Why Are Many Churches Declining?

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind (Matthew 22:27).

Have Christians followed God's commandments? Do we love God with all our hearts, souls, and minds? How much thought do most Christians really give God. Is the bulk of their Bible study, prayer, and spiritual thought reserved for Sunday mornings, if they manage to make it to church that week? When we haven't been very committed, how can we expect our children or grandchildren to be? Don't fail your future generations. The Bible admonishes us over and over again to teach our children to love and serve God. That's the most important thing we can teach them! But we have to show them by example.

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself (Matthew 22:39 b).

Have we loved others as much as we love ourselves? If we love God the way we should, His great love will overflow from our lives and we will love even the unlovable because of God's love in us. This is one of the works of the Holy Spirit, but we must choose to allow it to happen. As Peter said, "Love covers a multitude of sins."  
And above all things have fervent love among yourselves; for love shall cover the multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8).

Have we fulfilled the Great Commission Jesus gave us and focused our life on being His disciples and witnessing to the world? We can do this wherever we are - wherever He sends us. Too many haven't even done a good job of this within their own families and neighborhoods. As Christians, we need to realize we are His, and nothing in this world can compare to serving Him according to His will. He's made His will very clear to us. How obedient are we?

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: (Matthew 28:19).

If we would get these three greatest commandments right and give God total control of our lives and our churches, the pews would be overflowing. Have you done your part? Will you? With God, it's never too late as long as we live. We serve a God who will give us as many chances as we need. America desperately needs the kind of Christianity Christ demonstrated.

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The Arts Council Connection

The day before Jim and I left for our whirlwind trip to Alabama and Texas (see blog for January 25, 2016), I went to sign books at the Bertie County Arts Council. It turned out to be a great day - well planned and organized. They seemed to have also done a good job of promoting the event, because the traffic through was steady.

Besides me, they had also invited an artist to show his work and give a demonstration. I didn't sell out of books, but I had sales, there was a lot of interest, and I enjoyed talking with everyone. It's always a joy to discuss my books and writing.

While I was traveling, someone from the arts council contacted me and asked if I would be willing to place some books in their store for them to sell. Of course, I said "yes." I'm excited about this new outlet. Apparently, people have been asking for the books. I know many asked me about the third one in the Appalachian Roots Series, which is being published now, and where they would be able to get it.

My promotions and events have slowed somewhat during the winter, and I'm always looking for new opportunities. If anyone in my area (North Carolina, Southern Virginia, or Northern South Carolina) would like me to speak or do a book signing, please contact me. Since all my profits go to a scholarship fund for missionary children, even many churches have asked me to speak and had me sign books afterwards. To God be the glory in it all!

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The Raven 

On January 29, 1845, Edgar Allan Poe published "The Raven" for the first time in the New York Evening Mirror. The poem was soon reprinted in many other publications and made Poe quite famous, although it brought little financial gain.

"The Raven" has always been a favorite of mine, ever since I had to memorize several verses in elementary school. I can still quote some of them from memory now. Poe wrote it to appeal to the public, as well as to the literary critics. I think he accomplished this.

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a  quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore --
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'This some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door --
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore --
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'This some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door --
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my heart grew stronger; hesitating them no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" -- here I opened wide the door --
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before;
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore --
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not in the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he,
But, the mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door --
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door --
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore --
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door --
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust,
spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before --
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther, then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before --
ON the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore --
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of Never -- nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining with my heart at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet violet lining that the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer,
Swung by angles whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he has sent thee
Respite -- respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing if evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! --
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted --
On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore --
Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore,"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore --
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting --
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!"
Take they beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor.
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted -- nevermore!

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Emma's Recipe for Venison

In Cleared for Planting and the coming release, Uprooted by War, I used my mother's recipe for country-style venison for Emma to cook. My mother and father were born and grew up in the Appalachians. When I wrote of this area, it's a culture I know well.

In Cleared for Planting, Edgar has come to visit Emma, and she's cooking dinner for him:
      Edgar sat at the kitchen table while Emma finished cooking dinner. Emma had planned a special dinner. She’d soaked some venison strips in apple cider vinegar and water to get out the gamey taste, tenderized the meat by beating it, and slowly simmered it in a pan until tender. Then, she took it up, made gravy, and put it back in the gravy. She stewed potatoes and carrots together, added butter, and made biscuits. For dessert, she’d made an apple cobbler. When they sat down to eat, Edgar asked for permission to say grace. Mama gave it, since Papa didn’t say anything.
       “This is an excellent meal,” Edgar said as they began to eat. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted better venison.”

In Uprooted by War, Emma has decided to cook a meal for the family, although Leah often does the cooking now:

            Granny Em cooked venison for all of them for dinner. She said she’d fixed it like she had for Edgar, when he’d come to visit at her family’s cabin before he and she were married. She'd soaked it in some apple cider vinegar and water to get the gamey taste out, beat it to tenderize it, simmered it tender, and smothered it in gravy.

            “Emma, I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Hawk said.  “I’ve never tasted such delicious venison, and I’ve had it every way imaginable.”

