, moments when He showed up in special ways in my ordinary life. These were longer than devotions, but similar in style. Because the Bible is the living Word of God, it has something to say about everything we humans go through. I found scriptures that related to my circumstances.

Then I shared these essays with my classmate. I didn’t even quite know why. Now I think God was preparing me for a go at writing devotions.

SO … back to this February. When Keith asked for one, I penned a short, devotional-style piece about how God worked when Sam was a baby and facing open-heart surgery.

I told Keith that the story was actually two parts, because I also wanted to share the unique way God comforted me leading up to Sam’s second open-heart surgery at age 19.

I think I may have even written a third, thinking that I was somehow doing extra credit, when Keith wrote back to say my regular day would now be Wednesdays.

Gulp! Looking ahead, that’s a lot of devotions. Would I have enough content? Maybe not me, certainly, but God never runs out of material. Immediately to mind came the Israelites who spent 40 years in the desert.

Each and every day, God sent them fresh manna to eat. They couldn’t hoard it, couldn’t scrape a bit up and tuck it away. No, they had to depend on God to provide it anew day by day. And of course, He did (along with plenty of quail. That’s a great story in itself. Look it up).

So I’m depending on the Lord to walk with me through these devotionals and open to my eyes to how He works and walks with me daily in life’s everyday circumstances, and in those unusual ones that get our attention in special and sometimes quite difficult ways.

This is a fascinating journey taking special notice and putting into words the way He works in, well, everything! And seeing how He has scripture that applies to us all as we walk and stumble, mumble and bumble, as well as renew and rejoice our way through this life.

If you’d like to read my Wednesday devotionals, either hit me up and I’ll add you to the Facebook page, or go on the page yourself. I hope you will enjoy not just my insights but those of other writers from our congregation.

To me, a devotional is simply sharing what God has shown you about your faith in a practical way. That’s it.

In the past couple of days, I’ve thought about developing a program on devotional writing. Some tips, some ideas, some sharing and everyone leaves with his or her own written devotional. What do you think? Wouldn't it be fun to have everyone share their devotion with a small group?

Meanwhile, here are a couple of mine, along with the dates they appeared on the Ovid page.
My thanks to Keith for inviting me to take this journey. And ultimately, to the Lord for His Presence in my everyday life.

A ROYAL INVITATION by Donna Cronk
Note: This ran May 16, a few days before the royal wedding.

Just imagine that some time ago, you received a personal invitation to attend the royal wedding of Prince Henry and Meghan Markle in England.

You knew that it was the invitation of a lifetime, so you bought a beautiful new outfit, thought of how wonderful it would be surrounded by the special guests, and view the royal couple up close. Oh, the wedding feast would be amazing, you knew.

So you flew to England and showed up at the appointed time to enter the wedding venue. But once you got to the gate, even with your invite in hand, when the gatekeeper checked the master list, your name was missing.

There must be a mistake! You had been invited! You were ready to enter that gate and take part in the festivities!

But there was no mistake. The gatekeeper said the problem was simple: “You never responded to the invite. You are not on the list. You cannot enter.”

This picture, inspired by a story told by Bible Study Fellowship Teaching Leader, Jodie Pyle, is one of what we will experience if we fail to respond to Jesus’ invitation to believe in and follow Him.

Jesus Christ offers each of us an invitation to the royal wedding of the Bridegroom (Jesus) and His Church (the bride). We’re on the invitation list. We’re invited. But it’s not enough to be invited and just show up at the gate. We must respond on this side of eternity.

Have you returned your RSVP to the invitation for eternal life sent to you from the Prince of Peace?
“I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture.” – John 10:9 (NIV)

FEAR OF INHERITED DISEASE by Donna Cronk
Note: This one appeared on June 6.
Both my parents had Alzheimer’s disease and lived with it for many years. The disease stole their minds, their dignity, their roles as parents and grandparents. I’ve often thought that it’s probably in my future.

