Young Ladies Christian Fellowship » History

The Moment of Remembrance

Chantel — Fri, 22 May 2009 15:01:35 +0000

It’s more than a holiday. It’s more than a day for picnics and parties, for days at the beach. It is more than barbecues. It is a day to remember, and to honor those who have given their lives for their country. It is a day to realize and to understand the cost of war, the price of freedom. As many have said, freedom- any kind of freedom- isn’t free. We must remember this, and thank God that we are still free in this country.

We live in a generation where war has touched nearly every family in one way or another. There are few of us who have not felt the sting of war in our own hearts. It has brought separation, worry and tears, it has made heroes, and it has shown the true characters of others. It has called for bravery and courage in ways that many may never know. Some of these men- our husbands, brothers, sons, never came home to the family who loved them. They left an aching gap that can never be refilled, yet the memory of who they were will never die in the hearts of those they left behind.

Whether or not we agree with war, whatever may be our speculations as to what the real reason behind it is, it is our duty as fellow countrymen to support those who have gone away, to encourage them, to pray for them and it is our duty to remember those who gave all and the families, the wives and children who they left behind them when they fell. They may need to know that they are not alone. Today, we’re all here together as Americans, as fellow countrymen of any nation who has faced war. Today, it is the beginning of Memorial Day Weekend.

On Monday, May 25th, 2009 at 3:00 pm in your local time, it is the Moment of Remembrance. It is a moment of silent reflection, while the taps play, on the heroes and loved ones lost in every war.

Enjoy the weekend, enjoy the sunshine and the beauty that God has surrounded us with. Treasure the moments with your family, but stop and think of those who are not home, of those who have an empty seat at their family gathering and remember them in prayer to God.

And if you have the ability to bless some of those families in some other way, don’t forget them this Memorial Day weekend.

Listen to The Taps online.

Read about the History of Memorial Day in America.

Read other patriotic posts

If You Would Not Be Forgotten

Chantel — Sun, 17 May 2009 14:57:21 +0000

It was my second trip to Colonial Williamsburg, and I felt as if I couldn’t soak in enough. I love the place, everything about it, but most of all, it is the History I love. It would take a life time to see it all, and the rolling farmland so full of history captured my heart.

Colonial Williamsburg, though, is something special. I could never get tired of it, I don’t think. A lot went on her during the forming of our Country. We stepped back into the year 1774, and life in some parts of the town, carried on as it did, except of course for the multitudes of visitors, who like us, had come to learn and experience and enjoy the old town and the past it presented.

My brother got chosen to be on the jury of the old court cases, we wandered through gardens, admiring the tidy rows and discovering plants we’d never seen growing before (Okra for one!) and laughed at a random scarecrow who wore a straw sunbonnet and a dress.?

We got to watch the “Militia” march, and listen to the Fife and Drum Concert. When we went into the post office, I wished I had a letter to mail, but I’d left them all in the van and decided I’d just have to remember next time.

We went through so many little shops, and I even got to play a little on one of the harpsichords that they make there. I didn’t make it out of the town, either, without one of those beautiful straw bonnets, complete with bows and ribbons and a ‘hat pin’ that they sell there. Mom and Dad kindly paid part- for an early birthday present, and I carried it in my hand and guarded it the entire rest of the two and a half weeks we were driving around the states.

I even convinced my brother to buy a three cornered hat, and my sister, who thought the hats were quite silly, decided to buy a fife instead. It was a day that will long be etched into my mind, a happy day of new memories, mixed with a deepened love of our history, and this land that I am blessed to live in- for it’s heritage, if nothing else.

As we walked down the streets, I couldn’t help but think of those who had gone before- George Washington walked these streets, as did Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, Peyton Randolph, and even Marquis de Lafayette and George Wythe.

But perhaps it was Patrick Henry, “re-living” through one of the re-enactors, who stood up and gave a speech that made all the many volumes of books I’d read on Patrick’s life and manners come to life before me, that captured my attention the most that first day. I think I could have stayed for hours to listen to the most ‘alive’ history lesson I’d ever had.

But all things come to an end, and when I left it was reluctantly indeed, for there was so much more I wanted to know, so much more to experience and so much more to see. Who knows if I shall ever have a chance to return just one more time, though I dream of it often. I’d go back in a flash if I ever could! I’m thankful, so thankful for the two happy days that I was blessed to spend wandering the streets of such a beautiful place, and to catch a little vision of what the lives of those great men, and those every day people of our past was like. It made my heart feel some sort of kinship with the past- for though our lives today are so very different from theirs in many ways, there are those ties of commonality, of hopes and dreams, of heartache and joy that every human being shares, and I will not forget my glimpse into their lives- both the “good” and the “bad” who made our history what it is.

