Category: Real-Life Stories

This Independence Day…

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The year is 1776. It’s a sultry July day. But bells ring and excitement fills the air. You stand shoulder to shoulder with your neighbors as you hear these words read for the very first time…

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.–Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world….”

As the list of injustices the colonies have suffered at the orders of King George continues, your mind wanders over the last several years. Yes, you’ve lived the “taxation without representation” and seen your friends forced to house British soldiers in their homes. You’ve heard the stories of colonists deprived of trial by jury and of sailors impressed in the British navy to fight against their neighbors. Of course, the story of Paul Revere’s ride sends shivers down your spine.

And, yet, for all they’ve done against you, you know some good Loyalists. There are a few even in your extended family. Yes, the men in Independence Hall wrote it like it often is: “Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.”

The next words bring you to the present.

“We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.” [1]

On that July day in 1776, no one knew whether these words would still be remembered centuries later. But here we are on Independence Day, 2015, and Americans across the country still have the opportunity to read and remember these words and all that went into and came out of them.

However, as I read particular sections, something nags at me. Perhaps your 21-century self notices it, too. Along with the gratitude, joy, and thrill we can feel as we recognize the depth of the ideals laid out in this Declaration, we may see the inconsistencies. There are several, but here’s one I’d like to focus on:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness..”

As these words were written, not everyone in America was free as we tend to look at freedom. In fact, for over a hundred and fifty following years, some people viewed others as “less” because they had a different skin color. What does that mean for the War for Independence that we honor? Did America miss something?

If you’ve ever wondered if the American Revolution was just “a white man’s thing”, you and Marvin Washington could have a great conversation. As an African-American boy himself, Marvin isn’t too excited about his new school project on the War for Independence. However, a journey back to 1775 that eventually lands him in the middle of the Battle of Bunker Hill gives him a glimpse of history he had missed. While Abigail Adams was waiting for news to send to her husband about the battle, a man by the name of Salem Poor was distinguishing himself on the battlefield. His actions would later bring him commendations from multiple officers. I hope you’ll check out “The American Revelation Parts I&II” by John Fornoff and that this story will inspire you to learn more just as it inspired me.

So on this Independence Day, while we must recognize that America has gotten some things very wrong and that it most probably will again, I think we can be grateful for many things. A few examples are

  1. the men and women from all different walks of life with all different appearances who sacrificed together to build our country,
  2. the opportunity to hear their words as we stand shoulder to shoulder with our neighbors.
  3. the challenge to build on their foundations,
  4. a Creator who really did give all people certain rights.

Gratitude for those things – now that’s American.

Maybe even more American than hot dogs and apple pie.

1. “The Declaration of Independence: A Transcription” http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/charters/declaration_transcript.html (accessed 3 July 2015). 

A Dream Come True

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Once, not that long ago, a little girl was fascinated by how the brain works. In fact, she decided she wanted to be a brain surgeon someday.

As a forward-thinking ten-year-old, she decided to quiz her physician father about medical school. What was it like? What kinds of things would she have to study? How could she prepare for it? And, most importantly, how long would it take?

The answer to the last question shocked her ten-year-old self. It seemed like forever! I can’t wait that long to actually do this, she thought. No wonder not many people become brain surgeons…

This revelation sparked a new thread of discussion. “Daddy, there has to be a faster way to do school,” she said. “I mean, why do we have to go to college after high school anyway? Don’t they just teach a lot of the same stuff over again? After all, look at the Founding Fathers.”

And so plans began forming of how to save time. Knock off a year here. Save two years there. Surely there had to be a way to do education faster and better.

Well, as this girl grew up, she discovered that she really wasn’t built to be a brain surgeon and that what she really wanted to do was help people and serve the Lord. (And maybe do some outlandishly awesome science experiments with her children someday.) So she took all of that passion and poured it into a few others areas. But, even as the brain surgeon idea faded away, the dream of doing college faster stuck with her.

As she and her parents toured four-year colleges, she kept thinking that someday there had to be something different. At one of those colleges, she purchased A Different Kind of Teacher by John Taylor Gatto and read it. That book convinced her even more that something had to change in higher education.

