In Sweden, 1857, a little boy was born into poverty. Sweden sounds very far from Nome, Alaska, and a poor boy being born seems to have nothing to do with Nome, however, Eric Lindblom was pivotal in the history both of Nome, and the United States.
I seriously doubt that anyone has ever heard of him before. His mother was a beggar, his father died early in Eric's life. Eric became apprenticed to a tailor in Stockholm, Sweden. A tailor is often recognized as a very poor trade, but in spite of this, Eric was able to lift himself and his mother out of poverty through it. His work carried him to many countries including, but not limited to, France, Russia, Germany, and England. In England, he met and married Miss Mary Ann Smith, herself a daughter of a tailor.
The Lindbloms traveled to the U.S. shortly after their marriage. Incidently, their marriage anniversary is coming up on August 2ND. They traveled west. In Montana, they became American citizens. In Idaho, on an Indian Reservation, their son, Olof, was born. Their daughter, Brita, was born before they reached California.
In California, Eric took courses in mining. It was only a short time later when gold fever struck. Drawn by rumors of riches in Alaska, Eric joined a ship as a sailor and traveled to Kotzebue in 1897. From that time forth, Eric became a legendary figure. While this was the case however, the sources of his adventures are credible.
Eric found the rumors to be false. Naturally he was disappointed. He decided to board another ship and go somewhere else. Near Teller, Alaska, the ship became nearly ice-bound. Lindblom deserted his post on the ship. Technically, Lindblom, with the other people on board the ship, were supposed to be getting freshwater, instead, Lindblom landed and hid in a snow cavern. After three days, he left and began his travels. On the way, he met a prospector. Hiding under the prospector's load of furs, Lindblom went to Golovin, nearly suffocating on the way. There, he traveled to the mouth of the Snake River, or, present-day Nome. With two other men, Jafet Lindeberg, and John Brynteson, they panned the river for gold. The three of them were the founders of Nome, though Lindeberg is usually credited with it.
So much for Eric's pivotal part in the history of Nome. His part in the history of the U.S. has to do with the fact that he struck it rich, very rich. Eric's single gold strike began what we know today as the Klondike Gold Rush. The Gold Rush involved hundreds of thousands of people. It helped Alaska become populated, and it helped America's reputation as a place of opportunity.
(This has been: Snippets of Nome, Alaska, Part 1. Look in next time to read: Stories of my Life:_)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
An In-between: God Grants Wishes, so be Careful What you Wish
"Lord, we're planning on going to South Dakota in a couple of months. We know some of our cars aren't running quite right. We pray, Lord, that if one of the cars we're planning to take is going to break down, that it would do so before we leave." Thus prayed Dad one morning a few weeks ago.
Yesterday, we all got ready to go to a wedding located close to three hours away. The wedding began at 4 P.M., and Dad intended to leave in time to get there thirty minutes early; just in case.
My sister mentioned to me before we left that she "disliked being way early like that." I mean,"
she said, "I don't like being late either, but not whole thirty minutes early. I like to be on time or maybe just a little bit early," she said.
"Man," one of my brothers said before we left, "I don't see why we have to drive three hours in the hot sun to go to a wedding for people we don't really know that well, and when there probably wouldn't be anybody we know there!" (These were his words, although he was slightly exxagerating since we did know quite a few people).
The hot sun was a big deal for the rest of us, particularly myself and Mom. Our car didn't have airconditioning, and a three hour drive in the sun did not sound particularly fun. I think I did my share of complaining as well; and we all wished for airconditioning.
Our van had been repaired only the day before, so when we got on the road to go to the wedding, Dad was alert for how the van was driving.
"Wow!" he said after a few minutes, "this is driving better than ever before! If the airconditioning was fixed, I'd say we could take this to South Dakota!"
We suffered two hours in the hot car. It was probably close to a hundred in there. Traffic was extremely slow, and that did not help anything at all. At 2:30, we had only just passed Olympia. Traffic finally lightened up a bit then and Dad started to accelarate a little. That is when it the car showed that it had a voice all it's own.
