... 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

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...

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 ...

A Treasure

We live in the incredible age of the Millennials . Notice I didn't say the Millennium, the Kingdom Age, the thousand year reign of Christ upon the earth (Revelation 20:4-6). That comes a little later. We must finish out the Age of Grace followed by the Rapture of the Church, and then there is the seven years of Tribulation, after which Satan is bound in the abyss, and the Church will rejoice for a thousand years with Jesus "seated upon the throne of His Father David." Inconceivable? Read it for yourself. There is so much to ponder between those lines. Back to the present, a little slice of time in this Dispensation of Grace when we have produced a generation of what the culture has dubbed Millennials . We who are of the Silent Generation sometimes find it difficult to "get" this concept. We grew up with party-line telephones, a three digit number, and a real live operator. I probably never heard of a passcode unless it was on the Chocolate Flavored Ovalt...

Search This Blog