Meanwhile, a few other people were thinking the same thing. In a couple of years, the girl’s and their paths would intersect via audio messages, books, kind friends and a conference. What was this new Accelerated Distance Learning thing really about? Maybe just maybe…

Fast forward. As a nineteen-year-old (one month before her 20th birthday), this girl received her fully-accredited bachelor’s degree. Clearly, it took heaps of work, but thanks to the foresight and help of CollegePlus and Thomas Edison State College, she had finished her BA in two years, joining the ranks of other CollegePlus and TESC students who have proven that it can be done. She recognized the opportunity as a God-given gift and a dream come true. Now she could step forward to live out other, bigger dreams.

Of course, I was that ten-year-old girl dreaming big, the sixteen-year-old girl reading that book and the nineteen-year-old girl receiving her diploma. This subplot of my life reminds me that God can bring dreams to fruition. Not often in the way we expect. Not always in the way we think we want. But I believe He cares. He gives us dreams. And He is the One Who can make them come true.

Come with Me on Safari!

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There they were. Giraffes, just feet from the bus windows! How elegant they looked! The bilingual guide explained that each giraffe has its own unique spot pattern. No two are exactly alike. As we continued down the dusty road under the sun, elephants soon appeared. They lifted their trunks to give themselves dust baths and flapped their ears. I settled back in my seat. What an awesome God made each of these creatures! I was on safari, and I was loving it!

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Unknown-1UnknownLooking back on my safari experience, I remember a couple of books that came into my hands years ago. Jungle Doctor’s Africa and Jungle Doctor on Safari share stories told by Paul White, an Australian missionary doctor who lived in Tanzania (then Tanganyika) from 1938-41. Even though these books are in the middle of the Jungle Doctor series, I  think they are a great starting point and can be read without the first several books.

Both volumes are based on Paul White’s experiences in Africa and are told from his perspective. Jungle Doctor’s Africa takes place mostly at the Mvumi Hospital while Jungle Doctor on Safari follows the Jungle Doctor (Paul White) as he visits mission stations. While they are considered children’s books, I enjoyed them beyond childhood. The adventures are laugh-out-loud funny at times, intriguing at others because of the African backdrop, and often sobering and edifying as the realities of life and death are faced in light of Scripture.

Paul White’s writing style adds to the charm. I love his descriptions. “An apology for a road” or “bone-jolting” trip come to mind. Some parts remind me of life in Guatemala. I definitely feel that he could write so well because he had lived it and what the Lord was doing in Africa was dear to his heart.  Another interesting aspect of the writing style is the foreign words sprinkled throughout. Both Swahili and Chigogo (or Gogo) words pop up often. A glossary in the front makes them easy to understand, though, and I like the fun way the words sound in my head! Most of all, I love how “Bwana” (Dr. White) uses little opportunities to share the Gospel with memorable illustrations or word pictures.

Overall, the back of Jungle Doctor’s Africa sums it up well:

“It’s just that very often in Africa each new day brings joy and sadness, love and loss – but with the love of Jesus Christ there is always hope.”

Yes that’s another reason to love these books. They have a hope-filled perspective that can nourish the soul.

So there I was on my own safari, delighted that God had orchestrated for me this sweetIMG_7457 opportunity. Was I in Paul White’s Tanzania? Well, no. I actually went on safari in Mexico. That’s right! Mexico. Sorry if that’s a disappointment to you, but I wasn’t disappointed in the least by my experience at Africam Safari. I hope you’ll go if you ever get the opportunity. And if you love the giraffes and elephants as much as I did, you might just need something like these little guys to bring home in your suitcase.

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A Cheery Friend: The Frontier Adventures of Elinore Stewart

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Have you ever had a friend who reminds you of life’s simple joys and puts a spring back in your step? I hope you have had at least one. Today I’d like to introduce you to one of mine. Her name is Elinore Pruitt Stewart.

