Your Time Will Come

Nestled in your heart, you guard them well

these treasures of hope.

but they seem impossible to experience

and you keep hushed so no one will know they exist,

Still, you suffer in silence.

How can your dreams bring so much promise

yet cause such pain?

Seeds are not sown to stay in the ground.

Dreams are meant to give life full and bright.

The harvest comes in it’s season.

Your time will come

Songs Unspoken

I've been digging through some of my old writings.  This was inspired by a solo piano piece by Douglas Trowbridge with the same title.  

Songs Unspoken

A composer writes and places

notes with a surgeon’s precision.

Each Harmony is molded with

the loving care of a mother.

There is a message to speak.

All are interwoven to sing

with songs unspoken.

The musician flows from note to note

allowing the Spirit to move in them.

Out pours a symphony of passion

that captures the listener.

Music is to be experienced, not heard.

Have you ever heard a song that moved you?  I saw a sunset tonight that was so awe inspiring.  When I saw it, I literally said out loud, "Oh God, can you see through my eyes and view the beauty You have created?"  I've never seen such striking colors.  They were sooo vivid.   While a picture would paint what I saw, music would let you experience it.  

Padre Santo, gracias por esa visión.

The Cross

Vertical and horizontal

The relationships we hold

Between heaven and earth

and others and in our lives

It all starts with the vertical

For the strength of this bond

determines the altitude of all

The cross pulls it all together

The one who hung in the balance,

who was sent to restore relationships

carried them on His shoulders

We live out the horizontal

by pursuing the vertical and

living with those around us

Sometimes it Hurts

Sometimes you love and it is mutual

Sometimes you are on an island

alone with your thoughts

alone

Sometimes you win and life is grand

Sometimes you come up short

a deficit exists in your life

again

Sometimes it is smooth sailing

Sometimes it hurts just to move

unable to get away

ever

Sometimes it hurts

You can't change a thing

Trapped where you are

Alone

Seeking Your Face

I got a message from my sister some time ago that she is praying for me to meet God in some new ways.  She also encouraged me to seek His face.  That is an interesting thought when you consider it.  Why should someone seek anyone's face?

Have you ever had occasion to see someone you thought was attractive?  Many years ago I distinctly remember seeing someone I thought was pretty and she turned to look at me and our eyes met for a brief moment.  It was brief because I looked away the moment our eyes met.  They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul.  I believe that there is a connection between people when they look each other in the eye.  Whenever you are angry with someone you don't want to look them in the eye unless it is to convey your anger.  Why is this?  I think it is because we do not want that connection.  There an intimacy, but not in a sexual way, between people when they maintain that eye contact bond.  So much of our communication is nonverbal and much of that is in our face.

As I seek God's face, what am I looking for?  I think I am looking for that connection but for me it is more than that.  I want to know that there is love in God's eyes.  I want to see approval.  There is one more thing that I think I need.

For those of you that have a dog have you ever noticed that your dog is always watching you?  It has been said that dogs think they are human and cats think they are god.  I don't think it is possible for dogs to become human any more than I think I can become God.  However, should I not strive to emulate the best characteristics of God?  Does He not want me to live a certain way?  Should I not strive to obey His will when He wants the best for me?  Therefore, if I watch Him as my dog watches me, hopefully I can see His face and learn what He wants for me.  I will see His approval and hope to be obedient to his commands.

Unmovable Mountain

Every soul passes through trials

Many are strong but short

There are some that settle in like a long cold spell

Each day wears you down

An unmovable mountain

Daily we search for the exit but the beatings continue

Darkness continues and you try to endure

Eventually, the tolerance goes beyond your suffering

You pray for it to go away but it continues

Numbness enters as you realize it will be with you for the whole of life

The motions are engrained and the mode is survival

God allows these circumstances

He wants to be our Lord, our God

As our Creator, He is uniquely positioned to know us

While He is all knowing and all powerful

He wants us to come to the realization that only He can water our desert

Only He can quench our thirst

We can trust Him in all aspects of life.

Perhaps only when we are so beaten can we finally be ready to accept

God for who He is rather than who we think He is

Sometimes God is Silent

For twelve years she endured this affliction.  For twelve long years she had a slow, persistent hemorrhage.  With this thorn in her side, twelve years is a long time to settle and accept.  

She had been to every doctor she could find in her search for a cure.  However, the doctors only made her condition worse.  So she prayed.  She prayed to a God that she wasn't sure she understood.  She lived by His ordinances in the slim hope that He might hear her and grant her petition for healing.  For twelve years she piously did whatever she could to appease Him.  But her God was silent.  