Yet-if time should last, some 200 years from now, what would those who come after us see? I doubt they’d read -or even write- volumes on any one of our lives, unlike those who lived and worked in Williamsburg, but as Mr. Franklin said, just in case, perhaps we’d better be careful:

“If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write something worth reading or do things worth the writing.” –Benjamin Franklin

Pretty good advice this, don’t you think? Not for the sake of being remembered alone, for I don’t know that any of those great men particularly thought that 200 and some years from now we’d still be reading and remembering them as we do, they simply lived and struggled for what they believed and understood to be right and best for their country, and for their families. So we should live, and write and work – not for our own honor but to honor Him who gives us life, and no matter what should happen, or who should look at what we’ve left behind, or who should read what we have written hereafter, they will find a life well lived and words worth reading after all.

Christmas in Alaska

YLCF — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 14:57:00 +0000

December 13 is St. Lucia Day, but it is also the day many remember the life and death of St. Herman of Alaska. I’d never heard of him until this year, but he truly led a fascinating life. He was one of the few who brought the gospel to Alaska over 200 years ago, enduring many hardships, and protecting the native people he had grown to love with his life. Some of his fellow missionaries were martyred. Father Herman died and was buried on December 13 (December 25 in the West).

I had the privilege of hearing his liturgy sung in a beautiful cathedral as a special birthday treat this year. (I have loved cathedrals ever since my mission trip to Romania in 2003). And I’ve thought about him several times, as the days here continue to get colder and darker. How blessed I am to have a warm home and relatively easy life; yet how wont I am to complain when my feet are a bit cold in the car, or there is ice covering the parking lot at the grocery store. I am humbled when I remember that many Christians have endured great hardships and horrible conditions to bring Christ to a dying people.

I believe that God has given us this great cloud of witnesses so that no matter what challenges we face in our daily lives, we can know that we are not alone. Someone at some time has faced similar things and more, whether in Alaska, or Jerusalem, Romania, or Ecuador. We remember them and rejoice in the faithfulness of God. He has a long history of doing great things with small people.

Merry Christmas from Alaska!

- by Elizabeth Jackson
photo by Sarah Plett

Hundred Year Predictions

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 16:08:00 +0000

This article, published in the Ladies Home Journal in 1900, is quite the read! Apparently they thought that due to better health care, the average lifespan would move from 35 up to 55. Transportation on the bus would cost only one cent. And…well, you’ll have to read it.

Step Aside, Indiana Jones – Part Two

Elisabeth — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 14:17:00 +0000

We found pottery roof tiles, thick pottery oven lining, and the occasional mosaic piece. Oh, and I found part of a ring-shaped pottery stand for pointy-bottomed pots. Meanwhile, the excitable young man hit the jackpot: he found not one, but two coins in his drain! Tiny, slightly irregularly shaped coins no bigger than the tip of your pinky finger. People crowded around to see and photograph them.

Pretty soon it was 9 am, and time for breakfast. The dozen or so of us all sat under the low-slung tarp near the entrance, and while I ate my yogurt , my cheese sandwich, and a few almonds, everyone else dug into the puddings, peppers, cucumbers, grapes, blue cheese and very white “dark wheat” bread sent by the hotel where they were staying.

And we were back to work. Our square was no bigger than a small room, and there was some difficulty in fitting up to six people in it at once. I had trouble knowing what to do with my feet and legs, and spent a lot of time crouched on my heels (a decision I was later to painfully regret). But if I thought I was having trouble, it was nothing compared to that of a big, burly Paul Bunyan sort of guy by the name of Tim, who spent a lot of time carting heavy goofas of dirt away from the site.

As I dug, I came upon half a dozen or so palm-sized potsherds that looked like they belonged together. Rather than being tumbled amidst soil, they looked like they were laid out on a surface. Our leader noticed what I had found, and got a little excited. It just might mean that we were reaching the floor of a room. As I continued uncovering shards, he coached me to lay aside my trowel, and not make the mistake of prying them out of the ground. They were to stay just as they were, while I brushed loose dirt away from them with a small broom. Meanwhile, in another corner of the room, stones were beginning to appear. I’m under the impression that we were digging in the Late Roman Period (after the destruction of the Temple in 70 AD), with a few first century items popping up here and there.

People were going by on the path above the site, and on the sidewalk below it: Ethiopian Jews, some in white suits and kippas, a colorful Christian group from Africa, a few Israeli adults on tour with a personal guide, large groups of Israeli schoolchildren on field trips. They all asked the same question: “Did you find anything?” I had enough Hebrew to understand the question, but I didn’t have the Hebrew to answer. Besides, I didn’t know what they’d been finding there all week long, before I got there. “Yes, a few small things,” I said once.

