Independence Day

From:  An Address to American Youth

by:  Reverend L. Parmele

Independence Day!  The booming cannon and rattling firearms!  It is not the wrath of battle, but only echo-thunders, rolling back upon us from the great war-tempest of '76.  Nor are these sounds now mingled with the cries of the wounded and groans of the dying - mournfully terrific swelling up from the field of blood.  The report of guns and voice of artillery that fall on our ears today are all mellowed down into notes of enchanting music, and sweetly chime in the glorious triumphal anthem of our national jubilee.

Upon the youth of America is conferred the noblest birthright in the whole world.  The stars under which you were born beam with brightest promise and kindle loftiest hope.  Before you all, without any miserable and silly distinction of ancestry or estate, is placed the brightest diadem of moral dignity, intellectual greatness, and civil honor. 

In countries where rank is obtained on easy terms of ancestry and a man becomes a king simply because his father before him was one, noblity relaxes into indolence of spirit and imbecility of intellect, and royalty, with all its imposing honors, degenerates into mental dwarfishness, and the king's jester is often, really, a greater man than the crowned head. 

Let us remember that religion was the early harbinger, and continues the guardian angel of the American birthright - the note of religious freedom struck on the rock of Plymouth, and was the grand prelude to the swelling anthem of civil liberty.  Now, the war-storm over, and the battle-thunder ceased, the precious blood of our forefathers that was poured out as a free shower upon the earth - those peerless drops are gathered over us in a bright bow of promise, spanning a continent and resting on two oceans, attracting a world to "the land of the free and the home of the brave."  But the fear of God is the great keystone in this bow of national hope - take away this, and the sunlit arch will vanish into the blackness of a second moral deluge.

Substitution

I hope you all never tire of reading Mrs. Browning's poetry.  I continue to share her poems because  they are both beautiful and soul-stirring...and because I hope that even one of you might fall in love with her work, as I have!

Substitution

by: Elizabeth Barrett Browning

When some beloved voice that was to you

Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,

And silence, against which you dare not cry,

Aches round you like a strong disease and new-

What hope?  What help?  What music will undo

That silence to your sense?  Not friendship's sigh,

Not reason's subtle count; not melody

Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew;

Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales

Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress trees

To the clear moon; nor yet the spheric laws

Self-chanted, nor the angels' sweet "All hails,"

Met in the smile of God: nay, none of these.

Speak THOU, availing Christ! - and fill this pause.

Restore St. Louis

I was privileged to spend a few hours this past week in south St. Louis city helping with a summer tutoring program.  One of the local PCA churches, New City Fellowship, provides this service to families in their neighborhood.

Many of these students are recent immigrants or refugees whose families are Muslim, Buddhist or Hindu.  The extent of language barriers ranges from nearly none to extreme and poses a challenge for the teachers who are trying to simultaneously and effectively communicate material to 10-15 students with highly-diverse needs.  Only one criteria divides the two classes: readers and non-readers.

I don't know what kind of trauma any of these kids may have endured already, but they are joyful and surprisingly open to loving and being loved...even the teenage girls.  It amazed me too, that even though they knew we were with them for only four short days and that a new crew would greet them this next week, they were open-hearted and by day 2 were hanging and hugging on us as if we were old friends.

Here are a few of the beautiful faces and moments from the week:

Tin and Olyvia - 2 well-spoken, confident little girls!

Wa Gay Moo - has a perpetual smile on his face and a cheery disposition

Than Than Soe - a sweet, quiet, Burmese-speaking girl who is still learning how to form English sentences 

Every morning, the girls drew on our hands and arms with gel pens

Energetic Ezra loved to play the drums in assembly

Henry and Marcus

These girls loved being on stage for singing time!

The Whole Gang

Name That Flower

The Butterfly Circus

I am going to break with recent tradition and forego today's Wordsmith post.  I'm kinda partial to the tradition, so this is not a permanent abandonment.

A couple years ago, I gave an endorsement for the film, Bella, and its star, Eduardo Verastegui.  The stories of both the film and the actor are compelling.  May I suggest you pursue both?!  (The links I provided previously have expired, but you can Google his name and find loads of information.)

In the meantime, I was introduced last night to this short film, The Butterfly Circus, which also stars Verastegui and whose story beautifully conveys the power of The Gospel (thanks, Alicia!).  It's 20 minutes long, but I'm pretty sure you won't regret watching it.



Seeing this, prompted me to investigate what the actor is doing these days.  Seems he's the real deal...only accepting acting jobs that don't conflict with his beliefs, and doing good works in Darfur and Haiti, among other places.  I don't know about you, but I find it particularly uplifting to find someone in the public eye who chooses to boldly swim against the tide.  

