MEMORIES

In response to  an item regarding the passing of Cynthia Fink, former FGHS teacher, Julian Hazlett wrote the following.  Sometimes events today does prompt memories of many years ago, some pleasant and some unpleasant.  This event occurred in 1960, nearly 53 years ago.  Thanks to Julian for sharing.

Julian Hazlett commented on CYNTHIA FINK’S FUNERAL SERVICES

A memory of Cynthia Fink: It was a beautiful day in May 1960. The year I graduated from high school. John F. Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey were campaigning in the presidential primary in West Virginia. The entire Kennedy family was covering every inch of the state encouraging everyone to vote for Kennedy. I was in Cynthia Fink’s journalism class when she announced that there would be someone arriving momentarily to speak to us. We looked out the window and there was a long line of black cars on the street. Mrs. Fink proceeded to apply lipstick and rouge to prepare for the moment. The door opened and there was this handsome man, tall, tan and exuding such confidence. He said, ” Good morning, my name is Edward Kennedy. I am the brother of John Kennedy, who is running for President. I would appreciate it very much if you would tell your parents to vote for him. Thank you very much.” And he was gone. And the rest is history. That moment is forever etched in my mind.

FAILURE OF THE AQUARIANS!

I found this great piece written by North Carolina writer and author of books John Rosemond.  This article appeared in one of the  McClatchey group of newspapers.  He so nails many of the problems and their pathway back to what we knew then as the “Age of Aquarius.”  I am proud to say that I am a proud member of his generation and was raised in exactly the manner described of the 30s and 40s.  Guns were for procuring food for the table, drugs were for curing existing diseases, and there was no “free love” as put forth by the Aquarians.  I hope all enjoy this as much as I did.   Thank you John Rosemond for your wisdom.

American parents have been listening to professional psycho-babblers tell them how to raise children since the late 1960s. I was in graduate school at the time, and my professors thought the babblers were geniuses, sent by some New Age divinity to correct all the egregious wrongs parents had done to children since time immemorial. Children were about to enter a Golden Age in which their opinions would not only be listened to but also taken into consideration, and from an early age. And they would be allowed to express their feelings freely! And parents and teachers were going to tell them how wonderful they were and how everything they did was wonderful and so children would do more and more wonderful things and the Age of Aquarius would dawn and peace and love would fill the universe!
Problem is, it didn’t turn out quite the way it was planned. Indeed, parents and teachers did all the “right” things. In fact, nearly everything they did was pretty much the opposite of the way previous generations of parents had done things. The result? Well, let’s just say the Age of Aquarius has yet to dawn.
Child mental health in America, across the demographic spectrum, has declined markedly in the past 50 or so years. Compared with a kid from my generation, today’s child is five to 10 times more likely to become clinically depressed before his or her 16th birthday. And parenting, as it is now termed, has become the single most stressful thing a woman will do in her adult life. Mind you, her great-grandmother probably raised a lot more kids and experienced very little stress. She was, however, able to stress her kids rather effectively.
When are parents – mothers, especially – going to get it? When are they going to wake up to the fact that the babblers have done nothing – and yes, I mean nothing – but damage? In my estimation, the Age of Aquarius will begin when American parents shut the babblers down and return parenting – to borrow from the vernacular of the 1960s – back to the people!
Because today’s parents have no experiential understanding of the way it was, I’ll highlight a few of the more salient features of pre-1960s childhood. But before I do, I’ll respond to those who claim that I “idealize” the 1950s. No, I do not. I simply maintain what is verifiable fact: American children were better off back then – as well off, in fact, as they’d ever been and certainly a whole lot happier than today’s kids.
The biggest difference was that mom and dad paid more attention to and talked more to one another than they paid attention to and talked to their kids. In fact, kids back then didn’t get a whole lot of attention from their parents. We were supposed to pay attention to them, not they to us. And so, by the time we went to school, we’d learned to give our undivided attention to adults, which is why we were taught successfully (our academic achievement was much higher than today’s kids) in overcrowded classrooms. By the time we were in our early elementary years, we were doing more for our moms, in the form of chores, than they were doing for us. Oh, and our moms weren’t “involved” with us. Oh, happy day! They expected us to figure out our own entertainment, do our own homework, settle our own squabbles, lie in the beds we made, and stew in our own juices. Need I point out that today’s mom is doing nearly all of that for her child, including the stewing?
We were allowed to express our opinions, but they didn’t count for much (and shouldn’t have). And no, we were definitely not allowed to express our feelings freely. Have you ever met someone who expresses his or her feelings freely, without regard for the sensibilities of others? That defines an obnoxious, narcissistic, sociopathic boor.
Finally, I am a proud member of the last generation of American kids who weren’t allowed to have high self-esteem. When a child back then had an outburst of high self-esteem, his parents told him he was acting too big for his britches, which is what high self-esteem is all about anyway – popping one’s britches.
And yet, we were happier. We may have missed the Aquarian train, but I hear it ran off the tracks sometime around 1975 anyway.
rosemond.com