Elinore has quite the story. My family calls it the “grown-up-girls’ version of Little Britches”. Both of Elinore’s parents died when she was young, leaving her in charge of her siblings. In order to stay together, they went through all sorts of adventures of the hard-work variety. Eventually, she found herself a young widow with a baby girl in Denver, Colorado. Elinore once again had to do all sorts of labor – hauling coal and doing laundry – to eek out a livelihood for herself and her daughter. The hardest part of all was that she had to leave Baby in a nursery while she worked.

By now you are probably thinking that poor Elinore had a decidedly sad life, but don’t give up yet. Leaving out dozens of descriptive details, she eventually became a housekeeper on a Wyoming ranch and was able to not only spend time with her daughter but also make a living, get married again, homestead her own claim, and have all sorts of lively escapades in the West of 1910s America! 

1910s? Yes, that’s right; Elinore Stewart doesn’t come and actually sit at my kitchen table with me, and I’ve never actually met her – although I feel like I have! It was during her years in Wyoming that she wrote letters full of dElinore Stewart picetails and vibrant expressions to Mrs. Coney, a friend back in Denver. Thanks to her friend, Elinore’s letters were published in the Atlantic Monthly and later in a book illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. Her story lives on through print editions and an audiobook called The Frontier Adventures of Elinore Stewart: The Letters of a Woman Homesteader, part of the Voices of the Past series. It is through this audiobook that I have come to feel – albeit to only a certain extent – as if I know Elinore.

Looking at history, I sometimes think that remarkable women often had one great character trait that defined them – the hospitality of Katherine Willoughby, the intellect of Abigail Adams, the adventurous perseverance of Sacajawea. If we were going to pick out what defined Elinore Stewart it would be her infectious zest for life or her care for others.

Somehow Elinore’s hard early years, instead of making her bitter, gave her a great appreciation for the often-overlooked pleasures of life. She got delight out of a sunset, a letter from a friend, and the simple fact that her family could be together. What a good reminder that is when I’m having a not-so-great day! Besides the fact that the realities of Elinore’s life remind me how good my life really is, her joyful outlook is simply contagious.

I think a large part of Elinore’s ability to look on the bright side was her care for others. She refused to be self-focused and industriously set about making life more beautiful for others. Even when she had a ranch full of people to cook and clean for, four children to raise, food to grow and animals to tend, she found time to bring a little beauty to friends, neighbors and strangers. In disc 5 you can find Elinore serving as matron of honor at a long-awaited wedding as well as making the wedding dinner and helping the overloaded boardinghouse owner, writing “Indoor Outings for Invalids” to bring some of her adventures to the homebound and, oh, well, you might just have to make it your own adventure…

 Beyond these things, Elinore was on an others-focused mission. While making a good life for herself and her family was a priority, it wasn’t the only reason she chose to homestead her own claim. It appears that she chose to do it to inspire other widows that they too could enjoy a simple, healthful life homesteading with their children instead of slaving away in cities where they had to leave their children to find work. Of course, it wasn’t an easy life, but not easy doesn’t necessarily mean not good; working hard in the clear, fresh open air where one could grow  food together with family could be so much better than scrimping to earn whatever one could to buy a little food alone. Elinore aspired to give struggling women hope by her efforts, and as you can discover for yourself, she accomplished what she set out to do.

I hope you’ve enjoyed getting acquainted a bit with my friend Elinore Stewart and that you can get to know her more for yourself. I’ve loved having Elinore in the kitchen with me when I’m alone on a baking day or working on some project. However, I will add that her story is a real story about the American West. It’s not all happy-go-lucky. There are deaths, outlaws cause trouble, the realities of Mormonism are discussed and people have tragedies in their past. (Note: The adapted reading in the Voices of the Past series tidies up some elements left in print editions.) Also, while Elinore does express her faith in God, she is not quite as Christian as could be hoped perhaps. All of these elements are a part of a real woman’s life. This is the kind of story that makes history breathe and makes me love it. At the same time, please be discerning, especially when letting little/sensitive children listen.

And don’t worry, I do have some still-living friends of the cheery variety as well! They’re just not quite as shareable as Elinore.

Once Upon a Town: The Miracle of the North Platte Canteen

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Ten minutes was all they had. Ten minutes to share a kind word and some home-cooking. Ten minutes to send off the American boys who might never come home.