“Time to clean up!” Someone took down the canopy, and almost immediately, I felt myself beginning to dehydrate under the intense sun. Whew! Thank God for shade while it lasted! Some people got busy squaring the edges of the areas with a miniature pick, while others swept away loose dirt. Anything that we came up with from these actions was thrown away, since it wasn’t clear what layer they were from. As a result, one of the ladies go to walk away with a really beautiful jug handle. (Yes, I said “beautiful.” When you’re dealing with innumerable faceless flat shards of pottery, rims, handles and bases have a lot to say about the vessel they came from).

And just like that, we were done. Everyone’s cameras came out, and people snapped last pictures of the site, pictures we’d been too busy to capture before. We stacked all the equipment by the wall that separated us from the road, which separated us from the parking lot. To get to the nearest opening in that wall would’ve been a bit of a hike, so some resourceful person had leaned a ladder over the wall. And that’s how we got down to the street.

Arriving home dirty and elated, I was amazed at how fresh I felt. Of course, a couple of hours later, my knees and forearms began to be very sore…and by the next day, I was hobbling around painfully and feeling like an octogenarian myself.

But it was all so worth it!

- by Elisabeth A.

Step Aside, Indiana Jones – Part One

Elisabeth — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 15:45:00 +0000

My alarm went off at 4:45 in the morning. Bandana, check. Sneakers, check. Packed breakfast, check. Sunscreen, check. By 5:30, I was sitting at the bus stop, not at all sure when the buses actually started running. Fifteen minutes later, I was on my way.

It was a glorious morning. And of course, since it was the anniversary of the recapture of the Old City, I couldn’t help thinking about the battle that had raged there forty years before, as I entered through Jaffa Gate, wound through the Armenian Quarter, and walked out bullet-scarred Zion Gate. I turned left and began looking for the dig. Ah, there it was: in the grassy area between the Old City wall and the street, ringed with a wire fence, and already busy-looking. It was six-thirty, and everyone had been working for half an hour. I hitched up my backpack, and stepped over the fence.

My friend Maia introduced me to the women, and before I knew it, we were chatting away while we sifted through one or two of the dozen or two of huge totes full of dirt from the day before. Bones, I learned, went into one of those tiny cardboard boxes. Pottery, of course, went into the bucket. And there was no need to be fussy: there’s always more dirt to get through!

Pretty soon one of the leaders called us over to our square. To get to it, we had to walk through a square that was about a yard deep, and sported the edge of a Byzantine mosaic. They’d removed the mosaic in our square, and gone down another several feet. Ancient stone walls hemmed us in, and overhead a thick mesh canopy protected us from the sun. In one corner was a narrow drain which was undergoing the ministrations of an excitable young man and a calm middle-aged lady. A few feet away was the third square, narrower and deeper than ours, and attended by several of the guy students and a hired Arab helper.

We got right down to business, breaking up the top inch or two with a small pick, before simply crouching on our heels and doing more sifting through dirt with our hands, and pulling out pottery. It was thickly laced with pottery shards: sometimes handles or spouts, once part of a lamp (which was exciting because they are distinctive and easier to use for dating than other pottery). “What’s this?” I kept saying, and my fellow diggers were most patient about answering. I quickly learned that the answer to “What is it?” was nearly always “Bone.” Didn’t matter that sometimes it’s clearly a bone, complete with a nubbly joint, while other times it’s long and shiny, and still other times porous and crumbling. The spot must have been trash heap or a kitchen, because there was lots and lots of bone.

The most ticklish item was charcoal. Yes, plain ordinary charcoal. Apparently it can be used for carbon dating the layer. If you don’t touch it with your bare hands, that is. Oops. I got me a pair of Muppet-esque gloves just for picking up charcoal, but learned a much better way by watching the others: pick it up with the tip of your pointed trowel, and slip it gently into one of the miniature plastic bags for storage in the special finds box. Also into that box went: bits of Roman glass, with that lovely mother-of-pearl look that it gets after being buried for a couple of millennia. Once I found a chunk of packed earth which simply had a paper-thin layer of the sheen from glass that was no longer there. Oh yes, we found worms, too. I felt bad for them, as they got dumped into the goofas (rubber baskets) and trundled off to the growing row of giant totes.

Did I mention the fact that there’s no need to be slow, because there’s always more dirt to get through? Our hands flew to find just a few more shards, and start on the next level. It was amazing how quickly it became ordinary to sort stuff I should be staring at in a museum case. Perhaps my gardening experience came through, because I felt as if I’d always been doing this sifting-through-dirt thing. I was having a blast!

…to be continued

- by Elisabeth A.

