Published by The American Tract Society, this copy is 150 years old and was probably used by Sunday School teachers. The handwritten note inside says “Hickory Grove, SSL No 179, 1871.” Grace Abbott or The Sunday Tea-Party is the story of young Grace trying to keep Sunday special and devoted to God. It’s hard to do, though, with the tea parties and the mean girls tempting Grace to put aside what she learned about the Sabbath. In the end, Grace does prevail!
My dearest Frederick:
Your inquiry about Mother — there was not much to do after the hemorrhage. She fought well and passed gracefully.
Plan to take care of yourself. You are needed. Father expects to be back in August. I am not so sure.
I know you will put them all before yourself. Shall that be my last thought?
The blossoms — I see them when I climb to the big oak, with your pickets there shepherding Lester Atkins’ stock. The grass swaying, yellow and green, wave after wave, and I hear your jolly laugh and your voice telling me “Soon.”
You are in my lungs, like fire, like sea salt. You are loose gems. You are a mirror and a cup.
Excuse my script — there is more that I say, so read deeply.
17 June 1918
Philippians 4, vs 13
After reading through the history of World War I, I thought about the separation of families and friends due to the calls to serve. Then I imagined a young woman sending a postcard to her sweetheart soldier who is fighting in France. I took a photo of flowers in my garden and created a “vintage” postcard to inspire me in writing this love story, short and sweet.
I pray that the coming days do not usher in another great war, which always requires the taking away of loved ones.
In 1894, Scottish evangelist Henry Drummond shared a message — The Greatest Thing in the World — based on 1 Corinthians 13. His little talk on the Bible passage was soon published, and it’s never been out of print. My copy is from the 1950’s, and written inside is “Janet, My love, Aunt Ruth.”
I remember when I first read the passage in the Bible and saw that the words describing true Love are all action words, not emotions. That was a lightbulb moment for me. Take time to read 1 Corinthians 13. Maybe what it says will give you a new idea about love, like it did for me.
The Holy Life: A Book for Christians Seeking the Rest of Faith was written in 1875 by the Rev. Evan H. Hopkins. My copy is embossed with a stamp that reads “Sea Pines School for Girls, Massachusetts, Incorporated 1911.”
Though my mother loved Christmas decorations and the legend of Santa Claus, she was clear with her children about the true meaning of Christmas. The holiday would not pass without the telling of the holy story.
That brings me to my favorite childhood Christmas memory of all.
One of the words I use to describe my mother is resourceful. She used what she had to run our household, and she made sure that we children did the same. Money was scarce, and we didn’t ask for much. Perhaps that is what made Christmas so special for us. After a full year of not asking, we received something.Continue reading
Reading Mr. Jones, Meet the Master, a book of sermons and prayers, triggered a significant change to my life. A friend encouraged me to buy a paperback we saw at a yard sale, I read it, and, through Peter Marshall’s words, I met a Jesus that no one had been telling me about. In these sermons, Jesus seemed so personal — someone I could really know — and I wondered why he was not being presented to me in that way.
God also used Marshall’s sermons to show my lack of Bible doctrine, even though I had been attending a church regularly for almost two years. I questioned and eventually left that church, and God led me to one that did not stray from the Gospel and the Bible’s truths.
Years later, during one of our church library giveaways, I found this 1953 hardcover edition to add to my collection of treasures.
As I was sorting through storage boxes last weekend, I was surprised to find the pages of the remarks I made at my mother’s memorial service. She died 22 years ago today (November 5), and the service was held a week later. Mom had requested that each of her children prepare something to read at the service. Though we had been far from her heart and life for decades, our mother still expected her children to honor her at her death. Some of us did. Of her six children, my brother Norman, sister Sandra, and I attended her memorial service and shared our words.
Here are mine. November 12, 1999.Continue reading
A friend and fellow church member, artist Susan Savage depicts her Christian faith through paintings. Earlier this month, Susan presented this stunning oil-on-canvas painting, titled Delivered, to our church, where it now graces a wall in the prayer room.
Excerpts from her statement about the painting:
A shiny silver vessel sits triumphantly atop a nest of sharply pointed thorns. A red ribbon weaves its way through the torturous thicket and pours itself out behind a draped white cloth. The material substance of the silver vessel, delivered from its own refining fire of tribulation, stands as a testament to what Jesus Christ endured on the cross, and serves as a reminder of His loving and redemptive sacrifice for humankind.
This painting exemplifies the foundational core of the Christian faith. It is a reminder that Christ died in our place to rescue us from our sins. He died that we may live. Because of his sacrifice on the cross, His shed blood, and His resurrection from the grave, those who believe in Him are given victory over physical death.
"But God, being rich in mercy because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together in Christ. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not of your own doing: It is the gift of God ..." (Ephesians 2:4,5,8)
Visit her website to see more of her extraordinary paintings.
I find myself drawn to the “pen” when I experience emotional pain. Writing a fictional story helps me to turn the pain into something that I hope will help others who may be experiencing the same. This is one of those stories.
For Inez, clearing her mind of the ugly words was the hardest part. Prayer, verses, sweet worship with friends. Nothing seemed able to displace what Yola had said. The words hung there, accompanied by a heaviness inside that weighed down her soul.Continue reading