The Old Gray Uniform

Folded and tucked away in a wooden drawer
Lays an old tattered suit of gray
Blood and mud has long stained its color
From a battlefield where the soldier lay

Once he fought for his native land
To protect her purity from uncouth invaders
He battled courageously against blue bellies—
Men who were freedom-haters

Now his uniform lays forlorn
There's not much occasion to take it out
The sight of it usually brings tears
Memories of a bloody bout

The soldier's back was once young and strong
But now he's bent with age
He will never forget the Southern struggle
Of warring against a tyrant's rage

He was once the emblem of the South
Young, strong, and fervently proud
But now he's a forgotten old man
Whose voice is not so loud

Yet he is still just as proud
He still walks with a firm step
His old musket, though a mockery to some
Will always shadow his doorstep

His gray uniform once had a purpose
To fight Liberty's battle
But now—forgotten like its wearer
Is thrown into the mud by prattle

The old gray uniform is an emblem
Of a glory forever long gone
Of a day when the man was young
And his gun was drawn

The old gray uniform is still in battle
Of fighting evil invaders
Men who don't understand liberty
Wicked men who are God-haters

Just How Close Death Can Come [or] A Tale of A Tornado

It was 1:00 A.M.  Sweet, dreamless slumber was roughly interrupted as Daddy woke up everyone in
the house.  Foggy-brained and sleepy-eyed, we kids followed him, almost blindly we groped though the lighted house.  Yawns that could not be suppressed almost split our faces.  Not until Daddy's pressing "Hurry, no time!" did we actually begin to understand the urgency.  Earlier that day the weather forecast had warned of the late-night upcoming storms, even an issued tornado warning.  Daddy had stayed up that night to keep an eye on the imminent storm while the rest of us went to bed, very unaware that we would soon be shaken abruptly awake from sleep.  Nervous, hurried, and even scared, we all grabbed pillows frantically and followed Daddy and Mama to their spacious closet.  There we all (excepting Daddy who was keeping a constant eye outside) huddled down together.  A big possibility of a tornado heading our way was the weather forecast's message.  The weather radar on Daddy's phone confirmed this.  The atmosphere was tense and our apprehensive chatter did nothing to calm jittery nerves.  Beside me sat Reb, and I put my hand affectionately upon his head.  Clara Mae, just in front of me, had her pillow held tightly over her head.  Her lips were white with fear as her seven-year-old brain mulled over one thing: tornado.  Her slender little body quivered and trembled. Liberty, who's sleep had been so rudely broken up, cried, more from sleepiness than fright.  The older ones, if they felt any fear, did not show it much.  With my knees pulled up to my chest, I looked from one family member to another.  Truth be told, I was crazy with fear inside.  I did not show it because I did not know for sure whether the tornado would actually hit us.  But fear nevertheless coursed through my body, making me feel cold and hot at the same time.  A mattress resting outside the door lay in wait for Daddy to throw over us just in case the tornado came.  Dread rose in my throat as I thought about that specific detail.  What if Daddy didn't make cover trying to save us?

A terrible realization hit me.  What if our house was beset by the raging tornado and we all perished?  Put rather bluntly, what if we all died and did not live to see another day?  The thought upset me.  No one wants to die, no matter how much faith they may have in Christ or how much they may want to escape life's problems.  In the bleakest moment, no one wants to die.  Although death is inevitable for everyone eventually, we all will try everything in our power to delay the inevitable.  I felt that I, at sixteen—almost seventeen—years old, had no right to die.  My whole life was ahead of me.  There was so much I wanted to do and experience in life.  Or what about little Liberty, who had even more life ahead of her, only almost two years old?  "It's not fair!" my heart cried as practically certain death seemed to stare me in the face.  Perhaps I was a bit hysterical and imaginative, but that is what fear does to one.  Someone looking at me from the outside would not have guessed my inner struggle.  Perhaps from the outside I was cool, calm, and collected, but inside I was scared, shaking, and stiffened with fear.  But what am I to judge who should and should not die?  Only God has that authority.

Then the thought hit me.  I had not spoken one prayer to the Master of the [seemingly] uncontrollable storm.  As a matter of fact, He had every bit of control over it.  I wanted to cry.  My first thought should have been a prayer to the Lord, but instead I had been assailed by doubts and fears.  As I looked from face to worried face, the only thought that flowed through my brain was "God, save us. Lord, protect us. God, save us."  As much as my flesh didn't want to admit it, God held our lives in His hand, as well as the direction of the storm.  I had no real reason to be frightened, for He would do everything according to His will, whether our lives would be surrendered for His glory or not.  We may not know what tomorrow brings, but we can know that it is always completely in His hands.

