Weekend Odds & Ends

I love the sermons and writings of Charles H. Spurgeon, an English preacher born in 1834. An excerpt from the introduction of The Essential Works of Charles Spurgeon states that he "...was baptized on May 3, 1850...About six months later he delivered his first sermon...in 1851 he became pastor of a small Baptist church...and his first literary work, a gospel tract, was printed in 1853" (published by Barbour Publishing, Inc.; used by permission). No litany of theological degrees; just a transparent heart desperate for Christ. 

My girls have heard me talk about Spurgeon so often, he feels like a personal friend. It's not unusual for them to catch me somewhere in the house pondering something from this thick book. That's just how my younger daughter, an artist like me, found me this past Sunday. We decided to try our hands at our ole friend's likeness: 

At that moment, I couldn't have come up with anything in the world I would rather be doing. I felt like I had hit the jackpot, sitting at that table on a restful afternoon, pens in hand, my gal by my side, doing something together that we both enjoy. She gave me permission to glue her rendition in my commonplace book, under my own.

"Submission and trust compose a condition of character that is peculiar to a renewed soul, but will surely be found in a man if he is indeed saved, for it is the mark of being saved from self-justification and the hatred bred by despair."
                                                                                              --C.H.S.


Are you familiar with the hymn, "Gift of Finest Wheat"? I recall it from my childhood. I love the refrain:
               "You satisfy the hungry heart
                With gift of finest wheat.
                Come give to us, O saving Lord
                The Bread of Life to eat."

Christ is the giver of life, the sustainer of breath, the "God of all Comfort," (2 Corinthians 1:3), our Redeemer who took our sin and shame, "far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named" (Ephesians 1:21). I like to play this hymn loudly and often, letting the words and beauty of it, and the love of Him, sink into my heart and mind. Treat yourself to listening, too, here.

A Book Finished...Woo Hoo!
This is how I feel about my latest read, The Johnstown Flood, David McCullough's first book. You know him from other biographies, like John Adams and Truman. 

I had a special reason for reading this book. My great-grandfather was a six-month-old baby in Cambria County, Pennsylvania, when this epic disaster hit Johnstown on May 31, 1889. In doing much family research over the years, I am particularly interested in Cambria County and Pop's childhood home of Summerhill Township, just outside of Johnstown. Since my family is planning a trip to western Pennsylvania this spring, I decided to immerse myself in the details of the tragedy that wiped out almost the entire town, killing 2,209 people. The Johnstown flood was Clara Barton's first encounter of a major disaster as founder of the American Red Cross.

McCullough is a master at taking all sides of an event and winding them together with equal interest. I was just as intrigued by the descriptions of the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club (which owned the dam) as I was in the harrowing details of the dam breaking. The havoc and horror that ensued were hard to stomach in some parts. Bodies of humans and animals floating by at top speed, along with debris composed of furniture, homes, clothing, and everything else imaginable...McCullough takes his readers there, to the reality of every moment.  I found it doable even for my oversensitive mind. Read this book and hug your families; rejoice in the warmth of your home, and learn the lesson of heeding warnings. Anyone who has done Titanic research will notice a few similarities. The people of Johnstown thought the world was ending. I'm grateful my Burtnett ancestors lived to tell the tales, but unfortunately, Johnstown is flood-prone; in 1936, they lost their entire farm.

On That Note...

Make sure you do this either outside with the birds singing, or inside in a warm, cozy spot, with a good book in hand! 

"Nibbles, Guinea Pig of Hendersonville"

And who doesn't love a guinea pig?

I'm amazed at the personalities that God

gave to these little creatures, rodents

who are lovable, purring squeakers!

Joyfully, until next time!