So out came the sandwiches, out came the angel food cakes, on came the jukebox and on went the coffee. After all, ten minutes was all they had.

Can you picture it? The troop train clangs to a stop and young soldiers pour off. Mothers and daughters hand out plates of food as if serving their own sons and brothers. What would the hospitality and kind words mean to you if you were heading off to war? How would angel food cake taste when you knew it would be the last you would have in a long time or when you’d been eating military food? What would you do with the pen-pal address hidden in your popcorn ball?

This is the story of the North Platte Canteen. During WWII, the North Platte Canteen was a hopping place as troop trains stopped in that small Nebraska town on their way across the country. North Platte’s people saw this as an opportunity. Why not seize those ten-minute stops to encourage those American soldiers?

So the homemakers got together. Soon the husbands and children joined in to whisk egg whites with forks, serve sandwiches, form sticky popcorn balls, and chip in their pocket money. My own Grandpa Dan who grew up in Nebraska remembers that his mother sent money to support the Canteen. I’ve wondered if my Grandpa Ken who served in the Air Force during WWII ever stopped in North Platte.

A special thank-you to my Grandpa Dan and Grandma Ruth for sharing Once Upon a Town with me and for Grandpa's service in the US Navy.

A special thank-you to my Grandpa Dan and Grandma Ruth for sharing Once Upon a Town with me and for Grandpa’s service in the US Navy.

And what was the impact of those ten minutes? Well, within the pages of Once Upon a Town: The Miracle of the North Platte Canteen by journalist Bob Greene, I discovered that North Platte became famous among American soldiers, families pulled together to serve, a little boy sold his shirt to raise money, a lifelong marriage began with a popcorn-ball connection, and decades later many of those involved teared up as they shared their Canteen stories. One soldier even took his children on a post-war road trip to show them the Canteen where they found his name in the guest book. These are the true stories of sacrifice, community, hard work and love that capture life on the homefront and show how mere minutes of kindness can leave a permanent impression and change many lives.

I found myself intrigued by the fact that serving especially scrumptious homemade food out of the Canteen to the soldiers was a private idea. It wasn’t a government project. It didn’t take a bureaucratic committee. It did take a host of volunteering and kind homemakers, farmers and country children. What a great example of charity that is “relational, local and voluntary”!

While I don’t endorse the entire book – please read with discretion/some sections are not suitable for children – particular stories are definitely worthwhile. For me, Once Upon a Town: The Miracle of the North Platte Canteen was a productive read and a challenge. Could we be as dedicated as Mr. Greene to collecting the stories of those who have gone before us but with a focus on God’s glory? Would we be willing to give of our time and resources with such gusto if given an opportunity like the women, children and men at North Platte? Could they have used those ten-minute intervals more fruitfully for Christ’s Kingdom? Are similar opportunities waiting for us today? Hmmm. Food for thought.

May you all have a very blessed Memorial Day weekend. As we take time to relax with family and friends and eat something yummy like angel food cake, may we also take time to remember and be grateful for those who paid the ultimate sacrifice for our liberty.

Teriyaki Hot Chocolate & the Sweetness of Shared Stories

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At this time of year, much of the world is thinking about lemonade more than hot chocolate. But I recently attended a graduation celebration and traveled down a dusty, bumpy, laughter-graced memory lane to Guatemala as I chatted with old and new friends. That’s how teriyaki hot chocolate came up.

The incident of the teriyaki hot chocolate could make one wonder why my mother ever let me in the kitchen. In self-defense, I was only eleven or so – old enough to know better, yes, but still…My family was living in Guatemala, and it was around New Year’s Eve. Now you may think that it would never get cold enough on the edge of the jungle even in January for hot chocolate to be desirable. However, when you’re used to temps in the 90s, the 50s with no home heating can feel plenty frigid! A family from the States was visiting us, so their mom, my mom and I were all in the kitchen, making a gigantic pot of hot chocolate from scratch (more or less). 

To make a potentially long story short, when a girl isn’t paying much attention, bottles of vanilla and bottles of teriyaki sauce can easily be interchanged. As you may imagine, the results were less than appealing. Down the drain went the whole pot of hot chocolate.

