Marie's Father Speaks: "We do not want anger in our hearts"

Marie's sister graciously gave permission to use this photo.

Yesterday an interview with Marie's father, Pastor Antoine Schluchter, was posted online in the periodical La Liberté.  This incredible story was written by journalist Maud Tornare.  Here it is, translated to the best of my ability:

Marie’s father:  “We do not want anger in our hearts.”

It is after a long and heavy wait, full of hope and anguish, that Marie’s parents must now face the incomprehensible:  the death of their daughter, killed by an insane murderer shortly after her 19^th birthday.

“Although we have seen our daughter, we still cannot believe it.  We haven’t yet processed the irrevocable fact of her death,” confided Antoine Schluchter.  At the other end of the line, the voice of Marie’s father is fragile, broken by long silences that speak for themselves of the immense suffering her parents are enduring.

Their daughter Marie had been living since September with a friend of her father’s in Payerne where she was apprenticed in the restaurant of a golf club.  Born in Madagascar, the young woman went home regularly to visit her adoptive parents in the Chablais Vaudois region.

After living in France for many years, the family returned here five years ago.  Before the kidnapping, the couple had never heard of Claude duBois, the man with whom Marie had recently formed a relationship and who coldly murdered her and abandoned her body in the forest.

“We’re haunted by the fear she must have gone through,” said her father.  “But at the same time, my wife and I are borne up by a hope that is stronger than everything else.”

Pastor at Villars-sur-Ollon, Antoine Schluchter affirms that he finds the strength to overcome this trial through his faith in God.  “I often doubt myself, but never the love of Christ.  This tragedy has not weakened our confidence in God, but has strengthened it,” he explains, weighing each of his words carefully.

Marie’s parents want to express thanks for the incredible support they have received from their neighbors and also from complete strangers.  The tragedy has created an international solidarity that extends well beyond Switzerland.

“This support and this caring expressed by many are so important to us.  I learned that the members of a mosque in a Moroccan village prayed all night for our daughter.  This is something incredibly deep.  We have received support from the United States where our other daughter lives, and there have been so many gestures of friendship from people here, too,” the pastor recounted with great emotion.

Not the least sign of rebellion or anger appears in the words of Pastor Schluchter—not even toward the system of justice that allowed the murderer of his daughter, a man with a serious criminal past, to commit once again an irreparable wrong.

“I have only one wish:  that a tragedy like this one we are living through would bring about a realization, better follow-up and handling of cases like this.  What happened to my daughter is something incomprehensible, but we do not want to fill our hearts with anger nor be at the forefront of a battle that we do not care to fight.”  

Marie's sister shared this precious photograph of Marie and her nephew.

What can one say after reading such a story?  Just this:

"To God be the glory" and "Dear God, please bless this dear family."

For Marie: Make Every Hour Count

Yesterday we got word that a distant family connection in Switzerland, our son-in-law's sister-in-law, had been abducted by a convicted rapist-murderer.  He was released last year from a 20-year prison term after only 12 years and was out on house arrest.  Now 19-year old Marie was missing, and authorities feared the worst after he was apprehended and no trace of her could be found.

The news flashed around the world on Facebook, and people all around the world were praying for Marie, her pastor father and mother in Switzerland, and her sister's family in America.  Marie's family released a statement saying that they trusted in God and continued to speak of Marie in the present, but that if the worst happened, their hope endures beyond death.

This morning we received the tragic news that Marie's body had been found.  Her family still does not know all the details, but they know that her fear and suffering are over and that Marie is at peace safe in God's arms.  They are standing firm in their faith in God and are grateful for the prayers of so many around the world.

We knew Marie's family when we lived in France, when she was a little girl.  We have not seen her since, but our hearts are full of grief for her and her family, understanding just a glimpse of the nightmare that is theirs.  This tragedy is something that we usually see on TV or read about happening to a total stranger in the newspaper.  But this time it has touched our world and rocked us and made us weep and made us think.

It has made me think about what is truly important in life.  If I knew that someone I loved had only a few hours left on earth before they met a tragic and terrifying end, what might I do differently?  I hope that I would be able to comfort myself that at least my loved one knew I loved them, that I had taken the time to tell them so, that the last time we said goodbye I had looked in their eyes and said "I love you" and hugged them goodbye.

By God's grace, most of us will never experience anything so horrendous in our lives or the lives of our loved ones.  But I hope that Marie's legacy will be that people all around the world make sure that everyone they love knows it right now!  Let's tell them while we can.  Make every hour count for love.

In closing these thoughts I would like to share this beautiful poem that came into my daughter Jenny's mind as she and Jean-Marc ran side-by-side on a warm sunny day.

