There is always that within a man, as deeply seated as is the desire to wander–the desire for a home, for a place that belongs to oneself, a shelter away from the world.”
–Louis L’Amour (Dark Canyon)

“The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.”
–Psalm 28:7 (NLT)
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“Over the river, and through the wood,
To Grandfather’s house we go;…”
–Lydia Maria Child

Hey, wait a minute–Grandma and Grandpa are homeless.  No house for the poor dears to go to.  Woe is me, does that mean worms for Thanksgiving?  Good thing the daughters had taken a likin’ to us and have taken us in.  Maybe next year they really will go over the river and through the woods.
This was one of the first songs I remember learning in music class in school.  I don’t know how much of it we learned, but I found out that there are actually twelve stanzas to the song.

               “Over the river, and through the wood—
                oh, how the wind does blow!
                It stings the toes and bites the nose
                as over the ground we go.”

Now I can certainly remember some Thanksgivings when the wind did blow.  That cold wind, howling down through the canyons could reach right inside your coat and tingle the innards.  How many times, living in Colorado did I come in with red nose, ears, and cheeks?  Ha, but as a kid, we didn’t care; it was too much fun playing out in the snow, or just the cold.  There was always something to do.  
I was always all right in the cold until the toes went.  Once the cold reached down and grabbed those toes in its vise, that was it.  Today, the circulation is worse, and I hate cold toes!  But there is one verse that I relish:

               “Over the river, and through the wood—
                now Grandmother’s cap I spy!
                Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
                Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!”
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I’ve seen this prayer before, and I’m not sure if it is appropriate since the Lord told us to give thanks in all things, but there is a bit of truth in it so I’ll pass it on.

A minister was attending a men’s breakfast.  He asked one of the older farmers in attendance to say the prayer that morning.  
The farmer began, “Lord, I hate buttermilk.”  The pastor opened one eye and wondered to himself where this was going.  Then the farmer said, “Lord, I hate lard.”
Now, the pastor was worried.  But the farmer prayed on, “And Lord, you know I don’t care much for raw flour.”
As the pastor was about to stop everything the farmer continued, “But Lord, when you mix ’em all together and bakes ’em up.  I do love me those fresh biscuits.
So Lord, when things come we don’t like, when life gets hard, when we just don’t understand what you are saying to us, we just need to relax and wait ’til You are done fixin’ and probably it will be something even better than biscuits.”

This is the season of Thanksgiving.  Be sure and take some time every day to think of things to be thankful for.

After all, what did a father have to pass on to his children but his own personal reaction to the world? Of what use was experience if one could not pass on at least a little of what one had learned.”
–Louis L’Amour (North to the Rails)

“Let me share in the prosperity of your chosen ones. Let me rejoice in the joy of your people; let me praise you with those who are your heritage.”
–Psalm 106:5 (NLT)
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I wasn’t sure what to write about today; even thought about skipping it. Thanksgiving is next week, already! With that is our annual camping trip so I don’t know how many Echoes I’ll get out. So I put the coffee on, sat down to look out the window, and noticed it was foggy. Then it came to me; today is my Grandma’s birthday. She just might have been the strongest person I’ve ever known. She would make Arnold and the Hulk seem trivial. No, she wasn’t muscle-bound by any means unless you are talking about spiritual muscle. Talk about fortitude, determination, and love for God–those were just a few of her strengths.
Grandma was born in Poker Bend, Indian Territory (Oklahoma) to an Irishman, Samuel Rupe, and a Choctaw woman, Mary (Polly) Brown. Her mother died when she was very young. The family moved during the Depression (1936) to Colorado. Grandpa was a coal-miner and worked the mines around Superior and Louisville.
I’m not sure if Grandma ever hit the 5 foot mark or not. She might have on a good day and if she stretched. But she had tremendous love for the Lord, family, and friends. Just a few things I remember about her: 1) she could cook! Very few times I would come home from school when she didn’t have something baked and ready, 2) she would read her Bible. I would watch her sit on her little bed (she always slept in the dining room, next to the kitchen) and open her Bible and read. 3) she took care of her family. 4) when a crisis would come, and she didn’t think she could take it anymore she had her saying, “Lord, help us through the jungles!”
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“Faith of our fathers! living still
In spite of dungeon, fire and sword;
O how our hearts beat high with joy
Whene’er we hear that glorious word.
–F.W. Faber

