The deep voice foul and inflamed cast its disgusting
face toward the gentle and the brave. Some said do
not listen to the lusting rage of the golden haired
Beast who wants to be called prince. He scorns the
Justice of God; the Beast rages on day and night, it
never recoils. Many minds quickly became splintered
fissures, torn by the evil of this Beast; these people,
their minds seized could see no guilt in its actions, or
those who encouraged his deceit.
Greed gives power to those who listen to the Beast with
its insatiability to rule and those who praise its vices,
their lives become fully surrendering to their blindness.
The darkness that the Beast spreads across the land is
called doomed; it is a mockery of what the people once
knew. Does no one oppose this creature from Hell? No,
they soon become weary souls lost within the claws of
its contamination. The Beast is spreading a life of
splendor, all the while depriving many souls of truth.
This Beast is a serpent, those who follow in its path
become deaf to its words, and he claims to be godlike.
It dwells above human law, as people walk a dark,
narrow and steep path to build his greatness, his
followers will struggle in slime while the Beast
spreads its rage. The air that once smelled sweet
now nothing more than a stench of a murky swamp,
most choking on the wrath that one must endure to
please and promote the Beast who is untouchable in
the highest of places looking down upon its own created
The Beast has no tears or fears, damned are those who
praise its glory, damned are those who wallow in its
kingdom feeling the gnashing of its teeth. It is the wailing,
deplorable and unceasing, that will be heard over what
was once the land of greatness and plenty. Laughter can
be heard within the walls of those who served him. The
gentle Sage will come and the Beast will turn its head
away. There will be fear and anguish, people will see the
heat of his messages go cold, the beast will fall before the
people, and it will have no words. He will walk into hell
unhindered and descend upon the path trembling, his
time over, his voice stilled by the Sage.
An accumulation of thoughts meant to go into a post the day before Easter, did not get into writing on the subject of God and what happens after we die came to the forefront. For days, I had gone into an earlier period, my search of Earth a mere 100 million years ago or so. Then as I moved forward, I found a time approximately 4.6 billion years where the solar system was no more than a cloud of dust and gas. In this search, experts said that gravity collapsed in on itself and began to spin, forming the Sun in the center. Then with the rise of the Sun, material began to cluster together.
I am certain that there are many of you that know a great deal more than I do, as I know little about the creation of our Earth, even though I know the Bible quiet well. Then the research said that debris got larger and larger until they take on a spherical shape and form a planet. An object will become a true planet when it clears all the remaining debris from its orbital path. So there you go, research tells us that the creation of earth comes from this action in space. Then we begin the process of evolution, something crawled off the pond scum, and this slow process eventually became human.
Then my research took me to a Bishop James Ussher a 17th-century chronology of history of the world formulated from a literal reading of the Old Testament and declares that Adam was created about 4004 BC. The same article said that God created the world right before suppertime on October 23, 4004 BCE. It goes on to say, that Adam and Eve were created October 29, 4004 BCE, it being the sixth day. No matter what I believe, this is a hard pill to swallow.
The next useful information gave me the opposite side of the coin, one being EVOLUTION and the other being GOD’S CREATIONS.
It is said, probably since the beginning of time that, God fashioned Adam from dust and places him in the Garden of Eden. God told Adam that he could till the ground and eat freely of all the trees in the garden, except for a tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then Eve is created from one of Adam’s ribs to be Adam’s companion. There has to be a great deal of faith to believe this story. They are innocent and not embarrassed about their nakedness.
Then, a serpent deceives Eve into eating fruit from the forbidden tree, and she gives some of the fruit to Adam. These acts give them additional knowledge, and it gives them the ability to conjure negative and destructive concepts such as shame and evil. God later curses the serpent and the ground. God prophetically tells the woman and the man (I am assuming that he told them their names) what will be the penalty of their sin of disobeying Him. Then He banishes them from the Garden of Eden.
Well Folks, I don’t think my daddy never went to church a day in his life unless it was a funeral and neither did the two other people that were important in my life. My Native American Great-Great Grandmother and an African-American woman. My mother went to church sometimes, and then she would ask the preacher to Sunday dinner. Nevertheless, my mother forced me to walk to the Rural Grove Baptist Church every Sunday morning with or without her.
In these latter years, I asked myself what I got out of those 11 years of walking up a hill both ways to the church. Well now, there was always Sunday dinner on the church grounds. I was told not to eat there, I was to come home, that did not stop me from going to the dessert table and then I ran all the way home to make up the time. In church, I have to see the preacher screaming Hell and Damnation. This brought the “Amen’s” out of everyone.
Old lady Waddell would be wearing that red dress my grandpa Vest gave her so many years ago, it had been washed so many times it was almost pink. He came to church every Sunday just to see her. Then he would return home to his wife and their eight children. He had lost his farm because he was too lazy to work and his children were grown and moving on with their life.
Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Ragsdale. Someone must have told them that they could sing. I would sometime stare at the ceiling wondering if those cracks came from them yelling, they held the notes long after everyone stopped singing. They would be yelling, “We shall gather at the river.” I would like to toss both of them in that river. However, I was not big enough to toss them into that river.