Genealogy Q & A

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 13:00:00 +0000

I do things in spurts. As time permits I’ll do nothing but research ancestry for a few days. Then that will be set aside and I will be writing for days on end. Then I’ll try to catch up on reading and emails. Since I wrote the previous post on genealogy I have accomplished very little, but I am excited because my maternal grandfather is going to start helping me when he returns from a trip. I am sure he will be able to offer more information and leads. So in answer to the general main question, Where do you find all this information? …I really don’t know where to start. I’ll say Ask your relatives!

Unless you have names, birthdates, and location of birth (not just state but city and county, ideally) it is very difficult to make any headway. Older relatives are the best way to get these pieces of information, plus lots of stories that should be recorded for future generations. My grandmother is full of stories–I sometimes feel like I should keep a tape recorder on me because she is always surprising me with something I had never heard before about our family history.

Plus, relatives are the ones who can provide you with one of the greatest delights of ancestry–pictures! The ones I am sharing in this post are some of my favorites, but thanks to my aunt’s hard work, we have digital copies of hundreds of old photos from as far back as the mid 1800’s. If no one has protected your family’s photographs, perhaps you are the one who can archive them for everyone to enjoy.

I’m wondering what are the best resources for tracing lineages.

Aside from relatives’ information, stories, and physical artifacts such as diaries, legal documents, pictures, etc. your best source is online databases. Make sure they are reputable and keep careful records of your research; Ancestry.com has some free downloadable record sheets that can help you verify your data and keep track of what information you are still missing.

Lauren T. left a helpful comment I will include here: “The best way to start is to get names from grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc…. Then, you can use rootsweb.com or familysearch.org to look them up and look at other peoples family trees. Ancestry.com is really good, but it is too expensive for me.”

My favorite is ancestry.com but I’ve also used genealogy.com. If you ever have the opportunity to invest in a month of database research though, I’d recommend Ancestry.com because it is the largest and they add literally thousands of new records every day.

But how do you research something when it’s in, say, dutch? all my ancestors are originally from Holland.

I have no idea. Seriously, I have been blessed to be tracing the footsteps of others and have not run into anything that has not been identified, if not translated, into English. If you have the information in Dutch you may be able to find translating help through one of the heritage groups in your area. Here in Kansas City we have Scottish, Irish, Slavic, Italian, and other groups who love to assist others in tracing ancestry.

How did you ever find that much info from so far back in history?

If you manage to hit a “main artery” in history’s family trees then the work has been done for you–all you have to do is find it. Family lineage is highly valued in nearly every culture and most have preserved their roots back to the early days of their country or clan. If you have Indian blood, like my husband-to-be, find your tribal roll. If you are Jewish and can trace to a specific tribe then you will likely be able to go back several thousand years (which I am hoping to do with Rick’s heritage at some point)!

If you get far enough back in history, usually back to your country of origin (for me that is Sweden on my dad’s side and ultimately France on my mother’s) the records of marriages, births, and deaths can be astonishingly complete through the centuries. Again, if you happen to trace back to a larger clan or family group (for me this was the Franks royalty) it’s all there….all the way back to the first century B.C. And further, I imagine, if one is willing to get their hands dirty.

In my case, one great-grandmother on my mother’s side was traceable on Ancestry.com through her birth information. I looked at her father, her grandfather, her great-grandfather…as I dug deeper certain branches of our tree did not immediately yield further ancestors but I kept pursuing those that had some sort of verifiable data–a census listing, immigration papers, marriage documents, etc.

I traced through one branch to a William Burton (1760-1811) and Ancestry.com had 5 generations of a certain William Burton available. My job was to see if my William Burton was the one Ancestry.com thought might be a match. I checked the birthdate, death date, location, spouse and parent’s names and…we had a match. This gave me five more generations of relatives and when I started searching with their data I found a couple who had four and five more generations of ancesters recorded. And so on it goes.

William Burton’s father was Captwilliam Burton (I am guessing this might be Captain William but I’m keeping the info as I found it for now) and his father was Robert Burton (1687-1748). Literally billions of records are available on the major genealogy databases online–if you know where and what to look for. Again, you need names, birthdates, and locations. With those it is truly astounding what you can find.

Does that help at all? I’m sure many of you girls are more experienced and can offer some suggestions to those just getting started! Do comment if you have any helpful tips or resources to share. Thank you!

Captions: Above: My paternal grandparents back in 1948: My grandmother Rose celebrating her 16th birthday with Carroll (20). Isn’t she beautiful?? They were married when Rose was 17 and Carroll was 22 and just celebrated their 67th wedding anniversary. Wow! Right: My great-grandmother Rachel Sophia in 1915. I remember climbing onto her bed as a little girl and she would tell me stories.