Marie - 

I wonder if she feels the wind on her face
Like heaven's embrace
The Father welcoming her into His arms

I wonder if she sees the bright blue sky
Like heaven's answer to "why"? 
As she runs through eternity's fields and farms 

I wonder if she smells the blossoms
Of Paradise awesome
The Garden's inviting charms

I wonder if she senses the warmth of the sun
Like heaven's summons to fun
The Spirit keeping her warm

I wonder if she holds His hands
Like a daughter, she stands
As the Son removes from her all harm

I wonder if she tastes the waves and the sea
Of our tears and our glee
As she embraces true life in His arms

Jennifer Grace Lea

It's Good to Touch the Green, Green Grass of Home

A little over a week ago, I got a phone call that our daughter Jenny had dislocated her right shoulder.  Was she doing something brave like diving in front of a speeding train to rescue a stray dog?  Or was it a patriotic war wound sustained in the defense of her nation?   Neither, I'm afraid!  It happened when she tried to hit her husband with a throw pillow!  (Although I guess a wound received in starting a pillow fight could possibly be considered combat-sustained . . .)

As a good mother, what did I do?  Did I tell her to pick on someone her own size--or at least aim better?  I did not!  I hopped in my car and drove to Ohio to help with cooking and cleaning and driving.

Tuesday I drove back home and arrived in the late afternoon to a warm welcome from Misty, Zephyr, Hero and Herb, in that order.  (In Herb's defense, he was in the office.  The dogs were all in the driveway.)  After patting, hugging and kissing everyone (depending on their species and hairiness), the first thing I wanted to do was go out and see all the animals.  Here, for your enjoyment while you read, is an oldie-but-goodie about how good it is to come home.

Elvis - The Green, Green Grass of Home

Here's my welcoming committee trying to get their act together.

We'll just have to settle for three out of four.

The turkeys (in front) have obviously abandoned their suicidal behavior and begun to grow and get more feathers.  The keets (hiding in back) are just as shy as ever, but much bigger and more guinea-shaped.

The barnyard gang is enjoying a bit of grass that has bravely raised its head.

As soon as they heard us come outside, the Home Pasture gang began clamoring for food.  They make quite a racket of "mwak, mwak, mwak, mwak" from Ping and "baa, baa" and "bleah, bleah" from Rambo and Obama.  It truly does sound like one of the wethers is turning up his nose at something, saying, "Bleah!"  It must be the nice, green grass because it sure isn't the chicken crumble!

Walking through Kara's Pasture I was greeted by a cluster of daisies under a cloudy sky, promising more April showers and more May flowers after the 4+ inches in the past few days.

The creek is running full coming in from the hunting preserve to join the pond overflow.

Sara and Siobhan were over by the cabin when they saw us coming.

Siobhan came hurrying to greet us, already licking her lips in anticipation of treats.

The horses came to meet us at the electric gate, but when Brandy shooed Julie away to a respectful distance . . .

... it turned into a mad gallop around the pasture.

While Herb started the grill to cook us some lovely grass-fed steaks, I went out to enjoy the heavenly evening light that sets everything aglow for just a few moments.

Carpe diem.  

Talking Turkey

Our keets and turkey poults are getting in some practice flights in the brooder house.  Only the keets showed off today (mainly because they're more timid and want to stay away from me), but the turkeys fly all over when they want to.

The keets like to sit on top of the brooder box--warm toes, I guess.

When I get too close, one takes off . . .

Airborne!

Misty waited outside the brooder house for me to finish feeding.  She's a very patient dog and goes through life in a very zen way, strolling majestically,  gently biting Zephyr on the scruff of the neck to stop her when she's barking, never hurrying when she's called.
 

Misty followed me down to the mailbox to get the morning paper and waited with me while I admired the view.

Something caught her attention, and she began strolling toward the fence between the orchard and the pasture.

Suddenly the zen-like attitude disappeared as Misty broke into a run and a pair of wild turkeys burst into flight.

Misty did her best . . .

. . . but they escaped unscathed.  Now if she'll only do like that with the hawk I've seen hanging around.  She knows who belongs here and who doesn't!

The wild turkeys duly vanquished and the newspaper in hand, Misty and I headed back up to the house, all nice and zen again.

Summer 'Do's

After a 9-hour day and a 62-mile round trip, Misty and Zephyr are sporting their new summer 'do's.

All that's really noticeable about Misty's 'do is that it's snow white.  What you can't see is that she's down from 112 lbs. to 110 because the groomer "defurminated" 2 pounds of hair!  Misty doesn't get a crew cut because without a nice coat of fur on her back, her pink skin would sunburn.  Also, according to Sasha the groomer, as Pyrs get older their coats tend not to grow back if they're shaved.  Who wants a patchy Pyr?

I don't know how many pounds of hair got shaved off Zephyr, but as usual, her summer 'do makes her feel light and happy.

She has just enough ruff that  when she lies in the right position, it camouflages the fact that she could stand to lose even more weight.  Very nice job, Sasha!  

How Many Lives Does a Turkey Have?

I think one of our turkey poults heard that (tom) cats have nine lives and decided he does, as well, since he's a Tom, too!

When Herb got up Friday morning, he went to check on the babies, and one had flown out of the box and was sitting on the dryer.  When he saw Herb, he tried to get away and fell down behind the dryer.  So when I got up we had to pull out the dryer and rescue the adventurous bird.  Eight lives left!

We had swept the brooder house and sprayed it with a bleach solution Thursday evening and left it to air overnight.  It's tightly screened with hardware mesh to keep predators out, and it has a latch and a hook to secure the door so no handy raccoons can get in.