Many of us likely have similar concerns because we don’t look far in our ancestry to find death. The particular diagnostic dread varies from the usual roster of cancer, heart disease and stroke to rarer diseases and tragic accidents.

Since there is no cure for Alzheimer’s – or for death -- I have no desire to submit to tests that estimate my chances of getting this disease. If statistics were that I would likely get it, I’d be inclined to spend my time worrying over dying rather than enjoying living. Besides that, something else could take me long before the Alzheimer’s!

Both my parents had more than 75 healthy, good years before the disease hit them. The Bible says it’s appointed each person once to die. Why is it a news flash that we’re all going to die of something?

Before that happens, we must make sure we know where we’ll go once we do. Now is the time to make sure of our eternal security. Praise God for making a way. Have you trusted Him with not only your life, but your death?

1 Corinthians 15:55-57 (NIV): “Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

This week I’m reminded of a wedding gift that I had all but forgotten.

My brother David and sister-in-law Janet bought us a brown wicker clothes hamper. I remember it distinctly because Janet asked what we specifically needed following our wedding 40 years ago this year.

Janet had been ill right before we married and didn’t know if she would even be able to attend, but she did.

So a couple weeks after the wedding, they arrived at our home with the hamper and it was perfect. I don’t know what happened to it through the years but two other lesser-quality hampers have filled the void from the demise of the first.

For a couple years now, the more recent hamper was falling apart, the strands of wicker unwinding and even breaking off onto the floor. A new hamper was on my list to buy. How hard would it be to find a sturdy one? Yet I checked one store after another and could not only not  find a great new hamper, but not even a lousy inferior one.
Yet I was sure that new hamper lurked around the next aisle in the next store but it never did. There were plenty of college-appropriate collapsibles, and laundry baskets tall as a hamper with a handle on top, perfect for apartment dwellers hauling their dirties to the facilities.

But there was no adult version to be found of a simple clothing hamper.

In his retirement, Brian has become handy with his phone in completing all manner of projects and chores ranging from buying online flights to adeptly using Google Maps.

The mall in our nearest city just folded; the whole mall, not just a few select stores. He predicts that in just a few years,shopping malls will be no more.

So after hearing me lament about the lack of laundry hampers, he hopped onto amazon.com and found many. He landed on a page full of them that looked exactly like the 1978 model my brother and SIL bought us for our wedding. I didn't even have to settle for the one obscure color that a mall store might have and be glad to get it. The online store had the hamper of my dreams in a choice of colors.

I narrowed it down to the chocolate brown that we had 40 years ago, or the “linen” hue that to the less-creative minded, would be off white. It appeared to be a nice match for the “biscuit” (or off white) color of our tub and toilet.

The hamper also arrived, shipped free,  in three days.

After this experience, and others I’ve had that I won’t unpack right here, I suspect that Brian may be closer to right than wrong about the future of big malls. The appeal of ordering a perfect product in two minutes that you couldn’t find in two years, combined with a good price, free shipping and no time or gas invested in a futile search certainly has its appeal.

As a young girl and teen, and even years later, I considered a trip to “the mall” a great experience. It was so much fun to go from store to store just looking with my mom, have lunch out at Kresge’s or Woolworth’s, and shop some more.

Sometimes we ordered things from the thick seasonal catalogs from the big-name stores such as Penney’s, Sears or Montgomery-Wards. But usually, those wish books only pointed to the store versions we found on our own Saturdays in the Richmond mall. Mail-order back then meant paying for shipping and handling as well as what would seem today as a long wait.

I haven’t been much of a mall shopper for a long time. While I enjoy shopping in specialty shops and smaller stores in the towns and cities where I live or work, big-city malls long ago lost their appeal to me. I get overwhelmed and then spend too much time looking for something I could have ordered in minutes at home.

What are your thoughts on the future of malls in America?

Finally, the ferns have arrived, and they are looking good. I green-up both porches at our house with ferns each spring. Some years, I'm in such a hurry to rush in the season that I buy the ferns sooner than I should.