Yad Vashim unveils a Holocaust diary

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 16:05:00 +0000

“She wanted me to save the diary. She said, ‘I don’t know if I will survive, but I want the diary to live on, so that everyone will know what happened to the Jews.” The writings of a young Polish girl have been released to the world this week. Rutka Laskier recounts in vivid detail the horrors of life in the Jewish ghetto in 1943. You can read more here (not for younger readers).

Tracing through history

Natalie Nyquist — Thu, 31 May 2007 16:57:00 +0000

This morning I learned that I am in a direct line of descendents from Charlemagne “Charles the Great” King of Franks, through his son Pepin Carloman and his son Bernard of Italy. Genealogy is fascinating. And addicting. I freely confess to being an avid explorer of my own family history. (It is likely I’m one of few girls my age who would dream about a subscription to Ancestry.com!) Perhaps it is because some of the analysis reminds me of textual criticism and translation variants in Scripture.

On my dad’s side, my aunt has done unbelievable amounts of research and compilation; I’ve spent countless hours looking through the books and photos she’s collected and reading the charts. Her work inspired me to begin my own exploration.

I stayed up far too late last night, er, early this morning digging through old Civil War military records, census counts from the 1800’s, and immigration papers. An obituary from 1904, written in Swedish on Illinois Freight stationary is now scanned into the computer where I can pull it up at will. Centuries of photos, memorabelia and information digitized might be helpful for tracing ancestry but there is something much more “real” about feeling the chapped leather of the real Swedish Bible or running fingers on the cold gravestones. I finally called it a night when I tapped as far back on one strain of paternal family as I could get: circa 1490. Wow.

My father’s lineage is Mansson and Monson. In the early 1900’s a Mansson son came to America and changed his surname to Nyquist. And so we’ve been ever since. My paternal grandmother’s side of the family arrived in America nearly a century earlier and took the surname Lofdahl.

Why not keep their native names? I smiled the first time I saw the manner in which surnames were formed back in the mother country. One 3rd great grandfather is named Lars Nilsson. His father is Nils Andersson. His father is Anders I am guessing, but I haven’t found that information yet. Lars’s mother is Cathrina Nilsdotter. Her father was Nils. So that would make me Natalie Jonsdotter, sharing the same last name as my four-times-great-grandmother, Catharina Jonsdotter born in 1785.

The faded faces on hundred-year-old photographs jump out at me. One of them looks just like my cousin–it’s her great, great grandmother. Another is haunting in its solemnity. I wish I could peer through the edges of the frame and jump into their lives. What were they really like? What was life like for my ancestors in Sweden? What did my many-times-great grandfather look like when he was my age?

Born 07 Apr 1807 in Mangstorp, Nyed, Varmland, Sweden. Typing the names and finding the birth records and marriage certificates is like a treasure hunt. It is a satisfying search–unearthing a legacy of family which makes me feel secure. These are my roots. Could my ancestors who immigrated from Sweden have ever pictured the multitude of descendents who would carry their names and bear their image? A hundred years from now, what great-great grandchild might look like me?

I started from scratch with my grandparents on my mom’s side of the family. With the help of databases and family trees, as of this morning I’ve managed to trace a line all the way back to Wildelphe de Sax and Clodius Franks in the late 300’s A.D. — and I’m still digging. My goal is to see if I can find a direct lineage (father of father and so on) to the time of Christ.

When I found the family name that kept going back and back and back through the Middle Ages I could hardly keep from bouncing with excitement. Sometimes when I would be on a really interesting trail I’d forget to sleep or eat til a family member brought me back to reality. But by now I’ve probably bored any readers still with me. What can I say…I love history, treasure hunts, and my family!

Update: I chose to pursue the line of Clodius Franks and then branched to chase two separate trails. One of them through Clodius’s mother’s side led to the ancient Roman emperors including Flavius Julius Constantius (317-361). Things got a bit sloppy around 250 AD but finally I made it to some well documented first century forebears. Are there any history buffs out there who would be as excited as I was to find names like Titus Flabius Sabinus and Julia B of Judea in her ancestry?

How about Herod Agrippa? I think that was when my jaw really dropped! I’m related to Agrippa and Herod I of Judea?

Incidentally…

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 03:20:00 +0000

US News and World Report’s latest issue features “The 10 Worst Presidents.” You can see the verdict here. Much more amusing (at least to me) is the current poll you can take–when I look our current president carried 79% of the vote. Take a look and scroll down the page.

Most of the presidents prior to our generation–certainly prior to the twentieth century–have hardly any votes. Is this because they were truly greater men…

…or because our under-educated culture doesn’t know anything about them?