Do Not Fear

I climbed onto the first platform with only the slightest twinge of hesitation.  No fear...just a fleeting thought that maybe I was foolish not to be afraid, and a passing question whether I might be suddenly and unexpectedly stricken with panic.  Perhaps I'm not so bold as I used to be and am deceiving myself with a long-standing bravado which I no longer possess.

The native guide, whose only English seemed to consist of, "No brake", didn't allow much time for musing.  He quickly fastened me to the line and shoved me off the platform.  In spite of the fact that I obeyed his "No brake!" order, I cruised, rather than zipped, down the first line into the Costa Rican jungle.

I discovered, to my relief, that I really wasn't afraid afterall.  The fearless, risk-taking version of my younger self still lives! 

At the other end of the line, another native was waiting and wondering what I thought.  "Too slow!" I answered.  He was a bit surprised and offered me the option of taking the next run upside down.  He was even more surprised when I answered with a resounding "YES!"

The whole experience was delightful for me.  The zip lining, the rappelling, the climbing, the scenery...truly delightful.

Later that evening, alone with my thoughts (a scary place to be at times), I began to wonder, "Is there something wrong with me that an experience like this generates absolutely no fear in me?"

Sure, when I was 17 and rappelling in Chattanooga, I had entrusted my life to a couple of "responsible" 19-year-old males without much thought for my life.  But isn't that characteristic of youngsters who subconsciously view themselves as invincible?  But what about now?  I have children who, on some level, still need their Momma (don't they?).  I've also spent years nurturing my life-long tendency toward skepticism and cynicism, both of which normally leave me suspicious and untrusting of people.   So why in the world would I unhesitatingly trust my physical life to complete strangers with whom I can not even communicate on a basic level?  I can't answer that question!  Maybe I'm missing those brain cells that are designed to signal danger...I don't know.  Maybe I'm less frightened by physical death than the "living death" that sometimes results from trusting others with my heart and soul.

What I do know, is that I wish I could learn to be that trusting in other areas of my life!  Most of the time, I don't even trust the Lord...you know, the Sovereign Faithful One who repeatedly declares, "Do not fear!"  He has proven Himself time after time to be thoroughly trustworthy.  Yet still, I find myself afraid of where He might lead me, where He might allow me to go, what trials He might send me (either by way of my own foolishness, or by His own omniscient hand).

Surely by now I should know, from His Word, from His ways with His people, and from my own observation and experience, that I need not be afraid!  That which seems frightening or insurmountable today may very well be the means by which He exalts Himself, or humbles me, or brings someone else to acknowledge His glory.   His intentions toward me are not ill and He can be trusted! 

I KNOW this.  But my self-absorbed, short-sighted vision blinds me to His inscrutable purposes and often leaves me fearful.  Yet how much more has He proven Himself worthy of being trusted than some young Costa Rican tour guide whose character is unknown to me, but into whose hands I readily placed my life...and death!

Do I not believe that:

He has graven me on the palm of His hand!

He gathers me to himself as a hen does her chicks!

He is my Shepherd who leads me on a level path!

He is with me when I pass through deep waters and flames!

He hides and covers me under the shadow of His wings!

He is a strong tower into which I can run and be safe!

I want to learn to trust Him as naturally and easily as I trusted Manuel to get me safely through the jungle!  I want to be able to boldly declare with the Psalmist:

"God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore, I will not fear...though the earth gives way and the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea; though the waters roar and foam; though the mountains tremble at their swelling." 

Those are some pretty drastic circumstances in which to proclaim, "I will not fear!"  But His promises to be with me, to lead me, to carry me, to deliver me, are many and sure!  I have no reason to fear and every inducement to be still and rest in Him. 

May it be so.  

Leisurely Woman's Daybook

Outside my window...the night's thunderstorms reduced the temperature by about 20 degrees, bringing some much needed relief to STL!

Around the house...the upstairs of this Cape Cod house we live in (and which I happen to love) is 8-12 degrees warmer than the main floor.  Are window units our only solution?  Anyone...?

From the kitchen...Walmart is now selling Thomas thin bagels and they are fantastic!  They are perfect for sandwiches and even better than perfect when toasted.  Much better than the full-size bagels.

A favorite thing...early morning walks when the world is still a-bed.

I am wearing...a loose gray frock...sort of a glorified "moo-moo."  Ya'll know what moo-moo's are?

I am hearing...the buzz of the overhead flourescent lights.

I am creating...still working on that OT timeline for my Sunday School classroom.