            “This is good, Mama," Clifton added. "I remember you used to make it like this occasionally, but it’s been years, since I’ve had it.”

            “Could you show me how to make it?” Leah asked. “I know Luke loves this.”

            “He does, and yes, I’ll show you.”

Here's a more detailed recipe of how to make this venison:

Place frozen pieces of venison in a bowl of water with lemon juice. Vinegar also works, but my family prefers the lemon or lime juice, and fresh is better than reconstituted, although the reconstituted will work. This will remove the wild taste. Put in the refrigerator for at least six hours, and it can be overnight. Rinse and place in fresh lemon water and set back in the refrigerator until it is completely thawed and soft or for a few more hours. Rinse thoroughly. Use a washable cutting board (placing it on a folded towel will tone down the noise). You can sprinkle a little white meat tenderizer on both sides of each piece of meat and omit the salt, but we never do this. Beat in one direction and then the other with a meat mallet or the edge of a saucer that will not chip easily (I find the saucer works much better), until the meat thins and tiny holes begin to appear.  Place in a skillet with heated oil and brown on both sides. Add water and steam turning at least once for over an hour or until fork tender. You may need to add more water along. Remove meat. Stir in flour to make gravy using either milk or water, whichever you prefer. I do this without measuring, but you can find a gravy recipe if needed. Your gravy won’t lump as much if your stock is not too hot. Add salt and pepper to taste. Place meat back into the gravy and simmer until ready to serve.

(All profits from my books go to a scholarship fund for missionary children.)

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The Light Bulb

On January 27, 1880, Thomas Edison patented the electric incandescent lamp. He was a prolific inventor with 1,093 U.S. patents in his name, as well as many in other countries. Menlo Park became the first industrial research laboratory, and he was also known as an astute businessman.

He had only attended school for three months. He hadn't felt very successful there, and his teacher called him "addled," so his mother taught him at home. He later told, "My mother was the making of me. She was so true, so sure of me; and I felt I had something to live for, someone I must not disappoint."

Edison's inventions had a huge impact on large populations. Electric lights and power, the phonograph and sound recordings, and motion pictures started huge worldwide industries themselves. His inventions led to better communications and an easier way of life. His first power station was the Pearl Street Station built in Manhattan in 1882.

He founded fourteen companies, including General Electric. Almost all of modern technology and the devices we use today can be traced back to Thomas Edison in some way. For example, where would we be without electricity? It even charges the batteries in our small devices. So we have plenty to celebrate about the invention of the first electric light, which led the way.

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Folk Medicine

In the early days of our country, only the cities and larger towns were likely to have doctors. In rural, remote areas, families often had to take care of their own health issues. Sometimes there might be a healer in the area that people would go to if the problem became serious. The healers would gather herbs, make medicines, and dispense them as they saw the need.

This was true in my novels in the Appalachian Roots Series. In Cleared for Planting, Emma learned healing herbs from her time with the Cherokee. Here is an excerpt from that time:

       One morning a distraught mother brought a baby for Lily to see. The baby looked to be a couple of months old and wailed until it almost lost its breath. Lily took the baby, looked at Emma, and said, “Sick.” She pulled what looked like dried apples with the peel still on them from a pouch, added something else to it, handed them to Emma, and said, “Make tea.”
       Emma followed instructions and made about a cup of tea. Lily cooled the drink and began giving it to the infant. She chanted to the baby while she gave it the tea. In about ten minutes, the infant
had quieted. She handed the baby back to the mother. The grateful woman said something, and Lily replied. Lily gave the woman some of the tea ingredients, and she left with them and her baby.
       “You can help the sick?” Emma asked.
       “Sometimes. Father used to be medicine man. I help small problems. Medicine man do more.”
       “Will you teach me?”
       “Why?”
       “I had a younger sister, who died with a high fever and tightness in her chest. I wished I’d known how to help her.”
       Lily stared at her, much as Hawk did when it seemed he was reading her very thoughts. “I teach,” Lily finally said.
       That began her instruction. Lily showed Emma her medicines and explained their uses in her chopped speech. She said the names of the things in English, if she knew them, and in Cherokee if she didn’t. The Cherokee sounds were difficult for Emma to make, so she did like she had with the names of people, and made up a name of her own.

In Sown in Dark Soil, the second book, Leah had also learned medicines. When she and Granny Em got together, they shared their knowledge.

            Leah saw Luke waiting outside the inn when they pulled up. He stood beside a covered wagon.

            He and Jasper loaded the trunks from the carriage to the wagon. “I thought I said one trunk each.”

            “Ivy said she had a hard time limiting it to just two. She’s taking only a fraction of her newest clothes.”

            Luke shook his head in disbelief. “I guess I’m ignorant when it comes to well-brought-up young women At least you managed with one trunk. You do have just one, don’t you?”

            “Just one trunk, but I brought my medicine chest, too. I hope that’s okay. It’s small, and the vials fit in special slots, so they won’t break. I hate to leave most of my herbs behind, but I guess I can collect more when we get to your place.”

            “You’ll have different ones there, too. Some of them are really useful, like ginseng. Granny can help you learn the new ones. She’s good with herbs and healing. I think she’s the reason my father became a doctor.”