CYNTHIA FINK’S FUNERAL SERVICES

I received the below information, courtesy of Dan Watts,  regarding Cynthia Fink’s funeral service.  Thanks Dan.

Cynthia Fink’s funeral services will be Wednesday at 1 p.m. Visitation will be 6-9 p.m. Tuesday at the Blue Ridge Funeral Home, 5251 Robert C Byrd Dr., Beckley. Sympathies may be expressed athttp://www.blueridgefuneralhome.com.
Her husband was a Wayne County State Policeman. Carol Lycan Davis stayed in close contact with Mrs, Fink through the years. Carol recalls that Mrs. Fink was the one sent from the school to the RR crossing to ID the victims of the Powhatan Arrow/car collision in the 1950s that claimed the lives of four FGHS students and a parent.

PASSING OF A FORMER FGHS TEACHER

I have an email noting the passing of a former Fort Gay High School teacher.  The only information I have is that her name is Cynthia Fink.  I believe she taught during the 1950s.  She recently died while at the Charleston Medical Center and was apparently a resident of  Beckley, WV.  I searched the internet for an obit but could find nothing.  If anyone has additional information, please pass it along and I will post it.

Thanks to Mary Jo Damron for passing this along.

Charles Brown-A West Virginia Hero

It has been a while since I have posted on the Chronicles and I must admit that I got a little bit lazy.  My motivation just went south along with the warm weather.  Spring is nearly here again, flowers are peeping through the ground, and it seems like a good time to get started.  Perhaps a big dose of sulpher and molasses, sassafras tea, or some other unlikely brew that our moms might have fed us when we were children to gets us started is needed again.  When there is a fire going in the fireplace, you are nice and warm, and you are dozing in the recliner, it is hard to remember what was a higher priority on that particular day.

In searching today for something of interest I came across the below story, courtesy of CNN.  I had never read this before and it impressed me so that I thought I would put it out there for others who have an interest in West Virginia history, World War ll, flying, and the “greatest generation”.  Can you imagine yourself at age twenty in command of such a plane as the B17 and facing the trials that this young man was facing.  I hope all that see this enjoys the account of the action.  So without further adieu this is the story.

- The pilot glanced outside his cockpit and froze. He blinked hard and looked again, hoping it was just a mirage. But his co-pilot stared at the same horrible vision.

“My God, this is a nightmare,” the co-pilot said.

“He’s going to destroy us,” the pilot agreed.

The men were looking at a gray German Messerschmitt fighter hovering just three feet off their wingtip. It was five days before Christmas 1943, and the fighter had closed in on their crippled American B-17 bomber for the kill.

The B-17 pilot, Charles Brown, was a 21-year-old West Virginia farm boy on his first combat mission. His bomber had been shot to pieces by swarming fighters, and his plane was alone in the skies above Germany. Half his crew was wounded, and the tail gunner was dead, his blood frozen in icicles over the machine guns.