Then one day she heard of a miracle man that came into town.  She heard stories of sick people who were made well.  Men who were lame from birth could now walk.  People who lacked sight now could see.  Some people who once could not talk, now spoke praises of this man.  A glimmer of hope sparked in the dark, cold embers of her heart.  Still, she steadied herself.  She had been let down so many times before.  It was better not to get her hopes up.  Too often she rode the heights of hope only to come crashing down to earth.  

The town was a buzz with excitement.  Electricity filled the air.  Great crowds pressed in around this man.   From a distance, she caught a glimpse him.  Just the sight of Him caused a quickening in her heart.  She felt herself walking toward the throng.  With each step, a purpose formed in her mind. I must touch the man's cloak.  No, I am not worthy.  I'll touch the fringe of his garment.  

Women in that day were second class citizens.  With the illness which resulted in her poverty, she was but a person who occupied space.  The town’s people normally ignored her as she went about the village scrounging for her existence.  But this day, she walked with purpose.  Her quest was to touch the fringe of the man's cloak.  

As she reached His vicinity, there was a wall of humanity that separated her from the man.  In the past, she would have gone no further.  She would have accepted her lot and retreated back into the shell of her mind and existence.  Today, with all the strength her anemic body could muster, she pushed her way through the crowd.  

Everyone in the village was pressing in on the man.  Everyone wanted a moment with Him.  The man's friends were carving a path for the man and a synagogue official who asked Him to heal his daughter.  As they were leaving the square, the woman finally reached Him.  Pressing her hand between two bodies, she felt her fingertips pinch together on some fringe but the movement of the masses abruptly jerked her hand away.  Instantly, the hemorrhage dried up and she felt a rush within her that whispered she had been heard.  

The man turned and asked who touched him.  Dumbfounded, his friends looked at Him.  They said to Him, "Lord, everyone is pressing in around You.  The whole town is here pushing to touch You.  Who didn't touch You?"  

The woman, knowing that she had been found out, trembled with fear as she walked toward Him.  She fell at His feet and, with a tone that begged forgiveness and fearing repercussions, told Him everything about her affliction and how she was healed when she touched His garment. He gazed into her eyes with a look that somehow said He understood her condition.  He said, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace."  

What is the silence you have endured for so long?  Have you given up hope?  Sometimes God is silent.  Be it a still small voice or a rushing wind the gently waters your desert, when the silence breaks you will be completely and profoundly changed. 

#faith

Wisdom and Faith

When I was younger I wanted to get more wisdom.  Not to blow my own horn but I always seemed to be wise beyond my years.  There were just things that I understood before my friends.  I wasn't the smartest person in my class but there were things in life that were plain to me that my friends missed.  

I remember reading about wisdom once.  Some people view wisdom this way:

Picture yourself being in an Air Traffic Control tower.  From this vantage point, you can see everything that is happening.  You know were all the aircraft are.  When a controller requests a plane to change altitude or speed or take a turn you can see why.  The reasons are clear because you can see how everything reacts and plays together.  It makes sense.  But this is not wisdom.  

Some of us think that if we could see all the pieces we would be wise.  That is not wisdom. Wisdom doesn't know everything.  

Wisdom can be illustrated like this.

You are driving down the road in your car.  The road takes a turn to the left.  You don't question why the road bends to the left.  You turn with the road.  You can't see everything going on around you but you are cautious and watchful.  Personally, I try to see what's going on at least 2 to 3 cars ahead of me.  If the brake lights go on a few cars ahead, I take my foot off the accelerator.  I would rather have an accident be in front of me than be a part of it.  

Wisdom takes the cards that are dealt and make the most of the situation.  You understand that sometimes we don’t choose between right and wrong.  Instead, we decide between what is better and best. We don’t always know which is which.  We should seek council from those who know more than us.  

The bible says that God’s word is a lamp for our feet and a light for our path.  The lamps that were used in the bible days didn’t give much light.  However, they did allow a person to see the next step ahead of them.  When you take that step, you can see the next one -step- and the next one -step- and the next one -step- and the next one.  Have faith that God can guide you one step at a time.  

I See A Day

I see a day when weapons of war cease to exist

and mankind can look each other in the eyes

I see a day when all will enjoy spring in their

hearts and crime will stop because it no longer

has a place in our lives

I see a day when humanity will show genuine love

from the heart and not as a means of receiving

I see a day when freedom will rum rampant and

even those ignorant of their slavery will taste the

sweetness of life

I see a day when the word “law” is no longer in

use because each will do what is right concerning

his brother

I see a day when shame and sorrow are

swallowed up along with death and destruction

and they will no longer have victory 

#hopeforthefuture

What Really Matters

I've been very fortunate in my life.  I consider it a blessing to have grown up in a farming community to hard working parents.  My parents taught us the importance of working hard.  I remember when I was little that my dad worked 2 jobs 7 days a week.  Even still, I am taking stock of my life.