"CLUNK!" it said. (Dad lost power). And then, ..."clunk...clunk...clunkclunkclunketyclunketyclunketyclunk." Of course, we had just passed an exit. We couldn't get off for several more minutes and with each passing moment the car voiced its grievances with more and more vigor. We pulled off into a gas station and we all seven of us got out of the car. The car was smoking. It was however about ten degrees cooler outside of the car and there was a slight breeze which actually made it pretty nice.
We were able to find a towtruck, but, as luck would have it, all of the rental car dealers closed at 1 p.m. Thankfully, the tow truck wasn't that far away. It arrived in about ten minutes with a very nice driver. If you ever have an emergency in Olympia, call William at Great Northwest Towing! William had found a rental car dealer that closed at three. He offered to take us there.
We all thought he meant that he would take Dad to the dealer and dad would get a van and drive back to the gas station and pick us up. However, William had a different plan.
"You all get in the van now and I'll put the van on the tow truck and take you all there at once." So we did, and he did. We rode in our broken van on the tow truck and waved at the top of all the buses passing beneath us. William and our tow truck ride almost made up for not seeing the groom at the wedding ride in on a horse.
When we arrived at the car dealer on top of the tow truck, the people inside the building were startled. The expression on their faces to see us all there in our fancy wedding clothes was well worth it. We were able to get a minivan after fifteen minutes and we all piled in. The car dealer closed up while we were doing so. We had just barely made it before they closed.
The first thing we all noticed was that our rented van had...duh, Duh, DUH, AIRCONDITIONING!! YAY! We arrived at the wedding just as they were being prounounced "husband and wife," so, we didn't miss all of it; only, like, the first 45 minutes.
So, we all got our wishes: The car broke down before we went to South Dakota, just as Dad desired, my sister wasn't half an hour early, my brother didn't have to see a wedding that he didn't know the people, and everyone else got airconditioning. Praise the Lord!
Oh, and one other thing, on the way home the traffic was very light. The trip should have only taken two and a half hours. We had to make a stop to drop someone off. Just as we reached the second to the correct exit on the freeway, the cars in front of us came to a dead stop in all five lanes. We could see flashing lates at the curve in the road just ahead. The accident, a serious one, blocked three lanes. Thankfully, we had come upon it only shortly after it had happened. It only took us thirty to forty-five minutes to get past it!
In case you didn't notice, yesterday was a very adventurous day. I recommend all of you, if you don't want something similar, to be careful what you say and wish for. God just might show you tangibly that He is listening to you all the time!
(This has been: An In-between. Look in for real next time if you want to see what I promised before: Snippets of__)
Yesterday, we all got ready to go to a wedding located close to three hours away. The wedding began at 4 P.M., and Dad intended to leave in time to get there thirty minutes early; just in case.
My sister mentioned to me before we left that she "disliked being way early like that." I mean,"
she said, "I don't like being late either, but not whole thirty minutes early. I like to be on time or maybe just a little bit early," she said.
"Man," one of my brothers said before we left, "I don't see why we have to drive three hours in the hot sun to go to a wedding for people we don't really know that well, and when there probably wouldn't be anybody we know there!" (These were his words, although he was slightly exxagerating since we did know quite a few people).
The hot sun was a big deal for the rest of us, particularly myself and Mom. Our car didn't have airconditioning, and a three hour drive in the sun did not sound particularly fun. I think I did my share of complaining as well; and we all wished for airconditioning.
Our van had been repaired only the day before, so when we got on the road to go to the wedding, Dad was alert for how the van was driving.
"Wow!" he said after a few minutes, "this is driving better than ever before! If the airconditioning was fixed, I'd say we could take this to South Dakota!"
We suffered two hours in the hot car. It was probably close to a hundred in there. Traffic was extremely slow, and that did not help anything at all. At 2:30, we had only just passed Olympia. Traffic finally lightened up a bit then and Dad started to accelarate a little. That is when it the car showed that it had a voice all it's own.
"CLUNK!" it said. (Dad lost power). And then, ..."clunk...clunk...clunkclunkclunketyclunketyclunketyclunk." Of course, we had just passed an exit. We couldn't get off for several more minutes and with each passing moment the car voiced its grievances with more and more vigor. We pulled off into a gas station and we all seven of us got out of the car. The car was smoking. It was however about ten degrees cooler outside of the car and there was a slight breeze which actually made it pretty nice.