But when Brown and his co-pilot, Spencer “Pinky” Luke, looked at the fighter pilot again, something odd happened. The German didn’t pull the trigger. He nodded at Brown instead. What happened next was one of the most remarkable acts of chivalry recorded during World War II. Years later, Brown would track down his would-be executioner for a reunion that reduced both men to tears.

Listen: A bond between enemies

Living by the code

People love to hear war stories about great generals or crack troops such as Seal Team 6, the Navy unit that killed Osama bin Laden. But there is another side of war that’s seldom explored: Why do some soldiers risk their lives to save their enemies and, in some cases, develop a deep bond with them that outlives war?

And are such acts of chivalry obsolete in an age of drone strikes and terrorism?

Charles Brown was on his first combat mission during World War II when he met an enemy unlike any other.

Those are the kinds of questions Brown’s story raises. His encounter with the German fighter pilot is beautifully told in a New York Times best-selling book, “A Higher Call.” The book explains how that aerial encounter reverberated in both men’s lives for more than 50 years.

“The war left them in turmoil,” says Adam Makos, who wrote the book with Larry Alexander. “When they found each other, they found peace.”

Their story is extraordinary, but it’s not unique. Union and Confederate troops risked their lives to aid one another during the Civil War. British and German troops gathered for post-war reunions; some even vacationed together after World War II. One renowned American general traveled back to Vietnam to meet the man who almost wiped out his battalion, and the two men hugged and prayed together.

What is this bond that surfaces between enemies during and after battle?

It’s called the warrior’s code, say soldiers and military scholars. It’s shaped cultures as diverse as the Vikings, the Samurai, the Romans and Native Americans, says Shannon E. French, author of “Code of the Warrior.”

The code is designed to protect the victor, as well as the vanquished, French says.

“People think of the rules of war primarily as a way to protect innocent civilians from being victims of atrocities,” she says. “In a much more profound sense, the rules are there to protect the people doing the actual fighting.”

The code is designed to prevent soldiers from becoming monsters. Butchering civilians, torturing prisoners, desecrating the enemies’ bodies — are all battlefield behaviors that erode a soldier’s humanity, French says.

The code is ancient as civilization itself. In Homer’s epic poem, “The Iliad,” the Greek hero Achilles breaks the code when his thirst for vengeance leads him to desecrate the body of his slain foe, the Trojan hero Hector.

He’s going to destroy us!
Charles Brown, B-17 bomber pilot

Most warrior cultures share one belief, French says:

“There is something worse than death, and one of those things is to completely lose your humanity.”

The code is still needed today, French says.

Thousands of U.S. soldiers returning from wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder. Some have seen, and have done, things that are unfathomable.

A study of Vietnam veterans showed that those who felt as if they had participated in dishonorable behavior during the war or saw the Vietnamese as subhuman experienced more post-traumatic stress disorder, French says.

Drone warfare represents a new threat to soldiers’ humanity, French says.

The Pentagon recently announced it would award a new Distinguished Warfare Medal to soldiers who operate drones and launch cyberattacks. The medal would rank above the Bronze Star and Purple Heart, two medals earned in combat.

At least 17,000 people have signed an online petition protesting the medal. The petition says awarding medals to soldiers who wage war via remote control was an “injustice” to those who risked their lives in combat.

Outgoing Defense Secretary Leon Panetta defended the new medal at a February news conference.

“I’ve seen firsthand how modern tools, like remotely piloted platforms and cybersystems, have changed the way wars are fought,” Panetta says. “And they’ve given our men and women the ability to engage the enemy and change the course of battle, even from afar.”

Still, critics ask, is there any honor in killing an enemy by remote control?

French isn’t so sure.

“If [I'm] in the field risking and taking a life, there’s a sense that I’m putting skin in the game,” she says. “I’m taking a risk so it feels more honorable. Someone who kills at a distance — it can make them doubt. Am I truly honorable?”

The German pilot who took mercy

Revenge, not honor, is what drove 2nd Lt. Franz Stigler to jump into his fighter that chilly December day in 1943.

Stigler wasn’t just any fighter pilot. He was an ace. One more kill and he would win The Knight’s Cross, German’s highest award for valor.

