His Mother's Face!

For the last month I have been discovering the names of my ancestors back six or seven generations and I enjoy so much when I get one of those little leafs like they advertise on TV. I try to find their birth date, their death date and sometimes I can find the date they were married. Anything else I find is all icing on the cake. Something so small as seeing that one of my Great Grandfathers was a shoemaker is fun to find.

Several men of my family tree served in the Civil War and I found a grave of one who served in the War of 1812 as a rifleman. I was saddened to see that one of my great uncles died at eight years old of typhoid fever. Many times when I came across a census, one of the question asked of mothers was "How many children given birth to?". Then in the next column "How many still living?". There were few who had not lost a child. The mortality rate for babies was very high in what we sometimes call the good ole days.


In 1943, things were better medically speaking, but there was no ultra sound to detect problems in pregnancy or monitors to record stress levels of the unborn. In modern days Bryant Ferrill Camp might have been delivered a healthy baby boy but this little one was never to take a breath, see his mother's face or know life outside his mother's womb. I began thinking of this child a few years ago when my mom and I talked about where he is buried. She and my uncle Rex, both in their eighties talked often by phone about this younger brother. They came from an era that took seriously the respect shown for those who die and the fact that he did not have a marker was a source of concern for these two. My Mom was pretty sure he was buried at the feet of their grandmother, Lucy Catherine Ferrill, but since there was never a marker neither were sure.


When a child or a baby dies, there is always the question "Why?". Why did this little one grow beneath the heart of this mother, my grandmother, only to succumb to death hours before he was delivered into this world. It was thought that since this was a full term baby that the umbilical cord was around his neck. According to my mom's recollection he was a plump, beautiful baby that looked as if he had just fallen asleep. Now almost 70 years after his birth there are at least three of us, here on earth, who wish we had known him.


There is one thing for certain, God knew him. The bible says he knew him even before he was conceived. It must have saddened our heavenly Father to see this life end before it began. I am comforted by this familiar scripture.


For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:13-16 NIV)


Bryant Ferrill Camp born September 19, 1943 and died September 19,1943.


A blessed thought is that he, by now, has seen his mother's face!


Mary Helen (Ferrill) Camp born March 5, 1903 and died December 15, 1968


And for certain, they both have seen the Father's face!




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God Bless America!

For thirty years we lived in the same house that we raised all the kids. I have so many good memories in the house that our kids all refer to as “Nolen Dr.” . One of my favorite memories I have is our 4th of July celebrations. Sometimes we had people over, sometimes it was just us but our little house on Nolen Drive had a very important feature that we discovered soon after we moved there. Since our street sat on the edge of the Country Club’s golf course, we were privy to a very nice fireworks display that the country club put on every year, free no membership required. We sat back in our lawn chairs and took advantage of something that someone else had paid for but, as I think of it, we do this every year. We celebrate a freedom that we did not pay for.

I am thankful for the freedom that was handed down to me, something I enjoy but did not pay for. As I have been searching and finding our ancestors, I find that men in my family fought in just about every war of this country. Generations back until now people have left their home to fight for our freedom, many paying the ultimate price so that I could enjoy a freedom like no other in the world.

In the same way Jesus left his home in heaven to pay for our sins and give freedom in his salvation. Again I enjoy what I did not and could not pay for myself. Thank you, Jesus!

Today as I sit back in my lawn chair watching the beauty in the sky, enjoying what I did not pay for, all that I can say is God Bless America!

What's Under Your Hood!

We were so excited to visit with friends who we hadn’t seen in several years. We caught up on kids, jobs and everything that mattered to us all but this man was biting at the bit to show us his prized possession. We had noticed the beauty as we came up to his house, it was a beautifully restored yellow Thunderbird. This beauty brought back memories to us all, as we remembered it’s sleek body and sporty look in days gone by. The paint was perfect with chrome strips and bumpers. The original hub caps gleamed in the afternoon sun and the interior was as perfect as the day it rolled off the showroom floor. We all commented that we could almost smell the “new” in it. He was proud of the original knobs that turned the windshield wipers off and on and the old radio that was set to play the songs of that era. He had pictures of his car from every angle, inside and out that he hung proudly on his garage wall but the only thing it didn’t have was POWER, it had no engine. Our friend ran out of money so the beautiful car could only sit there looking pretty.

I thought of this today as I studied the with my daughters via Facebook, “The Power of a Woman’s Words”. We can try to control our words, we can try to win others to Christ with our words but the truth is in our own strength, without the POWER of the Holy Spirit we are like the beautiful car sitting in the driveway we are going no where.