We were able to find a towtruck, but, as luck would have it, all of the rental car dealers closed at 1 p.m. Thankfully, the tow truck wasn't that far away. It arrived in about ten minutes with a very nice driver. If you ever have an emergency in Olympia, call William at Great Northwest Towing! William had found a rental car dealer that closed at three. He offered to take us there.
We all thought he meant that he would take Dad to the dealer and dad would get a van and drive back to the gas station and pick us up. However, William had a different plan.
"You all get in the van now and I'll put the van on the tow truck and take you all there at once." So we did, and he did. We rode in our broken van on the tow truck and waved at the top of all the buses passing beneath us. William and our tow truck ride almost made up for not seeing the groom at the wedding ride in on a horse.
When we arrived at the car dealer on top of the tow truck, the people inside the building were startled. The expression on their faces to see us all there in our fancy wedding clothes was well worth it. We were able to get a minivan after fifteen minutes and we all piled in. The car dealer closed up while we were doing so. We had just barely made it before they closed.
The first thing we all noticed was that our rented van had...duh, Duh, DUH, AIRCONDITIONING!! YAY! We arrived at the wedding just as they were being prounounced "husband and wife," so, we didn't miss all of it; only, like, the first 45 minutes.
So, we all got our wishes: The car broke down before we went to South Dakota, just as Dad desired, my sister wasn't half an hour early, my brother didn't have to see a wedding that he didn't know the people, and everyone else got airconditioning. Praise the Lord!
Oh, and one other thing, on the way home the traffic was very light. The trip should have only taken two and a half hours. We had to make a stop to drop someone off. Just as we reached the second to the correct exit on the freeway, the cars in front of us came to a dead stop in all five lanes. We could see flashing lates at the curve in the road just ahead. The accident, a serious one, blocked three lanes. Thankfully, we had come upon it only shortly after it had happened. It only took us thirty to forty-five minutes to get past it!
In case you didn't notice, yesterday was a very adventurous day. I recommend all of you, if you don't want something similar, to be careful what you say and wish for. God just might show you tangibly that He is listening to you all the time!
(This has been: An In-between. Look in for real next time if you want to see what I promised before: Snippets of__)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
A Day in the Life of: Mrs. W___
A lady I know told this story from her life. It just goes to show you that you never know what kind of excitement you can have when all you're doing is growing a nice little garden.
Mrs. W__ lives on tiny piece of property which is completely covered in a tiny, but variegated and fruitful garden. Life was good. The garden was growing well. And, she didn't have rabbits. (Ah, woe is me, those rabbits are the terror of my garden).
Yes, everything was just dandy! (Isn't that always the way it is before something happened to change it)? Because, of course, it is inevitable that one's days are never always filled with peace and tranquility. The scene of the beautiful, quiet, garden, was destroyed in "a moment, in the twinkling of an eye."
One morning, Mrs. W__ discovered signs of cats in her garden. While, as far as I know, cats do not actually eat the produce from a garden, they do not pick through it daintily and walk on the designated paths. As you know, cats have always been known as independent little animals. Instead of walking on the paths, they caused problems in the form of trampled plants. Furthermore, cats use gardens as litterboxes. Cat litter is highly toxic and completely ruins the soil of the garden. For an avid gardener, this is not permissible.
Mrs. W__ decided to trap them; and one morning, she caught one. I do feel sorry for the owner. It was only at great expense that the owner was able to redeem her property.
Mrs. W__ continued to leave her trap out and baited each night. However, she didn't bargain for what she got. She was disturbed from her sleep early one morning by an obnoxious racket proceeding from her front porch. Naturally, she went to see what it was. She was confronted by a caged raccoon snarling viciously. The sheets with which the cage had been draped to make it inviting were torn to shreds.
She called several places to find out what to do, including the police. Her next door neighbor was matter-of-fact. "You have to open the cage and let it go!" The policeman however, upon arriving, agreed with Mrs. W__. "No one is going near the cage without a ten-foot pole."