Yet Stigler was driven by something deeper than glory. His older brother, August, was a fellow Luftwaffe pilot who had been killed earlier in the war. American pilots had killed Stigler’s comrades and were bombing his country’s cities.

Stigler was standing near his fighter on a German airbase when he heard a bomber’s engine. Looking up, he saw a B-17 flying so low it looked like it was going to land. As the bomber disappeared behind some trees, Stigler tossed his cigarette aside, saluted a ground crewman and took off in pursuit.

As Stigler’s fighter rose to meet the bomber, he decided to attack it from behind. He climbed behind the sputtering bomber, squinted into his gun sight and placed his hand on the trigger. He was about to fire when he hesitated. Stigler was baffled. No one in the bomber fired at him.

He looked closer at the tail gunner. He was still, his white fleece collar soaked with blood. Stigler craned his neck to examine the rest of the bomber. Its skin had been peeled away by shells, its guns knocked out. He could see men huddled inside the plane tending the wounds of other crewmen.

Then he nudged his plane alongside the bomber’s wings and locked eyes with the pilot whose eyes were wide with shock and horror.

Franz Stigler wondered for years what happened to the American pilot he encountered in combat.

Stigler pressed his hand over the rosary he kept in his flight jacket. He eased his index finger off the trigger. He couldn’t shoot. It would be murder.

Stigler wasn’t just motivated by vengeance that day. He also lived by a code. He could trace his family’s ancestry to knights in 16th century Europe. He had once studied to be a priest.

A German pilot who spared the enemy, though, risked death in Nazi Germany. If someone reported him, he would be executed.

Yet Stigler could also hear the voice of his commanding officer, who once told him:

“You follow the rules of war for you — not your enemy. You fight by rules to keep your humanity.”

Alone with the crippled bomber, Stigler changed his mission. He nodded at the American pilot and began flying in formation so German anti-aircraft gunners on the ground wouldn’t shoot down the slow-moving bomber. (The Luftwaffe had B-17s of its own, shot down and rebuilt for secret missions and training.) Stigler escorted the bomber over the North Sea and took one last look at the American pilot. Then he saluted him, peeled his fighter away and returned to Germany.

“Good luck,” Stigler said to himself. “You’re in God’s hands.”

What creates the bond between enemies?

Stigler was able to recognize the common humanity of the enemy when he locked eyes with Brown. It caused him to take mercy.

That sudden recognition can spring from many sources in battle — hearing the moans of a wounded enemy; sharing a common language; or opening the wallet of an enemy and seeing pictures of his wife and children.

That respect for the enemy’s humanity typically starts at the top, some scholars say. A leader sets the tone, and the troops get the message. A military leader who embodied this approach was one of Germany’s greatest World War II commanders, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, also known as the “Desert Fox.”

One time, a group of British commandos tried to sneak behind enemy lines and assassinate Rommel in the North African desert. They failed. But Rommel insisted the commandos be buried in the same graveyard as the German soldiers who died defending him, says Steven Pressfield, author of “Killing Rommel.”

There were battle zones during World War II where that type of magnanimity was almost impossible. On the Eastern Front, German and Russian soldiers literally hated one another. And in the South Pacific, U.S. Marines and Japanese soldiers took no prisoners.

At times, the terrain can force soldiers to follow the code. The North African desert during World War II was one such place, Pressfield says.

Fortunes turned quickly because so many battles were fought by fast-moving tanks and mobile units. A German unit that captured British soldiers could end up surrendering to them minutes later because the battle lines were so fluid. Also, the desert sun was so harsh that both sides knew if they left enemy prisoners stranded or mistreated, they would quickly die, Pressfield says.

In many ways, a soldier feels more of a bond with the enemy they’re fighting than with the countrymen back home. The enemy they’re fighting is equally risking death.
Steven Pressfield, author of “The Warrior Ethos”

It was not unusual for German and British doctors to work together while taking care of wounded soldiers from both sides, Pressfield says.