I've been wanting to simply my life for some time and I am slowly getting rid of things that have been cluttering my house.  A few years ago, I was able to visit my sister when she and her husband and son were living in The Netherlands for a few months.  I enjoyed the life they had there.  Many people in the US think we have it all.  Of course, we have much but what is the point of having a big house if you don't use it all?  Also, it costs more to heat/cool a big house.  It takes longer to clean.  If you don't use it all, isn't it a waste?

Have you noticed that a car really just gets you from point A to point B?  Whether it costs $5000 or $50,000, it does the same thing.  I agree that one is probably a lot more comfortable doing it.  One thing I appreciated when I visited my sister in The Netherlands is that most everyone rode a bicycle wherever they were going.  I now wish I lived closer to my job so I could ride my bike to work. 

I'm reading a book that brings up the question of how much a job costs.  Let's say you have a job that pays you $20 per hour.  However, you have to pay for child care at $400 per week and you need to pay for a certain clothes for the job such as scrubs or business dress clothes.  Also, you need to figure in your transportation costs.  After you tally it all up, you may only be making $10 an hour.  What if you took a lower paying job?  It may be worth it if you get paid less but actually keep more. 

I've been going through drawers and closets, cleaning out my life and donating to Goodwill and some people we know that have some needs.  I have so much.  Too much, really.  Let me close with a thought my sister always has in emails she sends.  I want to live life in a manner that outlives it. 

Communication At It's Best

A few years ago I took a US history class during the summer.  One of the books we used was a collection of letters and diary excerpts from around the late 1800s and early 1900s.  One day the topic of discussion was if, with modern technology, we are better at communicating now or back in the olden days.  Needless to say, the consensus was that it is better now. 

Then we read in the book a letter from a woman writing to a family member.  This was in the early 20th century and she noted that she and some neighbors recently got telephones.  While they enjoyed the convenience of being able to communicate instantly with people, she noticed changes.  If someone was sick, people no longer came to visit the sick person.  This saddened her.  People chose to not extend themselves to make a human connection.  While telephone lines bridged the gaps between them, they also seemed to separate them more. 

How much worse is this gap today?  Please understand that I realize I am no better than the next person.  I have email where I can instantly send pictures, comments, and letters to people anywhere in the world yet most emails I send didn't originate from me.  While I limit forwards, I still forward some.  I have a cell phone that allows me to call anywhere in the world.  However, I often will send a text if the recipient has texting.  Why?  It doesn't require as much of a commitment to text.  Actually talking to someone requires more of me. 
Not to long ago, one of my nephews was in town briefly during a trip to Germany.  At one point, he, my oldest son, and I were all at the kitchen table communicating.  However, it wasn't with each other.  We were all on our laptops chatting with someone else.  I hadn't seen my nephew in months and probably won't again for months.  I hadn't seen my son in weeks and probably won't for more weeks.  Sadly, we all decided to be online.  I even noticed the irony of this but still did nothing.  How often have you been at a restaurant and someone is constantly stopping their conversation to text someone? 

In this day and age we have unprecedented access to information, and we can share it with others.  However, as a society, we are separating ourselves.  We communicate but there often is no real connection.  I don't normally ask for a call to action but I think one is needed here.  If we are going to communicate then make it heart to heart.  Rather than forward an email tell your friend or loved one what is going on in your life and inquire about theirs.  If you are able, Skype or Facetime someone rather than send a text.  Become an active participant in the communication process.  Touch one another and have communication at its best.

#communication #realcommunication

Light is Stronger Than Night

Sitting alone in a dark room, I concentrate on a single tongue of flame from a candle.  It is a soothing presence.  There is something primal about it.  I notice the further from the flame a particular spot is, the less it is illuminated.  Nevertheless, the fire is seen from every part of the room.  It is omnipresent.  How is it that this one point of light is able to overwhelm the darkness?  One would think that sheer the volume of the night would engulf and consume the light.  Yet, the light pierces through the darkness.  It is no contest.  The light is stronger than night. 

Family History: David Phillips part II

Some time ago, I learned that my great, great, grandpa David Phillips was an enumerator for the Nebraska 1890 census.  Specifically, he counted the Civil War veterans and noted the units they were with and any wounds or disabilities they had from the war.  As an enumerator, he took his own information.  I noted on the web page that was translated from hand written documents that David wrote phonetically.  He stated that his disability following the war was "Despppitic," that he had it since 1865 and it was "bad at times."  The translator added question marks since they weren't certain what he meant or couldn't read the word.  I just Googled despppitic and got dyspeptic.  If this is the word David meant as to his disability, then it means that he suffered from depression and/or irritability. 