This year I used some self-control -- and patience -- and didn't spring for the ferns until not only May 10, as my mother often suggested, but even later just for insurance. More than once I bought the porch plants on a beautiful day only to have storms and winds move in later and beat some of them to where I had to replace them later.

At our front entrance, I changed things up a little. I've often wanted to use this old family wheel barrel, creating seasonal displays, but it was simply too large for my available spaces. Solution? Simply remove the large side panels to open it up. Right now I'm showcasing an asparagus fern and crock I filled with a pot of pink geraniums. The geraniums were a gift.

Every year I pick up a bridal veil for my topiary-styled pot at left. This year, R & R Market in Pendleton had especially nice ones. This plant does fantastic in this space. At the bottom of the pot is a simple solution: fake succulants. That's right. But those taking a closer look will never even realize they are not real. I promise. I got them at Hobby Lobby. You're welcome.

We've talked about getting fancier seating here over our easy-going, inexpensive plastic chairs we've had for years. Brian even mentioned the rockers at Cracker Barrel. Anyone have those? How do they hold up outside?

There are four hanging ferns on our back porch. We have an all-weather sofa back there, but these are traditional wicker rockers -- both bought second-hand and painted. I redid all the back porch cushions in the winter of 2017. Thought I'd never get done!

Happy summer everyone! Remember the Americans who died so we may enjoy it -- and every day.

Less than a year ago, Gay Kirkton and I took our annual summer girlfriend getaway to the unique and beautiful Galena, Illinois, situated in northwest Illinois, a hop and skip from both Wisconsin and Iowa. Next to Chicago, this is the most visited destination in the great state of Illinois, with Springfield third.

With a population of 3,800, this small city has more than 50 restaurants in its vibrant downtown alone, and several blocks packed with one-of-a-kind shops that sell everything from trendy housewares to kitchen goods, gourmet food, fashionable (and affordable) clothing, and costume jewelry.

So the shopping is certainly a draw -- let's be honest -- for women especially. The food? For everyone!

For the Cronks of Pendleton and our friends Rick and Gay Kirkton of Angola (but proud Illinois natives), history got us there.

When you think of Illinois and U.S. presidents, perhaps Abraham Lincoln comes first to mind. He certainly does for me. Springfield, Illinois boasts a number of tributes to his life and times that you can visit from his presidential library to the only home he ever owned, to a visit inside his law office, the cemetery where he was laid to rest, and more.

But don't forget the other presidents who called Illinois their home. Consider this one.

Do you remember that President, California Governor and actor Ronald Reagan came from Illinois and spent from age 9 to adulthood in Dixon, Illinois? Here we are in front of the home his family rented for a few years which is a tour-able landmark in the town.

I'll do a separate post later on the home, as it is worthy of its own essay. It was a fantastic stop, and glimpse into an iconic man of humble roots. Our fellas stand next to a life-size cardboard version of the 1980s president. It appears accurate in stature as President Reagan was 6'1" and our guys measure up to prove that about right.

After a stop in Dixon, it was on to Galena. The drive was exceedingly charming as we rode in Rick's comfortable pick-up truck chatting away the hours and looking out for miles and miles over tidy fields and farms in our friends' treasured home state.

You can have your majestic mountains, and while I love looking out over water, my personal eye candy consists of massive green fields of Midwestern crops. You've got the best view of those in Illinois and Iowa.

In Galena, it was like checking in with an old friend as Brierwreath Bed & Breakfast owner Joe Cook greeted us. His inn is perfectly located in this hilly city because it's an easy walk downhill to the downtown where we had our choice and then some of dining options. We went for a repeat of last year's trip as we sat outside at Vinny's for an Italian meal.

On Saturday at breakfast, that uncanny thing that always happens to Gay and me happened again. At the first of two fine breakfasts served by Joe, we met B & B guests with a connection to Gay. One worked in public relations for the community college where Gay's father serves as a trustee. The guest could not believe it! She knows Gay's dad and the two had a lot to discuss about the college and their connections.