In the summer time, I would go to church with bare feet, like many of the country kids. It was a poor church; dress was what you had that was not to worn out. Only Mrs. Waddell dressed up, in that store bought dress my grand daddy bought her, now pink. I was a precocious child who took pride in commenting Mrs. Waddell on her dress, and then I would add…my granddaddy likes red too. My foundation for religion began in that tiny white church in Rural Grove Baptist Church perched on top of Burleson Mountain.
I believed in God and Jesus his son. I sat quietly listening to how we were all going to hell, and he mentioned many of the sins that were brought into church that day. All I had done was to tell Old Lady Waddell her dress was pretty! The way he was looking down at Mrs. Waddell I thought she might be getting a new church dress any day now. The next Sunday my mother would be sitting next to me and the preacher might be coming to dinner. He sure loved my mothers’ cooking.
Being raised by a Spiritual Native American great-grandmother, a very much-loved African American woman, and my Daddy, my values on such matters as spirituality were normal, I followed in their footsteps back then just as I do today. I was baptized into the Baptist church, when I became an adult I taught Sunday school for ten years. I want to believe in God because the wonders that are preached, I will most certainly see my daughter that passed in 2010, without that hope life might be unbearable for me.
Then I saw this…
“Is not necessary to believe in God to be a good person. In a way, the traditional notion of God is outdated. One can be spiritual but not religious. It is not necessary to go to church and give money, for many, nature can be their church. Some of the best people in history never believed, while some of the worst deeds have been done in his name.”
Finally after all these years, I find that the teaching of my daddy and those other two wonderful women were right, and going to church is right too, we have free will to make the choice that is best for ourselves. Believe or not believe, you can answer you own question.
CONFEDERATE MONUMENTS | FOREST HILL CEMETERY, Madison, Wisconsin.
Madison, Wisconsin’s Mayor Paul Soglin orders the removal of Confederate monuments at Forest Hill Cemetery . The 140 people buried there as “valiant Confederate soldiers” and “unsung heroes.” The privately funded plaque, which rested on a granite structure, said the soldiers were buried in the Union state after surrendering in a battle and dying at Camp Randall as prisoners of war. Soglin said an “appropriate monument or plaque with the names of the deceased” would be installed, but added that it won’t give “reverence for the Confederate insurrection and treason against the United States.” For years, people were allowed to display Confederate flags in that section of Forest Hill Cemetery. The Confederacy’s “Stars and Bars” would hang on a flagpole at the burial site only on Memorial Day, but the pole was removed last September.
Volunteers had also placed small Confederate battle flags at each headstone for the holiday. A change to cemetery rules in May, however, only allows the flags of the United States, Wisconsin, and Madison, branches of the U.S. Armed Forces and United Nations
Madison receive roughly 1,000 of these southern prisoners. They were held at Camp Randall, then a training grounds and barracks established by Wisconsin Gov. Alexander Randall the year before; one statement of a Union soldier about the Confederate soldier was…
“They die off like rotten sheep. There was 11 die off yesterday and today, and there ain’t a day but what there is from two to nine dies.”
Union Monument. One of thousands across southern towns and land.
Barely a month after their arrival, President Abraham Lincoln’s call for a larger fighting force drew the 19th Wisconsin Regiment back to battle, rendering Camp Randall unsuitable for securely holding prisoners. On May 31, 1862, the majority of the Camp Randall inmates left for Camp Douglas, a larger encampment in Chicago.
By June, the last of the Camp Randall prisoners had left. The only ones who remain in Madison were 140 Confederate soldiers who died during their stay at Camp Randall, now interred at Confederate Rest. Dead Confederate prisoners were buried at Forest Hill Cemetery. Initially grouped into a mass grave, the dead were later given their own headstones and a more formally organized plot, now known as Confederate Rest. The plot is well shaded and removed from the more populated areas of the cemetery, a quiet and somber reminder of an unsung chapter of Madison history.
No one has discussed the grave marker of Belle “Star” Boyd. Belle as she was known to most was a Confederate spy from 1855-1865. Belle died on June 11, 1900 in Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. Belle went by many names, Cleopatra of the Secession, Siren of the Shenandoah. Belles spying career began by chance. According to her 1866 account, on July 4, 1861, a band of Union army soldiers heard she had Confederate flags in her room, and they came to investigate. They hung a Union flag outside her home. This made herangry enough, but when one of them cursed at her mother, she was enraged. Belle pulled out a pistol and shot and killed the man.
Belle has published a fictionalized narrative of her war experiences in a two-volume book titled Bell Boyd in Camp and Prison. While touring the United States), she died of a heart attack in Kilbourn City (now known as Wisconsin Dells), Wisconsin, on June 11, 1900. She was 56 years old. She was buried in the Spring Grove Cemetery in Wisconsin Dells, with members of the Local GAR as her pallbearers. For years, her grave simply read:
stones stood draped with Yankee blue cloths.One by one, the new gravestones were revea
BORN IN VIRGINIA
DIED IN WISCONSIN AND WAS BURIED IN SPRING GROVE CEMETERY
ERECTED BY A COMRADE
There are literally thousands. I’m not going to make you a super long list, but take Vicksburg National Military Park for example. Every single state that contributed troops during the Civil War has a monument to their soldiers within the park.