I also found proof that David’s family lived in Wells county Indiana in 1840.  This is the year he was born and, though the 1840 census doesn’t give a lot of information.  It does note Hiram Phillips, David’s father, lived there and it notes the sex and general ages of everyone in his household.  The ages/sexes of everyone match what I know about the family. I hope to do some research there some day and, hopefully, can find land records.

From either an obituary or someone’s comments following David’s death, I’ve learned that the family moved to Iowa in 1847. Why 1847?  Iowa became a state on December 28, 1846.  The obituary continues “At the age of seven his parents moved to Buchanan co., IA and six years later to Harrison co., where he lived until 1861 when he returned to Buchanan co. and met Miss Sarah Fish to whom he was married April 12, 1861, and moved to Woodbury co., IA where they lived until the year 1881, when they came to Madison co., NE where they have resided ever since, over 39 years. For nine months and 21 days he had been confined to his bed. The children were all present at the time of his death. The deceased was a veteran of the Civil War being a volunteer in Co. B, 15th Iowa Infantry, and served his country faithfully for nine months.

Here is a news article and a favorite story about David and his daughter’s wedding anniversary. 

Golden Wedding Celebration of Mr. and Mrs. George Beed

March 18, 1933

The following article taken from the Elkhorn Journal, Battle Creek’s first newspaper, was printed in 1883, and read at the golden wedding celebration.

Rose Phillips and George Beed were married at the home of the bride.s parents in Highland Precinct, Madison County, Nebraska, March 18, 1883. F. H. L. Willis, Esquire, officiated at the wedding of George Beed and Rose Phillips. The above event has been looked for by the people of this locality for some time. No cards but lots of cake. Miss Rose has had a host of admirers ever since her residences here but George has by persistent wooing, won the prize and left the rest of suitors in the background.

Highland.s constable, no doubt thinking that somebody might harm the happy pair, summoned about a dozen able assistants to his aid, went and guarded their premises the same evening, took such weapons as old shotguns, cowbells, etc., which I believe kept at ball all who would be liable to harm them. This, of course, is rather unusual occurrence on a Sabbath evening but the majesty of the law must be upheld at all hazards.

Signed, .The Esq.

The couple were married at high noon at the home of the bride’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. David Phillips. After the wedding, the couple went to make their home in a dugout. They lived in the dugout a year, then succeeded to a homestead west of Battle Creek. Four years later they sold this homestead and moved to their timber claim three and one-half miles northeast of Meadow Grove.

In the blizzard of 1888, Mr. Beed became lost in the storm. Mrs. Beed went in search of him and found him wandering near the house with both eyes and his mouth frozen shut and his mittens frozen to his hands.

They lived on their timber claim until 1911 when they came to Meadow Grove to make their residence. They had both come to Madison County in covered wagons, Mr. Beed in 1872, and Mrs. Beed in 1881.  The George Beed’s had three children, Emma, Earl and Lester Beed.

At the golden wedding celebration there was one guest present who was also at the

wedding, Mrs. Malissa Ober. Source: They Called It Meadow Grove

FYI, Malissa Ober is one of David’s sisters.

#genealogy #familyhistory #iowahistory #nebraskahistory

Broken Ash Tray

After many years and a long string of broken relationships, it came down to this:  A broken ash tray reduced him to tears.  Why would such an insignificant piece of pottery cause such a break down?  It was the shattering of glass and the plume of flying ashes that returned him to a moment of his childhood.  

His parents had been fighting and arguing for many months.  Too often it happened and that the sparks would start flying while he and his older brother were sleeping.  Nasty words and horrible accusations flew about the house while he and his brother were glued to their beds as tears streamed down their faces.


Why didn't the parents understand that their words and actions cut so deeply into the hearts of little boys? They don't care who is right or wrong.  They just want to be loved and know that the ones who love them also love each other.  Without that, the world is a much darker place.  

Then came the night of the huge blow up.  The arguments had been bad before but this took a turn for the worst.  The fighting intensified until suddenly the sound of breaking glass pierced the night.  Both boys bolted upright and looked at each other.  Anxiety lined their faces.  Still, neither moved from their beds.  Fear of what they might see kept them glued to the sheets.  More glass exploded in the night. Then a scream cried for him to get out.  They heard the front door open and close.  The truck was started. They heard the gravel crunch beneath the tires as it backed out of the driveway.  The motor revved and the truck sped away.  The only sound was sobbing coming from their mother downstairs.  Still, the boys did not move.  Eventually, their own cries put them to sleep.  