Finally, Mrs. W__ got a hold of the same organization which had taken care of the caged cat. They had a wildlife department and took the raccoon away. The next-door neighbor however had "looked it up online." "You can't do that!" he said. "It's illegal to transport a wild animal!" Thankfully, the policeman was able to reassure him.
The raccoon was a mother with babies however. The authorities decided that she needed to go back to them. The raccoon was released near Mrs. W__'s property later that day. The authorities insisted that the raccoon had learned her lesson and would not be back. I think she has her doubts.
Mrs. W__ laughed the entire time she was telling me this story. Obviously, she found the story amusing once it was over. While a hectic morning and afternoon can change the day into one that isn't so fun as you might have been hoping for, it is good to take upon yourself the view that Mrs. W__did: Seeing the humor in an unpleasant situation is a attitude we can all learn from. With God, a good attitude is what counts.
(This has been: A Day in the Life of:__. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:_)
Mrs. W__ lives on tiny piece of property which is completely covered in a tiny, but variegated and fruitful garden. Life was good. The garden was growing well. And, she didn't have rabbits. (Ah, woe is me, those rabbits are the terror of my garden).
Yes, everything was just dandy! (Isn't that always the way it is before something happened to change it)? Because, of course, it is inevitable that one's days are never always filled with peace and tranquility. The scene of the beautiful, quiet, garden, was destroyed in "a moment, in the twinkling of an eye."
One morning, Mrs. W__ discovered signs of cats in her garden. While, as far as I know, cats do not actually eat the produce from a garden, they do not pick through it daintily and walk on the designated paths. As you know, cats have always been known as independent little animals. Instead of walking on the paths, they caused problems in the form of trampled plants. Furthermore, cats use gardens as litterboxes. Cat litter is highly toxic and completely ruins the soil of the garden. For an avid gardener, this is not permissible.
Mrs. W__ decided to trap them; and one morning, she caught one. I do feel sorry for the owner. It was only at great expense that the owner was able to redeem her property.
Mrs. W__ continued to leave her trap out and baited each night. However, she didn't bargain for what she got. She was disturbed from her sleep early one morning by an obnoxious racket proceeding from her front porch. Naturally, she went to see what it was. She was confronted by a caged raccoon snarling viciously. The sheets with which the cage had been draped to make it inviting were torn to shreds.
She called several places to find out what to do, including the police. Her next door neighbor was matter-of-fact. "You have to open the cage and let it go!" The policeman however, upon arriving, agreed with Mrs. W__. "No one is going near the cage without a ten-foot pole."
Finally, Mrs. W__ got a hold of the same organization which had taken care of the caged cat. They had a wildlife department and took the raccoon away. The next-door neighbor however had "looked it up online." "You can't do that!" he said. "It's illegal to transport a wild animal!" Thankfully, the policeman was able to reassure him.
The raccoon was a mother with babies however. The authorities decided that she needed to go back to them. The raccoon was released near Mrs. W__'s property later that day. The authorities insisted that the raccoon had learned her lesson and would not be back. I think she has her doubts.
Mrs. W__ laughed the entire time she was telling me this story. Obviously, she found the story amusing once it was over. While a hectic morning and afternoon can change the day into one that isn't so fun as you might have been hoping for, it is good to take upon yourself the view that Mrs. W__did: Seeing the humor in an unpleasant situation is a attitude we can all learn from. With God, a good attitude is what counts.
(This has been: A Day in the Life of:__. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:_)
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Fountain of Thoughts: Persecution
I often think about random things. One of the most prominent of these thoughts has been that of death and persecution. These thoughts and questions of mine were solidified a couple of years ago after I read a number of books about missionaries and missions during and after the Iron Curtain era. They are all good reads, so I'll list them here quickly. Three were by Brother Andrew: God's smuggler (his personal story), The Calling, and the Light Force (the latter two I probably wouldn't agree with completely). Also, Of Whom the World was not Worthy by Marie Chapian, If I Perish, by Esther Kim, and Against the Tide by Angus L. Kinnear.
All of these books had a common thread which grabbed my attention and has remained on my mind for quite a while. The thread was this: Christians suffering persecution for their faith were drawn together in an unique unity and their "love, faith, long suffering, gentleness, patience, meekness, and temperance" was tangibly strengthened.