A Gold Star

Gretchen — Thu, 07 Dec 2006 20:13:00 +0000

December 7, 1941. The day that will live in infamy. “The Shadow” radio program was supposed to come on that Sunday morning. But it never did. Instead the announcer’s voice broke in with the news that Pearl Harbor had been bombed.

I wasn’t born yet. But when I was a little girl, the memories of those who lived in 1941 came alive for me in a book I found at Papa and Grama’s house. My cousins and I poured over the remembrances of World War II collected in We Pulled Together and Won. We studied the photographs. We memorized the stories. We relived those years of a country drawn together by war. Before our history schoolwork ever got to the 1940’s, we knew more facts by heart than a history book would ever teach us.

Like all little boys, my brother and cousins and their friends went through the phase of playing war. They started with World War II (I was a WAC then, part of the Women’s Army Corp), then they learned about the Civil War and started dressing like Confederate Soldiers (I was reading Elsie Dinsmore and baking cookies, too busy to play with the boys). I joined in their imaginary flights over enemy territory, I nursed their battle wounds, I took their pictures as they posed proudly in uniform—but through it all I prayed that they would never really have to go to war. That they would never really feel the fire of the enemy. That they would never really have to defend the land they loved. I knew they would, if they must. But I prayed it wouldn’t come to that, not in our lifetime.

Then came September 11, 2001. Almost sixty years since Pearl Harbor. The enemy attacked our shores once again. And I watched as boys I grew up with joined the fight. Nate from church, my friend’s brother Tommy, Mike from Summit, my cousin Derrek, my cousin Casey, our friend Robert, Doug from church, Joe from TeenPact, and I just heard that David enlisted. Some on foreign shores, some patrolling our own borders. All fighting for the same reasons the boys in WWII did. Love of family, love of country.

Casey got married in his Army uniform, and left his new bride Emily to fight for another man’s freedom. And suddenly, those weren’t just soldiers over there in Iraq. Those were our boys fighting over there.

Then Robert died in Marine boot camp, before he ever had a chance to fight for the land he loved. The sacrifice of patriotism became intensely real as I watched them hand that folded flag to his mother, my own mother’s childhood playmate. The tears we shed were tears of pride and yet heartbreak, as we heard Taps played for that rambunctious little boy who was always wearing camouflage.

And then Doug was killed. Bombs explode in Iraq every day. But one roadside bomb in November made the War in Iraq more real to me than World War II had ever been in those pictures. Doug had always been two Sunday school classes older than I. His mom had been so proud when he’d joined the Army. We’d all seen him at church when he made it home for Christmas last year. I remember Daddy had him stand up, so we could all applaud him, out of gratefulness for his service to our country. And then, just like that, our little town lost its first boy overseas. And a mother lost her pride and joy.

As I thought about Doug’s family, as I prayed for them through the hard days of the funeral, I kept seeing in my mind’s eye one of the pictures from We Pulled Together and Won. A gold star, hanging in a window. The sign that a family had lost a son in the war.

In 1942, a gold star used to bring neighbors with food, sympathy, and prayers. During World War II, a gold star in the window symbolized the fact that this family made the ultimate sacrifice.

If Jim and Cindy were to hang a gold star in their window, no one would know now what it meant.

But maybe we should start hanging gold stars again.

Interviews — Part Two

Natalie Nyquist — Mon, 22 May 2006 17:26:00 +0000

More Misc. Questions

What are your favorite songs?

Elisabeth: I love hymns. They feed my heart and mind, and there have been countless times where God has placed a fragment of a song in my thoughts just when I most need encouragement. I’ve had different songs for different seasons. “He Hideth My Soul” helped me through a stressful senior year in high school, “Day by Day” during my first year of Bible School, and “Jerusalem the Golden” at the death of a comrade-at-arms from a prayer trip to Israel. A new favorite is in Hebrew: “Hodu L’Adonai,” means “Give thanks to the Lord,” and the tune is so refreshingly beautiful! Like the books, there are many more I could mention…

Jeannie: I have many, many favorite songs. I love music and singing, and my list changes depending on what I’m going through at the moment. I’m especially drawn to worship songs – songs that focus on God and His majesty. This is just the tip of the iceberg!

Hymns
To God Be the Glory
Day by Day And With Each Passing Moment
And Can It Be
Be Thou My Vision
Join All The Glorious Names

Praise Songs
Majesty
As The Deer
More Precious Than Silver
Shout to the Lord

(A few radio favorites include Lifesong, Praise You in This Storm, and Who Am I by Casting Crowns; Indescribable, How Great Is Our God, and Famous One by Chris Tomlin; and Blessed Be Your Name by tree63.)