Some British and German soldiers never forgot how their enemy treated them and staged reunions after the war.

“The Germans and the British used to get together for soccer matches,” Pressfield says. “It was the Desert Foxes versus the Desert Rats.”

These soldiers weren’t just engaging in nostalgia. They shared a sense of hardship. They had survived an ordeal that most people could not understand.

“In many ways, a soldier feels more of a bond with the enemy they’re fighting than with the countrymen back home,” Pressfield says. “The enemy they’re fighting is equally risking death.”

That bond could even lead to acts of loyalty after the war, says Daniel Rolph, author of “My Brother’s Keepers.”

Once, when a Union officer mortally wounded a Confederate captain during the Civil War, the Union man sang hymns and prayed with his enemy as the man took his last breaths. Before the captain died, he asked the Union officer to return his sword and revolver to his family — a request the soldier honored after the war ended, Rolph says.

“I even have an article from The New York Times in 1886 where Union soldiers who were on the pension rolls of the federal government were actually trying to transfer their money toward Confederate soldiers,” Rolph says.

These bonds can even form between enemies who do not share a language or a culture.

Harold Moore Jr. was a U.S. Army colonel who led a desperate fight depicted in the 2002 Mel Gibson film, “We Were Soldiers Once … And Young. ” In 1965, Moore lost 79 of his men fighting against a larger North Vietnamese force. It was one of the first major battles in the Vietnam War.

In 1993, Moore led some of his soldiers back to Vietnam to meet their former adversaries on the same battlefield. When they arrived, Moore met the Vietnamese officer who led troops against him, Lt. Gen. Nguyen Huu An.

Charles Brown, with his wife, Jackie (left), found peace after his reunion with Franz Stigler, with his wife, Hiya.

An held out his arms and greeted Moore by kissing him on both cheeks. Moore gave him his wristwatch as a token of friendship.

Moore described in an essay what happened next:

“I invited all to form a circle with arms extended around each other’s shoulders and we bowed our heads. With prayer and tears, we openly shared our painful memories.”

An died two years after meeting Moore. Moore traveled to Vietnam to pay his respects to his former enemy’s family. While visiting their home, Moore spotted a familiar object displayed in the viewing case of An’s family shrine: It was his wristwatch.

A reunion of enemies

As he watched the German fighter peel away that December day, 2nd Lt. Charles Brown wasn’t thinking of the philosophical connection between enemies. He was thinking of survival.

He flew back to his base in England and landed with barely any fuel left. After his bomber came to a stop, he leaned back in his chair and put a hand over a pocket Bible he kept in his flight jacket. Then he sat in silence.

Brown flew more missions before the war ended. Life moved on. He got married, had two daughters, supervised foreign aid for the U.S. State Department during the Vietnam War and eventually retired to Florida.

Late in life, though, the encounter with the German pilot began to gnaw at him. He started having nightmares, but in his dream there would be no act of mercy. He would awaken just before his bomber crashed.

Brown took on a new mission. He had to find that German pilot. Who was he? Why did he save my life?

The war left them in turmoil. When they found each other, they found peace.
Adam Makos, co-author of “A Higher Call”

He scoured military archives in the U.S. and England. He attended a pilots’ reunion and shared his story. He finally placed an ad in a German newsletter for former Luftwaffe pilots, retelling the story and asking if anyone knew the pilot.

On January 18, 1990, Brown received a letter. He opened it and read:

“Dear Charles, All these years I wondered what happened to the B-17, did she make it or not?”

It was Stigler. He had had left Germany after the war and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, in 1953. He became a prosperous businessman. Now retired, Stigler told Brown that he would be in Florida come summer and “it sure would be nice to talk about our encounter.”

Brown was so excited, though, that he couldn’t wait to see Stigler. He called directory assistance for Vancouver and asked whether there was a number for a Franz Stigler. He dialed the number, and Stigler picked up.

“My God, it’s you!” Brown shouted as tears ran down his cheeks.

Brown had to do more. He wrote a letter to Stigler in which he said: “To say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU on behalf of my surviving crewmembers and their families appears totally inadequate.”