Most of my life, I've wondered about death. Would I go to heaven when I died? Would my death be painful? Would my life have meant anything to anyone? Did I even want to die anyway? I mean, there was so much to do and see on earth, was I ready to die yet? Off an on, as these thoughts and question crossed my mind, I ended up concluding that "No, if God wanted me to die, I wasn't ready. Not in the normal sense of being not being ready of course. As a Christian, I knew it was OK to die because I would be in heaven. But not ready in the sense that I felt I had a mission to fulfill on earth and that I would rather stay on earth for a while than go to heaven unexpectedly. In other words, I wasn't I willing to die if called.
I was bothered by this repeated conclusion to my repeated thoughts. It didn't seem right somehow to not be willing. If God wanted me to die, it felt like resisting and defying Him to not want to. I'd always heard at other people's funerals and things about the deceased talking in life about being "ready to go home." And that, I decided, was what it should be like. One should be so focused on God and His home that one wouldn't mind, and in fact, would look forward to going to be with Him. So, I asked Him to make me willing. And, honestly, while I don't feel that I can say "yes" as yet, I do feel as though I am closer to it than I was a few years ago.
As I read these books a couple of years ago, it lead me to more wondering about the subject. No one likes pain. Probably everyone's ideal death is similar to Matthew Cuthbert's in Anne of Green Gables. We probably just want to go to sleep and wake up in heaven, or, die peacefully with "our boots on." But Paul, in 2 Timothy 3: 12 says this, "Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." When I saw this verse a few days ago, it set me to wondering, again, if I was ready; and if we were ready.
In America, we have been extraordinarily blessed with peace and rest from extensive persecution for two hundred years. It is becoming obvious however that it is coming here too. Legislation is appearing everywhere which is overturning our rights and putting in place laws exceedingly contrary to the former Bible based laws of our country. Our country has moved from it's Christian foundation to a sandy, shifting beach. (Matthew 7:24-27) Those with their eyes open can see that it may not be long before we too are meeting secretly and are being jailed and tortured for our faith.
Those books I read made it obvious that strong faith has a lot to do with it being put under strong tests. Here in America however, it has been so long since we have had such a strong test and trial that I can't help but wondering if our faith is now so weak that we would crumple under the coming persecution instead of strengthening. Ecologists once created a Utopian ecosystem, but because they could not recreate wind, their trees collapsed. A tree that is not frequently blown against by the wind is weak and at the first breath, it will fall.
So, my question today is this: "Are we ready? Are you ready? Am I ready?" And while it is a good thing to be thinking about, ("forewarned, forearmed,") keep in mind that it isn't hopeless. Not only does Paul say that we will suffer for our faith, but that verse is preceded by a list of Paul's sufferings ending with the words "but out of them all the Lord delivered me." And, in 2 Timothy 2:19, we have this assurance: "Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his..."
(This has been: Foutain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)
All of these books had a common thread which grabbed my attention and has remained on my mind for quite a while. The thread was this: Christians suffering persecution for their faith were drawn together in an unique unity and their "love, faith, long suffering, gentleness, patience, meekness, and temperance" was tangibly strengthened.
Most of my life, I've wondered about death. Would I go to heaven when I died? Would my death be painful? Would my life have meant anything to anyone? Did I even want to die anyway? I mean, there was so much to do and see on earth, was I ready to die yet? Off an on, as these thoughts and question crossed my mind, I ended up concluding that "No, if God wanted me to die, I wasn't ready. Not in the normal sense of being not being ready of course. As a Christian, I knew it was OK to die because I would be in heaven. But not ready in the sense that I felt I had a mission to fulfill on earth and that I would rather stay on earth for a while than go to heaven unexpectedly. In other words, I wasn't I willing to die if called.
I was bothered by this repeated conclusion to my repeated thoughts. It didn't seem right somehow to not be willing. If God wanted me to die, it felt like resisting and defying Him to not want to. I'd always heard at other people's funerals and things about the deceased talking in life about being "ready to go home." And that, I decided, was what it should be like. One should be so focused on God and His home that one wouldn't mind, and in fact, would look forward to going to be with Him. So, I asked Him to make me willing. And, honestly, while I don't feel that I can say "yes" as yet, I do feel as though I am closer to it than I was a few years ago.
