Author: Tammy M Cardwell

INTREPIDITY OF MRS. ISRAEL.

Tammy M Cardwell1 Comment

He is not worthy of the honey comb,
That shuns the hive because the bees have stings.
                                                                        Shakespeare.

During the Revolution, Israel Israel, a true whig and a worthy farmer, residing on the banks of the Delaware, near Wilmington, was, for a short time, a prisoner on board the frigate Roebuck, directly opposite his own house and land. While thus situated, it was reported by some loyalists by whose treachery he had been betrayed into the hands of the enemy, that he had said repeatedly that “he would sooner drive his cattle as a present to George Washington, than receive thousands of dollars in British gold for them.” The commander hearing the report, to be revenged on the rebel, sent a small detachment of soldiers to drive his cattle, which were in plain sight of the frigate, down to the Delaware, and have them slaughtered before their owner’s eyes.

Mrs. Israel, * who was young and sprightly, and brave as a Spartan, seeing the movements of the soldiers as she stood in her doorway, and divining their purpose as they marched towards the meadow where the cattle were grazing, called a boy about eight years old, and started off in great haste, to defeat, if possible, their marauding project. They threatened and she defied, till at last they fired at her. The cattle, more terrified than she, scattered over the fields; and as the balls flew thicker she called on the little boy “Joe” the louder and more earnestly to help, determined that the assailants should not have one of the cattle. They did not. She drove them all into the barn-yard, when the. soldiers, out of respect to her courage, or for some other cause, ceased their molestations and returned to the frigate.

• The maiden name of Mrs. Israel was Hannah Erwin. Her first meeting with her husband was romantic enough. Mr. Israel had sailed in a sloop, or packet, from Philadelphia, to visit New Castle where his mother and family resided. He observed on deck an extremely pretty girl, hardly seventeen years of age, and very neatly and tastefully dressed, with the finest turned foot and ankle in the world. All who went on such voyages were then obliged to furnish themselves with provisions; and his attention was drawn by the young girl’s kindly distribution of her little stock, handing it about from one to another, till but little was left for her own portion. In passing him, she modestly hesitated a moment, and then offered him a share. This led to conversation; he learned that she was the daughter of highly respectable parents, and resided in Wilmington. Love at first sight was as common in those days as now. After seeing his mother, he visited Wilmington; became better acquainted, offered himself and was accepted: and on his marriage, rented the farm above mentioned, and commenced life anew.- [ Mrs. Ellet.

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Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
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Your Narcissist is Not Your Real Enemy

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

I know what you’re thinking. Yes, it definitely feels like the narcissist in your life is your biggest enemy. They’re not, though. The fact is, in the spiritual war you’re in, the narcissist is nothing more than a weapon in the devil’s arsenal. He or she is, in fact, just a tool the enemy uses in his attempts to keep you in fear, distracted from your relationship with God, and to ultimately defeat you. Still doubt me? Let’s look at Ephesians 6:12 in the New Living Translation.

For we are not fighting against flesh and blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in heavenly places.

THAT is where we find our true enemy. Again, the narcissist you deal with daily is nothing but a tool or weapon in the devil’s hands. I’m not saying don’t fight your narcissist; I’m just saying that if you invest all your efforts in fighting the human enemy you see, you will wear yourself out pointlessly. What we have to do, what we absolutely must do if we want to not just survive, but thrive, is put on our spiritual armor and go to battle.

It’s called Spiritual Warfare

In my experience, most Christians would rather avoid even thinking about spiritual warfare. I get it. I’ve been there. In those early years, when I was just starting to really walk with God, to be a growing Christian instead of a perpetually childlike Christian, I felt it was all I could do just to learn to truly walk the Christian walk; spiritual warfare was a whole new level I wasn’t interested in rising to.

But here’s the thing. I was in the middle of a war whether I liked it or not. I just couldn’t see the battles that were going on around me. It was only by the grace of God that I was protected as I was, walking through the battlefield, unarmed and clothed in nothing but my naivety. 

All of that changed when I admitted that my narcissistic husband was having an affair. Mind you, this may or may not have been his first affair; I don’t know. It was, however, the first affair I knew about, and by this point I was sensitive enough to what was going on in the spirit world that I recognized the evil he had brought back into our household. Yes, this is the first time I remember fully comprehending that this man I still loved was literally fighting on the devil’s side – though I guarantee you he would have denied it.

The affair, and its effects, drove me to my knees like never before. After the kids went to bed, while he was out with that other woman, I was spending hours in prayer. The prayers began out of a desperate need for God’s intervention. They continued hour after hour, day after day, week after week, because I learned that nothing on this earth even begins to compare to getting heart-close with God. Never mind stepping up to the next level; I experienced what I think of as “level leaping” during those months.

Yes

Months

I’ve referred in previous blog posts to how my life radically changed when, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, I was thrown into the fiery furnace. This is the furnace I was referring to. Suddenly, like them, I was face-to-face with Jesus in the midst of an inferno – and the flames didn’t matter anymore.

That’s not to say I didn’t care that the man I was in covenant with had broken our covenant, that it meant nothing that our son was suddenly having walking night terrors… I simply mean that nothing – nothing you will ever experience here on this earth – can compare with spending intimate, focused time with Him. Nothing.

We don’t know what Jesus said to those Hebrew boys while they toured the inside of the furnace, but we do know the experience changed them. Actually, it changed a lot more than them; the whole nation was affected. But you know this time in the furnace impacted them for the rest of their lives; it made all the difference.

It made all the difference for me too.

God taught me so much during those months! Yes, part of our time together involved spiritual warfare, and that was huge, but He started by ensuring I learned the most important thing of all. He showed me who I am, and Whose I am, and I began to understand just how precious I am to Him. Listen to me, no matter what your narcissist tells you, or how they treat you, you are precious to God. He loves you so much that if you had been the only one in the world needing salvation, He would have sent Jesus to die on the cross for you and you alone. 

