"Freedom Isn't Free..."

This series of Special Fourth of July Posts are dedicated to my Great - Uncles: Art, Olen, and Buddy; brave Americans who served their country with sacrifice, courage, honor, and valor. It is also dedicated with much thanks to all of the members of my family that have served in the military. In Vietnam, and in Germany, and in Desert Storm. I am so proud of you!

"...you might have tracked the army from White Marsh to Valley Forge by the blood on their feet." - George Washington

Historical Note: The snow was six inches deep, and the Schuylkill River was frozen over when the Continental Army struggled into Valley Forge during the Winter of 1777-78. And thus began a harsh weather cycle that made the men miserable, for it would freeze, snow, and then melt and rain, turning the ground and roads into impassible quagmires of mud. These were excellent conditions in which disease and sickness could fester, and did! The shortage of food, clothing, and supplies nearly caused George Washington himself to dispair, and he wrote desperate letters to Congress, begging the Commissary Department for relief, which was not always forthcoming. Thank God that the great General and future President of the U. S. persevered, however, and that the men did not give up the fight!

It was cold. To the night sentry marching in the snow, the cold dampness seemed to penetrate to his bones, becoming a part of his marrow, freezing even the blood flowing in his veins. Would he ever be warm again? He had no answer, and so he kept moving, up and down, turn, and start back.

The icy wind blasted him in the face, and he squinted, his eyes watering, and for a moment, not focusing. He blinked rapidly, and hefted his musket to his right arm and shoulder. He had to keep moving or freeze where he stood. Would this long Winter of 1777-78 ever end? Would there be anyone left in Valley Forge healthy and strong enough to fight, when it did end? He had no answers to those questions, either, so he kept moving.

His friend and fellow soldier had died today; succumbing to the sickness that relentlessly stalked the Continental army; not discriminating, stealing the lives of young and old, officer and common soldier, alike. There had been none of the comforts of home for his friend as he lay dying, no medicine, no nourishing soup to give him strength, and only a thin, tattered blanket to cover his feverish body. He had managed to speak, however, before passing from life, in between great gasps as his body lost its fight with the infection that filled his lungs.

As the night sentry remembered those painfully spoken words, a slow fire began to burn within him, starting in his heart, and spreading throughout his whole being, until he forgot the cold, the wind, his bleeding, aching feet, and the hunger that gnawed at his vitals like some ravenous beast.

"Never surrender." the dying man had said, summoning what little strength he had left to voice his deepest - held convictions. "You must never abandon this fight for liberty, and you must never forget that our cause is just and right. I have desired that Almighty God would grant me a reprieve, that I might live to see the new nation born from this struggle, but I know now that it is not to be."

His eyes, fever - bright, sought and held those of his friend. "Tell my family that I died peacefully, happily, even; knowing that our suffering here is for a greater purpose: that of a free America! A country in which men and women are released from the bonds of tyrannical dictates, and at liberty to worship the One true and living God, in a land that resounds with the joy of a free people, living the truest meaning of freedom, and liberty, and justice. Please tell them, my friend. You must tell them!"

At last, spent with the fervency of his emotion, he had slumped on his pallet, and, a few hours later, had died. And the night sentry knew that his friend was only one among thousands that were dying from disease, starvation, and want, during that long, harsh winter at Valley Forge. And he knew, too, as he marched in the bitter cold that he, too, would just as willingly give his own life for the cause, because freedom is never free, but is purchased with blood, determination, courage, and yes, even with a man's life, if need be.

And the night sentry looked ahead as he marched; but instead of the swirling whiteness all around him, he saw his hope for the future, finally realized. It was the same hope shared by every member of the Continental Army, from George Washington himself, to the poorest foot soldier that had left off ploughing his fields to join the fight. And that bright hope was of a future in which men, women, and even children yet to be born, would live, and love, and work, and most of all, would breathe the very air of freedom. And the night sentry knew without doubt, deep inside his soul, that it would be worth the price.

"...like apples of gold..."

Proverbs 25:11 says: "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."

Several of you have given me "apples of gold" lately, by telling me that this blog is encouraging and uplifting to you. I appreciate your saying that more than you will ever know! By doing so, you have encouraged and uplifted me, as well. Thank you all so much; your kind words have made my heart sing...