As I read these books a couple of years ago, it lead me to more wondering about the subject. No one likes pain. Probably everyone's ideal death is similar to Matthew Cuthbert's in Anne of Green Gables. We probably just want to go to sleep and wake up in heaven, or, die peacefully with "our boots on." But Paul, in 2 Timothy 3: 12 says this, "Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." When I saw this verse a few days ago, it set me to wondering, again, if I was ready; and if we were ready.
In America, we have been extraordinarily blessed with peace and rest from extensive persecution for two hundred years. It is becoming obvious however that it is coming here too. Legislation is appearing everywhere which is overturning our rights and putting in place laws exceedingly contrary to the former Bible based laws of our country. Our country has moved from it's Christian foundation to a sandy, shifting beach. (Matthew 7:24-27) Those with their eyes open can see that it may not be long before we too are meeting secretly and are being jailed and tortured for our faith.
Those books I read made it obvious that strong faith has a lot to do with it being put under strong tests. Here in America however, it has been so long since we have had such a strong test and trial that I can't help but wondering if our faith is now so weak that we would crumple under the coming persecution instead of strengthening. Ecologists once created a Utopian ecosystem, but because they could not recreate wind, their trees collapsed. A tree that is not frequently blown against by the wind is weak and at the first breath, it will fall.
So, my question today is this: "Are we ready? Are you ready? Am I ready?" And while it is a good thing to be thinking about, ("forewarned, forearmed,") keep in mind that it isn't hopeless. Not only does Paul say that we will suffer for our faith, but that verse is preceded by a list of Paul's sufferings ending with the words "but out of them all the Lord delivered me." And, in 2 Timothy 2:19, we have this assurance: "Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his..."
(This has been: Foutain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tidbits of Oregon
"Henrietta is my baby! You can't have her. Mother gave her to me! We're supposed to stay together."
In the dead of night, John Sager, 14, slipped out of the Fort with his five younger siblings and continued on to Oregon. Their parents had died of cholera and now their Aunt wanted to take the baby and separate the family. John, a rebellious child while his parents were alive, was determined now they were dead to live out his father's dream of a new life in Oregon.
It was easy at first, the oxen were healthy and the road not too bumpy. They had plenty of food too, that is, they did. One of the oxen fell sick after crossing a raging river. Then, they were forced to camp with Indians who stole their food, and worse, most of the gunpowder too. At fourteen, John could do nothing except to roughly rally his siblings into going on. Catharine, the second oldest, broke her leg. With no immediate medical help, it healed crooked. She was a cripple for the rest of her life. Starving, with the baby on the verge of death, they stumbled into the Willamette Valley on their last legs. They had reached their goal, but they had nothing left.
Narcissa Whitman found them a short distance from the Whitman Mission. She took them in and saved the baby. The Whitmans were the first to bring a woman to the Oregon Territory. Their work there paved the way for future caravans and settlers.
Several years after the Sagers came to the Whitmans, the local Indians, those the Whitmans had particularly ministered to, rose up and massacred them. Catharine was one of the only survivors. The Whitmans however, left a lasting legacy. They, and others like the Sagers, were what had changed Oregon from a dream to a reality.
Today, the Willamette Valley is the most agriculturally productive region in the state and Crater Lake National Park is one of the most beautiful. Oregon acquired statehood in 1859. Founded as a refuge for slaves, Oregon was the only state admitted into the Union with a "whites only" clause. Oregon, said by the officials in Oregon to be pronounced Or-uh-gun, is home to the largest single organism in the world: the Armillaria ostoyae fungus, and the Oregon Ducks.
The woman recognized as the "Mother of Oregon" is Tabitha Brown. At age 66, she financed her own covered wagon trip to Oregon. The wife of a Congregationalist and Episcopalian minister, she arrived in Oregon with her remaining family on Christmas, 1846.