They say that with each generation faith, commitment, and conviction dwindles. When I look at the life of my Grandma, and her strength; then look and see the whiny babies (call them snowflakes, twinkies, cupcakes) and how they howl at the sky; well, I just would like to slap them silly! Guess, that might not be the right term for they are already silly. This is better, slap the snot out of them.
I’m thankful for a heritage of faith. My Grandma and Aunt, the church I grew up in had tremendous people of faith, my Pentecostal heritage. We are finally at the point in America where people of faith are going to be tested like never before. Mark my words, especially if the liberals get back in power. There will be a whirlwind.

“Our fathers, chained in prisons dark,
Were still in heart and conscience free:
How sweet would be their children’s fate,
If they, like them, could die for thee!”

Grandma always had poor circulation. Later in life she would sit in her rocker and groan from the pain in her legs. I would talk, pray, and say that the pain is so bad, but I know I can handle it. My heavenly Father promised me He wouldn’t give me more than I can handle, so I know I can handle it. This was not only true of pain, but of life situations that came her way.

“Faith of our fathers! we will love
Both friend and foe in all our strife;
And preach thee, too, as love knows how,
By kindly words and virtuous life!

Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death!”

Jesus said that when He returned will He find faith on the earth. This Thanksgiving, all in America have been blessed by the faith of those who went before–be thankful for that. I wonder how many have strayed and wandered from the faith of their grandparents? How many have compromised faith, or diluted faith? Take some time to remember the grand heritage of faith and of our country!

How cheap are the principles for which we do not have to fight, how easy it is to establish codes when all the while our freedom to talk had been fought for and bled for by others.”
–Louis L’Amour

“Talk is cheap, like daydreams and other useless activities. Fear God instead.”
–Ecclesiastes 5:7 (NLT)
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“An unfriendly man pursues selfish ends; he defies all sound judgment. A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions.”
–Proverbs 18:1-2

One of the man differences between the godly and the fool is that the godly pursues unselfish ends. He delights in the Lord. Wait a minute, you may say…there are plenty out there who give unselfishly and are not Christians. Ahh, but are they truly giving out of unselfish motives. The godly person wants to separate unto holiness; to give because of Christ.
How about a fool? It seems they are coming out of the woodwork. Howling at the sky, confused as to gender identity. The fool listens to his own opinions. He is self-directed and pursues his purposes. If a fool comes to you to give you advice, consider the source.
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I’ve often heard people say that they don’t get anything out of church. Or, when you leave people will ask, “How did that sermon make you feel?” Feeling has nothing to do with it. Oh, once in a while it’s good to have the doo-dads, but we are to grow in faith and grace, not feeling. I see basically two reasons people might not get anything out of a service.
If the preacher is preaching, and the listener is listening there should be an encounter with God! The problem then, is either the preacher is not preaching the pure Word of God, or the pew-sitter is not listening. That’s one of the reasons people jump from church to church; they want to hear what they want to hear. Phooey on the preacher who preaches God’s Word.
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1731, a great hymn-writer was born–William Cowper. God used him in a mighty way; yet the man suffered from severe depression. When taking a civil service exam he attempted suicide. He was placed in an asylum and that is where he was converted. Interesting, he had a good friend who had once been a slave-trader, John Newton. Together, they produced a hymnal.
Even as he wrote he would lapse into deep depression. He lived a life where he always wondered when he mind would snap. Amazing isn’t it? How a man who wrote some great hymns that were filled with tranquility and trust in God, lived his life fearing he would go mad.
(taken from The Christian History)