On Friday morning, we replaced the tarp that we use to cover the floor and weighted it down with pieces of 2x4 lumber to keep it from moving.

In one corner is the brooder box which is very useful while the birds are young.  It's much easier to heat the inside of a small box than a large, screened room!

Zooming in closer you can see that the top of the brooder box is a handy metal piece which we found laying in the hay barn after we moved in.  It's got a hole that's perfect for dropping in a heat lamp without it touching anything flammable.  It can be raised or lowered according to the amount of heat needed for the birds.  The bungie strap is adjustable and supports the weight of the lamp so it's not hanging by its cord.

Peeking through the hole, you can see the birds below, basking in the warmth of the heat lamp.  It was just our luck that the night we moved them into the brooder house, the temperature dropped into the 30's!  Turkey poults and keets are both fragile and need to be kept very warm, so obviously something more was needed.

First I covered most of the hole on top with a few pieces of spare lumber to help hold the heat in.  Next I got a thrift store throw that we usually use to protect plants in the garden, and I folded it over the opening of the brooder box, weighting it on top to hold it in place.

The birds had already huddled in the far corner to stay warm.  I set their waterer up on a block of wood to keep it out of the shavings and moved it close to the heat lamp so the water would stay warm enough for the turkeys.  I also moved a feeding tray full of chick starter in where the birds could reach it.

The final thing I did was to hang the brooder thermometer under the heat lamp so I could monitor the temperature.  Then I dropped the blanket back in place and left.

When Herb went out to shut up the hens and put Misty in with her charges for the night, he came back and told me it had gotten really cold outside.  "I think I better just go check on the babies," I said.  On a whim I grabbed two more garden throws from the garage, got a flashlight, and headed out to the brooder house.

I added an extra throw in front of the opening, and then I noticed red light escaping from the back of the brooder box.  I took the second throw and went back to cover up the gaps that were letting heat escape.  As I tucked the throw in well so it would stay, I happened to look down between the side of the box and the side of the brooder room.  In the dim flashlight glow I saw a dark lump that I hadn't seen when I laid the 2x4's down to hold the tarp.

Sure enough, it was a turkey!  He had gotten out from under the blanket and gone exploring, then couldn't find his way back, and there he sat in a huddled heap.  I scooped him up, and he didn't even struggle, but as soon as I set him back under the heat, he got up and moved to join his buddies.  I was so thankful I had gone out to check because he would certainly have died from the cold.  Before I left, I grabbed another piece of 2x4 and weighted both blankets down in front of the brooder box so no one else could escape.  Seven lives left!

Saturday night I decided to make another bedtime check on the birds to be sure they were warm enough.  My system was working well, and despite the cold the thermometer was staying at a toasty 85°--but there was another problem.

Since some of the keets seemed to have a hard time with the concept of sticking their heads inside the holes of the red plastic feeder, I had replaced it with a more open metal feeder.  The strip of metal down the middle, which I call a "vane" is made to rotate if the birds try to perch on it.  It spins and tips them off so they can't roost there pooping in their food!

Somehow, this suicidal turkey (I'm assuming it's the same one, although they could be taking turns) had gotten himself UNDER the metal vane.  Only one wing was free, and he was laying on his side with his legs splayed out.  He was wedged in there so tightly that I had to pry the ends of the feeder apart and remove the vane before I could get him out.  He hopped right up and ran off, but I doubt he would have made it all night.  Six lives left!

I've heard people say turkeys are hard to raise.  I'm beginning to see why the hatcheries make you buy 15--they want to be sure you have one left by Thanksgiving!  I'm also beginning to think that, as curious and friendly as they are compared to the keets, turkeys must be pretty stupid!  After all, you've never heard of a Thanksgiving chicken, have you?   

Keets and Poults

 Hey, Dave Barry, I think "Keets and Poults" would make a great name for a rock band!

A turkey poult (center) cocks his head, looking adorable.  The birds on either side of him are keets.

But what it really means is that we have five baby guinea fowl (keets) and three baby turkeys (poults).  I bought them on the spur of the moment when I found them in our local farm store.  I've often thought of getting turkeys, but most hatcheries require an order of about 15.  That's a lot of Thanksgiving turkeys, so I was glad to be able to just get three.

A keet (left) snuggles up to a turkey poult (right).  I think the keets' racing stripes are cute!

Since I got home a bit late that evening and the brooder house wasn't set up, I put the babies in a box on top of a heating pad on the dryer with an pole lamp canted to shine warmth down into the box.

I gave them some chick starter (specifically approved for turkeys and all other fowl) and some warm water (because drinking cold water can kill turkey poults) with electrolytes and probiotics dissolved in it.  I was glad I had cleaned and stored the equipment after the last batch of birds left the brooder house so it was ready to be used on the spur of the moment.

When he cocks his head at the right angle, you can see the beginning of this turkey poult's "snood" at the top of his beak.

Then I just stood there for several minutes listening to the lovely sing-song warbling of the keets and enjoying the silent cuteness of the poults.  I do love having baby birds around!