It was an opportunity to laugh at myself. (I’ve had quite a few of those.) The visiting mom made it easier on me by sharing a kitchen tale or two of her own. (Something about warming socks in the oven…?) Then, when the other kids heard about it, I was comforted by admissions of brownie-baking blunders.

All these years later, we still remember these moments with grins. Chatting at the graduation party, I realized how good it is to talk with people who shared snippets of my Guatemala years and was reminded of the truth I gained from the terrible teriyaki hot chocolate tale: shared stories sweeten life. By being a part of my kitchen catastrophe and then sharing their own stories with me, these friends sweetened up my life. The same thing can happen each day as we take the time to share even a sentence or paragraph of our lives with others and take part in a page of theirs. It’s kind of like a dash of vanilla or a sprinkle of marshmallows in a cup of hot chocolate. 

Maybe you don’t have many people who are sharing your story right now. I’ve had seasons like that, too. Talk about hard and lonely! Here’s the thing:  even if no one else is sharing your story right now, God is. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, however you’re feeling, God is right there with you. Along with His presence, He’s invited us to share in His Story through His Word and through the lives He gives us each day. (Psalm 25:14, 2 Corinthians 3:3, Ephesians 2:10, ESV.)

   

Reflections for Mother’s Day

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Feeling reflective with Mother’s Day around the corner, I realize that there are three great things my mother did for me as I grew up.

1. She listened to me. Oh, the hours we’ve spent chatting over the years! Since I’m one of those people who generally figures things out by talking through them, it has been a huge blessing to have a mom who listened.

2. She taught me to read and gave me good books. When I first started learning to read, I was convinced it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Thankfully, my mom stuck with me, and I started going after books like an ant after sugar cubes! That’s when she provided me with good books. One series that I still count among my favorites  is the Adventures of the Northwoods by Lois Walfrid Johnnson. It nourished my love for people and history. Here is an excerpt from the last book

Never had Kate had a dress that was so soft, nor so lovely. But something surprised her even more. In the reflection of the mirror she saw Mama standing on one side of her and Grandma on the other. Again Kate wondered if she would ever be a woman like them.

Then there was something she knew. It was their belief in God that made Mama and Grandma strong. Out of their love for Him came everything else they did.

~Disaster on Windy Hill, pg. 159, Lois Walfrid Johnson

3. That’s the third thing Mom did for me: as she shared God’s story with me, she showed me glimpses of His love. And it made her strong. There’s no better gift a mother could give. 

I am so blessed to have a Mom and Grandmas who all have known the Lord. If you weren’t given that particular gift, I hope you’ve had other godly women in your life who’ve invested in you. As Kate discovers in Disaster on Windy Hill when women have Christ, they are connected by something more than family resemblance.

With surprise Kate realized something. “I look like both of you!” 

“Yah,” Grandma said. Her smile was proud.

“But how can I?” Kate stared at their reflections. “I’m shorter than you, and each of us has a different color hair.”

“It’s something more,” Mama said, as though she wanted Kate to find out for herself.

A special thank-you to my mom, and all the mothers and mothers of the faith out there. You are treasured and loved. Happy Mother’s Day!

Wooden Shoes and Rescues (in honor of King’s Day)

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Come!

It’s an invitation to a land where you can watch windmills, trip through tulip fields and patter in painted wooden shoes. It’s an open door to a journey with two friends, Summer and Noelle, as they learn not only new things about each other but also new things about themselves. It’s a beckoning to the realization of the importance of both forgiveness and trust in God for the future. Come! 

Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes by Robin Jones Gunn has stayed on my “favorites” list for a while, and, with the Dutch holiday King’s Day coming up on April 27th, this is the perfect time to share it with you!

In this volume of the Sisterchicks series, Summer is compelled by certain circumstances to leap across the Atlantic Ocean and visit her long-time pen-pal Noelle in that land of windmills, tulips, and wooden shoes: the Netherlands. The two friends meet face to face for the first time. During her visit, Summer experiences various aspects of Dutch culture mixed with her own embarrassing moments and hilarious escapades (like floating down a canal in a giant wooden shoe)! On a more serious note, she visits the home of her heroine, Corrie ten Boom, and is reminded of Psalm 91’s promises and the value of living beyond fear – of living abundantly.

As a letter-loving girl, I was hooked right away by the fact that these two friends formed their sisterly bond with pens, paper and envelopes. However, for the first couple of chapters I still had a hard time getting into the story. Then things started to happen, and I was into it – all the way from my wooden-shoe-longing toes to my Dutch-descendant blue eyes!

One part of the story that especially grabbed me was the visit to Corrie ten Boom’s home. (You can learn more at the Ten Boom Museum website here, if you’d like.) As many of you probably know from the movie The Hiding Place or various books, Corrie ten Boom and her family used this little building as a headquarters for rescuing Jews during the WWII Nazi occupation of Holland. Through their efforts, approximately 800 Jews were spared. Before the war ended, however, the Ten Booms were betrayed and sent to prison camps. Corrie was fifty-three years old when she became a Nazi prisoner. While both her father and sister died in the camps, Corrie, in God’s providence, survived. She spent the rest of her life sharing the Gospel.

Corrie’s story got me thinking in several directions. First of all, I hadn’t known that she was “so old” (in her fifties!) when she was protecting innocent lives while risking her own. That fact is a good reminder that God still uses us when we are “older” and that my usefulness to God or the adventures I could have aren’t going to end just because I hit a certain age. Secondly, I was inspired by this family’s use of their home. The Ten Booms, by God’s grace, used their petite house mightily. It was a secret weapon against the evil of their day. Their home became a haven of hope and a passage to freedom. Even today it is still serving in those ways as people from the world over visit and learn about the healing power of forgiveness and the hope-filled freedom found in Jesus Christ. How am I using the resources God has given me? I wonder. What legacy will I leave? Lastly, I was filled with a simple awe over Corrie’s living-out of Proverbs 24:11 in her own day. (“Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter.” ESV) For me, her example begs the questions, “Who are the people in need of rescuing in my day?”  and “How would God have me help them?”

Today, or sometime this coming week, might you have time to make yourself a good cup of tea or coffee – whichever you prefer – and settle in to pen a snail-mail letter to a friend or read an encouraging book? You may find – like Summer and Noelle – that such an action brings grand adventures your way!

A beautiful painting by Wisconsin artist Nic Lenz

A beautiful painting by Wisconsin artist Nic Lenz

On the 18th of April…

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It’s April 18th, and I’m so excited that it’s here! You see, it just so happens that April is National Poetry Month. (Who knew, right?) That means it’s high time I introduce you to two of my childhood friends.

First, meet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was one of the “Fireside Poets” who wrote several poems that I memorized and loved to recite when I was in school. (Ok, you might hear me quoting them yet!) “The Children’s Hour” and “The Village Blacksmith” became two of my favorites, but another poem is oh-so apropos for today because one of it’s lines says, “On the eighteenth of April…”

Do you know which poem has that phrase? The first two lines will give you a clue:

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

There you go! The multi-page poem “Paul Revere’s Ride” commemorates the daring deeds of an American Patriot named Paul Revere who warned the people of Lexington and Concord that the British were coming to capture both the Patriot leaders Sam Adams and John Hancock and the Patriot supply of gunpowder. His successful “midnight ride” began on April 18th in 1775 – 240 years ago today!

If you’ve never read the poem, do give it at least a quick look today. Can you hear the rhythm?

The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Can you see it on the screen of your imagination?

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height, 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:

Obviously, I love this poem. However, dear old Longfellow practiced prolific poetic license. For example, the “one if by land, two if by sea” signal was meant to warn other Patriots, not Revere. He already knew when the lanterns were hung that the British were planning to come by sea.

If you’d like to know more about the true tale, one way is through an audio story called, “The Midnight Ride,” by the team at Adventures in Odyssey. I think that audio drama played a role in endearing both poetry and history to me so long ago. (Note for those who listen: Apparently, both “Old North Church” and “Christ Church” were used as names for the same church in Boston, the church with the highest steeple in the city – just perfect for showing off signal lantern lights! (1)

You can visit Old North Church along the Freedom Trail in Boston.