(This has been: Tidbits of Oregon. Look in next time to read: Foutain of Thoughts)
In the dead of night, John Sager, 14, slipped out of the Fort with his five younger siblings and continued on to Oregon. Their parents had died of cholera and now their Aunt wanted to take the baby and separate the family. John, a rebellious child while his parents were alive, was determined now they were dead to live out his father's dream of a new life in Oregon.
It was easy at first, the oxen were healthy and the road not too bumpy. They had plenty of food too, that is, they did. One of the oxen fell sick after crossing a raging river. Then, they were forced to camp with Indians who stole their food, and worse, most of the gunpowder too. At fourteen, John could do nothing except to roughly rally his siblings into going on. Catharine, the second oldest, broke her leg. With no immediate medical help, it healed crooked. She was a cripple for the rest of her life. Starving, with the baby on the verge of death, they stumbled into the Willamette Valley on their last legs. They had reached their goal, but they had nothing left.
Narcissa Whitman found them a short distance from the Whitman Mission. She took them in and saved the baby. The Whitmans were the first to bring a woman to the Oregon Territory. Their work there paved the way for future caravans and settlers.
Several years after the Sagers came to the Whitmans, the local Indians, those the Whitmans had particularly ministered to, rose up and massacred them. Catharine was one of the only survivors. The Whitmans however, left a lasting legacy. They, and others like the Sagers, were what had changed Oregon from a dream to a reality.
Today, the Willamette Valley is the most agriculturally productive region in the state and Crater Lake National Park is one of the most beautiful. Oregon acquired statehood in 1859. Founded as a refuge for slaves, Oregon was the only state admitted into the Union with a "whites only" clause. Oregon, said by the officials in Oregon to be pronounced Or-uh-gun, is home to the largest single organism in the world: the Armillaria ostoyae fungus, and the Oregon Ducks.
The woman recognized as the "Mother of Oregon" is Tabitha Brown. At age 66, she financed her own covered wagon trip to Oregon. The wife of a Congregationalist and Episcopalian minister, she arrived in Oregon with her remaining family on Christmas, 1846.
(This has been: Tidbits of Oregon. Look in next time to read: Foutain of Thoughts)
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Stories of my Life: The Stewpot with the Lid
This post has absolutely nothing to do with cooking; at least, not in the edible sense. The edibility factor is simply not there. On the other hand, the boiling part is. This story has everything to do with the dangers of a stewpot with the lid tightly screwed on and an easily fed fire.
I usually tell people that Jesus saved me when I was ten. Truthfully, I remember asking him to come into my life at seven. However, since I never felt like I actually changed until later, I cite age ten as the true date. It was at age ten that I feel I came to true repentence for my sins. And, it happened in the following manner.
We'd moved to a place that I strongly disliked; and that's putting it mildly. In the beginning, I thought it would be fun. It was the first move that I was old enough to help and remember clearly. Any eight-year-old likes fun and adventure, and that, I thought, is what it would be. Of course, looking back, I realize it was in many ways, but then, when I saw the place where we would live, I couldn't help but thinking that I'd been seriously mistaken.
The place was tiny; not tiny as many people think of as tiny, but truly smaller even than that! It was about the size of a Sunday school room in a church. Furthermore, all five of us siblings had to fit in it and share a closet that should have been for only two people. Still more, the room was shared with a computer desk, a wall of food buckets, five beds (two bunk-beds, but still..), and the mess of all five. Yeah, let's face it, kids are messy, and it wasn't a pretty picture to see. And that's not all! The place had rules. Lot's of them! "No running, no leaving dishes out, it's not your property so treat it with respect, keep the doors closed, no shouting"...the list could go on.
About the only safe place was outside. That was also the only plus I could see. The place was on a piece of large property over which we had free reign. But, of course, you couldn't go outside all the time, sometimes it rained, (it never snowed, we'd been used to several inches of snow in the last house, but in this place we could literally count the flakes on one hand. Another minus).
Most people seem to think of me as bubbly (where they got this idea I still have yet to determine). While generally cheery, I internalize things more than most people realize. With the background I've just given you, you can easily see that I began to build around me a castle wall. And inside the castle was a kitchen, and inside the kitchen was a fire, and on the fire was a stewpot, and that stewpot was me, and the fire was fed almost constantly by being in the new place and letting myself be rubbed the wrong way by just about everything.