In the book we were asked to look at Peter’s life before the Holy Spirit in Matthew 26:69-74 with the Peter we see in Acts 2:14-41. In the account in Matthew we see a , once “shiny car“, who was ready to die for Jesus, reduced to a frightened man who denied he even new the Savior but in the Acts account we see a bold Peter filled with the POWER of the Holy Spirit proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In verse 41 we see that three thousand were added to their number that day. What could we “the Church” do today if we would do as Jesus said and tarry until we are filled with the Holy Ghost!

In the last days, God says, I will pour our my Spirit on all people. Acts 2:17

Satan has nothing to worry about as long as we sit in our driveways looking pretty, but oh how we could shake him up if we actually had the POWER under our hoods. I so often try to do things in my own strength and find frustration and failure, but it is time we all begin to live in the POWER of the Holy Spirit! Come Holy Spirit we need you!

Mice Are Such Encouragers!

Lord, thank you for mice, they are such encouragers! Can you believe I actually said that? I can’t either but it is part of my new attitude adjustment.

Today I had to, again clear my cabinets and drawers and begin the arduous task of washing everything, just in case one of those dirty , I mean encouraging, rodents had walked on, ran on or anything else on them. In the country I am used to field mice coming for a visit but we have been "blessed" more this year than ever before. Lord, I said, “just when I decided that I needed a better attitude and was making the effort to be thankful, I am being tested to see how serious I really am.” “So Lord, what can I say about these mice?” I grumbled. I tried to think of how I should be grateful for these critters. I had to somehow think of them in a good way as one of God's creation but my heart wasn't in that either as I grew weary from my task. Finally I had it! I am thankful for being encouraged to clean my kitchen even if it is a member of the rodent family who encourages me. Wow, am I good or what?

After getting that out of the way, I had a long list of things I was thankful for like the beautiful day and cool breezes coming through my window this morning and it goes without saying my wonderful husband and my family! Okay! So far so good! And how about depression? “Okay Lord, can we talk about the mice some more? How could I ever be thankful for depression?” I questioned. I had just been through a few weeks of dealing with that “thorn in my side” and I find it impossible to be thankful for this thing that takes so much from me. That thing which robs me of days I should be living my life to the fullest? Days I could be doing something for the Lord? Days wasted with a dark cloud that follows me everywhere I go? Days when my husband tries to find something that will cheer me (and he is pretty funny). Days when sleep is my friend. “Okay Lord, I give!” I said out loud.

Then the thought that came to me was a scripture that I had read many times, one of my favorites from Psalms.

I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven the earth. Psalms 121:1-2

Thank you Lord, I needed that! My help does come from you! Though you don’t ask me to be thankful for depression, you ask me to be thankful IN it because you work everything for my good. Praise God, my help does come from you.

“Now go strengthen your bretheren” Oh, now I get it! Thank you, precious Lord, you are brilliant!

And thank you for my furry encouragers, may they rest in peace, I mean may they feel peaceful!

La vie en rose!

In talking with my granddaughter, Allison a few months back she told me she loved the song La vie en rose by Louie Armstrong, intrigued by this I looked this beautiful song up on the net. As soon as I heard it I recognized it but had not thought of its title. In French this means "Life in Pink" or "Life in Rosy Hues" It was made popular by Edith Piaf who was nicknamed "Little Sparrow" because of her beautiful voice.

As I reminisce about Allison who will graduate from high school today, I couldn't help but think about this sweet girl who sees things that others might miss. I remember standing in front of a Norman Rockwell painting with Allison who was probably not more that 4 years old, she was mesmerized by the folksy characters portrayed by Rockwell. It was as if she could understand the artist and asked a question way beyond her years concerning a little boy in the scene. As a grandma I pondered this and was sure her genius would flourish, as she grew older. As her favorite song implies, she sees things in rosy hues, which is captured in her photography. When we see a common tree Allison sees the beautiful bark, or maybe deep holes formed by scarring catches her eye, when passing a wheat field she sees a photo op. One winter when Allison was here, she took pictures of the frozen field behind us, our rickety back porch and the road in front of our house and made it come alive because it was captured through the eyes of one who finds beauty in everything. She took pictures of the field in contrast to the warm morning sun rise, the road in front of our house was made lovely as her camera sat at ground level, capturing happy feet on a winter walk and my eyes filled with tears at a shot of herself on the rickety porch with the caption "I'm home!

