Ocmulgee Indian Festival

We ran into this fella at the Indian festival.  He makes his own bows, arrows, arrow heads & strings.  Then he hunts with them.  It was amazing to watch!  Ben (which was his name too) loved it.  He demonstrated how to make a fire with just a stick

 

 

 

Sitting atop the largest of several Indian mounds at this site.  Lola was our guest and we had a blast with her.  We discussed the meaning of the mounds and their purpose.  Much of it is speculation as there is no written record or oral history that made it to our century.

I believe that a Biblical worldview gives the answer.  It's found in Genesis 11 which delineates the attempted building of the tower of babel.  God confused their languages in order to dilute their ability to continue.

This caused the post flood population to spread out and fill the earth which was God's original command.  They moved in their language groups and began to spread out in the time of great continental shift.

What did they take with them? 

Their false faith - the worship of the dragon.  A demonic knock off system of the worship of the Most High God.  Seems I remember Satan saying the He would 'become like the most high'.

This ziggurat structure, which is described aptly in Genesis 11, has been found on every continent except Antarctica.  I guess the penguins had better sense than us.

The same structure with religious significance often involving human sacrifice to placate these lesser gods.

I used this opportunity to again drive home with my children the reason we worship the ONE & ONLY MOST HIGH GOD.  It is fascinating to apply God's Word to what we see of our past human history and to connect the dots and see that God's Word once again makes the most sense of what we see.



 WHEN I CROSS THE BRIDGE...



I've had the privilege of 'doing life' with some pretty fascinating folks over my 12 years here in Georgia.  Standing out among them are John & Marion Vance.  I've never met a couple who were so 'in love' even after 67 years of marriage.  Sadly, Marion's Parkinson's overcame her zest for life & God graciously took her home after nearly 68 years of marriage. 
Knowing that her voice would soon be gone, a couple of years ago she asked her husband John, "When I cross the bridge, will you hold my hand"? 
John met Marion when he was tasked to befriend and report on a suspected communist spy in his military unit.  This guy was a party animal and John was quite the opposite but he had to adjust his lifestyle to fulfill his orders.  Not surprisingly, this mission found John in the USO one evening when his eyes fell upon "the cutest young gal" he'd ever seen.
New mission - win that gal's heart and boy did he ever...in short order.  In less than a year they were married.
Stubbornly, John determined to fulfill the last request of his 'bride' as he lovingly referred to her.  On Sunday, August the 11th - He lay down beside her and held her hand...all day long and into Monday.  Marion went to live with Jesus shortly after midnight and John held her hand as she crossed the bridge.
Deeply moved by this account, I gathered this story after praying with John in the wee hours of that Monday morning and the following literally flew from my mind to the paper.  It was a God thing.
Graciously, God enabled me to read it at the funeral a few days later.

"When I Cross The Bridge"

in memory of Marion Vance

"When I cross the bridge,

will you hold my hand?"

she asked him and he nodded yes. 

Her wish had ever been his command

Over the past 67 plus years

they'd crossed many a span

Some were a blessing and others heart rending

but all were crossed hand in hand

See John fell hard for that pretty little gal

and he's never been able to recover

Truth be told she fell hard for him too,

for each there was none but the other

Their love was one in a million. 

A picture of God's original plan

Three wonderful children, blessed memories in spades

were crafted with joy by the Vance clan

Some bridges were not so cheerful,

Parkinson's took its toll

Marion never once complained

instead, God's grace she extolled

As her voice was growing weary

she asked of her ever faithful man

"When I cross the bridge,

will you hold my hand?"

Determined to give her one last gift

with resolve John  took his stand

and as she crossed Jordan's bridge,

He faithfully held her hand

Until with aching heart of faith

to another he gave her hand

This hand still bore the scar of the nail. 

"Well done good and faithful man"

 

Went hunting at the Creath's Sunday evening.  Took a nice walk alone along the swamp border and found the old ladder stand overlooking a freshly cut hay field. 
I love being alone in the woods, especially above the forest as the world below forgets an intruder is there.  You get to see and hear things that most people never have the opportunity to see and hear.
It's also a great time to pray.  That's what I found myself doing.  We had a sweet time at church that morning.  Preached out of Romans 8:5-13 - "Saints & Aints & How to Tell the Difference"  I was applying that text to myself and asking God about it.  One of our families had their home broken into during church yesterday.  I found myself praying for their peace.  Then one by one I could see the face of my flock and as the Spirit brought them to my mind's eye I would lift them before the Father.  It was a sweet time and time seemed suspended in a spiritual pause that I've experienced so many times before.
Then I heard a twig break behind me and I remembered what I was there for.  "Father, it sure would be nice to put some fresh pork in the freezer.  Would you send a nice fat pig my way and make my shot true?"  30 seconds passed before I saw the boar jet out into the middle of the field.  He put the breaks on and I raised my 270 to that sweet spot in the hollow of my shoulder.  Instinctively, he caught that movement and did and about face in 4th gear headed back to the swamp from whence he came. 
"Oh well", I told myself, "That's why they call it hunting and not shooting."  Amazingly I heard that boar busting through the bush to my left.  My rifle butt found the sweet spot ahead of time and the black boar appeared just 10 yards away and stopped.
Now I was thinking about not messing up the meat.  Deliberately the cross hairs were lowered to the base of the neck.  Deep breath, half exhale, squeeze...boar down!  My future son in law heard the shoot and appeared at the edge of the field moments later.
We loaded our harvest on his four wheeler and headed back to the homestead.  Now the work was about to begin.
My sons Ben (4) and Sam (7) were fascinated and they stayed out for the two hours it took to completely process this magnificent animal. 
We made many a memory last night that no doubt will be some of my favorites - not the least of which was Ben's anatomy questions and his insistence on poking and prodding every part of the pig.
God was so good to bless us with such an abundance of fresh meat.  He has given us "our daily bread" once again.