While Barbies seem to be on a wild craze again (thanks to the newly released movie), I fondly remember my love of them when I was a young girl.
I still have my original Midge, Skipper, Barbie, Ken, and I think, PJ. I also have my black, single-doll case stuffed with handmade and knitted clothes, store-bought ensembles, and handmade blankets and pillows lovingly made by Mom or Gram.
The Barbie treasures most precious to me is the carefully packed away collection of doll jewelry made by my best buddy, Gram.
When I was 10, my parents found out I had severe allergies and asthma. Some emergencies necessitated me staying in an oxygen tent in the hospital pediatric unit, others I convalesced on the living room couch in my home.
My parents often called Gram and Gramp to travel from Indianapolis to West Lafayette to play nursemaid while they worked.
I loved the one-on-one time with Gram sitting by the couch with a TV tray playing cards with me or knitting one of her afghan blankets.
One day she placed a box on the tray and opened it to reveal some of her beautiful costume jewelry. Shades of blues, mauve, gold, and green necklaces.
“Tudie, I have an idea for you to help me with. We’re going to make Barbie necklaces. Let’s carefully cut these strands apart and sort the beads to use the smallest we can find. Then we’ll string them, and I’ll tie them off.”
I remember being so surprised at the offer because Gram often wore the necklaces with her fashionable dresses. Our masterpieces wiled my long days on the couch away more quickly.
As I share this with you my eyes still tear up at the memory of Gram, a distinguished, blue-eyed, and white-haired woman who thought of and loved me more than her baubles.
What treasures can you share with your loved ones or friends today?

With Joy, 
​Susan

Financial debt is such a pain.
It can be never-ending, stress-inducing, spiritual-warfare. So how do you get rid of a financial debt that looms in your mind from the time you get up to the time you go to bed?
I brought some consumer debt into our marriage and really wanted to get rid of it. From listening to the late Christian financial counselor Larry Burkett on the radio for years I knew such debt was a sin as stated in the Lord’s Word. Not even a year after we married, I prayed, “Lord, we want this debt gone. Do whatever it takes to absolve the debt.”
Watch what you pray for.
Within several weeks after the prayer, I was driving through an east side intersection in town and WHAM! A big old Lincoln crossed in front of me, and I had nowhere to go but into her armored-tank side. The driver had no insurance, and my precious Volkswagen Golf was totaled.
The blessings began with the assigned city police officer having his son coached elementary intramural basketball by my husband. I was also thankful I was uninjured except for big bruises.
The ultimate blessing was finding out the car payment balance was nearly the exact amount my insurance company paid me for the totaled car. Coincidence? No. I prayed for debt absolution and the Lord surprised me with his version of answered prayer.
Would I have appreciated an easier remedy? Sure.
“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” John 15:7
Isn’t that just like the Lord to give you a witness to share?
 
With joy,
Susan

Spring symbolizes newness. The earth is slowly warming up, bulbs start to peek through the sleepy earth and burst forth in colorful blossoms, trees bud, and spring rains fall. We humans seem to slowly stumble almost as if from a snowy stupor into the bright and welcoming sunshine to claim the new season.
New showed up at my front door at 9 a.m. on February 23. (Thank you, Amazon and Elk Lake Publishing, Inc.) My just released devotional, Growing the Fruit of the Spirit: 100 Devotions for Farm Families, filled boxes just beckoning to be opened. Even more thrilling was the God-timed delivery of the tomes. My coauthor, Beth Gormong, and I were scheduled to deliver a breakout session, “City girls to farm wives: Tools of the Trade,” at 11 a.m. that morning during the Agriculture Women Engage conference in Terre Haute. We also hoped to have a book signing during the luncheon. And it happened!
New is seeing my name on those heavy Amazon boxes. New is holding one of the books in my hands and skimming through it just to make sure my name was really in it throughout. New is seeing the pastoral morning scene of the sun rising and a few of our family’s Polled Hereford cattle grazing in the pasture on the cover. New is reveling in reading Beth’s and my names on the cover and realizing our dream had come true.
And lest I forget, our dream germinated not only in our own hearts but in our husbands as well. Beth and I individually had considered writing a farm life devotional from the perspective of us both being city girls who married farm boys. Unbeknownst to us, our farmer husbands individually thought we should ask each other to write a book together. Beth and I met up for lunch together to catch up on our lives and both of us shared about our husband’s recommendations. Such a God moment!
How has “new” showed up at your door?
 
The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. Psalm 24:1
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​Today I was reading an engaging story by HGTV star Erin Napier in Southern Living. Her focus was how she learned to make her grandma Ouida’s well-loved family recipes by standing at her side and watching awestruck as unmeasured ingredients went into a battered bowl. When Ouida passed away, Erin helped her family pack up her grandma’s treasured few possessions and move them to her own home. What was the most sacred of all the packed items? Ouida’s collection of recipes scribbled on scraps of paper throughout her life.
My paternal grandmother, Lillian (I called her Gram),  was my best buddy. I always wanted to be in the kitchen with her in her home or in ours. Gram was patient, kind, always had a twinkle in her eyes for me, a big hug, and was a tremendous encourager. When she discovered me reading cookbooks around 9 or 10 years old, she and Gramp bought me my very own cookbook. During one visit to her home, Gram pulled out her old manual typewriter and asked if I’d like to type a bunch of her recipes on index cards for her. So began my love of typing. My first recipe box came from Gram during one Christmas, and she helped me fill it with copies of my favorite Gram recipes.
When Gram passed away, I was given her recipe box which I frequently consult for my go-to best meals.
Why does her collection mean so much to me? Because they’re Gram’s. They’re in her handwriting. She touched those cards over and over. The batter drippings or gravy stains dotting the cards remind me of standing alongside her at the counter or stove, hugging her as she made her delectable Mint Meringue holiday cookies or Johnny Marzetti casserole. I treasure to my core the well-worn serving spoon and mixing bowls she used to stir concoctions including her Sour Cream Coffee Cake.
Gram’s words are baked into my heart and mind, and her cards and letters are preserved in a box in my closet. I miss Gram every day and I will always be her Tudie.
With Joy, 
​Susan

​“Can Miss Ruth come out to play?”
I had answered the knock at our front door to find five-year-old Margaret, a neighbor girl, asking if my mom could play with her.
I was probably eight or nine years old. We lived in a subdivision where families were friendly.  Children zipped around the neighborhood on their bikes without a care. Parents had bridge parties monthly. Kids hopped off the school bus often going to their next-door neighbor’s house for a snack.
But there stood Margaret, one of several children in her noisy family, probably looking for a listening ear, a hug, and wanting someone to herself. Margaret wasn’t the only child who coveted time with Mom. The neighborhood kids loved her. She was always excited to see them, invited them in for cookies and milk or Kool-Aid, or played with them if they brought over toys.
Before I could call out for Mom, she appeared and invited Margaret in.
It doesn’t matter now what they did together that day. I can’t even remember. I thought it was strange that a little girl would want to play with my mom. But Mom didn’t think it was strange at all.
Why did Margaret want to be with my mom? When Mom had a visitor of any age or background, she was the queen of hospitality. She offered food and drink to them in some of her antique dishes or china. Little girls were often treated to drinking hot tea with milk and sugar while savoring homemade cookies. Mom liked pulling out my board games or a deck of cards to play “Go Fish.” She listened to her guests every word, commenting appropriately, encouraging when necessary. If she was cooking a meal, she offered her guest to come alongside and help her. And she always sent her company on their way with a hug and “Come back soon!”
Looking back, I wasn’t offended Margaret asked for Mom instead of me. I’d always thought the girl was somewhat unique. But I’m grateful for a mom who modeled the love in her heart for people and made them feel welcome in her home and wherever she encountered them.

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As I was cleaning out a desk drawer recently, I rediscovered an inch thick, clear plastic box holding a Golden Rule Marble. Seeing the milky red orb with its narrow bronze metallic band encircling it my memory connected with the delightful gentleman who gave it to me. Raymond Dault, the chairman of Indiana University-Purdue University at Indianapolis’ Department of Restaurant, Hotel and Institutional Management in 1986, presented all of his students each semester with this marble. He “urged his students to live and serve the public by the Golden Rule.”
Jesse Shwayder, creator of the said marble and founder of Shwayder Trunk Mfg. Co. (Samsonite Corporation), based his company on the Golden Rule (Matthew 7:12). “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” (NLT) The marble’s band has the verse inscribed on it.
Dault also used his own designated “four-letter words” – food, work, give, love and care – to teach his students to focus on making their RHIM career a noble and respected profession.
So, how’s it going for you living by the Golden Rule? Do you want to be spoken to with grace-filled words? Speak them yourself to others. Do you want to be treated with respect and dignity? Model those character traits daily. Are you kind or are you harsh? Are you self-seeking or seeking the best for and in others?
Dault encouraged his students to serve food with care and joy, work diligently, give generously of your time, talent and treasure, love unconditionally, and care exponentially. I confess I can’t check that list off every day but seeing that marble again is a great reminder I have work to do.
And when we live the Golden Rule, and exercise Professor Dault’s four-letter words, we’re bound to live with more joy.
 
With joy,
Susan

For a while, I've wanted to start a blog called "With Joy". While I have been writing for magazines and newspapers for over 35 years, and now a devotional book, I don’t often write from a personal perspective. So, here’s to a new learning curve for me and hopefully enjoyable and authentic prose for you.
 
I remember years ago when I told my parents, Herb and Ruth Krauch, I could clearly see God’s hand orchestrating our lives. While Mom and Dad believed in the Lord, they didn’t accept him as their Savior until their mid-80s. (Thank you, Jesus, for answering prayer!) When Dad finished his master’s degree at Purdue (I was 8 years old) they asked him to move to the West Lafayette campus from Columbia City to be the wildlife extension agent covering the state of Indiana. That move took us to a great subdivision and neighbors, and led us to a fabulous, scripture-centered church, Covenant Presbyterian, with pastors that forever imprinted my life and led me to Jesus. Dad was in his ideal job of teaching and working outdoors and Mom was a natural working in tourism. Growing up surrounded by all things Purdue was pivotal in my education, culture, and worldview.
One of my greatest blessings was living closer to my paternal grandparents in Indy. Spending chunks of my summers traveling with them, Grandpa teaching me to swim, reading a voracious number of Nancy Drew books, and doing crafts with Gram are indelible deposits in my memory bank.
My childhood friends are still some of my best friends and fellow Boiler alumni. The love of higher education was cemented in me, so I worked at IUPUI, then Purdue followed by Saint Mary-of-the-Woods. During my year with The Purdue Alumnus magazine (my dream job) I met my husband Terry, a fellow alum, and married him a year later. Never did I ever expect to marry a farmer but here I am 33 years later living surrounded by everything I’m allergic to accept Terry.
Our greatest joys are our daughter, Lillian, her husband, Kegan, granddaughter Kaelynn, grandbaby-to-be in November, and our daughter Hayley. I can’t forget Lilly’s corgis Frederick Winston and Ruby Mae.
I’m forever grateful for the Lord knowing since before he launched creation exactly what he had in store for my family and my future.
Where can you see your story beginning?
 
With joy,
Susan