I am thinking...that this will be the final installment of the Leisurely Woman's Daybook (unless you talk me out of it).  I'm ready for something new and fresh.

I am thankful for..."Garfield's" grandma, Mary B., who has poured herself into him and is responsible for much of his character and knowledge.

Plans for my week...website training...catching up with Alicia (I didn't forget...yet)...wedding shower...party planning with my CIB friend...gardening...Cardinals game.

A photo/video I am sharing:  "I wouldn't say I'm real good...but I'm pretty good."

Testosterone Required, Part 2

In light of Tuesday's post, I thought I'd share a little wisdom from G.K. Chesterton about men and competition:

"It may be said that in masculine sports and games, there is definite emulation and eclipse.  There is indeed emulation, but this is only an ardent sort of equality.  Games are competitive, because that is the only way of making them exciting.  If anyone doubts that men must forever return to the ideal of equality, it is only necessary to answer that there is such a thing as a handicap.  If men exulted in mere superiority, they would seek to see how far such superiority would go; they would be glad when one strong runner came in miles ahead of all the rest.  But what men like is not the triumph of superiors, but the struggle of equals; and therefore, they introduce even into their competitive sports an artificial equality."

Name That Flower

Wordsmith Wednesday

Once again, I tried the synonyms of synonyms of synonyms experiment, taking it to the third degree this time. 

Orange = synonyms of "Relinquish"

Green = synonyms of the Orange

Yellow = synonyms of the Green

Relinquish:

renounce

(disavow: abjure, disown, gainsay)

abandon

(desert: strand, maroon, vacate, jilt, reject: shun, veto, rebuff)

forsake

(repudiate: disclaim, spurn: disdain)

surrender

(capitulate: accede, relent:  soften, ease, mitigate, slacken, acquiesce: consent, defer, concur)

abdicate

(yield: grant)

resign

(submit, comply: assent, respect, adhere, conform)

forswear

(deny: controvert, refute, repudiate)

Another way of saying "RELINQUISH" is "LET IT GO"...and nobody says "LET IT GO" better than The Zac Brown Band!  So here's a little Wordsmith bonus for you today:  the quality of this clip isn't great, but it's the best I could find.

Gen Y

It's been awhile since I posted a Generation Y song, but I have to share this one.  Usually, these come from my boys, but I was introduced to Death Cab by a young gal at church (DD).  Thanks, Mari. 

The video is a bit odd, but the song is beautiful.

Testosterone Required

I go to the pool to relax...to indulge my vain side, soak up a little vitamin D, and hopefully add some color to this Snow White skin of mine.  Sit.  Recline.  Read.  Sleep.  Chill.

Not so with the Shaffer boys.  Their first...and I might add, ONLY...agenda upon arriving at the pool is to beat each other at something.  They're gamers.  All 3 of 'em.

Son #1 relies on talent and instinct. (far right) 

Son #2 relies on agility and strength.  (far left) 

The Father relies on experience and intelligence.

Jumping, racing, diving...rings, golf tees, noodles...the method and means vary...but nearly any inanimate object can be transformed into an occasion for competition.  This is the way they occupied themselves this Father's Day:

Diving for Golf Tees

Experience and Intelligence

Trumps Skill & Strength

Who Can Catch the Most Rings at Once?

Even photos become an opportunity to one-up each other.  Whose bicep is biggest?  (mine, of course, but I didn't make it into the pic).  Whose six-pack is more pronounced?  Who's taller?  Oi-vay.  Wherever they go, whatever they do, the testosterone always prevails.

Can I take a nap now?  Just wonderin'.

Leisurely Woman's Daybook

In a word...

Outside my window...ninety-seven.

From the kitchen...limeade.

Around the house...quiet.

A favorite thing...brevity.

I am wearing...pink.

I am hearing...air-conditioner.

I am thinking about...teaching.

I am creating...timeline.

I am thankful for...sunshine.

Plans for my week...tutoring.

A photo/video I am sharing:  Lola.

Name That Flower

From my garden:

I will accept either the common or Latin name.

You Know You're In Mid-Life When...

You know you're in mid-life when:

You can't find your reading glasses...which happen to be on top of your head.

You are on a walk 15 minutes from home/shelter, you hear the tornado siren begin to wail, and your first thought is, "Bring it."

Your 16-year-old son calls you from the driveway to tell you he's been waiting for you in the car for 15 minutes because you said you'd be "right out"...but you had completely forgotten.

Your self-image gets a significant boost because the twenty-something garbage truck driver honked at you on your walk.