I mean that literally! Even after all the years I’ve been living close to Him I still realize I can’t even begin to comprehend how much God loves me, how much He treasures me. Decades of being married to a man who made it clear in many subtle ways that I wasn’t attractive, wasn’t love-worthy, wasn’t enough… That could have destroyed me completely. It did not because of the time I spent in the furnace, face to face with Jesus, and the intimate relationship that continued when we walked back out, the one we still enjoy to this day.

This is why I push so hard, encouraging you to get just as close as you can to Him, to pray and fellowship with Him, to spend time in His Word, to be active in the church He calls you to… It’s all necessary if you want to do more than just survive.

You do, don’t you? I mean, I spent years just surviving in my marriage. We’d been married over ten years before he had the affair that drove me deeply into God’s arms. Honestly, the first few years didn’t seem so very bad; I thought the way he treated me was normal. By the time of the affair, though, I was literally in survival mode.

So, while I wouldn’t wish the fire on anyone, I’m glad I was thrown into it, because that experience was a turning point for me. It opened my eyes to the reality of what I’d been dealing with – not that he was a narcissist (That I only admitted a few years ago) – but that I had been a passive Christian, refusing to acknowledge that I have spiritual responsibilities and I’d been choosing not to live up to them.

Child of God, you will not thrive as a toddler wandering around on a spiritual battlefield. Survive? Well, God is so merciful that He covers a lot. However, the toddler is easily distracted, easily drawn in the wrong direction, and all too easily destroyed. That sounds harsh, I know, but I’m here to tell you it doesn’t have to be your story.

I’m glad I entered the fire. I’m glad God taught me all He did during those months – much of it being about spiritual warfare. From that point onward, I was a totally different Christian. Yes, my husband sometimes hurt me like no one else on earth could have, but from then on I knew who I was really fighting, and though I definitely had times when I fell to the floor in agony I tried hard to focus my efforts on my true enemy. I concentrated on learning how to be a warrior.

I’ve said it before. A child married Jack Cardwell, but a warrior spread his ashes. I thrived during the last twenty-five years or so of our marriage. Yes, for reasons even I don’t understand, I never was able to walk away from him completely. However, I did outlive him, and now I’m free to help others learn to walk as warriors too.

Step One?
Let’s go back to Ephesians 6, verses 10 through 18.
Again, I’m in the New Living Translation.

“A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. For we are not fighting against flesh and blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm. Stand your ground, putting on the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness. For shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News so that you will be fully prepared. In addition to all of these, hold up the shield of faith to stop the fiery arrows of the devil. Put on salvation as your helmet, and take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”

Spiritual Warfare is a huge topic I’m not prepared to address fully here. However, I can point you in the direction of some excellent resources by someone I’ve learned to trust.

Dressed to Kill: A Biblical Approach to Spiritual Warfare and Armor, by Rick Renner, is a powerful resource, and it comes in ebook format as well as paperback, hardcover, and audiobook, so you can read without being obvious if you don’t want anyone to know what you’re researching.

Life in the Combat Zone: How to Survive, Thrive, & Overcome in the Midst of Difficult Situations, also by Rick Renner, is another excellent resource available in all four formats.

If you use YouTube, you can search for “Rick Renner Spiritual Warfare” and find several video options. 

You can also visit his website, renner.org.

Let’s do this!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

TRIALS OF A PATRIOT

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

Press on! it fortune play thee false
To-day, to-morrow she ‘ll be true.
                                                Park Benjamin

During the latter part of the Revolution, Thomas McCalla lived in Chester district, South Carolina. He removed thither from Pennsylvania, with his young wife, in 1778. He was a whole-hearted whig; served in the American army before moving to the south, and again enlisted soon after reaching his new home. He was in all the engagements attending Sumter’s operations against the enemy, till the seventeenth of August, 1780, when, by permission, he went to visit his family. A short time afterwards he again joined the fighting men, but was almost immediately taken prisoner, sent to Camden, thrown into jail and threatened daily with hanging. The persevering and heroic endeavors of his affectionate and patriotic wife, to obtain his release, are detailed in the following interesting manner by the author of the Women of the Revolution:

While this brave man was languishing in prison, expecting death from day to day, his wife remained in the most unhappy state of suspense. For about a month she was unable to obtain any tidings of him. The rumor of Sumter’s surprise, and that of Steel, came to her ears; she visited the places where those disasters had occurred, and sought for some trace of him, but without success. She inquired, in an agony of anxiety, of the women who had been to Charlotte for the purpose of carrying clothes or provisions to their husbands, brothers, or fathers, not knowing but that he had gone thither with the soldiers; but none could give her the least information. Imagination may depict the harrowing scenes that must have passed, when females returning to their homes and children after carrying aid to the soldiers, were met by such inquiries from those who were uncertain as to the fate of their kindred. To these hapless sufferers no consolation availed, and too often was their suspense terminated by more afflicting certainty.

In the midst of Mrs. McCalla’s distress, and before she had gained any information, she was called to another claim on her anxiety; her children took the small-pox. John was very ill for nine days with the disease, and his mother thought every day would be his last. During this terrible season of alarm, while her mind was distracted by cares, she had to depend altogether upon herself, for she saw but one among her neighbors. All the families in the vicinity were visited with the disease, and to many it proved fatal. As soon as her child was so far recovered as to be considered out of danger, Mrs. McCalla made preparations to go to Camden. She felt convinced that it was her duty to do so, for she clung to the hope that she might there learn something of her husband, or even find him among the prisoners.

With her to resolve was to act, and having set her house in order, she was in the saddle long before day, taking the old Charleston road leading down on the west side of the Catawba river. The mountain gap on Wateree creek was passed ere the sun rose, and by two o’clock she had crossed the river, passing the guard there stationed, and entered Camden. Pressing on with fearless determination, she passed the guard, and desiring to be conducted to the presence of Lord Rawdon, was escorted by Major Doyle to the headquarters of that commander. His Lordship then occupied a large, ancient looking house on the east side of the main street. The old site of the town is now in part deserted, and that building left standing alone some four hundred yards from any other, as if the memories associated with it had rendered the neighborhood undesirable. It was here that haughty and luxurious nobleman fixed his temporary residence, “sitting as a monarch,” while so many true-hearted unfortunates, whose fate hung on his will, were languishing out their lives in prison, or atoning for their patriotism on the scaffold.

Into the presence of this august personage Mrs. McCalla was conducted by the British major. Her impression at first sight was favorable; he was a fine looking young man, with a countenance not unprepossessing, which we may suppose was eagerly searched for the traces of human sympathy by one who felt that all her hopes depended on him. His aspect gave her some encouragement, and being desired to explain the object of her visit, she pleaded her cause with the eloquence of nature and feeling; making known the distressed situation of her family at home, the fearful anxiety of mind she had suffered on account of the prolonged absence of her husband and her ignorance of his fate, and her children’s urgent need of his care and protection. From Major Doyle she had at length learned that he was held a prisoner by his lordship’s orders. She had come, therefore, to entreat mercy for him; to pray that he might be released and permitted to go home with her. This appeal to compassion she made with all the address in her power, nor was the untaught language of distress wanting in power to excite pity in any feeling heart.

Lord Rawdon heard her to the end. His reply was characteristic. “I would rather hang such —- rebels than eat my breakfast.” This insulting speech was addressed to his suppliant while her eyes were fixed on him in the agony of her entreaty, and the tears were streaming down her cheeks. His words dried up the fountain at once, and the spirit of the American matron was roused. “Would you?” was her answer, while she turned on him a look of the deepest scorn. A moment after, with a struggle to control her feelings, for she well knew how much depended on that -she said, “I crave of your lordship permission to see my husband.”

The haughty chief felt the look of scorn his cruel language had called up in her face, for his own conscience bore testimony against him, but pride forbade his yielding to the dictates of better feeling. “You should consider, madam,” he answered, “in whose presence you now stand. Your husband is a rebel-“

Mrs. McCalla was about to reply – but her companion, the Major, gave her a look warning her to be silent, and in truth the words that sprang to her lips would have ill pleased the Briton. Doyle now interposed, and requested his lordship to step aside with him for a moment. They left the apartment, and shortly afterwards returned. Rawdon then said to his visitor, with a stately coldness that precluded all hope of softening his determination: “Major Doyle, madam, has my permission to let you go into the prison. You may continue in the prison ten minutes only. Major, you have my orders.” So saying, he bowed politely both to her and the officer, as intimating that the business was ended, and they were dismissed. They accordingly quitted the room.

The sight of the prison-pen almost overcame the fortitude of the resolute wife. An enclosure like that constructed for animals, guarded by soldiers, was the habitation of the unfortunate prisoners, who sate within on the bare earth, many of them suffering with the prevalent distemper, and stretched helpless on the ground, with no shelter from the burning sun of September. “Is it possible,” cried the matron, turning to Doyle, ” that you shut up men in this manner, as you would a parcel of hogs!” She was then admitted into the jail, and welcome indeed was the sight of her familiar face to McCalla. The time allotted for the interview was too short to be wasted in condolement or complaint; she told him she must depart in a few minutes, informed him of the state of his family-inquired carefully what were his wants, and promised speedy relief. When the ten minutes had expired she again shook hands with him, assuring him she would shortly return with clothes for his use, and what provisions she could bring, then turning walked away with a firm step, stopping to shake hands with young John Adair and the other captives with whom she was acquainted. The word of encouragement was not wanting, and as she bade the prisoners adieu, she said: “Have no fear; the women are doing their part of the service.” ” I admire your spirit, madam,” Doyle observed to her, “but must request you to be a little more cautious.”

Mrs. McCalla was furnished by the Major with a pass, which she showed to the officer on duty as she passed the guard on her return, and to the officer at the ferry. She rode with all speed, and was at home before midnight; having had less than twenty-four hours for the accomplishment of her whole enterprise; in that time riding one hundred miles, crossing the river twice, and passing the guard four times – – visiting her husband, and having the interview with Lord Rawdon, in which probably for the first time in his life he felt uneasiness from a woman’s rebuke. It convinced him that even in the breast of woman a spirit of independence might dwell, which no oppression could subdue, and before which brute force must quail, as something of superior nature. How must the unexpected outbreaking of this spirit, from time to time, have dismayed those who imagined it was crushed forever throughout the conquered province!

It is proper to say that Mrs. McCalla met with kinder treatment from the other British officers to whom she had occasion to apply at this time, for they were favorably impressed by the courage and strength of affection evinced by her. Even the soldiers, as she passed them, paid her marks of respect. The tories alone showed no sympathy nor pity for her trials; it being constantly observed that there was deeper hostility towards the whigs on the part of their countrymen of different politics, than those of English birth.

Mrs. McCalla began her work immediately after her arrival at home; making new clothes, altering and mending others, and preparing provisions. Her preparations being completed, she again set out for Camden. This time she had the company of one of her neighbors, Mrs. Mary Nixon. Each of the women drove before her a pack-horse, laden with the articles provided for the use of their suffering friends. They were again admitted to the presence of Lord Rawdon to petition for leave to visit the prisoners, but nothing particular occurred at the interview. His lordship treated the matron who had offended him with much haughtiness, and she on her part felt for him a contempt not the less strong that it was not openly expressed. From this time she made her journeys about once a month to Camden, carrying clean clothes and provisions; being often accompanied by other women bound on similar errands, and conveying articles of food and clothing to their captive fathers, husbands, or brothers. They rode without escort, fearless of peril by the way, and regardless of fatigue, though the journey was usually performed in haste, and under the pressure of anxiety for those at home as well as those to whose relief they were going. On one occasion, when Mrs. McCalla was just about setting off alone upon her journey, news of a glorious event was brought to her; the news of the battle of King’s Mountain, which took place on the seventh of October. She did not stop to rejoice in the victory of her countrymen, but went on with a lightened heart, longing no doubt, to share the joy with him who might hope, from the changed aspect of affairs, some mitigation of his imprisonment.

. . . About the first of December, Mrs. McCalla went again to Camden. On the preceding trip she had met with Lord Cornwallis, by whom she was treated with kindness. Whatever hopes she had grounded on this, however, were doomed to disappointment; he was this time reserved and silent. She was afterwards informed by the Major that a considerable reverse had befallen his majesty’s troops at Clermont, and the annoyance felt on this account – Doyle said -was the cause of his not showing as much courtesy as he usually did to ladies. “You must excuse him,” observed the good-natured officer, who seems to have always acted the part of a peacemaker on these occasions; and he added that Cornwallis had never approved of the cruelties heretofore practised.

Towards the last of December the indefatigable wife again performed the weary journey to Camden. McCalla’s health had been impaired for some months, and was now declining; it was therefore necessary to make a strenuous effort to move the compassion of his enemies, and procure his release. Rawdon was in command, and she once more applied to him to obtain permission for her husband to go home with her. As might have been anticipated, her petition was refused: his lordship informed her that he could do nothing in the premises; but that if she would go to Winnsboro’ and present her request to Lord Cornwallis, he might possibly be induced to give her an order for the liberation of the prisoner.

To Winnsboro’, accordingly, she made her way, determined to lose no time in presenting her application. It was on New Year’s morning that she entered the village. The troops were under parade, and his lordship was engaged in reviewing them; there could be no admission, therefore, to his presence for some time, and she had nothing to do but remain a silent spectator of the imposing scene. A woman less energetic, and less desirous of improving every opportunity for the good of others, might have sought rest after the fatigues of her journey, during the hours her business had to wait; Sarah McCalla was one of heroic stamp, whose private troubles never caused her to forget what she might do for her country. She passed the time in noticing particularly every thing she saw, not knowing but that her report might do service. After the lapse of several hours, the interview she craved with Cornwallis was granted. He received her with courtesy and kindness, listened attentively to all she had to say, and appeared to feel pity for her distresses. But his polished expression of sympathy, to which her hopes clung with desperation, was accompanied with regret that he could not, consistently with the duties of his Majesty’s service, comply unconditionally with her request. He expressed, nevertheless, entire willingness to enter into an exchange with General Sumter, releasing MaCalla for any prisoner he had in his possession. Or he would accept the pledge of General Sumter that MaCalla should not again serve until exchanged, and would liberate him on that security. “But, madam,” he added, “it is Sumter himself who must stand pledged for the keeping of the parole. We have been too lenient heretofore, and have let men go who immediately made use of their liberty to take up arms against us.”

With this the long-tried wife was forged to be content, and she now saw the way clear to the accomplishment of her enterprise. She lost no time in returning home, and immediately set out for Charlotte to seek aid from the American general. She found Sumter at this place, nearly recovered of the wounds he had received in the action at Blackstocks, in November, Her appeal to him was at once favorably received. He gave her a few lines stating that he would stand pledged for MaCalla’s continuance at home peaceably until he should be regularly exchanged. This paper was more precious than gold to the matron whose perseverance had obtained it; but it was destined to do her little good. She now made the best of her way homeward. After crossing the Catawba, she encountered the army of General Morgan, was stopped, being suspected to be a tory, and taken into his presence for examination. The idea that she could be thus suspected afforded her no little amusement, and she permitted the mistake to continue for some time, before she produced the paper in Sumter’s hand-writing which she well knew would remove every difficulty. She then informed the General of her visit to Winnsboro’ on the first of January, and her sight of the review of the troops. Morgan thanked her for the information and dismissed her, and without further adventure she arrived at her own house.

A few days after her return, the British army, being on its march from Winnsboro’, encamped on the plantation of John Service, in Chester district, and afterwards at Turkey creek. Mrs. McCalla went to one of those camps in the hope of seeing Lord Cornwallis. She succeeded in obtaining this privilege; his lordship recognised her as soon as she entered the camp, and greeted her courteously, questioning her as to her movements, and making many inquiries about Sumter and Morgan. On this last point she was on her guard, communicating no more information than she felt certain could give the enemy no manner of advantage, nor subject her friends to inconvenience.

At length she presented to the noble Briton the paper which she imagined would secure her husband’s freedom. What was her disappointment when he referred her to Lord Rawdon, as the proper person to take cognizance of the affair! The very name was a death-blow to her hopes, for she well knew she could expect nothing from his clemency. Remonstrance and entreaty were alike in vain; Cornwallis was a courteous man, but he knew how, with a bland smile and well-turned phrase of compliment, to refuse compliance even with a request that appealed so strongly to every feeling of humanity, as that of an anxious wife pleading for the suffering and imprisoned father of her children. She must submit, however, to the will of those in power; there was no resource but another journey to Camden, in worse than doubt of the success she had fancied just within her reach.

 It was a day or two after the battle of the Cowpens that she crossed the ferry on her way to Camden. She had not yet heard of that bloody action, but, observing that the guard was doubled at the ferry, concluded that something unusual had occurred. As she entered the village, she met her old friend Major Doyle, who stopped to speak to her. His first inquiry was if she had heard the news; and when she answered in the negative, he told her of the “melancholy affair” that had occurred at the Cowpens. The time, he observed, was most inauspicious for the business on which he knew she had come. “I fear, madam,” he said, “that his lordship will not treat you well.”

“I have no hope,” was her answer, “that he will let Thomas go home; but, sir, it is my duty to make efforts to save my husband. I will thank you to go with me to Lord Rawdon’s quarters.”

Her reception was such as she had expected. As soon as Rawdon saw her, he cried angrily, ” You here again, madam! Well–you want your husband -I dare say! Do you not know what the – rebels have been doing?”

“I do not, sir,” replied the dejected matron, for she saw that his mood was one of fury.

“If we had hung them,” he continued, “we should have been saved this. Madam! I order you most positively never to come into my presence again!”

It was useless, Mrs. McCalla knew, to attempt to stem the tide; she did not therefore produce, nor even mention the paper given her by Sumter, nor apologise for the intrusion by saying that Lord Cornwallis had directed her to apply to him; but merely answered in a subdued and respectful tone by asking what she had done.

“Enough!” exclaimed the irritated noble. “You go from one army to another, and Heaven only knows what mischief you do! Begone.”

She waited for no second dismissal, but could not refrain from saying, as she went out, in an audible voice, “My countrymen must right me.” Lord Rawdon called her back and demanded what she was saying. She had learned by this time some lessons in policy, and answered, with a smile, “We are but simple country folk.” His lordship probably saw through the deceit, for turning to his officer, he said, “Upon my life, Doyle, she is a wretch of a woman!” And thus she left him.

That great event – the battle of the Cowpens-revived the spirits of the patriots throughout the country. Every where, as the news spread, men who had before been discouraged flew to arms. The action took place on the seventeenth of January, 1781; on the twenty-second of the same month, six wagons were loaded with corn at Wade’s island, sixty miles down the Catawba for the use of General Davison’s division. The whole whig country of Chester, York and Lancaster may be said to have risen in mass, and was rallying to arms. Mecklenburg, North Carolina, was again the scene of warlike preparation; for the whigs hoped to give the enemy another defeat at Cowans or Batisford on the Catawba. On the twenty-fourth of January, General Sumter crossed this river at Landsford, and received a supply of corn from Wade’s island, His object was to cross the districts to the west, in the rear of the advancing British army, to arouse the country and gather forces as he went, threaten the English posts at Ninety-Six and Granby, and go on to recover the State. While Cornwallis marched from his encampment on Service’s plantation, the whigs of Chester, under the gallant Captains John Mills and James Johnston, were hovering near, watching the movements of the hostile army as keenly as the eagle watches his intended prey. Choosing a fit opportunity, as they followed in the rear, they pounced upon a couple of British officers, one of whom was Major McCarter, at a moment when they had not the least suspicion of danger, took them prisoners in sight of the enemy, and made good their retreat. By means of this bold exploit the liberation of MaCalla was brought about, at a time when his wife was wholly disheartened by her repeated and grievous disappointments. When General Sumter passed through the country, a cartel of exchange was effected, giving the two British officers in exchange for the prisoners of Chester district in Camden and Charleston.

The person sent with the flag to accomplish this exchange in Camden, was Samuel Neely of Fishing creek. As he passed through the town to the quarters of Lord Rawdon, he was seen and recognized by the prisoners, and it may be supposed their hearts beat with joy at the prospect of speedy release. But in consequence of some mismanagement of the business, the unfortunate men were detained in jail several weeks longer. Neely was in haste to proceed to Charleston, being anxious, in the accomplishment of his mission in that city, to get his son Thomas out of the prison-ship, and in his hurry probably neglected some necessary formalities. His countrymen in Camden were kept in confinement after his return from Charleston with his son. Captain Mills was informed of this, and indignant at the supposed disrespect shown by Lord Rawdon to the cartel of General Sumter, wrote a letter of remonstrance to Rawdon, which he entrusted to Mrs. McCalla to be conveyed to him.

Our heroine was accompanied on this journey by Mrs. Mary Dixon, for she judged it impolitic that the letter should be delivered by one so obnoxious to his lordship as herself. Still she deemed it her duty to be on the spot to welcome her liberated husband, supply all his wants, and conduct him home. The distance was traversed this time with lighter heart than before, for now she had no reason to fear disappointment. When they arrived at Camden, they went to the jail. John Adair was standing at a window; they saw and greeted each other, the women standing in the yard below. Perhaps in consequence of his advice, or prudential considerations on their part, they determined not to avail themselves of the good offices of Major Doyle on this occasion. Adair directed them to send the jailor up to him, and wrote a note introducing his sister to the acquaintance of Lord Rawdon. The two women then proceeded to the quarters of that nobleman. When they arrived at the gate, Mrs. McCalla stopped, saying she would wait there, and her companion proceeded by herself. She was admitted into the presence of Lord Rawdon, who read the note of introduction she handed to him, and observed, referring to the writer – that the small-pox had almost finished him; still, he had come very near escaping from the jail; that he was “a grand ‘scape-gallows.” On reading the letter of Captain Mille his color changed, and when he had finished it, turning to Mrs. Nixon, he said in an altered tone: “I am sorry these men have not been dismissed, as of right they ought.” He immediately wrote a discharge for eleven of the prisoners, and put it into her hands, saying: “You can get them out, madam. I am very sorry they have been confined so many weeks longer than they should have been.” At the same time he gave Mrs. Nixon a guinea. “This,” he said, “will bear your expenses.”

His lordship accompanied her on her way out, and as she passed through the gate his eye fell on Mrs. MeCalla, whom he instantly recognized. Walking to the spot where she stood near the gate, he said fiercely: “Did I not order you, madam, to keep out of my presence?” The matron’s independent spirit flashed from her eyes, as she answered:

“I had no wish, sir, to intrude myself on your presence; I stopped at the gate on purpose to avoid you.” Unable to resist the temptation of speaking her mind for once, now that she had a last opportunity, she added: “I might turn the tables on you, sir, and ask, why did you come out to the gate to insult a woman? I have received from you nothing but abuse. My distresses you have made sport of, and I ceased long since to expect anything from you but ill-treatment. I am now not your supplicant; I came to demand, as a right, the release of my husband!” So saying, she bowed to him contemptuously, wheeled about, and deliberately walked off, without stopping to see how her bold language was received. Mrs. Nixon hastened after her, pale as death, and at first too much frightened to speak. As soon as she found voice, she exclaimed: “Sally you have ruined us, I am afraid! Why, he may put us both in jail!”

Mrs. McCalla laughed outright. “It is not the first time, Mary,” she replied, “that I have given him to understand I thought him a villain!” The two made their way back to the prison, but even after they got there Mrs. Nixon had not recovered from her terror. She was informed that it would be some time before the prisoners could be released.

The blacksmith was then sent for, and came with his tools. The sound of the hammering in the appartments of the jail, gave the first intimation to the women who waited to greet their friends, that the helpless captives were chained to the floor. This precaution had been adopted not long before, in consequence of some of the prisoners having attempted an escape. They were then put in handcuffs or chained by the ankle. These men left the place of their long imprisonment and suffering in company with the two women, and as they marched through the streets of Camden, passing the British guard, they sang at the top of their voices the songs of the “liberty-men.”

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

Review: Hope for Healing from Domestic Abuse

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A domestic abuse survivor recommended that I read Hope for Healing from Domestic Abuse: Reaching for God’s Promise of Real Freedom, by Karen DeArmond Gardner. I took her advice because, as I hope I’ve made clear, I’m no expert on this topic. I can and will speak from my own experience and the stories others have shared with me, but I truly feel inadequate; I’m doing it because God has pushed me to, not because I consider myself qualified.

I do feel qualified, however, to recommend this book. It has not only educated me in areas of abuse and results of abuse that I’ve not dealt with, it has also forced me to deal with some things I didn’t even realize were issues in my life.

I never experienced physical abuse. Gardner did, so if you’ve been reading my posts and thinking, “Tammy, you just don’t know,” here’s someone who does, and she lived with the abuse for decades. She also experienced pretty much every other kind of abuse, which is why I found myself in these pages as well.

In case you’re still wondering, Hope for Healing from Domestic Abuse is for all of us – even those who are still living in their own personal hells, under their abusers’ control, and don’t know how to get out.

Gardner divides the book into sections that equate with the walk we all take on our journey to healing. In Part 1, we deal with the fact that we are, or were, victims. In Part 2, we’re survivors learning to breathe again. Part 3 introduces the overcomer, the one who learns to live again. In Part 4 we meet the Conqueror who can live freely. No, it’s not a literal roadmap. As is true with most things, we all have our own, unique experiences. However, the ground she covers is vast.

As you can see in the photo of my copy, I’ve done some serious marking and flagging. One of my favorite quotes, because it reflects exactly what I’ve been saying about my own experience, is found in Part 3.

“Your life will not be defined by what was done to you, but by what God does with what was done to you.”

Karen DeArmond Gardner

Gardner’s brutal honesty, with herself and us, is eye-opening. As many truths as I had already recognized about my own experience, with her help I saw even more. “Yes!” I shouted at one point. “Yes, it WAS abuse, and all this time I thought it was normal!”

Recovering from any abuse takes time. Recovering from domestic abuse definitely takes time, and patience, and honesty, and a willingness to be open to God’s touch in your life. This book is a great place to start that process and Gardner walks you carefully through the mine field of your memories and emotions, leads you right up to Jesus, and gives you practical steps to take to help you on your way.

Even her last section, after the official four parts, offers unexpected assistance.

  • How Does God Know What It Feels Like to be a Woman?
    Yes, she honestly answers this question.
  • Your Picker Isn’t Broken
    When you are ready to marry again, you will know what to look for.
  • Eight Questions You Don’t Have to Answer
    People inevitably ask questions. That doesn’t mean you owe them an answer.
  • God, Church, and Abuse
    Realistically, a lot of abuse happens that the church has no idea how to handle.
  • What Can the Church Do?
    This one is directed at church leadership, and it’s excellent!
  • Say This, Not That
    And this is for your friends, to help them understand.

As a fellow member of the club no one ever wants to join, Gardner has done right by the rest of us!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

God Tells Secrets

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On the Saturday before Resurrection Sunday (AKA Easter), I “happened” to be studying Genesis 22. The word happened is in quotation marks here because I don’t for one minute think it was coincidence. I’d been trying to study this chapter for a couple of weeks, but hadn’t had enough cell signal in my apartment to run the Through the Word app. (Awesome app: If you don’t have it, get it. Use it.)

So, on the day before one of my favorite days of the year, I read one of the most challenging chapters in God’s Word, and the timing was perfect.

You probably know the story. God makes a request of Abraham, asking him to sacrifice his only son. You can tell going in that something isn’t quite right, because God has a clear stance on human sacrifice. (He’s totally opposed.) So… God’s up to something. Right?

This chapter is so full of rich details that it’s easy to miss some things. Like the fact that it’s God who speaks to Abraham in verse 1, but after Abraham proves himself it’s God’s Son, Jesus, who does the talking. I can’t go into all the details, though. Let’s just look at this.

Obviously, Abraham was convinced God was up to something too. He knew God well enough, and so completely trusted God’s promise to give him countless descendants through Isaac, that he dared obey. As Hebrews 11:18-19 (NET) tells us, “God had told him, ‘Through Isaac descendants will carry on your name,’ and he reasoned that God could even raise him from the dead, and in a sense he received him back from there.”

Sound familiar? It should. In writing, it’s called foreshadowing when something is a warning or indication of some future event.

When Abraham told Isaac that God would provide the offering, he wasn’t just speaking about their personal sacrifice. He didn’t realize it, of course, but looking from this side of the cross we know he was also prophesying about the Ultimate Sacrifice. Abraham didn’t withhold his only son, his child of promise, and God didn’t withhold His only Son, His child of Promise.

Perhaps my favorite detail in Genesis 22 is one I had either never noticed before or hadn’t recalled. In verse 14 it says, “And Abraham called the name of that place ‘The Lord provides.’ It is said to this day, ‘In the mountain of the Lord provision will be made.’”

And it was. On that very same mountain, Mount Moriah, outside of Jerusalem, IT – Salvation – was provided when God gave up His only Son. A proverb spoken for about 2,000 years in the future tense was fulfilled when Jesus shouted (SHOUTED, my friends! Have you ever noticed that?!) “It is finished!”

Like I said, God’s timing is perfect. Due to weak cell signal, I’d been unable to do the Through the Word study for this chapter until the very day I needed to see it. It’s such a timely reminder of how completely God has everything planned out, and how wholly we can trust Him.

He is risen!
He is risen indeed!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

THE MOTHER OF PRESIDENT POLK.

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Holy as heaven a mother’s tender love!
The love of many prayers, and many tears,
Which changes not with dim, declining years.
                                                            Mrs. Norton.

The late President Polk’s mother, who died at Columbia, Tennessee, in the winter of 1851-2, was a member of the Presbyterian church, a highly exemplary Christian, and a faithful mother. The lessons which she taught her son in youth, were not forgotten when he had arrived at manhood, and risen to the highest office in the gift of a free and sovereign people. A single anecdote will show the abiding recollection and influence of her teachings.

A gentleman, who once visited Mr. Polk at the White House, remarked to him that his respect for the Sabbath was highly gratifying to the religious sentiment of the country; whereupon he made the following reply: “I was taught by a pious mother to fear God, and keep his commandments, and I trust that no cares of a government of my own, will ever tempt me to forget what I owe to the government if God.”

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

Why Has Tammy Been Quiet?

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Ok, so I’ve not been too obviously quiet, since I had several blog posts scheduled weeks out, but there are reasons you’ve only seen a few posts from me in the past month. One reason is that gnats invaded my apartment and this gal is allergic to gnat bites. The results had me down hard for about two weeks, but I’m coming out of it now praise God. But that’s really secondary to my big news.

We’re working on my new website!

I know things look the same here, and they will for…I’m not sure how long. One of the biggest hurdles has been successfully run, however, and my developer has completed the process of moving my blog to their server where it will become part of a new website in which I’ll be able to go more in depth in several areas.

This has been an educational trip, I tell ya!

We’re working on multiple things at once, and one of the most exciting for me is branding: color choice, style, etc. It’s kind of fun, and really interesting. It’s also making me think outside of my usual box. On the branding questionnaire, for instance, I encountered some surprises. One that caught me off guard was something along the lines of “If your brand were an animal what animal would it be?”

My answer? A peacock!
If you know me, you know I love peacocks,
but my response goes beyond simple animal preference.

Have you ever heard a peacock? If so, you would probably agree they can be pretty annoying. Frankly, the same could be said about me – has been. Honestly, there will be times you probably don’t want to hear what I have to say. In the past, I’ve been pretty conservative, staying in the middle of the road, trying not to offend anyone, but there’s no time for that anymore.

I have a revelation of Eternity that demands I do all I can to help others not only live well in this life, but also prepare for the next. There’s not a person on Earth who is guaranteed tomorrow. We may want to ignore that fact, but we can’t change it. Hebrews 9:27 (NET) speaks truth loudly when it says, “And just as people are appointed to die once, and then to face judgement…”

Yep, I’m not the only one who can say things that people don’t want to hear. The Word of God can be just as annoying as that peacock’s voice when you don’t want to listen to what God has to say. Even so, our preferences do not change the truth God speaks.

And then there’s the undeniable beauty! Even if you’re not a peacock lover, you have to admit that, when he fans his tail, the peacock demands attention. He’s lovely. He’s majestic. Each feather is simply amazing, so much so that they’re reproduced in myriad artistic ways! Have you ever studied one, literally handled it with intent? They’re awesome!

God’s Word is like that too! It’s beautiful! You can look at it in intricate detail and be absolutely amazed. You can come to the same passage you’ve read before and see something entirely new that you missed the first time. Like that extraordinary peacock, the Bible demands attention, drawing you in and leaving you in awe. Of course, the peacock is only a bird; it can’t even begin to the compare with the Word, but you get what I mean. I hope?

And that is why I chose this animal as the answer to that question.

I am super excited about this move and all it will help me do! The website will serve as a home to Experiencing the Bible and a devotional I’ve begun writing, as well as anything else God has me do. I’m also making plans for a newsletter that will allow me to communicate more personally and share snippets from the upcoming book. But there’s more! At my developer’s request, I’ve been making a wishlist.

One of the things I’m particularly excited about having is a dedicated reviews page where I can share my thoughts on, and experiences with, various resources. My primary focus being on helping Christians grow in the Lord, you can expect to see reviews of Bibles and other such things for sure. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll include other types of reviews on a permanent page or simply keep sharing them here as blog posts. Feel free to offer up an opinion on that.

Don’t worry, my blog will continue to be just as eclectic as it has been.
My brain demands it!

So yes, I’ve been quiet lately. In large part, it’s because I couldn’t post anything that wasn’t prescheduled during the transition, at least I don’t think I could have? It’s also because I’ve been busy, not just with this move to a full-blown home on the web, but also with my full-time job; I kept working during the gnat debacle (and came home each night and cratered) because there’s so very much to do. 

You may remember that I work for a church, Hillside Church in Mont Belvieu, Texas, to be exact. We’re deep into one of our two busiest times of the year right now as we prepare for the auction that provides the bulk of the funds for Operation BAM, a vitally important ministry that helps untold numbers of people, all around the world, every year. You read a little about it in my post “Relief to the Texas Panhandle.”

This ministry is one of my absolute favorites. Yes, we have the disaster response truck. We also provide car seats to a local hospital so that mamas who can’t afford one are taken care of. We support missionaries and organizations around the world. We provide protein for shelters and other organizations that usually only receive donations of non-perishables. We make Christmas dreams come true for multiple families every year, and also celebrate Christmas by taking trailers loaded with bicycles into neighborhoods and passing those bicycles (and trikes, and this past year scooters) out to resident children and any others who show up. We have a team of quilters who make special blankets for those who are going through cancer treatments, we support a men’s rehabilitation facility, and we help out a local pregnancy resource center.

And more!
It seems every time I turn around
Operation BAM is doing more, and I love it!

So right now I’m neck deep in auction items and preparations for our upcoming Crawfish Boil & Auction. Yes, this means I’ll still probably be a little quiet, if not as much as I have been, but only for a couple more weeks…maybe three.

Hopefully, I’ll soon be fully back and you’ll be seeing at least three posts a week from here on out. In the meantime, thank you for being part of my community. I love having you here!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

MARY GOULD.

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

Far rung the groves and gleamed the midnight grass,
With flambeau, javelin and naked arm;
As warriors wheeled their culverins of brass,
Sprung from the woods a bold athletic mass,
Whom virtue fires and liberty combines.
                                                                        Campbell

Such is the power of mighty love.
                                                            Dryden

Early in the evening of the third day of July, 1778 -the date of the memorable Wyoming massacre – Mrs. Mary Gould, wife of James Gould, with the other females remaining in the village of Wyoming, sought safety in the fort. In the haste and confusion attending this act, she left a boy of hers about four years old, behind. Obeying the instincts of a mother, and turning a deaf ear to the admonitions of friends, she started off on a perilous search for the missing one. It was dark; she was alone, and the foe was lurking around; but the agonies of death could not exceed her agonies of suspense; so she hastened on. She traversed the fields which, but a few hours before,

“Were trampled by the hurrying crowd;” 

where

“_ fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered in the battle cloud,”

and where unarmed hands were now resting on cold and motionless hearts. After a search of between one and two hours, she found her child on the bank of the river, sporting with a little band of playmates. Clasping the jewel in her arms, she hurried back and reached the fort in safety.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

THE WOMEN OF WYOMING.

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The guardians of the land.
                                                Holmes

Justice and gratitude, writes Miner,* “demand a tribute to the praiseworthy spirit of the wives and daughters of Wyoming. While their husbands and fathers were on public duty, they cheerfully assumed a large portion of the labor which females could do. They assisted to plant, made hay, husked and garnered the corn. As the settlement was mainly dependent on its own resources for powder, Mr. Hollenback caused to be brought up the river a pounder; and the women took up their floors, dug out the earth, put it in casks, and run water through it, -as ashes are bleached: – then took ashes, in another cask, and made ley -mixed the water from the earth with weak ley, boiled it, set it to cool, and the saltpetre rose to the top. Charcoal and sulphur were then used, and powder was produced for the public defence.”

• History of Wyoming, page 218.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

You’re Not Protecting the Kids

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Please understand that everything I say in this series comes not from professional counseling or professionally collected statistics. I come to you as one whose husband was a narcissist, and as a woman who has an unsettling number of friends who were also married to narcissists. Each of our experiences was different, yet also disturbingly alike in many ways. The fact that living with their narcissist fathers seriously, negatively, affected our children is consistent.

Our children are one huge reason so many victims stay with narcissistic spouses (and yes, it can be the wife who is the narcissist). They are one of the reasons I stayed, for sure. How could it be right to deprive them of a father, after all?

Except it wasn’t me who deprived them of a father; it was their father. He had time for them if he could benefit from the “investment,” but for the most part… Well, let’s just say I wasn’t surprised by my oldest son’s reaction to the news that I didn’t want to have a funeral or even a memorial.

He was relieved. As it turned out, he and his brother had already discussed how they could possibly come up with something nice to say about their dad if they had to speak at a funeral. 

And that right there pretty much says it all. Well, not all. It gets worse.

See, I thought I was protecting them, but instead I was not only not protecting them, I was letting it appear that I was complicit. For instance, every summer for several years I worked the homeschool curriculum fair circuit with my publisher and another vendor to earn money for the curriculum and supplies Jack claimed to be unable to afford. It was a God thing for which I was very grateful. I was also grateful for my amazing mother-in-law, who let them stay with her every time I had to leave. Every. Time.

From the day they were born, Jack would not be responsible for his sons. Period. Plus, with me gone and the kids gone, he was free to spend all the time he wanted with other women. The problem was that I never made it clear to the kids what was happening so, as I found out much later, they thought we were going on vacation all the time and leaving them behind.

Nope. No vacation. Well, I think in the 41 years we were married we took two, and our youngest, who was a baby, went with us on the first.

So yeah, I was not only failing to protect them from his neglect; I was letting it appear that I was actively choosing to neglect them too. It’s no wonder that, as adults, they spent a lot of time not coming around.

And then there is another family, and the kids who fell completely for their father’s brainwashing. They were there when things went down, violent things; some were even victims of the violence, but to my knowledge he has most of them convinced that all the problems they had were a result of their mother’s actions. They don’t speak to her today.

I can’t go on. I can’t share the other stories I’ve heard, the pain and suffering innocent children have gone through as their narcissistic fathers dealt out mental and emotional abuse, gaslighted, isolated… all while their innocent mothers thought they were doing what was right, trying to be the good wife, trying to avoid divorce, falling for the lie that they were the ones with the problem, that they were crazy, that they were unhinged, that they were lying and those things never happened.

Mama (or Dad), if you choose to keep walking the walk with God by your side, YOU CAN survive and even thrive while continuing to live with your narcissist: I did. But don’t assume that you’ll be able to protect your kids. God can, but you can’t. If God tells you to stay put, then by all means stay put. But if He doesn’t…

And here I repeat myself, as I expect to throughout this series. Abuse comes in many forms that are not physical, and in my opinion it’s the non-physical abuse that leaves the most open wounds. If you are a parent, this isn’t just about you; it’s about your kids too, and you need to go to God before you decide to keep them in an abusive situation.

They’re worth it. They’re worth everything.

And so are you!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C