Faith, Folklore, and Friends

Dr. Ralph Stanley turns 85 years old today.  He started singing and picking banjo professionally in 1946 with his brother, Carter, and the Clinch Mountain Boys.  After Carter's death in 1966, his fans urged him to continue his music with the Clinch Mountain boys, and he decided to give it a try. I'm so glad he did. In the year 2000, Dr. Ralph's music was featured in the movie, O Brother, Where art Thou , which introduced his music to millions that had not heard it before.  In 2002, he won a Grammy for his song, O Death . Happy Birthday, Dr. Ralph.  I hope you are pickin' for many more years!

History shows the Babylonians were predicting weather by watching the sky as early as 650 B.C. Weather prediction in China and India can be traced back to around 300 B.C. The Greek philosopher Aristotle published a work called Meteorologica about 350 B.C. that described weather patterns. A little later, one of his students, Theophrastus, wrote the Book of Signs on weather forecasting. (Aristotle also concluded that earthquakes are caused by wind in caves. Just sayin'.) Today, we watch weather forecasts to determine what to wear and whether or not we should take our umbrellas, a matter of convenience. People took it a little more seriously when it could be a matter of life and death. Sometimes, teaching children to read the sky was more important than teaching them to read books. There was always a copy of the Farmers' Almanac at our house. It contains long-term weather forecasts based on climatological patterns of the past. Our almanac would be ragged by the en

Sixteen years ago today, our sweet granddaughter, Adrienne, was born. During the first minute I held her, I told her we were going to have great fun together. I was so totally right! Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged; parents are the pride of their children. ~Proverbs 17:6

Today is the anniversary of the day George Washington was born, although we celebrated on Monday with sales at the mall, trying to find shoes like the ones he has on in this official photo. The following paraphrased exerts about President Washington is from the book, Hail to the Chiefs by Barbara Holland. You'll want to know about his teeth.  Well, before fifty he'd lost most of them, though he did hang on to the lower left premolar until he was sixty-five, and his dentures had a hole punched out for it to stick through.  One set of his dentures had eight human teeth--I don't know whose-- screwed in with gold rivets.  One set was made with a pound of lead.  The set that is in the Gilbert Stuart portrait was carved out of hippopotamus ivory and was no good for chewing; it was purely cosmetic.  It was held in place by a kind of spring device wedged into his jaws, but it would have fallen out if he'd smiled. Thank the Lord for modern medicine: A couple of years

div> Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God's handwriting. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing. lass="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cold wind was whipping the raindrops into tiny missiles and they attacked me as I hurried from my car up the stairs.  The warm purple cape that a friend had gifted me was dripping cold around the edges before I made it inside, worried that it would be ruined.  In my haste, gloves had been forgotten and holding the wet, iron stair rail was like holding ice.  I thought about the warm fire in the fireplace at home. I am settled, surrounded by friends, the slightly damp cape behind me, when the good pastor, he looks straight at me and says, "Have we become padded pew Christians?"  I am ashamed.  I have come to worship and all I have thought about is my own comfort. Tangible things are a blessing from God.  There is nothing wrong with having a beautiful, comfortable place to worship, as long as it isn't what we are worshiping.  The same Holy Spirit inhabits our praise, whether it is a thatch-roofed hut in Africa or a crude block building in Honduras or a cathedral with

  You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,  that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will praise you forever.                                                Psalm 30:11-12 

In 1974, during a visit with my parents, my Dad showed me a book that someone had loaned him.  Daddy said it was very interesting and I would like it.  I spent that afternoon reading the book, and I have been in love with it since then. Foxfire was written in 1972 by Eliot Wigginton, a visionary teacher at the Rabun Gap-Nacoochee School in Rabun County, Georgia, and his students.  The bookshelves in my house are full of Foxfire books written since then.  The first one is in danger of coming apart and is quite ragged around the edges, but it is still my favorite. Last March, during spring break, my husband and I traveled to Rabun County in the North Georgia mountains to visit the Foxfire Museum.  It is a beautiful place, one where you could spend the day strolling between the exhibits. The day we were there, the clouds hung low and the surrounding mist seemed to enclose us in this quiet space and shut out the twenty-first century. The museum transports you to Appa

I am rich, immeasurably rich. Not from wise investments in the stock market. Not reflected by my bank account, although I'm thankful the bills are paid. Not in my humble home, although I'm thankful its dry and warm. Not because of my job, although I'm thankful it provides a little extra. I am rich in the love of my Savior, my family, my friends. My Father holds the wealth of the world in His hands. The Word, the Truth, says "For a man's life consists not in the abundance of things he possesses." There are poor wealthy people. People who can buy a mansions and jet planes, but remain lonely, bitter, hoarding their riches because its all they have. The poorest of them all think their wealth is all they need, that their wealth will save them, and in the end have no hope of eternal life with God, no Divine comfort when their "fair-weather" friends can't be found. David was a man after God's own heart.  This great slayer of giant

It was late September, 2001, and we were bombarded with fear and disbelief and images of burning buildings falling to the ground.  He was sitting there, watching it again, when the phone rang. The doctor, with a voice that indicated he had done this many times before, told him that the stomach ache he had been experiencing was actually fourth stage colon cancer that had metastasized to his liver. The doctor instructed my little brother to find an oncologist and set up a course of treatment.  The doctor told him that there was little possibility for long-term survival. He was living in Tennessee, alone, having been recently divorced.  There were relatives that lived nearly, but no one able to care for him, no one to help with the chemotherapy schedule or the meds or to talk to when it all became overwhelming. My sister, BG, is possibly the only living human who dreads cold weather worse than I do.  She lived in North Alabama until she was financially able to move to Florida.  In

Way, way back in the beginning, God created the world and everything in it.  The light and the darkness, He spoke into existence first.  Then He spoke the water and sky to their places, so complicated that earth science and physics students spend years and lifetimes trying to understand it. On subsequent days, God's spoken word caused the land and the seas to appear, and  the land blossomed with plants.  He hung the moon and stars and various other objects that are beyond comprehension even in this day of technology and intelligence. He filled the seas with teeming life and covered the land with birds and insects and mammals, each with a job to do.  And it was good.  All good. By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. Psalm 33:6   On the sixth day, God created man to rule over, or take care of, His other creations.  But unlike before, He didn't speak man into existence, but with His hands and the new dirt, formed and m