When morning light began to seep into the house, the boy crept down to view the carnage.  Apprehension filled him as he tiptoed his way.  Then he saw it.  He parents used a log shaped ash tray in the house and it now lay in pieces.  Somehow, the boy's soul identified with that ash tray.  Eventually, he accepted the fact that he would never see his father again.  Looking back on it all now, he realized his tender heart was the ash tray.  It was broken and never to be repaired.  

He spent his life trying to be worthy of love and desperately wanted to love him.  However, he never felt comfortable and believed he had to continually work to keep everyone happy.  If they were happy, they wouldn't get mad or hate him or leave him.  That obliterated ash tray from his childhood demonstrated that he didn't do enough to keep the ones he loved together.  Since he never left the bed to do SOMETHING, his parents separated.  He never understood why his father never contacted them. The hole in his heart was so vast.  

With a cigarette hanging in his trembling hand and a broken ash tray on the ground, it started to make sense.  As his therapist put it, he is not to blame.  Accidents happen.  He didn't mean to knock it on the ground.  The therapist retrieved another ash tray from a cupboard and placed it on the table next to him.  There is nothing a little boy of 6 can do to keep his parents together.  There is also nothing he can do to separate them.  The tears continued streaming but for the first time in his life he felt that each tear was washing away the dirt and grime that had caked his soul.  The thought of the possibility of being whole was enough hope for him right now.  There was finally hope.  

#hope  

Where Do You Go?

Where do you go when life isn't what it should be?  What do you do when people let you down?  In this world, you can count on people letting you down.  You even can have people that love you come up short in your life.  We are human and we fail others and ourselves.  Still, what do you do and where do you go when shortcomings leave a hole in your heart?

Sometimes, you understand.  You can deal with the fact that someone can't meet your needs.  Still, life hurts more when you have a hole in your heart.  Emptiness.  One of the things that separates us from the beasts of the earth is our emotions.  Emotions can run rampant when we are hurting.  Hurts can run deep when we are let down.  Where do you go?

I ask this because I remember a New Years Eve from my past where it was such a short time into the new year when situations came up that knocked me down and I couldn't believe that it happened so quickly into the year.  That was only the beginning.  My faith in God was strained.  Eventually, I began to doubt that God loved me.  Then I began to doubt God even existed. 

Nevertheless, through a series of fortunate events, I began to see that God is who He says He is.  However, He is not always what I believe Him to be.  He is so much more.  If God is concerned about the birds of the air, the grass in the field, and the knows the hairs on our heads, how much more does care for His creation that is made in His image? 

The bible says that if God is for us, who can stand against us?  We overwhelmingly conquer through Christ.  When we are hurting we can go to God, through Christ our intercessor, and cry out to Him as our Father.  If you are hurting, please try God.  Meanwhile, being a hugger, here's a hug to get you through. 

Family History: David Phillips

How would you feel if you entered the Army in place of your brother who was drafted, but never received any training before you reached the front?  That is exactly what happened to my great, great, grandfather, David Phillips, after he joined the Iowa 15^th Volunteer Infantry in October 1864.  The family story is that he entered the war in place of his brother who was drafted.  When he sent money back to his wife, this same brother somehow got it and kept it for himself.  Consequently, she nearly starved to death if it wasn’t for Jesse James helping her in her time of need. 

Early in my family history research, I became interested in my great, great, grandfather.  Something about the man intrigues me.  I have two pictures of him and, though David is taller, my uncle Ron looks like him.  I decided to do some research to determine if I could prove that David was a draftee substitute and if Jesse James had helped his wife, Sarah.  Let me say that until I can find letters or news articles about Jesse James specifically helping Sarah, I have to accept that it is possible but not positively true.  I have read articles about Jesse James being in Iowa and that he helped people in need from time to time.  Therefore, I believe it is plausible.  However, I felt it was more likely I could find some proofs about David. 

My first concern was the fact that military muster rolls show David was in Company B of the Iowa 15^th Volunteer Infantry.  If he joined on behalf of his drafted brother, why was it called a volunteer army?  Nonetheless, the records show he mustered in on 14 October 1864 and out on 24 July 1865.  He was 22 years old and lived in Fort Dodge, Iowa. 

In the book “History of the Fifteenth Regiment, Iowa Veteran Volunteer Infantry, from October, 1861, to August, 1865,” William W. Belknap notes that the last day to join the 15^th before the draft started was April 1, 1864 (page 310).  There are other records stating a draft was needed to raise the ranks of men that would be used by General William T. Sherman as he attacked Atlanta and beyond.  While I do not know which brother was drafted or when, based on the day David mustered in it may have been within a few weeks to a couple months before.  Nevertheless, Belknap notes that it took a month for David to arrive in the Atlanta area.  He states on the night of November 14^th, there was “another detachment of 189 drafted men and substitutes” that arrived in Marietta, GA."