Then it was on to catch our trolley where we got a splendid overview of Galena's history from a lead-mining and steamboat hub in the 1800s to the home of a future and then post-U.S. president in the form of U.S. Grant and family in the mid-to-late 1800s  to a town that celebrates commerce, history and architecture in the city it is today.

We had a wonderful tour of the home of U.S. Grant and family, above. More than 90 percent of the home's contents are original. Grant had lived in Ohio and St. Louis, Missouri but after marrying a wealthy farmer's daughter and being gifted with land, Grant found that he was not cut out for farming.

He brought his family to Galena, Illinois where his family owned a tannery. It is there he worked, living in a small, humble home to suit his means until his true talents as a West Point-educated soldier were recognized and he became the key figure in saving the union and will forevermore be recognized in that remarkable way.

To thank him for his war contributions, some wealthy men in Galena gifted the Grants with this home. It never left the family until the Grant children gifted the home to the state of Illinois in the early 1900s as a permanent tribute to their parents.

We enjoyed lunch outside at Gobbie's and then it was back to our B & B to rest up in our rooms before heading out to dinner downtown at Fried Green Tomatoes. We had a lovely meal including Harvest salads, pesto and tomato brushetta and crab cakes.

When it was time to leave, we discovered a drenching rain outside the restaurant. We waited in the entryway for it to clear but before it did, the restaurant owner, Fred, graciously appeared and asked where we were staying. He sent for his personal vehicle to transport us to our doorstep at the inn! Talk about above and beyond!

I promised Fred (he said to think of his name as Fried without the i) that I would mention this in my blog. So this is for you, Fred! I also would recommend your food and staff to anyone!

Gay and I enjoy attending church services in the towns we visit. We took the United Methodist Church up on its offer, via a display board out front, to sit in Grant's pew.  On Sunday morning we all went to church  a short walk down the street from our B & B to the former Methodist Episcopal Church where the Grant family pew is distinctively and tastefully marked with a small American flag. We got the photo shortly after services.

A couple special moments for me from the weekend were during the meet-and-greet portion of the church service, turning around to shake hands with a woman who formerly lived in Shirley, Indiana. That's a tiny town in the circulation area of the newspaper where I work.

Also, in the Grant home, upstairs a framed picture depicts key figures in the Civil War and in the group photo is included one Gen Ambrose Burnside -- who happens to hail from my hometown of Liberty, Indiana.

When you think of Illinois, the Land of Lincoln, remember that four U.S. presidents called this beautiful Midwestern state home -- Lincoln, Grant, Reagan and Barack Obama.

We'll certainly never forget.

Donna Cronk is a blogger, newspaper journalist and author of two novels:  Sweetland of Liberty Bed & Breakfast and That Sweet Place: At Home in the Heartland, available from the author , at specialty venues and on Amazon.com.

I have an old iron bell from my folks' farm where I grew up, and where my paternal grandparents lived before that. There's no reason I would need a farm bell. There are no men in the field awaiting its ring to dinner 'round the threshing table.

But I like it because it reminds me of such scenes from farms of old.

For years after it left Dad's barn, it sat in first one garage, then another, until finally I asked our friend Monty Foust to post it in our backyard. I like it there and wonder why we didn't raise it sooner. It does require a bit of maintenance. It had been painted silver once, for what reason I can't guess, and I painted it black. Now it needs a good touching up a couple times a year, most notably, after the winter months. Most notably, now.

But its fresh coat will have to wait a while. Things are pretty busy inside that bell. A few weeks ago I noticed that a family called Robin had claimed squatters' rights by building a nice little home there, sheltered sweetly by the protective shell of iron. I've stayed out of Mrs. Robin's way, observing from the window that she's been spending a lot of time maintaining her new digs which she decorated beautifully with found bits of dried grass and straw.

Some years robins nest in ferns on our back porch, but I don't have the plants up yet. One year a front-door wreath hosted a family. When the family sets up housekeeping in an eye-level fern or on my front door, I take the liberty of carefully peeking into the nest. Never touching, mind you.

