... The Seasons Change ...

He loved how the sweet gums, tall and straight, caught the morning sun, painting the landscape crimson and yellow, the seed balls swinging festively on every twig, and how the dew glimmered on the first light, and the rays slashed across the porch of a morning.

Soon the green would vanish except for the cedars and the pines and the magnolias. That was not unsettling to Isaac, for it would then be possible for him to see through the canebrake to the creek beyond. The blue skies over Slate Springs would stay the same and the dew would continue to glisten like gold and silver on the dried leaves and pine needles. And if winter allowed an inch of snow to fall, his world would sparkle like slithers of diamonds. Every season had its splendid advantage and from front porch or back or from the myriad panes on every side or even from the dogtrot he would sit and bask in the blessings of each, calling them by name—winter, spring, summer and best of all—autumn.

From Isaac's House

Jane B. Gaddy

Comments

It was Over... The South Was Defeated

Isaac Payne rode with the last of his company to Appomattox on April 10 with no inkling of what to expect. He waited outside the perimeter. Enlisted men were not allowed to be present on the streets of the Courthouse area. Only commanding officers. Isaac was emaciated, just like all the other southern patriots who leaned hard against the white picket fence that surrounded the township. Tired, empty, and disheartened, they waited to know the end of the story. One man could scarcely be identified from the next. They all looked the same. Withered and wasted. Isaac dismounted and patted Glory. She was his only earthly possession besides his weapons. His only connection to home. He gripped the bridle and pressed his face to her thin neck, unconsciously rubbing his hand over her protruding bones. If he looked up in the distance he might see his father and brother riding the dusty road to Appomattox to join him, but how could that be? They were dead. The thought of their absence and ...

Solitude

Likely we have never understood the truth of solitude until now, in the Year of our Lord 2020. A season of enigmatic suffering, seclusion, fear. We hear stories of the elderly dying alone. There can be no funeral, just burial. We hear of refrigeration trucks being used as morgues to hold the bodies until they can be disposed of. Sadness and loneliness hover over the epicenter of our once untouchable city where literally thousands are dying—Alone. At least, we thought it was invincible— Our Savior considered that and more when He cried, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46). It makes perfect sense that God had to turn His back on Jesus at the Cross, because a Holy God cannot look upon sin, and in those moments on the Cross, Jesus "became" sin for us that we might be made righteous through His shed Blood. In all of that, of course, the God-Man was—Alone. For He (God) hath made Him (Jesus) to be sin for us, Who knew no sin...

Once for All

I was just thinking… If we say that salvation is progressive— I loathe the word progressive these days—and that there is not that moment when we are set free from the law of sin and death, then we obviously are still under the law, trying by our own feeble efforts to save ourselves. How debilitating. Besides, that’s not going to happen. We don’t have what it takes. Or maybe we’re waiting for God to perform some random act of kindness toward us that will take us out of the misery of not knowing whether we’re saved or not, because it is a progressive thing, and if it is a progressive thing, then whenever will God do whatever it is He wants to do to make it happen? See how outrageous it sounds? There is an answer, you know. Romans 8:2 says, “For the law of the Spirit of life In Christ Jesus hath made me FREE from the law of sin and death.” We never had to work for it in the first place. The freedom Christ gives is—let’s see— FREE ! Paid for i...

Search This Blog