You can visit Old North Church along the Freedom Trail in Boston.

 

"Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church…"

“Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church…”

Beyond historicities of Longfellow’s poem, I’ve been contemplating another aspect of it: For much of the world, Revere’s midnight ride is all they know of him – if that. How much we miss! There is so much more to his story. For example…(2)

  • Did you know that Paul Revere’s father came at age thirteen to America from France because his Huguenot (French Protestant) parents wanted him to escape Louis XIV’s tyranny?
  • Could it be that his father’s love of horses prepared Paul for his (several) daring rides for liberty?
  • Have you heard that Revere learned his skill as a silversmith from his father and then took over the family business at age nineteen when his father died?
  • Are you aware that he was a member of the Boston Tea Party?
  • How about that he was chosen to design and print the new American money used to pay soldiers during the War for Independence?

All of these other glimpses of Paul Revere give us a much richer picture of him, don’t you think? He had his share of joys and heartaches, successes and failures. Many things worked together to make him the man who made that midnight ride.

I was struck by a little lesson here. Just as we see Paul Revere in one moment of his life and can think that that’s most of the story, we can think the same when we meet people day by day. How often do I meet someone for a few minutes and think I know their story? Maybe a truth to take home from Longfellow’s poem is that people’s lives are full and complex. A one-time meeting often only scratches the surface. What would we see differently if we knew more of the other chapters?

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,-- 
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!

1 “Old North Church” https://www.thefreedomtrail.org/freedom-trail/old-north-church.shtml (accessed April 17, 2015).

2 Scott Ingram: Paul Revere, Triangle Histories – The Revolutionary War (Blackbirch Press, 2004).

Made New

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Ever wonder where your favorite story was written? Tolkien used his stately desk, Laura Ingalls Wilder enjoyed her farmhouse nook and Robin Jones Gunn loves her Hawaiian nest. And me? Well, I wouldn’t claim to stand amongst writers like them, but I can still show you the corner of the world where I often pen letters, jot journal entries or scribble story plots.

First I have to share its story. A writing cabinet with three shelves, a cupboard, a mirror and a fold-down desk stood in my (living) Grandma’s childhood home and later served one of her sisters. It was well used and loved like many pieces that saw the Great Depression. This past fall, it was given to me. The glass door was long gone, but the mirror was still there. I especially loved the cubbies above the desk! After spending a few days hearing tales about the world this cabinet watched, I knew I wanted to do something special with it. However, before anything else, it needed some work.

My family pitched in to refresh this heirloom piece. Cleaning, shellacking, sanding, painting, repairing…It took a fair amount of TLC. Was all the work worth it? See for yourself!

Ready for a makeover

Ready for a makeover

Voile!

Voile!

A close-up of the cubbies

A close-up of the cubbies

Pretty darling, isn’t it? The brown paint represents the hard work of past generations who put down roots. The green represents growth and new life. I like to think this cabinet got a fresh start. In some ways, it’s like it’s a whole new creation.

It makes me think of what God does for His children. He makes us new. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, ESV). It’s like He gets out His brushes, paints, sandpaper and cleaning cloths and gives a cobwebby, musty, chipped, scratched heart a makeover. Sure, there will still be some rough edges or the paint will need a touch up, but where it counts the Master Carpenter gives His workmanship a fresh start.

That’s a theme that rambles through my head when I come to my little writing desk.

“Finish, then, thy new creation;                                                                                                                                  Pure and spotless let us be.                                                                                                                                            Let us see thy great salvation                                                                                                                              Perfectly restored in thee;                                                                                                                                    Changed from glory into glory,                                                                                                                                      Till in heav’n we take our place,                                                                                                                                      Till we cast our crowns before thee,                                                                                                                         Lost in wonder, love and praise.”

~”Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” by Charles Welsey (Trinity Hymnal, #460)

P.S.

My Grandma who went to heaven earlier this year told me that there was a cabinet nearly identical to this one in her childhood home as well. Her minister father kept his sermons organized on the shelves. You can imagine the “made new” cabinet is even dearer to me now.