The "Jazz" in My World

I closed the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, and picked up the soap. It was time to get ready for another day, and washing the face and brushing the teeth is, naturally, one of the first things on the agenda. Fling! The bathroom door went flying open, and crashed into the wall. I turned, soap in hand, just as a black nose and snout pushed into the room. Yes, it was the Jazz-man. He doesn't care very much for closed doors. "Hello, lambie-pie," I said gently, "I'm sorry, but I do have to get ready!" Satisfied that the door was open, for now, anyway; he turned and trotted down the hallway to the dining room.

I quietly pulled the door shut again, and resumed my "cleansing." Fling! The door went crashing into the wall once more. There was that same black snout again, appearing around the doorframe, and this time, the brown eyes were quite indignant. You know I don't like the door shut where I can't see you, they seemed to say, so why do you keep closing the silly thing?

"I'm sorry, Jazzy, what was I thinking?" I answered his unspoken reproach. Content that he had made his point at last, he trotted back up the hallway and disappeared into the other room.

For several years, back in our "Pre - Jazz" days, on many different occasions, I would longingly say out loud: "Oh how I wish we could get a black Labrador Retriever puppy. They are such darlings!"

Then, one terribly hot summer day, when the Texas heat was very close to unbearable, my mom and sister were driving down one of the neighborhood streets, and saw a little black pup trying to get water out of a lawn sprinkler. I was not with them, but they later told me that they stopped the car, went up to the house, and told the people that their puppy was out. "He's not ours," they were told, "He just wandered up a few days ago. If you want him, take him."

The little pup was terrified. Though both of them called and called, he would only run away in fear. Finally, however, they got down on their knees, and must have reached just the right coaxing tone, because he suddenly came barreling towards them, no longer able to resist.

He was filthy, covered with fleas, big patches of hair were gone from a staff infection on his skin, and he had worms, as well as a belly bloated from starvation. Nonetheless, they picked him up and took him home, (much like our Lord does us, when He finds us in our filthy state, sick of the world, but with no hope, and no way to change our circumstances.) They gave him food and water, bathed him twice, sat up with him that night, and then took him to the vet the next morning. The vet told them that it was fortunate they had found him when they did; he could not have survived even one more day in the ferocious heat with no water.

(This part of Jazz's story reminds me of just how lost we are when the Lord finds us. We, too, are disoriented and wandering; filthy, desperate, and thirsty for a drink from the well of God's Spirit. And the skies are cloudless, with no promise of rain, and the heat rises from the ground in shimmering waves... and our souls cry out for just one drink... for just one touch... to let us know that He cares about our situation... and suddenly, when we are just about to perish from the intense heat of our circumstances, and we feel that we will not last even one more day... we cry out for Him... and He is there, because He loves us with an everlasting love, and was just waiting for the sound of our voice... and He picks us up, and draws us to Himself through His beautiful Truth, and forgives us, and saves us, and refreshes our parched souls with the gentle, cleansing rain of His Spirit, and He comforts us with His perfect love...)

When I saw the little rescued stray for the first time, later that afternoon, I fell instantly and completely in love. My black Labrador pup had come to me, though quite a bit worse for wear! As he began to get well and eat lots of nourishing food and receive lots of attention, he began to thrive. Little by little, he became more playful, and we noticed that he had a certain, spritely way of stepping, when he was feeling especially playful. It was sort of like a jazzy little side-step, and, since I had always loved the name Jazz, (and wanted to name him that) we decided it was especially appropriate, in view of his "Jazz-steppin' ."

He is the darling of the family, now, and he knows it. He eats his dog food from a spoon, (much like a baby, and just as happily.) He has his own bed and comforter, his own toys, and, every Christmas, he gets to unwrap his own "gifts" along with the rest of us. The only problem is that after he has torn the wrapping from his, he wants to go around the circle and "assist" everyone in opening theirs!