Lanier: I love The Innocence Mission, and consequently anything they’ve done. My favorites of theirs would probably be ‘Walking Around’ and ‘Tomorrow on the Runway’ and ‘My Someday Coming Child’. Also, “Lady of Shalott” by Loreena McKennitt.

I adore Mozart, especially his masses. And the Oxford Book of Carols is full of favorites, as well.

‘Moon River’ and ‘Two for the Road’ by Henry Mancini

‘God’s Own Fool’ by Michael Card

Natalie: These vary tremendously depending on the season in my life. All of the radio favorites Jeannie meantioned are ones I treasure as well, especially Praise You in This Storm. Some that I have mentioned on YLCF in the past include Natalie Grant’s Held, Waiting for the World to Fall on the Narnia movie album, Rescue by Newsong, and Embrace the Cross by Steve Green.

My favorite artists are: Steve Green, Steven Curtis Chapman (mostly his older works), Rebecca St. James, Newsong, and Rich Mullins. But there are so many good songs…and hymns…and instrumental works. Michael W. Smith’s instrumental album Freedom is an all-time favorite, as is Riverdance music (I like to practice step-dancing to both).

What do you do for a living?

Elisabeth: I’m a student in Jerusalem as well as a friend, sister (I adopt as many as I can), daughter, discipler, and intercessor.

Jeannie: Nothin’? I guess I’m a dependent. I do earn my keep, though – helping with homeschooling, housework, farm work, our home business (www.castleberryfarmspress.com), etc. The only outside work I do is serve as an election inspector for our rural township (maximum of four days a year, so it’s not really a regular job!).

Lanier: I’m a homemaker.

Natalie: I live at home with my family, and as a woman, do not have to “make my living.” However, I have spent many years–from age eleven til now–as a babysitter and then full-time nanny or mother’s helper. I do a fair amount of freelance writing and editing. Next month I will begin serving at a friend’s Christian tea room near our home.

What’s your favorite time period?

Jeannie: History was always my favorite subject in school, and I love it even more now – in fact, I’m currently helping write a history book for our rural township’s centennial. It’s hard to narrow down my interest to a particular time period, but I guess if I had to pick I’d choose the World War II era. Note of interest: Both of my grandfathers fought in WWII, and both met their wives (my grandmothers ?) as a direct result of their service.

Elisabeth: To imagine myself in and write about? First century Israel. To read about? 1940’s Europe and 1800’s Britain.

Lanier: Living in an antebellum home, my husband and I really love the furniture, customs, lifestyle, dress (well, that would be me J) of the early half of the nineteenth century.

But I’m also irresistibly drawn to the late eighteen hundreds—on Prince Edward Island.

Natalie: I am fascinated by ancient history–the older the better. Of particular interest is the ancient Middle East and China, the Crusades and Reformation, and the Civil War. I mostly study Biblical history and the first century church these days.

A Tribute to Ronald Reagan

Gretchen — Sat, 26 Jun 2004 01:09:00 +0000

Ringing the Bell for a Generation’s Heritage of Freedom
By Gretchen Louise Glaser

The bell in the Baptist Church bell tower rang 40 times on June 11, along with bells all across the nation, in honor of our fortieth president, Ronald Wilson Reagan.

President Ronald Reagan once said, “Freedom is a fragile thing, and it is never more than one generation away from extinction.” With his passing on June 5, he left a rich heritage of freedom to this generation. And while you don’t see it on the endangered species list, “freedom” should be listed at the very top. The erosion of our rights has been gradual enough to escape the notice of many. And now that America has lost one of freedom’s finest champions, it is now our job, as the next generation, to keep that freedom from going into extinction.

What were these freedoms President Ronald Reagan sought to protect? What was it about him that made President Reagan such a hero to this country? What inspired him to leave this heritage of freedom?

First of all, President Reagan believed firmly in God, and that America was one nation under God. He stated in 1984, “America needs God more than God needs America. If we ever forget that we are One Nation Under God, then we will be a Nation gone under.” Ronald Reagan drew his inspiration from God. He asked, “Do we really think that we can have it both ways, that God will protect us in a time of crisis even as we turn away from Him in our day-to-day life?” And after a close encounter with death, he said, “Whatever days are left to me, they belong to Him.”

Out of his belief in God as the creator of all mankind, President Reagan drew his belief that abortion is equal to murder. In a lecture in 1982 he said, “God’s greatest gift is human life and we have a sacred duty to protect the innocent human life of an unborn child.” He told reporters, “The fact that they could not resolve the issue of when life begins was a finding in and of itself. If we don’t know, then shouldn’t we morally opt on the side of life? If you came upon an immobile body and you yourself could not determine whether it was dead or alive, I think that you would decide to consider it alive until somebody could prove it was dead. You wouldn’t get a shovel and start covering it up. And I think we should do the same thing with regard to abortion.”