Though the bible would never advocate not see things realisticly, it does have something to say about what we think about. Allison reminds me so much of one of my favorite scriptures in Philippians.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

This lovely young woman sees things in rosy hues, she sees life in pink but she is not deceived by the glamor and bling. She is comfortable in jeans and a funky hat but shines in a formal gown, she can be funny enough to be a perfect Gertrude McFluff but is serious enough to care for unborn children. She lives her life, even at 17, thinking on whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, excellent, praiseworthy. She loves the Lord who gave to her a glorious uniqueness, as she sees life in rosy hues. La vie en rose!

My Search For Baby Bryant?

For a long time, I have wanted to trace my ancestry. I have been intrigued by old pictures with frowning faces. Have you ever wondered why folks didn't smile when they were having their pictures taken back then? It might have been because it took so long to take a picture, unlike now when things including photos are so instant. One picture of my Grandpa and Great Grandpa made them almost look sinister. Jokingly, I wondered what kind of skeletons could be in my closet.

As I began my search, I was rewarded pretty quickly with birth records, death records and I gleaned much from Census records dating back to the 1800s. I found old pictures that I was thrilled to find and could even trace back to find a line of women who carried and passed down the name "Catherine". I was able to find a Great Great Grandmother with the name and continuing down to my Mom, my daughter and two granddaughters the youngest being my Jenna Catherine who is three years old.

I was so happy to find what I found but there was one little lost boy that I am still searching for. He was my Mom's baby brother who was stillborn. Having a stillborn child was not uncommon back then but because of circumstances surrounding this dear child's birth, the whereabouts of his grave is a mystery. He probably doesn't even have a grave stone or marking. This baby might always be lost except to my Mom and my uncle Rex who in recent years have needed this closure to this painful memory. So I will go on with my search for baby Bryant, a lost little boy.

Jesus told three parables about things lost. The lost sheep, the lost coin and a lost son. In all three, Jesus was saying that he doesn't give up on the "lost"! That even though he has many who believe, he is not satisfied until all have come to him. Aren't you glad? I am! Otherwise, I would not have come to hear his voice. Whether a lost sheep, lost coins, lost little boys or lost souls he never stops searching. Praise God! Can you hearing Him calling?

Then Jesus told them this parable: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn't he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15:3-7 NIV)


Sent from Jeanie!

Potato Salad Logic!

“Wait until the potato salad is gone!” That’s what I heard myself saying today as I reached for the giant bowl of homemade potato salad we had for dinner yesterday. It tasted good yesterday but you know how potato salad is, it tastes better the next day. It’s Monday and I usually like to start my diet AGAIN on this day of the week. I have stuffed myself all weekend and was determined to eat good, starting Monday but Monday is here and when I spied the potato salad, I decided to WAIT once again! I told myself that it would be better if I started another time when that tempting potato salad was out of sight. And besides I want to enjoy myself as I eat every morsel. As you might have guessed this is an every Monday ritual for me. WAIT WAIT WAIT!

Does that sound familiar to anybody but me? I am a procrastinator by nature so the potato salad plan strikes me as a sound plan! But....

*One day, Satan called all the demons together to come up with some good ideas to keep the lost from being saved. The Prince of Darkness was concerned that the gospel was being accepted all over the world. One of the devilish demons raised his hand and stated his plan with glee. He said “I think we should temp them all with all manor of sin, like sexual sin, drugs and of course greed.” “Yeah,” another said agreeing with the first demon. The next demon stood and went to the front of the room to pitch his plan. “I think we should attack the clergy and those who would bring the plan of salvation to the lost. You know how the flock scatters when the shepherd falls into sin?” With that the demons all stood and applauded this great plan, with their hideous, mocking laughter shaking the whole room. The third demon stood and congratulated the others for their ingeniously, evil plans but I have the best plan of all. At this Satan’s attention was piqued, “Now what would that be" he asked the confident demon? “Tell them that salvation is the best thing in the world, in fact it is the only way to get to heaven. Remind that they will find peace and love in knowing Christ.” he said as he sat down and crossed arms across his chest. At this the demons were covering their faces, booing and hissing at the replies of the third demon. “How can you say that?” “Do you not know this is just the opposite of what these people need to know?” Satan was also up on his feet waiting for an explanation from the diluted demon. “Please, sit down, you haven’t heard my whole plan yet.” the third demon screeched at the hysterical crowd. With a nod from the evil head of Satan the demons were seated to hear the rest of the story. “It’s simple”, the third demon proclaimed! You tell them the truth, you tell them about the wonderful things that would come about if they just asked Jesus into their heart but then you tell them……but don’t do it now you have plenty of time. Wait! Just wait!”

Wait until the potato salad is gone!

*This story was adapted from a story I heard years ago.