It went on that way for nearly two years. Until finally, I couldn't stand it. At church one day, I wandered into the then darkened sanctuary and cried my heart out to God. He heard me and answered. I've never been the same since.
It took a little while after that for me to pinpoint my problem of bitterness to the correct sources. God used a school curriculum that I disliked to make me see my exact sin. After that, a long talk with my parents and everyone else I could think of that I was mad at, my consience was completely clear. It felt wonderful!
While I can't say I never struggle with bitterness anymore, after winning that large battle, it definetly has become easier to fight the subsequent ones. I would encourage all of you, if you have a list of things that "other people have done to you," forget it, rip it up, throw it away, and ask those on the list to forgive. With that list, you've probably been trying to keep other people on the hook, but in reality, you've hooked yourself. By ridding yourself of that list, you can find release and freedom. Forgiveness and repentence are powerful. They are the two most often detailed principles found in the Bible. So, in the words of our dear Savior, "Go, and sin no more" (John 8:11)
(This has been: Stories of my Life. Tune in next time to read another: Tidbits!)
I usually tell people that Jesus saved me when I was ten. Truthfully, I remember asking him to come into my life at seven. However, since I never felt like I actually changed until later, I cite age ten as the true date. It was at age ten that I feel I came to true repentence for my sins. And, it happened in the following manner.
We'd moved to a place that I strongly disliked; and that's putting it mildly. In the beginning, I thought it would be fun. It was the first move that I was old enough to help and remember clearly. Any eight-year-old likes fun and adventure, and that, I thought, is what it would be. Of course, looking back, I realize it was in many ways, but then, when I saw the place where we would live, I couldn't help but thinking that I'd been seriously mistaken.
The place was tiny; not tiny as many people think of as tiny, but truly smaller even than that! It was about the size of a Sunday school room in a church. Furthermore, all five of us siblings had to fit in it and share a closet that should have been for only two people. Still more, the room was shared with a computer desk, a wall of food buckets, five beds (two bunk-beds, but still..), and the mess of all five. Yeah, let's face it, kids are messy, and it wasn't a pretty picture to see. And that's not all! The place had rules. Lot's of them! "No running, no leaving dishes out, it's not your property so treat it with respect, keep the doors closed, no shouting"...the list could go on.
About the only safe place was outside. That was also the only plus I could see. The place was on a piece of large property over which we had free reign. But, of course, you couldn't go outside all the time, sometimes it rained, (it never snowed, we'd been used to several inches of snow in the last house, but in this place we could literally count the flakes on one hand. Another minus).
Most people seem to think of me as bubbly (where they got this idea I still have yet to determine). While generally cheery, I internalize things more than most people realize. With the background I've just given you, you can easily see that I began to build around me a castle wall. And inside the castle was a kitchen, and inside the kitchen was a fire, and on the fire was a stewpot, and that stewpot was me, and the fire was fed almost constantly by being in the new place and letting myself be rubbed the wrong way by just about everything.
It went on that way for nearly two years. Until finally, I couldn't stand it. At church one day, I wandered into the then darkened sanctuary and cried my heart out to God. He heard me and answered. I've never been the same since.
It took a little while after that for me to pinpoint my problem of bitterness to the correct sources. God used a school curriculum that I disliked to make me see my exact sin. After that, a long talk with my parents and everyone else I could think of that I was mad at, my consience was completely clear. It felt wonderful!
While I can't say I never struggle with bitterness anymore, after winning that large battle, it definetly has become easier to fight the subsequent ones. I would encourage all of you, if you have a list of things that "other people have done to you," forget it, rip it up, throw it away, and ask those on the list to forgive. With that list, you've probably been trying to keep other people on the hook, but in reality, you've hooked yourself. By ridding yourself of that list, you can find release and freedom. Forgiveness and repentence are powerful. They are the two most often detailed principles found in the Bible. So, in the words of our dear Savior, "Go, and sin no more" (John 8:11)
(This has been: Stories of my Life. Tune in next time to read another: Tidbits!)
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