“These men arrived at that Post without any officer who brought them, and without any descriptive papers—the officer who brought them from Davenport, Iowa, having left them at Nashville; from there they were forwarded to Atlanta while the regiment was stationed at Marietta.  A self-constituted Sergeant who was in the service before, and appeared to have taken charge of the detachment en-route to Atlanta, could not say how many of the lacking 21 men were left sick at Nashville, or some hospital on the way, and how many might have deserted.  After a long correspondence, which commenced as soon as the regiment arrived at the sea, the required muster and descriptive rolls were received at the regimental headquarters at Goldsboro, NC towards the end of the March, of the next year; meanwhile such military description of these men was made as could be had by and from themselves, for temporary purposes.  They were armed and equipped during the first days of the march, and were drilled for practical warfare whenever an opportunity could be obtained” (Page 412). 

For you history buffs, you know that on November 15^th, Sherman began his “March to the Sea.”  I sometimes wonder what David thought when he finally arrived in Atlanta.  I read that earlier in the Atlanta campaign that General Sherman placed so much importance of supplies getting through that any troops being moved by rail from Chattanooga to Atlanta had to ride on top of the cars.  By the time David traveled to Atlanta, that order had been rescinded but I can’t help but wonder if he had to ride like that.  Also, there were confederates that still attacked trains traveling from Chattanooga to Atlanta so it t wasn’t a completely safe journey.

On page 442, David is listed as one of the soldiers whose unit was unknown.  It also notes him as a “substitute.”  So we know that he is there in place of someone.  At this time, I have found no documentation noting which brother was drafted.  I am inclined to believe it was Ola Phillips.  This is due to the oldest brother, Marquiss, being 32 years old and Ola was 28. 

There is one point of the family story that can be disputed based on the documentation noted above.  That is the item of the brother getting the money sent home to David’s wife, Sarah, and keeping the money for himself.  Since Belknap notes that some men did not know the unit to which they belonged and that this information wasn’t learned until the following March, it seems more likely that no money was being sent home.  Also, I have read that General Sherman and his armies had no contact with the North during their March to the Sea until they reached Savannah in late December 1864.  Therefore, no mail could be delivered and probably no pay could be issued.

While I still have found no documentation about Sarah and her life while David was fighting the war or the family during the war, it has been tremendously satisfying to be able to prove some things about David's role in the Civil War.  I continue to search and one day hope to go to the areas where he lived in order to find concrete evidence about David and his family.  

#familyhistory #genealogy#civilwar

My Heart is Stone

My heart is stone

It doesn’t move and it isn’t swayed

I feel no pain

My heart is ice

It doesn’t feel and it doesn’t change

I am all I need

My heart melts

Your fire torched my soul

There is a ray of gold

My heart is vapor

It is gone and replaced by you

The dawn breaks

My heart is alive

Reborn and glorious

I love being alive  

(C)  October 2014
Duane Windell Phillips

It Fundamentally Changes Your Whole Life

After witnessing the birth of my first child, I called my parents and siblings to tell them the good news.  I remember discussing the blessed event with my sister.  She said to me, “Isn’t it an event unlike any you’ve ever witnessed?” 

Having children changes everything about your life.  Suddenly, you aren’t so ego centric.  Your life revolves around the new precious bundle in your care.  You wonder what you did with all the time you used to have.  Now every moment of sleep is coveted.  Still, you love to show off your baby.  You are in awe of that creation.  Then your heart melts as the child grows older and recognizes you.  Then, they are crazy for you.  They meet you at the door when you come home.  Children are a blessing. 

I have a coworker who lost a teenage daughter recently to a freak accident.  Today was the first time I spoke with him and offered my condolences.  I could have earlier but what do you say to the parent who buried a child?  I pride myself on being someone who can consol and be empathetic.  For some reason, I just couldn’t face him.  More than likely, he didn’t notice since we rarely have spoken since we are on different shifts.  Nevertheless, I felt I had to do so today.  The last thing he said to me before going home for the day was that an event like that “it fundamentally changes your whole life.”

