Reposted from 2012. The message bears repeating. There's yet so much to learn. I can still say this at age seventy-one, and I do love learning at this ripe old age. But on this slow-moving Sunday afternoon in gloomy Trinity, Florida, I took the opportunity to rest my brain a little. In fact, I practically fell asleep in my tracks.  But I'm awake now! I have so much to do, so little time to finish it all. Motivated by the young man in this photo, I opened the online encyclopedia and read all about the 7th Cavalry that was created just after the American Civil War, about General Custer and the Battle of Little Bighorn where he lost every man in that Sioux Indian War in Lakota, Montana. Custer and his men were using inadequate weapons while Sitting Bull and his warriors had access to weapons of choice. Needless to say, it was "Custer's Last Stand."  Then I read on about how that 7th Cavalry was extended to the far reaches, evolving to include the sq...

Just wondering this afternoon, as I ponder church this morning... do choir directors and worship leaders NOT read the words to some of these worship songs?  These songs that make no sense whatsoever.  These songs that some songwriter wrote while in a drunken stupor on Saturday night before and then sang on Sunday morning for the first time.  Most of them have no scriptural validity, and those that do manage to eke out a tiny measure of sensibility change grammatical structure in the middle of it all. Now the song has even less meaning and absolutely no intrinsic value. The songwriters of the apostasy have done their part to "bring it on"! Just how far will we digress in worship experience before our spiritual leaders take a stand against such nonsense? Well, I don't think they're going to. Excuse me, I forgot momentarily that we are living in the age of the apostate church. In Laodicea ! Such a falling away from our first love (Revelation 3:14-22). J...

It had been a long time since I was in Memphis. When I go north out of Florida, I usually go to my Mom and Dad's old place and stay with my sister. It feels like going back in time, back when Mother and Daddy were living, when they made Christmases so special. Everything is familiar, nostalgic, comfortable. There is plenty of quiet time to be had, something that is hard to achieve in my own home. If I try to write here, I bog myself down in whatever is going on around me. I've learned how to navigate this reading, writing with pen and pad, and computer input. That means going away from my house every morning for three to four hours, just like I used to do before retirement. The good part is that I have the rest of the day to do as I please—without worrying about pleasing anyone but me and hubs, of course! Selfish? Just wait until you get to this special time in life. You will love it. Back to my trip! When I travel to Mississippi, Peter and my grandson, Harrison...

December 2011 Naked oaks crunchy brown leaves a deck of wood slats and green moss on the north side of things. A hint of yellow left from a Fall that has said goodbye and will not return for yet a little while. A heavy wood gate. Closed. A dog barks in the cold and gray. Cottage bricks rounded and shaped strong and old clinging together with mortar from ages past. Steps to the porch. Cold window panes. Doors ornate with Christmas wreaths. Lighted trees glowing, reflecting. Sweet ornaments with last year's photographs of children's faces framed in delicately knitted circles. Red, green The colors of Winter. There's a welcome here. Chimney smoke the fragrance of wood burning. Sparks on a hearth. Holly Noel—the perfect Christmas name. A good cup of coffee the taste of caramel. A verse for the day. A quiet moment. Fellowship. Joy divine. To lean, depend. Mercy drops and Grace in abundance. And the coveted Gift of Hospitality freely shar...

  A Time To Celebrate—A Time For Us My sister, Pat, has weathered the storms of life, physically speaking, that is. She has been challenged with multiple sclerosis for many years. But I have never known a more determined person in my lifetime. She is a real trooper. A model for those of us who may not have accepted with such grace and determination so great an encumbrance. And as God has been the lifter of her head, Dave—well, Dave has been her stronghold, her keeper, her protector. I have seen him lift her tiny body in and out of situations for lo these many years, and with never a sign of tiring or a sigh of disparagement. Forever faithful would be a good word here! And then there are two precious children of this marriage. Our Dewey and Linda. They are seasoned, smart, educated and witty. Engrained. Always steadfast, full of smiles and laughter and love, which they inherited from their parents. And they are faithful to family, incredibly so. While Linda and her famil...

It was hot and muggy. Historians declare it was steamy . Such is Mississippi in the summertime. From the banks of the swollen Tishomingo River on June 10, 1864, Union soldiers jumped by the thousands to escape the fire of a burning, raging battle in the Northeastern corner of the Sovereign State of Mississippi, in a little community known as Brice's Cross Roads. Confederate Major General Nathan Bedford Forrest pulled out all the stops to pull off one of the fiercest and most strategic battles of the Civil War. He won that battle, hands down. Late spring rains caused the narrow stream of water to overflow its banks. Union troops by the thousands, under the command of Brigadier General Samuel D. Sturgis slogged the gently sloping hills, their wagon trains pulled by mules dotting the landscape like flies on molasses, covering miles and miles of muddy terrain, until that day, untouched except by a few farm houses, a Reformed Presbyterian church, and an old log house, all set beneat...

. . . a thousand words I will not be able to adequately describe the scene in the photo above. And my words cannot express what took place in the last late night moments of the 2011 Bennett Family Vacation. It's a personal moment, but deserves top billing on my blog tonight. I'm sure you have the same kind of bonding with your family. I hope so. After Mother and Daddy went home to be with the Lord, we determined to keep the home fires burning, to stay close, to watch out for each other, and to meet up at least once a year, face to face. Well, this year was my turn to host, and when I was appointed last year at Petit Jean Mountain near Little Rock, Arkansas, I was asked to have it in my corner of the world. Knowing me, as most of you do, I'm a North-of-Florida kind of girl, desiring to head for the Great Smokey Mountains or the Blue Ridge Parkway, but I reluctantly settled on Orlando. I thought we could use Disney as the main attraction. Only six o...