The two pilots would meet again, but this time in the lobby of a Florida hotel.

One of Brown’s friends was there to record the summer reunion. Both men looked like retired businessmen: they were plump, sporting neat ties and formal shirts. They talked about their encounter in a light, jovial tone.

The mood then changed. Someone asked Stigler what he thought about Brown. Stigler sighed and his square jaw tightened. He began to fight back tears before he said in heavily accented English:

“I love you, Charlie.”

Years later, author Makos says he understands why Stigler experienced such a surge of emotions.

Stigler had lost his brother, his friends and his country. He was virtually exiled by his countrymen after the war. There were 28,000 pilots who fought for the German air force. Only 1,200 survived, Makos says.

“The war cost him everything,” Makos says. “Charlie Brown was the only good thing that came out of World War II for Franz. It was the one thing he could be proud of.”

The meeting helped Brown as well, says his oldest daughter, Dawn Warner.

They met as enemies but Franz Stigler, on left, and Charles Brown, ended up as fishing buddies.

Brown and Stigler became pals. They would take fishing trips together. They would fly cross-country to each other homes and take road trips together to share their story at schools and veterans’ reunions. Their wives, Jackie Brown and Hiya Stigler, became friends.

Brown’s daughter says her father would worry about Stigler’s health and constantly check in on him.

“It wasn’t just for show,” she says. “They really did feel for each other. They talked about once a week.”

As his friendship with Stigler deepened, something else happened to her father, Warner says:

“The nightmares went away.”

Brown had written a letter of thanks to Stigler, but one day, he showed the extent of his gratitude. He organized a reunion of his surviving crew members, along with their extended families. He invited Stigler as a guest of honor.

During the reunion, a video was played showing all the faces of the people that now lived — children, grandchildren, relatives — because of Stigler’s act of chivalry. Stigler watched the film from his seat of honor.

“Everybody was crying, not just him,” Warner says.

Stigler and Brown died within months of each other in 2008. Stigler was 92, and Brown was 87. They had started off as enemies, became friends, and then something more.

Makos discovered what that was by accident while spending a night at Brown’s house. He was poking through Brown’s library when he came across a book on German fighter jets. Stigler had given the book to Brown. Both were country boys who loved to read about planes.

Makos opened the book and saw an inscription Stigler had written to Brown:

In 1940, I lost my only brother as a night fighter. On the 20th of December, 4 days before Christmas, I had the chance to save a B-17 from her destruction, a plane so badly damaged it was a wonder that she was still flying.

The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was.

Thanks Charlie.

Your Brother,

Franz

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PEARL HARBOR, DECEMBER 7, 1941 (part 1)

“Today, December 7, 1941″,  to quote President Franklin Roosevelt, “is a day that will live in infamy”, that the tragedy that became know as World War II  began with a sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, HI, but the Imperial Japanese navy.  It is a day when America remembers the members of the “greatest generation”, those who served in the U.S. military during WW II

If you remember, then you are probably 75 years or older.  Most us that were alive and have a memory of that date can probably remember vividly where they were and what they were doing on that particular day.  For me, I remembers it as a sunny December day and not cold at all with a temp  nearing 50 degrees.  We were living on Queens Creek, WV which I have written about in the past, and had returned from Sunday school and church.  After having Sunday dinner, lunch to you “city folks” I had gone to visit one of our family friends, Luther Curnutte, whom I have written about in the past.  If you have read the Chronicles over the past couple of years, he was the subject of a story regarding a tragic love affair.  He was a great source of stories and information to us younger kids and he and his uncles would provide hours of entertainment for us with their stories of the past.  They owned a battery-powered radio, no electric service on Queens Creek at that time, and would frequently turn it on for scheduled news casts.  You didn’t leave it on all day as you might leave your television or radio on today.  Batteries cost money and money was scarce.  I recall they had a news program, it might have been Lowell Thomas, and the announcement was made of the cowardly attack by the Japanese Imperial navy.