I have long felt that death has a way of stripping away the veneers we put on life and make us see what is truly important.  Sadly, when the departed is someone as close as a child, parent, or spouse, death cruelly rubs it in our faces.  I mentioned to him that a friend of my daughter died a year before on the day she was heading back to college.  As she backed out of the driveway, she remembered something she forgot in the house and jumped from the car to get it.  She forgot to stop and put the car in Park.  Then she ran back to the moving car to stop it.  She ended up pinned between the car and something else and was in a coma for a few days before she died.  My friend’s daughter was on an 4 wheeler or something like it and the vehicle turned over and landed on her just right.  She died instantly.  The doctors told the family that if they did that a thousand more times, she wouldn’t have died.  It was just a freak accident.  It fundamentally changed their lives. 

When my daughter’s friend died some lines from a Switchfoot song (Sing it Out) went through my head

Where is the sun?
Feel like a ghost this time
Where have you gone?
I need your breath in my lungs tonight

Sing it out
Sing it out
Take what is left of me
Make it a melody

I'm holding on
I'm holding on to you
My world is wrong
My world is a lie that's come true

And I fall in love
With the ones that run me through
When all along all I need is you

Life is short and we don’t know how long we will be on this earth.  Hug the ones you love.  Tell them you love them.  Live your life with purpose. 

Circle of Bitterness

Bitterness
Spiting them forever
Holding them in contempt

Contempt
Disapproval of all deeds
Keeps you full of scorn

Scorn
A simmering anger
Remaining on the treadmill

Treadmill
Constant movement going nowhere
Breeding more bitterness

repeat

(c) 2013
Duane Windell Phillips

A Couple Simple but Great Office Pranks

If you are a bit of a jokester like me, here are a couple easy but effective pranks you can pull on your coworkers: 

Take a sticky note and tear or cut it down in size and place the sticky side onto the underneath your coworker’s computer mouse.  The size doesn’t matter as long as the edges of it do not show when the mouse is sitting on the desk.  I find it good to write something nice on the sticky for your coworker to read when they finally figure out what the problem is. 

The next one requires your coworker be using a two button mouse and be away from their desk for more than a brief moment.  Go to the Control Panel click on the Mouse icon.  In the Button tab, there should be a picture of the mouse for Button configuration.  Click the box and now the mouse will be right click rather than left click.  Remember, to close the windows, you must right click.

Have fun watching them.  Heh heh!

#officepranks

Metanoia

I am rereading CS Lewis's Mere Christianity.  I am still only a short way into the book and today reread the part where Lewis gives a description that really hit home for me.

If you truly repent you aren't just saying you are sorry.  You are changing your life.  You are turning your back on the way you used to be and going in a different direction.  However, due to our fallen state we have no power to live up to the standard God has established.  Therefore, we must turn to God for help to do it. This reveals another problem.  It is not in God's nature to be wrong.  He cannot change His way of doing things.  God, by His very being, is perfect and can only live in perfection. Therefore, He cannot help us out of our fallen state.

When we learn to write, often grown ups will use their hands to guide ours as we write letters and numbers.  However, it is not us that write them though we are holding the pen or pencil or crayon.  It is the grown up.  We trust the grown up to do so because they have written things before.  We have not.  Since God has never sinned, he cannot repent and He cannot show us how to repent.  However, God sent His son to live life as a man.  He can show us the way.  Some may argue that Jesus cannot show us the way because He never sinned.  True, but He was tempted in every way but remained in His love for His Father.

Imagine you are drowning in a river and ask for help.  What if someone comes to your aid and has one foot in the water and one on dry land.  Will you complain that it isn't fair that he has an advantage for having a foot on the land?  It is the fact that he has the foot on land that he is able to save you.  If he were in the water with you, he is also in danger.  By being God and man, Jesus is the One who bridges the gap.  He enables us to change in the way that is necessary.

I realize these thoughts are somewhat jumbled.  I pray you hear between the lines.  

A Piece of Advice

We should all be probiotic, not antibiotic.

Yin/Yang

In Chinese philosophy, there is a concept called yin and yang.  These words are used to describe opposite and contrary forces such as male and female, light and dark, hot and cold, and good and evil.  I believe this is also a way of explaining something I have been trying to figure out for many years now. 

I first posed the question to myself and the Lord about 20 years ago.  I wrote this in a poem titled Your will, My will:

You know what I will do in all circumstances

How much of that knowledge is known because You planned it that way?

If it was planned, why am I held responsible?

How much of what I do or think is my will?

How much do You control?

How much power do I really have?

It was during this time that I was questioning the spiritual ladder I was on in order to gain acceptance to God.  At this time in my life, I was reading the bible every day.  I was involved in church choir and singles group.  Additionally, I was a Youth for Christ volunteer.  I was a very good person.  However, I learned that I couldn’t make God love me any more than He already did. 

