Faith, Folklore, and Friends

The Selfless Gene: Living with God and Darwin is Charles Foster’s attempt to reconcile Creationists with the followers of Richard Dawkins. In the first line of the Preface, Mr. Foster declares he is angry and worried. That anger is evident throughout the book Also in the Preface, Mr. Foster writes “The biologists will think that I have oversimplified the biology. The nonbiologists will justifiably moan that I have summarized too brutally some very big and complex ideas.” The author is correct on both these assumptions. This book insults born-again Christians, condescending to those who can believe without an explanation written in stone. Personally, I don’t know how bridges are built, yet I drive over them everyday, believing they will hold me up. The book is written in scientific language that makes it difficult to read. I have a Master’s Degree in Science Education and teach at university level, but I struggled with some of the passages. For someone trying to believe in both creation

My grandmother, Georgia, was totally addicted to nicotine, getting her regular fixes in the form of snuff. If she were alive today, she would deny that she had ever been addicted to anything harmful to her body. It was as common as eating for most of the women of her era. Georgia, like most of the others, had a small aluminum can that she kept her snuff in, tucked in her apron pocket. All women wore aprons, since they didn't change their house dresses everyday. All aprons were homemade, and all had two large pockets in the front. One pocket was for a hanky, and whatever was needed that day--safety pins, clothes pins, coins, etc. The other pocket was reserved for the little can of snuff. The small snuff can probably held an ounce or maybe two. It had to be refilled regularly from the large glass container that snuff was purchased in. These glasses, about eight ounces, were prized for water and milk glasses when empty. They are still being sold at antique auctions in the area where I

Pastor Frank E. Graeff had gone through a period of despondency, doubt, and physical pain. Every day, his despair deepened, pushing him farther down into a seemingly insurmountable dark pit. In the midst of his suffering,he remembered Ephesians 5:19. Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Out of his black depression, Pastor Graeff began singing the old hymn What a Friend We Have in Jesus . His heart flooded with what he described as "joy unspeakable and full of glory." He realized that his Savior did care, and penned this amazing song. Does Jesus Care? Does Jesus care when my heart is pained Too deeply for mirth or song, As the burdens press, and the cares distress, And the way grows weary and long? Refrain: Oh, yes, He cares, I know He cares, His heart is touched with my grief; When the days are weary, the long nig

One of the great blessings we enjoy everyday is music. It surrounds us; bird songs, traffic humming, wind. Our Ipods, MP3 players, and all the newest technologies allow us to hide music in our ears and our hearts. Our homes and cars are equipped with satellite radios that offer everything imaginable. Why do we desire, crave, consume all this music? Dr. Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of music division at The Boston Conservatory, shares his insights in an address there on September 1, 2004. Olivier Messiaen was 31 years old and a French composer when he was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp. Olivier was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose his music. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote a quartet with these specific players in mind. His composition was performed in January 1941 for

We all seek it. No matter how dull, or how mean, or how wise a man is, he feels that happiness is his indisputable right. Helen Keller All of us think we are truly deserving to be blessed of God, while those around us may not be. With finite judgment, we assume that they haven't gone through fire, haven't suffered like we have, haven't known the pain that has molded us. We can't control life that happens around us; life must be lived, won't stop for us to breathe, won't stop for us to get things in order. It insists on constant movement. Unwanted, unexpected things are thrown at us constantly. The only power we have is to choose to deal with it positively or negatively. We can choose the better way, the blessed way. To be blessed is to be happy, to live in joy, to be covered with peace. King David, full of wisdom, beloved of God, who struggled with flesh but sought the heart of his Father, gives us guidelines for being blessed in the very first song and

It started on Decoration Day. There I was, sunburned and peeling, in my new dress my mom made and a brand new pair of white, stark white high heeled shoes. Rather, they were white when I left home that morning, but by the time I made it to the spring, they were dusty and scuffed. I had strolled all morning up and down the road that connected the church house and cemetery, letting everyone know that I was there, hoping to impress some of the cool guys lounging on car hoods looking at girls. The small church house was built on a rolling Tennessee hill. Its only source of water at the time was a natural spring at the bottom of the hill. The church had been there many, many years, and a well-worn path led one to the bottom for a drink of water at the spring. Rainfall, seeking its easiest path to the sea, had eroded the path into a gully, and the actual path was now beside the red clay gully, and one had to walk very carefully if one was wearing high heels for the very first time. The sprin

WoooHooo! We have a snowstorm; unpredicted, no one had time to buy six gallons of milk! The weather people said we had a slight chance of rain mixing with sleet before the temps got above freezing. When I got up before seven, I was surprised to see a light coating on the deck. Next time I looked out, it was snowing unlike anything we are accustomed to seeing here in North Alabama. First born granddaughter will be 14 in a few days, and it is the biggest snow she has ever seen! Almost four inches the last time I measured. We are loving it! My apologies to you readers who are buried under huge accumulations of snow! It will warm up later and melt; that's okay. It has been a special morning. I am the Lord thy God,which brought ye out of the land of Egypt: open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it. Psalm 81:10 KJV

By the late fifties, my grandmother's West Tennessee community had began to see some changes toward modernization. Some of her neighbors had been able to buy cars and telephones, and many had found employment outside of farming. For Grandma, life remained basically the same as it had for decades. She cooked, cleaned, and cared for her family using what the good earth and her husband, Charlie, could provide. Summer months were exhausting for her, with a huge vegetable garden that needed tending, producing abundant vegetables that had to be canned for the winter. Grandma and her family attended the small Baptist church in the community. When it had been organized about a hundred years ago, the church charter had set aside the fourth Sunday in July for Decoration Day. Its stated purpose was for honoring the deceased and decorating their graves, but the real purpose was a special time to socialize and see people that only attended that one day of the year. It was the highlight o

There seem to be but three ways for a nation to acquire wealth. The first is by war, as the Romans did, in plundering their conquered neighbors. This is robbery. The second by commerce, which is generally cheating. The third by agriculture, the only honest way, wherein man receives a real increase of the seed thrown into the ground, in a kind of continual miracle, wrought by the hand of God in his favor, as a reward for his innocent life and his virtuous industry. Benjamin Franklin I love gardening. Even as a child, I loved digging in the dirt, seeing seeds sprout, and watching plants grow to maturity and bear fruit. It is the best thing I have found to relieve stress. We are an impatient lot here in the winter. Sometimes, warm autumn days will last until Thanksgiving, and daffodils are blooming by early March. Compared to others, out winter is relatively short. It is way too long for me. Early in January, after the holidays are over and things are looking dark and bleak, there is