Taking a Break

Sorry for my lack of discipline in blogging lately!  I am heading out of the country for a few days, but plan to pick up where I left off in a week or two.  Don't forget about me. ;-)  

Jobs: Sea Pleasures & Treasures

My family moved to Venice, Florida for my Sophomore year of high school.  Even though I left behind scores of friends and the school and church where I had been since I was in 4th grade, there was something romantic and exciting about moving to Florida.  But we didn't just move to Florida...we settled in the scenic Gulf Coast town of Venice, just a few miles south of the more well-known, Sarasota. 

Venice Avenue boasted a median full of pristinely manicured pines and tropical foliage and was lined on both sides with quaint shops, businesses and restaurants.  It was here that I held my first real job as a "clerk." 

Sea Pleasures & Treasures, a retro shell shop showcasing a museum display of fossilized shark’s teeth found around the area, was situated just a couple blocks from the beach and was highly-trafficked in the summertime. 

My duties were to unpack and mark new merchandise as it came in, to serve patrons as needed and to man the register...you know, the noisy, old-fashioned kind which didn't tell you how much change to return to the customer.

I remember experiencing a whole new kind of "sticker shock" as I priced shells, which cost the store mere pennies, at $.25 to $2.00.  The mark-up percentages were astonishing to me and I tried to calculate how much profit the store would make if it sold all its merchandise! 

For a 15-year-old, though, the coolest thing about the job was definitely the paycheck.  I don't recall how much I was paid - and I'm quite sure it was very little - but it was enough to save up and buy my mother a clear, jar-based lamp which I artfully filled with the most exotic shells I could find.  It was the first time in my life I had my own money and was able to buy anything for my Momma.  I thought I was somethin' else.  She kept and displayed that lamp in a prominent place in our home for years to come...even though we left Florida a year later.

30 years later - is that even POSSIBLE??? - the shop is still open for business.  I just hope it stays open long enough for me to get back there someday.

Worth Every Penny

I admit I am not following the Cardinals this season as heartily as I have in the past.  It is certainly not due to a waning interest, but more to some major mental distractions.  Maybe by July, when life slows down a bit, I'll rededicate my life to baseball. 

In the meantime, I attended my 3rd game of the season tonight.  It was a "doozy" as announcer Mike Shannon would say!  The first inning brought a hard comebacker to the mound where pitcher, Brad Penny, very nonchalantly barehanded it before throwing the guy out.  It was one of the sweetest defensive plays ever.  And I, personally, would rather see a great defensive play anyday than a home run. 

Well...at least that's normally the case.  In this same game - 3rd inning - said pitcher comes to bat with the bases loaded, game tied at 4-4.  I joked with my son, "So...whad'ya think?  Is Brad Penny goin' yard?"  We laughed.  But not for long.  First pitch...he knocked it clean out of the park for a Grand Slam.  I can appreciate that sort of unexpected offense almost as much as a super defensive move.  Thank you, Brad Penny!

It was a perfect ending to a long week...a cool, breezy night...sitting between my sons...eating ballpark food...and watching the Cards smoke the Angels in interleague play.  I really DO love baseball.  Even when I'm not following it daily!

I Smell a Memory

I never cease to be amazed at the power of smells to transport me to another place or time.  I suspect this is an experience not particular to me. 

Some days when I walk out of doors, the smell of the air carries me immediately to the top of Lookout Mountain where I am throwing a football with my college buddies.  Other smells take me back to my grandmother's home, or my first apartment, or to the days of Grant's infancy. 

On my walk today, I passed a grove of honeysuckle and immediately found myself wandering through the woods in Dexter, Missouri, as an 8-year-old tomboy - swinging from vines, inching my way across fallen logs, climbing trees, building forts, hunting with my Daddy, eating my first persimmon and sucking the nectar from the honeysuckle which grew wild and rampant there.  I was able to experience that sense of wonder and adventure again...all because a smell subconsciously left its imprint on my memory.

Wordsmith Wednesday

Repugnant - fr. Latin repugnare: re = back + pugnare = to fight

Synonyms & their Synonyms:  I began an experiment.  Choose a word, record all of its synonyms, then record each of those words synonyms, then each of those words synonyms, etc. until I found no new words.  It didn't take me long to realize that this was a nearly endless process!  SO...I gave it up after the 4th "degree" and decided to only record for you the first 2 levels. 

Offensive - insulting, rude, hateful, objectionable, outrageous, discourteous, affronting, abominable

Distasteful - unsavory, unpalatable

Obnoxious - odious, deplorable

Repulsive - gross

Repellant - appalling

Revolting - abhorrent

Disgusting - noisome, nasty, vulgar

Nauseating - unsettling, loathsome

Foul - rank, filthy, putrid, heinous, villainous, atrocious

Sickening - vile