While I was blessed to meet God in a new and fresh way, my questions above remained unanswered.  We can’t work our way into heaven or God’s favor.  Still, the bible says we are to work out our own salvation.  (Philippians 2:12) Jesus also used a parable of how He would one day separate the nations as a shepherd separates sheep and goats.  (Matthew 25:31-46)  The distinction between the two was works done for Jesus.  Is it faith or works?  Does the bible say both?

I believe most people would agree with me that you can do the right thing for the wrong reason.  God knows our hearts.  While He may be ok with what we did, He sees what motivated us.  While I don’t want to appear to be compromising, I am starting to believe there is a balance between the two.  Let me illustrate with a personal story.

Going into my 2^nd year of college, I determined I was going to train hard and qualify for nationals in cross country.  That Summer and Fall I trained harder than at any point in my life.  I consciously did workouts that would put me in the position to meet the qualifying standard.  During the race where I would qualify, I needed to place 15^th overall.  Going into the last mile of the 5 mile race, I was in 16^th place.  I continued to push myself but realized I probably wouldn’t make up the distance needed to overtake the person ahead of me.  However, about 100 yards from the finish line, there was a runner lying on the ground.  Therefore, I passed him and finished 15^th to meet the qualifying standard.

From this story I hope we can see my point.  There were things I had to do.  I had to work and train in order to be in the position to qualify for nationals.  Also, during the race I had to give it my all.  The people I was racing were giving it their all.  God wasn’t going to just give me the "victory."  I had to show I was serious.  Once I demonstrated the desire I had, He created the miracle that I needed. 

Of course, this is somewhat of a perfect example.  Life isn’t perfect.  In another personal story, I was in a speech contest several years ago.  I got through the first two rounds because I had no competition.  Still, I knew I needed to work on the speech and I practiced as often as I could.  In the city wide contest, it was almost a perfect presentation.  Despite my nerves, I could tell the audience was hanging on my every word.  A month later was the state wide competition.  I had practiced more and I was confident.  However, during this presentation, something happened that has never happened to me before.  My mouth got dry during the speech.  Consequently, it was difficult to speak and my speech was slurred.  When they were announcing the winners, I knew I did all I could and I silently prayed, “Win, lose, or draw, God it is for You.”  I wasn’t in the top 3.

Regardless of what we want, God has His purposes that He will fulfill.  We are His instruments.  As such, our job is to ensure we are as sharp as we can be and ready for use.  Therefore, we are to work to be pure and blameless.  We do need to study God’s word and earnestly pray for God’s will in our lives.  In reality, that is all we can do. 

Yin and yang is the way to live for the Lord.  We are to work to be the best we can be.  We should strive to serve God to the best of our abilities.  Still, we need to remember that our strength comes from God and in cases where we are deficient, trust that He will fill the void.  Also, in all ways acknowledge Him as Lord of all and all our efforts. 

An Early Memory

I am the youngest of 4 kids.  The oldest brother died as an infant.  Now it is just my sister and brother and I.  Like most people I knew growing up in the 60s and 70s, my parents smoked.  So did their siblings and parents.  I remember once visiting an uncle where most of my dad’s family was also in attendance.  Uncle Harvey had a small place and we all remarked that the smoke was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

I never really thought much about smoking and never started.  However, I did once try smoking.  My neighbor friend, Marty, came over one day.  He was being secretive about something and I wondered what was up.  When we were alone, he showed me that he had a cigarette that he took from his mom.  He was going to smoke it and wanted me to join him but I had to get my own cigarette.  So I went inside and snuck one from my mom’s pack. 

Then the two of us sat on the back porch and lit up.  I think he also swiped a lighter but I don’t remember for sure.  He took a puff or two and told me to do the same.  I was about 4 or 5 years old at the time but Marty is older than me so I did what he said.  Being so young, what did I know about smoking except for observing my parents and nearly everyone else in the world?  I put the cigarette between my lips and took a big drag. 

Immediately, I started coughing.  My lungs did not want that stuff in there and were telling my body to get it out.  Thinking that I may die soon, I opened the back door to get a drink of water.  For some reason, I thought that would help.  Upon entering the kitchen, I saw my mother.  In my heart, I felt very guilty but the need to stay alive trumped my guilt.  Mom asked what was wrong.  I hadn’t stopped coughing and continued coughing was the only answer I could give. 

She got a glass and poured some water from the faucet and handed it to me.  After a second glass was downed, the coughing subsided.  I believe she asked me what was wrong again but I don’t recall what I said.  I just know I didn’t tell her the truth.  It was several years after I was out of college before I ever came clean about that incident.  Both of my parents laughed after hearing the story.  Nearly 45 years later and I still am not tempted to smoke cigarettes.  That incident is burned into my psyche.