Union Soldiers buried in the South
A Union Army historian named Bruce Frail undertook the research in Washington and turned up more than 300 pages of research on the five dead soldiers, including their names.”This really amounts to a homecoming of sorts for the families who lost their ancestors and for those of us here who looked after these graves for so long,” Cadieu said as he sttching the color guard load their rifles. “In the larger scheme of things, it not a very big thing, I suppose, but to me it’s a powerful commentary on human kindness and brotherhood – how one man ended a war and honored his enemies by giving them a proper resting place, a home.”After to a clearing in the pines, where five new grave
Five soldiers who probably pined for the same thing died anonymously far from home but found peace – an unexpected home – in an enemy’s pasture.
Cpl. Reed Alcorn served in the eighth Indiana Calvary.
Pvt. Matthew Ross was from the same unit. He hailed from Carroll County, Indiana
Pvt. David Woods He came from Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
Pvt. Henry Stennett was from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and enlisted at Harrisburg
The story goes that Daniel Lassiter returned home to learn of five fresh graves on his property just weeks after the guns fell silent. He learned the bodies in the graves belonged to Union troops who’d been on a foraging mission on horseback and wagon when they evidently encountered remnants of the Richmond Home Guard. Records show that more than 35 Union Army deaths occurred from running skirmishes and scattered house-to-house fighting that took place in Richmond County during the closing days of the war.
After hearing the story, it’s believed Lassiter expressed sympathy for the deaths of his former enemies and their families, citing the need for the nation to heal its wounds. He pledged that the graves of his former enemies would be marked and never disturbed as long as his family owned the farm.
Lassiter’s promise passed through several generations of his family. In 1974, a man named Roy Moss purchased the property, and he agreed to honor the graves of the unknown soldiers by leaving them undisturbed as well.
On Murphree land in Alabama a Union solder is buried, a fence was put around the grave and a slab covered it. The reason, so no one could defile the grave. Flowers were placed there on every holiday. The soldier was unknown, but we cared for the grave as if it was our own.
The “peculiar institution” loomed large over the first few decades of American presidential history. Not only did slave laborers help build the White House all of the earliest presidents (except for John Adams and his son John Quincy Adams) were slave owners. George Washington kept some 300 bondsmen at his Mount Vernon plantation. Thomas Jefferson—despite once calling slavery an “assemblage of horrors”—owned around 175 servants. James Madison, James Monroe and Andrew Jackson each kept several dozen slaves, and Martin Van Buren owned one during his early career.
Even in my home state of Alabama, arguably portrayed as racist, backwards, and forever confederate, we have over 1,000 Northern Monuments that honor the Northern troops. I understand the uprising in wanting to tear down all of the Confederate Monuments, I understand what the flag represented to the north, but it is our history and we honored both North and South.
I have not heard any plans to remove those 1,000 Union Monuments.
The homes of my ancestors was violated, burned, stole horses, mules, chickens, pigs and cows… and all contents placed in a confederate wagon, pull by confederate mules. All of these items were taken North. On the Vest plantation, Union Soldiers raped the women of all color. My great-great grandparents did not own slaves. Their workers were given their freedom years before the “War” begin.
My great-great grandmother walked the Trail of Tears, moved off their land to barren land. Those caught running away by the Union Soldiers were shot, my great-great grandparents ran off during the night making their way back home.
The southerners that march with swastikas, flags, wore hoods is not my people. The removal of monuments is wrong.
I guess my thought tonight is that my Chickasaw heritage was taken from me forcefully as was my plantation home, animals, and such Trump. My ancestors were raped and left with nothing. I am certain after this State of the Union Address soaks in…we may want that which was stolen from us. We want our land back.
No, all I want is world peace.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS IN 2017 AND HAPPY NEW YEAR 2018
BOOKS AT AMAZON.COM
Bits and Pieces of Love…
The box of Christmas ornaments hidden away spilled onto the floor; memories flooded back, two children taken from their mother. Frozen in time, she picked up the handmade treasures; paper, ribbon, bits and pieces of love formed into special ornaments that her children had made for her.
Tonight she sat a wounded soul and wrote a letter that she had not written since she was a child.
Dear Santa Clause,
There are just a few wishes on my list this year. Leave me a sign that my children know how much they are missed. Leave me a box of magic needles and thread to mend my heart. Maybe a bag of Christmas Spirit filled with love to ease the pain of what I lost. Do you still remember me Santa after all of these years; do you remember how your gifts could wipe away my childhood tears? I know that I have ask for a lot, but can I have a reason to live tied up in a shiny new box; seven years…a long time to grieve, please Santa with all my heart in Heaven I want to believe.
Books at Amazon.com by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree