Love’s holy flame for ever burneth;
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
 . . . at times oppressed.
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in heaven its perfect rest.
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest time of love is there.

No class of laborers in the broad harvest field of the world endure so many sacrifices of comfort and of home felicities as the missionaries to foreign countries. Of the trials peculiar to mothers who go forth on such an errand of humanity, the keenest must be their separation from their children. The pernicious habits and influences of a pagan community, often render it absolutely necessary that their offspring should be sent to a civilized land to be educated. This duty, however painful, is imperative, and they who accuse the mother of hardness because she does it, are either grossly ignorant, or haters of truth. Many instances of heroic firmness and almost superhuman calmness under such trials, are on record, but one may stand as a type of the whole.

Mrs. Comstock * of the Burmah Baptist mission felt called upon to part with her two children, whom God had given her while on the field of labor. The hour for separation came, and taking them by the hand, she led them down to the ship that was to bear them for ever from her sight. Having invoked the blessing of Heaven upon them, she gave each the parting kiss and, with streaming eyes, lifted her hands towards heaven and exclaimed: ” My Saviour! I do this for thee.”

Amid the jungles of the East,
  Where gloomiest forms of sin are rife,
Like flowerets in a desert drear,
  Her treasured ones had sprung to life.

And smiling round her, day by day,
  Though cares unnumbered weigh her heart,
Their prattle, full of music tones,
  Unceasing joy and hope impart.

Their little minds, like tender buds
  In vernal hours, she sees unfold,
And young affection in their eyes
  Is gleaming like a gem of gold.

But ‘mid the toils that press her sore –
  The spirit-wants of ‘wildered ones –
These buds must often miss the dew,
  And plead in vain for constant suns.

She sees their smiles, their music hears,
  And feels affection’s holy thrall;
But duty’s voice, from out the skies,
  In sweeter tones, is heard o’er all.

To Western climes, illumed by truth,
  And blest with learning’s sacred flowers,
These blossoms of her heart must go,
  To bloom henceforth in stranger bowers.

She leads them to the waiting ship;
  She kneels in anguish on the deck,
And while she breathes a silent prayer,
  Their arms like tendrils twine her neck.

She tears her from the loved away,
  Whom she on earth no more may see,

And looking up to heaven, exclaims,
  “My Saviour, I do this for thee!”

Then hastens to her task again,
  The pleasant task her Saviour’s given,
That, finished all, she may ascend,
  And lure the distant ones to heaven.

• Sarah Davis Comstock was the wife of the Rev. Grover § Comstock, who was stationed at Kyouk Phyoo in the province of Arracan, Burmah. She was born at Brookline, Massachusetts, in 1812 and died at Ramree, April twenty-eighth, 1843.


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
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


                        Experience teaches us
That resolution’s a sole help at need ;
And this, my lord, our honor teacheth us,
That we be bold in every enterprise.

On the fifteenth of March, 1697, a band of Indian prowlers broke into the house of Mr. Dustin, of Haverhill, Massachusetts, and captured his wife, her nurse,* and a babe about one week old. The last was killed before leaving the town. The other two were marched through the wilderness for several days till they came to a halt on an island in the Merrimac river about six miles above Concord, New Hampshire. There they were placed in a wigwam occupied by two men, three women, seven children of theirs, and an English boy who had been captured about a year previous at Worcester, Massachusetts. The captives remained there till the thirtieth of that month before they planned escape. On that day the boy was requested by Mrs. Dustin to ask his master where to strike “to kill instantly;” and the savage was simple enough to tell, and also instructed him in the art of scalping. “At night,” to use the concise language of Mr. Bancroft, “while the household slumbers, the captives, each with a tomahawk, strike vigorously, and fleetly, and with division of labor, -and of the twelve sleepers, ten lie dead; of one squaw the wound was not mortal; one child was spared from design. The love of glory next asserted its power; and the gun and tomahawk of the murderer of her infant, and a bag heaped full of scalps were choicely kept as trophies of the heroine. -The streams are the guides which God has set for the stranger in the wilderness: in a bark canoe, the three descend the Merrimac to the English settlements, astonishing their friends by their escape, and filling the land with wonder at their successful daring.”

Mrs. Dustin had the happiness of meeting her husband and seven children, who had escaped from the house before the savages entered, and the honor of a very handsome present from Colonel Nicholson, governor of Maryland, as a reward for her heroism.*

* Eleven years after the capture of Mrs. Dustin, a party of French and Indians from Canada made an attack upon the inhabitants of Haverhill, and killed and captured about forty persons. Several women exhibited on the occasion a remarkable degree of sagacity, courage and presence of mind. We condense from Mirick’s History of Haverhill.

   Ann Whittaker escaped the tomahawk by hiding in an apple chest under the stairs, – A negro servant, named Hagar, covered a couple of children with tubs in the cellar and then concealed herself behind some meat barrels. The Indians trod on a foot of one of the children and took meat from the barrel behind which Hagar had hidden, without discovering any of them.-The wife of Thomas Hartshorn, took all her children except the babe – which she was afraid would cry -through a trap-door into the cellar. The enemy entered and plundered the house, but did not find the way into the cellar. They took the infant from its bed in the garret and threw it out of the window. Strange to say, though stunned, it lived and grew to rugged manhood. – The wife of Captain Simon Wainwright, after the enemy had killed her husband, let them into the house and treated them kindly. They at length demanded money, when she went out, as she pretended, to get it. They soon ascertained – though too late to find. her – that she had fled with all her children but one, who was taken captive.


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
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

Merry Christmas to Me!

Here I sit, thinking about Christmas, and my heart is so full it could almost be Thanksgiving. I decided to come share, and find myself oddly short on words. So this may be a “scribble scrabble letter,” as Jo March would say. (I don’t have a copy of Little Women, so feel free to correct the quote in the comments.)

Although Jack passed on October 1st last year, it feels like it’s Christmas that marks the true end of my first year of freedom. I was still finding my way in those first few months, navigating “new widowhood” waters. So much has changed.

Things are still changing, as I’m recognizing ingrained “training” and countering it. Like the day, only a few months ago, when I realized I was rushing through a store and stopped in the middle of an aisle, frozen by the realization that I was still acting as if he were at home growing progressively angrier at my absence. There was NO ONE, other than me, who cared where I was or what I was doing. Yes, I intentionally slowed down and chose to enjoy the process.

So, side note: When you’re coming out of an abusive relationship, realize that it will take time to deal with all your baggage. That was a heavy backpack I’d not even realized I was wearing.

So many wonderful things have happened in the past year. Relationships that had been strained (because of him) have been growing increasingly stronger. My emotional health has improved unimaginably. And my physical health, TIA aside, has been great too.

Where my body is concerned, I’ve had more money and mental real estate to invest in taking care of me. I’d tried before, because I knew I had to stay healthy to keep him healthy, but his care had always been the priority. Now I am at a place where I know what works for me and I’m able to plan to maintain. For instance, knowing I’ll go months without widows’ benefits, I’ve been buying my key supplements in advance. Part of them anyway. I could never have done that before.

The biggest change is peace. I always tried to stay focused on God, and had His gift of peace, but the peace that comes from no constant strife and no 24/7 television? That is something I still delight over. My home is so quiet most of the time that…it’s bliss.

And it’s true. I really don’t own a television and it’s by choice. Many people think I’m nuts, but on those rare occasions when I’m in the mood, like during this season of The Voice, I watch with my sister on the couch that’s only steps away. (And yes, I’m glad Huntley won, though I felt the last four all could have.)

I’ve been asked if I plan to stay in my tiny home until Jesus comes back. Yes, unless God has a different plan, I do. I am happier here than I have been anywhere. I hate housework, and this requires almost none. I love silence and this gives me much. I have family right here, and love the casual time I spend with them.

Yeah, that’s a big part of why I’m so thankful this Christmas season. Casual fellowship with family is a beautiful thing. It doesn’t have to be planned; it just happens. Even my grandson pops in on occasion, sometimes with his fiancé, and that sort of thing never would have happened before. Frankly, it would have made me uncomfortable on many levels back when Jack ruled the house.

As I celebrate Jesus this season and look to 2024 with anticipation, my heart is full. There were so many years when… Nah, not even going to think about those years. They’re over. God has brought me into a new season.

“Look, the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone. The flowers are springing up, the season of singing birds has come, and the cooing of turtledoves fills the air.”
‭‭Song of Songs‬ ‭2:11-12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

My Legacy Bibles Plan

The Inspire Bible

If you know me at all, you know I’m serious about the Bible. My current “readthrough” Bible is filled, almost cover to cover, with extensive notes like the ones you see here. My original plan was to give this Bible to one of my grandchildren as soon as I finish the readthrough, and get started on the next Bible right away, intending it for another grandchild. (It’s funny; I had never even heard the phrase “Legacy Bible” until after I decided I would pass it along.) The thing is, once I really thought about how long it has taken me to work my way through this Bible, I knew it would take too many years to accomplish what I’d been considering.

So, after backing up and thinking it through, I devised a new plan. Instead, I would purchase three journaling Bibles and start transferring my notes from scratch. Doing this had one distinct advantage: I could make a point of printing instead of writing in cursive, since cursive seems to have fallen by the wayside and at least one of the “kids” is unable to read it. (Yep, as you can see in the above photo, much of what I’ve written is in cursive.)

During my research, I stumbled across this treasure.

This is the Interleaved edition of the New King James Version (NKJV) of the Bible. Interleaved means they’ve inserted blank sheets of paper between the printed pages. I’ve heard of Bibles being done this way historically but had no idea any publisher was offering them today. When I found it, I got seriously excited! This Bible has enough journaling space to hold not only my notes, but those of my grandkids as well, so it can continue to serve them throughout their lives.

I ordered the Bibles in leather, because I truly do want them to last, and while waiting for them to arrive I purchased a specific set of pens (Papermate Inkjoy) that I will use in all three Bibles. I don’t color code, exactly, or not consistently. I use the various colors more to mark different sections as well as to create a clearer indication of which notes go with which verses.

I also created guide sheets like the ones I used a hundred years ago when I did calligraphy. These sheets, when placed under the page I’m writing on, help me maintain consistency in my writing.

I speak as if I’m actively working on this. I’m not yet; I’ve actually managed all of two pages at this point.

I still have a little bit of both the Old and New Testament studies to complete in my current Bible, and I’ve decided to wait until I finish them before I officially start the project. Looking at what I’ve managed so far while working on these three all at once (because I want consistency and it saves time), I calculate it’s going to take me about three years to finish them, but that’s a lot less than if I’d followed my original plan.

I’m trying to ignore the fact that, since he’s already engaged, my grandson could conceivably have presented me with a great-grandchild by the time I hand him his copy. That’s just too much for me to handle.

But yeah, I’m excited about working on what will be the single most valuable gift I give three of my favorite people.

And here are your Amazon Affiliate links for both the Bible and pens. As an associate, I may make money off qualified purchases.

NKJV, Interleaved Bible, Journal Edition, Genuine Leather, Brown, Red Letter, Comfort Print: The Ultimate Bible Journaling Experience

Paper Mate InkJoy 100RT Retractable Ballpoint Pens, Medium Point (1.0mm), Assorted, 20 Count

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C


Stick to your aim; the mongrel’s hold will slip,
But only crow-bars loose the bull-dog’s lip;
Small as he looks, the jaw that never yields,
Drags down the bellowing monarch of the fields.

The first man who commenced a settlement in the town of Salisbury, Vermont, on the Otter creek, was Amos Storey, who, in making an opening in the heart of the wilderness on the right of land to which the first settler was entitled, was killed by the fall of a tree. His widow, who had been left in Connecticut, immediately resolved to push into the wilderness, with her ten small children, to take his place and preserve and clear up his farm. And this bold resolution she carried out to the letter, in spite of every difficulty, hardship and danger which for years constantly beset her in her solitary location in the woods. Acre after acre of the dense and dark forest melted away before her axe, which she handled with the dexterity of the most experienced chopper. The logs and bushes were piled and burnt by her own strong and untiring hand: crops were raised, by which, with the fruits of her fishing and unerring rifle, she supported herself and her hardy brood of children. As a place of refuge from the assaults of Indians or dangerous wild beasts, she dug out an underground room, into which, through a small entrance made to open under an overhanging thicket in the bank of the stream, she nightly retreated with her children. And here she continued to reside, thus living and thus laboring, unassisted, till, by her own hand and the help which her boys soon began to afford her, she cleared up a valuable farm and placed herself in independent circumstances in life. 

* For this anecdote and that of Mrs. Hendee, we are indebted to the Hon. Daniel P. Thompson, of Montpelier, author of ” The Green Mountain Boys,” ” Locke Amsden,” &c. In a note to the author, in a letter which contained these anecdotes, he appropriately observes that “the women of the Green Mountains deserve as much credit for their various displays of courage, endurance and patriotism, in the early settlement of their State, as was ever awarded to their sex for similar exhibitions in any part of the world. In the controversy with New York and New Hampshire, which took the form of war in many instances; in the predatory Indian incursions, and in the war of the Revolution, they often displayed a capacity for labor and endurance, a spirit and firmness in the hour of danger, and a resolution and hardihood in defending their families, and their threatened land against all enemies, whether domestic or foreign, that would have done honor to the dames of Sparta.”


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
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

Experiencing the Bible with Children

I was asked, recently, if I would consider writing Experiencing the Bible for Children. I’d really have to pray about that one because, though I spent years homeschooling and working with homeschoolers, it’s been a long time since I’ve actually dealt with curriculum for children, and in a sense this book is a Bible curriculum of sorts.

However, as a parent, I strongly encourage you to work through Experiencing the Bible with your kids. Whether you realize it or not, you are continually translating the truths of the world around you into a language your children can understand, and you can do the same thing with my book.

You may not be homeschooling, but if you know any homeschoolers you might want to talk to them about the power of studying as a family. Family discussions, with everyone having the opportunity to both listen and give input, can be truly power-packed.

They do much more than merely offer a rich setting for learning the material being discussed. They also let children of all ages witness their parents actively pursuing knowledge and understanding. This is huge, since much of what any child learns is from what he sees adults do. Yes, that old adage, “More is caught than is taught”? True!

Such discussions also help children, people of all ages, learn how to have true conversations and even debates without arguing and getting into fights. In today’s culture, where it seems we’ve reached a point of “fight first and maybe agree later” this is a vital skill.

Open family discussions can also head off potential misunderstandings. I have a personal story that is a classic example of what happens when a child hears something and fails to understand it, but doesn’t feel comfortable asking questions. The preacher was reading Psalm 23 and for the life of me I could not figure out why I wouldn’t want the shepherd to lead me beside still waters.

This is only a short list of benefits, but you get my point. I encourage you to get a copy of Experiencing the Bible, whether in paperback, ebook, or audiobook, and work through it as a family or in a small group.

You can get the book in all three formats at Amazon by clicking HERE.

You can also get the ebook, and name your own price, at Smashwords by clicking HERE.

Get into the Word and be blessed!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

What About the Shepherds?

It’s December 2nd, and I’m reading a chapter a day in Luke leading up to Christmas. It’s convenient how Luke “happens” to have 24 chapters.

So in chapter 2 we encounter the shepherds, and today I found myself asking, “What about them? What happened to them?” The story of Jesus’ birth is so exciting that it’s easy to gloss over the part of the shepherds even as awesome as it is. But these weren’t just characters in a story; they were living, breathing men whose lives were touched by the supernatural in a way that had never happened before. I mean, they were the first to see the long awaited Messiah, and they were sent to His birthplace by an angel!

So what became of them? What became of their children? Surely they told their kids about their experience! Did they or their children follow Jesus once He entered into His ministry? Were they among the 5,000 men (plus women and kids!) who were served by Jesus and His disciples? Did their children, and maybe grandchildren, lay palm branches on the road as Jesus entered Jerusalem? Were they among the first Christians?

Or did some of them, as time went on while they were waiting for Jesus to grow up, lose that heavenly vision? Unlike Mary, who “kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often” (Luke 2:19), did they lose track of Him and His significance or, worse yet, figure that by the time He was old enough to do anything they would be too old to care? I hope not.

But I do wonder.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Christmas Memories

At church tonight, several people shared their favorite Christmas memories. Of course such things make me think, and I had an epiphany.

My two favorite memories are about getting “nothing.”

I don’t mean that literally, but close. The first was the Christmas after my mother left an abusive marriage. We had so little money that we had no Christmas decorations. On Christmas Eve, after my sister and I went to bed, Mother went to the tree lot and bought a little white-painted stick for next to nothing. Then she laid out our two small gifts each as if they’d come from Santa.

My dismay when I saw the “tree” on Christmas morning probably hurt Mother’s feelings, but the love I felt… We may not have gotten much, but we were grateful for what we got and were even more thankful for the fact that we were safe, secure, and together in our own home.

The other memory… I think I mentioned it here at some point. My favorite place to be, Christmas or not, was my grandparents’ home. They weren’t rich, but they made each of us feel like we were their favorite and always chose gifts they felt we would appreciate. That year my gifts were a pair of socks and a plastic dime store nativity scene snow globe. It spoke love to me, and still does today even though it was destroyed years ago.

As parents, we so often feel the need to produce for our children. Maybe, instead, we should take time to look at the memories that mean the most to us. I honestly remember very few gifts from my 58 Christmases, but I remember a skirt, a piece of candy, and a plastic snow globe – because they spoke of love.

Merry Christmas.

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

Gone Tomorrow

Copyright Barry Hatch All rights reserved
Copyright Barry Hatch
All rights reserved

We were in the back of our Girl Scout leader’s car, on our way to a campout, when I overheard a girl with short, curly hair telling the story of the day years before when she had gotten her incredibly long hair cut off. As I heard the details, I popped up and interrupted her to ask if she remembered two girls watching. She did, and I informed her that I was one of those girls. RAM – Randomly, I instantly accessed a memory I’d totally forgotten. (And, just as randomly, it was the “Hare Today” title of a previous post that triggered this memory as well as inspiring today’s title.)

Mother was a hair stylist (We called them beauticians in those days.) until I was in Junior High and my parents started a business. As a result of her profession, Clarissa and I spent many hours in various salons. The day the girl came in with the longest hair I’d ever seen on a child (she could sit on it) and cut it SHORT really had burned itself into my hard drive. I may not access the information often, but it’s there.

I remember being appalled. I remember being astounded that she was so happy with her new ‘do.’ I remember being convinced that she would regret it forever.

How often, in life, are we able to get answers to our impossible questions? I mean, really? When I realized who she was, I had to know. Had she regretted it? Ever?

“Never!” she said with a smile.

No, it wasn’t one of the great questions of the universe, but it was satisfying to finally have it answered nonetheless. I love it when things like that happen!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C