The Aftermath

To sum up a long and descriptive story, the tornado did not come within a mile of our house.  However, as the next day came, we learned that it had reached the outskirts of Barnesville, a small town about five miles from us.  That sobered me.  Just how close can death come and just barely miss the target?  My record experience is five miles.  And it was all by the grace of God that my family and I escaped.  I was sobered beyond anything that I had ever experienced.

A tornado's wrath is extreme and horrific.  When I awoke at 10:00 A.M. the next morning after a long and eventful night, I cannot begin to describe how thrilled and excited I was to see the blazing spring sun shining brightly through the window.  As I basked in the sunlight for a moment I stopped to give God thanks for His mercy, grace, and the blessing of a new day.  I'll admit that usually I take my life for granted—all the busyness and daily routines—even my time with my family.  But the night of April 27 was sort of an epoch in my life, making me realize that life is fleeting, truly fleeting in the sense that we do not have much time on earth.  Every day God gives us is an immeasurable blessing, one we should not throw away lightly.

We also learned later in the day of April 28 that a couple was killed in the storm's path right outside of Barnesville.  Other tragedies have occurred throughout the entire South.  Those who have lost loved ones need our heartfelt prayers to the Almighty.  May we all have the courage to say, "The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away: blessed be the name of the Lord!"


Tales of Tragedy here and here. 

You can listen to Covenant Commission's radio broadcast the Just and Unjust Alike.

Taste, Time, and Tea

Summer is close to ending.  Although I'll be glad to wave goodbye to the intense heat and welcome the glorious colors of autumn, I'll be sad that another year is over halfway gone...again.  I sometimes wonder if time is not our enemy.  Certain duties require a specific amount of time, and if not fulfilled, we need more time.  You know how our parents are always talking about how fast their youth came and went, how we'll know what it's like when we're their age, and how fast the years have gone by?  Just think, tomorrow we could be saying the same thing.  Life is a vapor, yet it can be glorious and beautiful.  Think of the birth of a baby.  Brought squealing and screaming into the world, the little bundle eventually grows faster and faster.  The years speed by until finally everything has vanished.  Old age creeps up and the end draws closer.  Life can be dismal if we look through a pessimistic lens.  However, if we see time as an opportunity to live life to the fullest extent, we experience much more fullness of joy.  Because God made us for who we are, since He was gracious enough to grant us life and breath, we ought to thank Him with every part of our being!  Life- though gloomy at times- is a miracle, no matter what evolutionists say.  We do have something to live for, and we were created in God's image (Genesis 1:26-28), so thankfully we don't have apes for ancestors.

Anyone who knows me well can tell you how avid a reader I am.  Give me a good book and I'm happier than a bee in honey.  Just recently Mama took Grace and me to our local library.  Honestly, though we've been here in Barnesville for over a year now, this was our first visit.  Though small, our library is everything I had hoped plus much more.  They may not have a big movie selection, but who cares after the sight of all those books!  Even the smell is intoxicating!  I felt like a giddy child as I perused the shelves.  I wanted to dance through the entire building, sing at the top of my lungs, and hug every book lovingly in my arms.  I was that starved for good literature.  I guess books have that kind of an impact upon me.  Unfortunately, a library has rules, and loud disturbances are prohibited.  I had to contain my exuberance.

Before I reached the end of two shelves I had already found James Fenimore Cooper, Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, and Agatha Christi.  Imagine my joy then! (I don't have to search out Jane Austin anymore now that I've finally read all of her novels.)  I couldn't take home very book that I wanted because each was fat and thick. (Juicy, just like I like them!)  Fourteen was my limit.  My next visit will be looking for Elizabeth Gaskill and Robert Louis Stevenson, plus getting more Dickens and Dumas. (Remember, I couldn't take every book I wanted.)  Since I’ll have most of the books to look over next time, I could find many other great classics!  A library is truly a reader's haven.

What do you enjoy reading?

There isn't anything like Southern hospitality.  Unless one actually visits the Southland, they'll never know what they are missing.  During the cool months it's nice to take a walk underneath the coloring leaves.  Even amidst our hot weather it's grand to have an air-conditioned house (talk about thankfulness).  A rainy day is best for snuggling up on the bed with a good book.  Something about the rain makes me feel warm and secure.  Must be something about being enclosed in the hose while God's mighty and majestic wonder reigns all around us.  I actually sleep best during a pattering rain.

I believe creation is truly more vibrant in the beautiful South. Perhaps I'm prejudiced. (No offense to the other parts of the world.)  The sun seems brighter, the moon smiles sweeter, the stars twinkle and shine more splendidly, the flowers smell more fragrant, and the trees seem greener and taller.  Again, no offense.  Y'all could probably say the same thing.  Did I mention our well-known, Southern-made tea?

Isn't life wonderful?