What I will remember most about President Ronald Reagan is how he loved his wife. He described her as “the one who can make me lonely just by leaving the room.” He once wrote to his wife Nancy, “When I was young I thought marriage might be this way for a while: I never knew it could go on and on, getting better and better year after year.” In a generation lacking commitment to marriage, theirs is an incredible example of faithfulness to each other and their marriage. In the book I Love You, Ronnie, Mrs. Nancy Reagan wrote, “We’ve had an extraordinary life, and I’ve been blessed to have been married for almost fifty years to a man I deeply love… Alzheimer’s is a truly long, long good-bye. But it’s the living out of love.”

It was that love, that respect for human life, and that faith in God which made President Ronald Wilson Reagan the great man he was. And that is the heritage we are left with in this generation. Will we let it slip away? Will we let marriage be redefined, let abortion become even more prevalent, and let God be taken out of our schools? Or will we fight the good fight to protect our freedoms from extinction? Let us endeavor to do as Ronald Reagan did, and preserve the freedom we love for the next generation.

Published in the Community News, July 8, 2004, Vol. 20, No. 28

Gods and Generals

Gretchen — Sat, 29 Mar 2003 17:01:00 +0000

“Gods and Generals is not only the finest movie ever made about the Civil War, it is also the best American historical film. Period.”
-Bill Kauffman, American Enterprise Magazine

It is not often I recommend a movie. In fact, I’ve only seen two movies in the theaters, “Gods and Generals” being one of them! But once I had, I urged my friends to go see it. When I read Doug Phillip’s review and heard that “Gods and Generals” was better than “Chariots of Fire” (one of our all-time favorite movies), I knew I had to go see it. And when I did, I discovered that true to what I’d heard, “Gods and Generals” is one of the most God-honoring movies ever. And amazingly, it was produced by Hollywood and Ted Turner. “Gods and Generals” came out on DVD and VHS on July 15, 2003. I encourage you to buy or rent it, and experience this spectacular movie! No matter your beliefs on the Civil War, it will be an eye-opening history lesson, a thought-provoking tale, and an inspiring example of true Christian manhood.

For God and Country,
Gretchen Louise Glaser

Gods and Generals – DVD

Gods and Generals – VHS

Gods & Generals Soundtrack CD

America Will Always Stand
Ron Maxwell Presents New Songs of the Civil War

Beloved Bride: The Letters of Stonewall Jackson to His Wife
by Bill Potter and Stephen Lang

Gods and Generals…

a wonderful example of Christian manhood
amazing portrayal of trust in and reliance upon God
completely historically accurate
heart-warming
plenty of action for the guys
enough romance for the girls
succeeds “Chariots of Fire” as the Christ-honoring film for this generation
refreshing encouragement
a wonderfully amazing and inspiring story

“My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to always be ready, no matter when it may overtake me.”
-Stonewall Jackson (in the movie and real life)

The Official Gods and Generals Website
Director Ron Maxwell’s Website

“Among Gods and Generals” – excellent article on WorldNetDaily

Reviews of “Gods and Generals”:
by Doug Phillips of Vision Forum
Follow-up by Doug Phillips
from Christian Spotlight on the Movies
from Focus on the Family’s Plugged In
by Charity Bishop of CharitysPlace.com
from Hollywood Jesus
from Michael Elliott of Movie Parable

A poem on Honor

“Gods and Generals” presents orthodox, no-holds-barred Christianity. Not because the film was designed as a tool of evangelism, but because the film is faithful and true to the life of a soldier who was first and foremost an obedient evangelist for Jesus Christ.
This is not a “nice” film, but Christianity is not always “nice.” It’s not nice when a general is called to execute his own soldiers for desertion. It is not nice, but it is biblical, as Jackson explains with tremendous clarity and precision. It is not nice to pick up the sword and go to battle, but when one is defending one’s homeland, it is mandatory.
…Ron Maxwell has defied the political correctness police of both the Right and the Left by giving the American people a truthful vision of their past. He has shown a time when men defended women, when faith in God defined a man’s vision of duty, when the greatest leaders were also the most committed Christians. For the first time in the history of modern major motion pictures, a director with guts has given us the opportunity to understand the complexities, the beauty, the horror, the glory, the tragedy, and the Gospel witness found in one of the greatest fratricides in the history of any people.

-Doug Phillips

“For the future glory of this Replublic, it is absolutely immaterial whether on this battlefield or that the blue or the gray won a great victory, for, thanks be to God, every victory won in that war by either side was a monument to American valor.”
-John Brown Gordon, February 7, 1901