Being only eleven years of age at that time, I really did not understand the significance or the impact that the event would have on everyone; family, neighbors, our country, even the world.  I do remember immediately walking home and pondering these things.  I don’t remember conversations with my family and their observations about the event.  I do know that the Japanese immediately became a hated race among the children of the area.  There was no more “cowboy and indians” with the Lone Ranger and his trusted friend Tonto and their mighty horses Silver and Scout riding to the rescue from indians or outlaws, whichever you and your band of friends might be battling at the time, now you were playing as a U.S. soldier and battling the hated “Japs”.  And I might add no one wanted to play the role of the Japanese.  You might be piloting an American war plane against the hated Japs or Nazis or perhaps dug into a foxhole on some unnamed battlefield with a stick gun pretending to do your part in the war effort.

This was the beginning; the ending of an era and the beginning of another, one which forever after would take us down a road from which there was no return.

I have more that I wish to write but today this is to honor those who served and or died in the greatest conflict our world has ever known.  There were nearly one half million  US  battle deaths and woundings during the period of the war.  To these and to those that served and survived we offer heartfelt thanks.

ELECTIONS, THANKSGIVING, AND WHAT IS REALLY IMPORTANT

As we approach the Thanksgiving season and find that we continue to be forced to remember and look back at the turmoil and continued upheaval in our government, it seems as if nothing was settled by the election.  We continue to see dishonesty and deception being practiced by our elected leaders, lack of acceptance of responsibility for acts and deeds detrimental to our country, and a continued direction away from the Christian principles upon which our freedom was founded many years ago.  Our military serving in foreign lands does continue to strive to keep our country free under very adverse condition,  many times being betrayed by their political leaders.  We have all seen the continuing Benghazi scandal, claims and counterclaims being made by the affected agencies,  the most recently revealed CIA scandal, and all of the claims and counterclaims made by the politicians over the last several months.  This has truly been a year of more turmoil than I ever recall in my many years of living.

In spite of all of the above, there is something to be thankful for and something to give us hope.  I was particularly struck by the below article written by Bob Russell shortly after the recent election.  Bob Russell is the retired minister of Southeastern Christian Church, Louisville, KY.  He led the church from a membership of a couple of hundred members to over eighteen thousand in the time of his ministry there, so he know of that which he speaks.  I hope in reading this that all can find some reasons for giving thanks at this time of year.

Giving Thanks In The Wake Of The Election

Written on November 8, 2012 by http://www.bobrussell.org/author/admin/” target=”_blank” rel=”nofollow”>admin in http://www.bobrussell.org/category/uncategorized/” target=”_blank” rel=”nofollow”>Uncategorized

Obviously, I’m very disappointed in the results of Tuesday’s election. Some saw the election as a battle between Republicans and Democrats. Others viewed it as a contest between blacks and whites or rich and poor. I didn’t. From my perspective the spiritual issues were clearly defined and, in the end, the majority of Americans voted against life, marriage, freedom, Israel and fiscal responsibility. The people of three states approved gay marriage. Two states voted to legalize marijuana.

I’m tempted to be depressed and whine about all that’s wrong with this country. Martin Luther once said when he was angry he preached better. That’s not true with me. When I’m angry or depressed I overstate my case and wind up later apologizing for saying foolish things. Yesterday I wrote a negative harangue titled, “America is terminally ill.” I didn’t post it and today I’m glad I didn’t.

I am commanded in Scripture to, “…give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thess. 5:18). So today, two days after the election, two weeks before Thanksgiving, I’d like to list some things I’m thankful for.

I’m thankful the election is over. No more negative ads. No more false accusations and grossly exaggerated claims. Yea!

I’m thankful that I live in Kentucky. I’ve never been prouder of my adopted state. Over 60% showed some common sense.

I’m thankful I don’t live in Ohio or Florida. Some of my preacher friends living in one of those two swing states (my son included) are frustrated that the thousands of churches in their state didn’t make more of a difference. Those preachers are asking if they did enough.