His arrival in my life was no accident, for I have a very loving Father that hears every word I say, and knows even the desires of my heart. And I believe He was listening in every time I yearned for a black Lab pup, and spoke those words out loud. He always gives the best gifts to His children. I know that's true, because He did it for me, in the form of a black, hairy angel, with a cold nose and a heart full of love. And, as I write these words, my own heart smiles, and I am thankful...

"Be still and Know..." Part 2

God is so very good, even though we don't deserve it, and never could on our own! I just had to let you all know that much of the situation that was upsetting me so badly when I posted "Be still and know..." has been totally fixed and taken care of . I am believing that the remaining part of the problem (for it is quite large and very complex) will be remedied as well. (Our God specializes in making the worst situations turn into good, so I have no doubt that He can do it.)

I am so relieved and happy. When I said, towards the end of the previous post: "God has never failed me yet, and He never will" - I was speaking those words in faith; and my Lord has proven the truthfulness of them to me, yet again.

Praise His Name!

A family in our church used to sing a song that says something like: "The Lord is good, His mercy endureth, forever and ever, to all generations... I know the Lord is good!"

Those words have definitely been echoing in my mind for the past few days... I guess they have become the "theme song" for this particular problem...

Musical Musings

Helping kids to learn about the piano has to be one of the most enjoyable things that I have ever done. Tonight I started thinking about some of the funny things that the little ones have said, and couldn't help laughing a bit at the memories. It wasn't that they were trying to be funny... they just were!

Like the darling little boy who was learning "Up on the Housetop" for Christmas. He made it through the first page, and smiled proudly at his accomplishment. He took one look at page two, and his face fell. "What's wrong," I asked, "don't you want to learn the rest?" He eyed me seriously, motioned for me to lean my head down, and whispered in my ear: "Umm, see those words?" "Which ones?" I asked, and then read the song aloud: "Ho, ho ho, who wouldn't go... Ho, ho, ho, who wouldn't go... up on the housetop..." He stopped me and nodded urgently. "Those words! You know, ho ho ho? My mom doesn't let us talk like that!" The light of understanding dawned, and I tried hard not to reveal my desire to crack up. We then had a talk about what Santa says when he laughs...

That same little man tickled my funny bone yet again one day when he spied a scale pattern I was working on with an older child. It was comprised of a series of Whole steps and Half steps, and was written out like: Whole, Whole, Half, etc.; but was abbreviated to: W W H-W-W W H. He looked it over, and nodded smugly. "I know all about that part of music," he declared. "You do?" I asked. "Oh yes!" He replied. With his index finger, he pointed to the scale pattern, tracing each letter. "It means W, W, H...WWW.conn!" "Well," I replied, fighting a smile over his mispronounciation of the word "com", and stifling a giggle at his rationale, "That's a good guess all right, and I'm proud of you for trying to figure it out, but these W's are different from the WWW. com ones that we use on our computers!"

Then there was the sweet little girl from church that was learning about the repeat sign. It's a symbol that indicates when a piece is to be played again, rather than ended. "Do you know what this is called?" I asked her, thinking she would read the name of the symbol from off of the page that I was pointing to. "Yes!" came her excited little voice, "it's called a Repent sign!"

I have learned so much from working with children; things like: certain skirts made of a super shiny, slinky material do not get along with a slick piano bench. One little girl came to her lesson dressed so adorably, one afternoon. Unfortunately, she is a fidgeter. Things were progressing nicely, however, when suddenly, whoops! There she went, off of the front of the bench. I helped her up and got her settled, and then, whoops! Down she went, again. Now she thought this was hilarious, and so I made the decision to finish up the lesson with her standing rather than sitting...

Some of my favorite memories are of the little guy that would get so excited about his piano lesson he'd dance in place, and the little girl that didn't want to go home, and got quite grouchy about it, too.

The pictures colored "just for me" always make me smile, the hugs warm my heart, and what a joy to help a little one learn to play "Amazing Grace" or "Oh How I Love Jesus" for the very first time. To see their eyes light up with pride and a sense of accomplishment, is just too dear for words.

I have helped many children learn many songs, and have explained too many musical terms and "rules" to count. In taking the time to see and hear music through the eyes and ears of a child, however, I have learned far more than I have ever taught. And in the learning, each precious one of them has added one more note of joy to the music of my soul.