Sometimes the tiny birds mistook me for their mother and opened their mouths wide, only to be briefly disappointed that I couldn't deliver a juicy worm. But soon, their mother swooped in and picked up the tab for lunch.

This bell is too high and I might do great damage to the family dynamic if I got out a ladder. So I watch from afar and was rewarded while ago when I saw a tiny head lift toward the heavens and a mouth eagerly await a to-go order.

Soon enough, the cozy nest will no longer suffice, and the birds will wing away, as birds and boys do, and their mother will do something else with her time besides deliver lunch and cuddle with them.

Meanwhile, here's to you, Mrs. Robin. Enjoy your family. Stop by again next year if you want.

In fall of 2014 I had the thrill of spending 10 days in Israel. I have never been the same since. I will never be the same in the future.

Today, Israel is on my mind and in my heart in a special way. It's the 70th anniversary today in terms of world governments and recognition. But it is the eternal city of God. And today, the U.S. Embassy is newly located in Israel's capital, Jerusalem.

So many moments, images, sights and sites, sounds and sound bites come to mind when I think of this most unique country of Israel and its Holy City and capital of Jerusalem. Here's one moment. Our group, about 35 of us with my Ovid Community Church, walked along together toward our next stop in Jerusalem. In the opposite direction some Jewish men walked by. One man's eyes met mine and with neither of us stopping or even slowing down, he called out, "Where you from?" I said "U.S.A." His response?

"God bless the U.S.A. and Israel, together."

And that is where we are in a special way today.

We don't get too far into the Bible before we read this in Genesis 12:3: "I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you." NIV

Indeed, Jesus came through the Jewish people ... the whole earth blessed by Him.

Israel is the size of New Jersey. Everywhere (EVERY-WHERE) you step, you are walking on history. In fact, I best describe this experience as one where someone dropped me into a Bible and allowed me to walk around there. Events of both Old and New Testaments merge and mingle.

Whereas the Bible was once in black and white, it is now in living color.

As the man said in the crowd in the heart of Jerusalem,
"God bless the U.S.A. and Israel, together."

Amen.

The past week has been my May Blitz, so named for the cluster of author-related gigs scheduled  through tomorrow. I can't remember when I've had such a concentrated period of responsibilities but also, it's been great fun.

A week ago today I spoke at the Foster Grandparents banquet in New Castle and then scurried to Warm Glow to sign and sit with the Kids at Heart bookshop. Then Sunday came a trip to my daughter-in-law Allison's church for the annual Mother-Daughter Banquet. So many memories have been made in this elegant downtown Indy church, Zion Evangelical United Church of Christ.

Sam and Allison were married there, had a lovely family-and-friend shower there and there have been sweet annual Mother-Daughter banquets, often organized by Allison and her mother, Carla. This year I was honored to be the banquet speaker as I was four years ago. I am grateful to Carla, Allison, the committee and to everyone who laughed at my jokes and offered kind words afterward.

Monday I drove 130 miles north to Angola where I had another treat in this Blitz. Bestie Gay Kirkton invited me to give a program to her Psi Oates Chapter. Gay chose an interview format whereby she asked me a variety of questions about life, writing inspirations and books. It was so much fun!

I am grateful to her and to each of the friendly women who made me feel completely at home from the moment I got there. I thank them for being such an attentive audience and for buying so many books! And then if I asked if I might trouble them for a photo, they said yes, and let's go outside for a better shot! We got this ...

So home late Monday, work Tuesday, and on Wednesday, it was off to give the Lunch & Learn program for Shelby Senior Services in Shelbyville. Director Kathy Nolting invited me, and I thank her. The delicious meal included chicken casserole and this green Jell-O with the carrots in it. Took me back to Methodist suppers of old that my mom's United Methodist Women used to prepare. Yum!

I'm more grateful than you know to everyone I've met and all the invitations that took me on a whirlwind tour of Indiana this past week! Tomorrow I'm headed to Brookville for one more round. Have a wonderful Mother's Day weekend, everyone.