I’m thankful I don’t live in Washington State. Two friends of ours were visiting from Seattle this past weekend. They lamented that they were going back to a state that had approved gay marriage and legalized marijuana. They asked, ‘How would you like to raise your children in that kind of liberal environment?”

I’m thankful for bold preachers who took a strong stand. A number of ministers retreated from the fight. But some very influential ministers with national ministries and others who preach in small country churches were perceptive enough to understand the battle and took a strong, courageous stand in this election. They took some heat but I’m confident the Lord will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant”.

I’m thankful my prayers have been answered according to God’s will. My prayers weren’t answered according to my will but I always pray the words of Jesus, “Not my will but yours be done.” Most political analysts are convinced the timing of Hurricane Sandy helped sway the country toward re-electing the President. I’m going to accept that as God’s will.

I’m thankful that God’s justice prevails in His time. Maybe The Lord’s will is best understood according to Psalm 81:11-12 “But my people would not listen to me; Israel would not submit to me. So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts to follow their own devises.”

You know the result of Israel’s spiritual rebellion. The nation was soon divided, then overrun by the Babylonians and the people were taken into captivity. Maybe God is allowing us to follow our evil devises to our own detriment. A.W. Tozer wrote, “The wheels of God’s justice grind slowly; but they grind exceedingly fine.”

I’m thankful I don’t have to justify having a Mormon in the White House for the next four years. I didn’t like our choices this past election. I believe Mormonism is a false teaching. It would have been difficult to support a president while explaining the errors of his Mormon religion for the next four years.

I’m thankful that a president can just serve just two terms. Our president has made it clear that his goal is to, “fundamentally transform America.” It’s obvious that his vision for our country is to move toward socialism and a more powerful government. That is not what our Founding Fathers had in mind and not what I want to see happen. I’m thankful a President can serve only eight years.

I’m thankful for our founding Fathers who set up a system of checks and balances. As powerful as the President is He isn’t a king. He isn’t a dictator. His powers are limited by the congress and Supreme Court. The liberal press is pushing hard for “Bipartisanship,” which in their definition usually means, “give in and let the president have his way.” The writers of the constitution sought to restrict power by creating three equal branches of government.

I’m thankful that my hope is not in the United States of America. I believe that America is very sick, maybe even terminally ill. Every nation in history has had a shelf life. I think we are fading fast. But my hope is not in this country but, “On Christ the Solid Rock I stand all other ground is sinking sand.”

I’m thankful that I’ve been privileged to live in a wonderful period of our nation’s history. I’m almost 70 years old. I’ve seen so many incredible inventions and witnessed so many great accomplishments. America has been the most prosperous, the most “free,” and the most magnanimous nation in the history of the world. And I got to be a part of it.

I’m thankful for my family. I’m so thankful for my wife, my sons, my daughters in law and my seven grandchildren, all of whom know the Lord.

I’m thankful for the permanency of the church. Jesus said, “I will build my church and the gates of hades will not overcome it.” Nations come and go but the church still stands.

I’m thankful that Jesus is going to return soon. The Bible says when the Lord returns every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. When that day comes, I’ll be on my knees acknowledging that Jesus is King of Kings. So will Michael Moore, Bill Maher, John Stewart, Barbara Streisand, Whoopee Goldberg, Rachel Maddow, Chris Matthews” and any who sneer at God’s truth – all will be humbly acknowledging that Jesus is Lord. Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly.

I’m thankful for the hope of heaven. I’ve been reminded again to fix my affections on the things above and not on earthly things.

I’m thankful God is patient and full of mercy. He can still forgive our rebellion and immorality. While Psalm 81:11-12 warns that God releases people to the consequences of their own evil desires, the next two verses promise, “If my people would but listen to me, if Israel would follow my ways, how quickly I would subdue their enemies and turn my hand against their foes!” (Psalm 80:13-14). A miracle-working God is patiently waiting for His people to repent.

I’m thankful for this day. “This is day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” We have this day to live in freedom. We have this day to honor the Lord Jesus Christ. Let’s make the most of it.