            “That’s good to know. I won’t feel so bad about leaving my herbs behind, then.”

            He smiled at her. “I think Granny will really like you.”

In Uprooted by War to be released soon, Leah continues helping the neighbors. The Civil War has caused shortages for everyone. Not only are those in the South required to give ten percent of what they raise to the Confederacy, but in the Appalachians scavengers, bushwackers, and raiders threatened to take what the families had.

            Someone knocked on the front door early the next day, too early for anyone to make it up the mountain. When Leah opened the door, Raymond Blankenship stood there with his hat in his hand. He and Polly lived up the mountain a few miles away.

            “Mornin’, Mrs. Moretz,” he said.

            “Come in,” Leah told the man. “It’s too cold to be standing outside this morning.”

            “I truly hated to come, but hit’s Polly. She hain’t feelin’ too good, and I wuz awonderin’ iffin y’all had somethan’ ’sides meat ya could spare. Ya see, weuns wuz raided a while back, and they’ve took ’bout everthang we had to et and tore up the rest. I’ve been huntin’, but I ‘spect Polly’s needin’ somethan ‘sides jist meat.”

            Leah sent Patrick to the root cellar. She packed the Blackenships a bag with carrots, potatoes, onions, and dried beans. They might run short if they were raided again, but these were her neighbors needing help, and God expected her to give it. Leah also knew the situation would probably be worse than Raymond had indicated for him to come asking for help.

            “I put a bottle of tonic in too,” Leah told him. “Have Polly take three tablespoons a day. Tell her it’s Granny Em’s recipe.”

            “I shore do thank ye kindly,” Raymond said, as he left with his bag.   

(All profits from my books go to a scholarship fund for missionary children.)

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On the Road Adventure

Jim and I just got back from a whirlwind road-trip. We left the parsonage on Monday to go to our home in Oakboro. However, we had to swing by Elizabeth City, North Carolina, to pick up a prescription for one of Jim's medicines, and that was in the opposite direction of where we needed to go. We spent Monday night in Oakboro. Jim discovered he had left the mask to his C-PAP machine, so we went to the VA hospital in Salisbury on Tuesday to get one, since he really needed it on the trip. 

Wednesday morning, we headed for Alabama, where Jim had some mission training. We spend Wednesday night at a Comfort Inn in Douglasville, Georgia, just southwest of Atlanta, which gave an easy shot over to Talladega. We stayed at the Shocco Springs Conference Center Thursday night and headed for Garland, Texas, early Friday afternoon. Garland is a suburb of Dallas, and Jim's granddaughter had just given birth to a son, Samuel Levi Zuarez.

We stayed in Brandon, Mississippi, Friday night and made it to Garland in the early afternoon on Saturday. We managed to see that great-grandson most days. He's so cute! On Tuesday, while the family was at work and school, we went to Burleson, Texas, to see some good friends who were in Roswell, New Mexico, when we were there. We had a nice visit. Wednesday we headed home and spent the night in Lonoke, Arkansas.

We had planned to go by Knoxville, Tennessee, and spend Thursday night with my son and family, but Jay was already out of school that morning, because it was snowing. I felt we would make it to Knoxville fine that day, but I worried about making it though the mountains Friday morning, so we decided to go back the southern route again. As it turned out, that was a wise decision. We spent the night in the same motel in Douglasville.

It was cold, below freezing, as we started out Friday morning, but the roads were clear there. However, the more north we went, the worse the weather got. We saw mainly freezing rain, but there were signs where it had snowed and sleeted. The roads weren't that bad until we got to Greenville, South Carolina, however. From there on, the road conditions became worse and worse. Charlotte, North Carolina, was bad, but we made it to Oakboro.

Saturday morning there was about five inches of ice and snow at our house in Oakboro, and it was about 28 degrees. Jim decided to come on back, because he'd planned to be in the pulpit Sunday. Roads were still bad in places, but we had no problems. Once we got east of Raleigh, conditions improved. We made it to Powellsville about four-thirty that afternoon. After coming through 7 states, some more than once, and braving the elements, it snowed in Powellsville Saturday night enough to cancel services. Despite how it might sound, it still turned out to be a good trip.

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Our Influence

All of us probably influence many more people in our lifetime than we realize. We might think we affect our family and close friends, but our circle of influence is much bigger than that. It can include everyone we meet. The question is whether our influence is a good or bad one, and, if we're a Christian, how are we representing Christ?

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven (Matthew 5:16).

The key to having a positive influence is to put Christ in the center of your circle. If He is the center of your life, then you will have a wonderful influence of all you come into contact with. Too many Christians grow lukewarm or just go through the motions without their heart being in it. This is what the Pharisees did in Jesus' day. They carefully kept the law and outwardly showed how righteous they were, but their hearts were hard. They didn't really love God more than they loved themselves or others as much.

For I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:20).

Our world today could definitely use more Christian influence. I remember when I was once interviewed for a public school teaching position. The principal made the comment that he liked to hire Christians, because his school ran more smoothly when he did. Isn't that a good testimony to the kind of influence we can have? What are you doing to influence the world for Christ?

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The Release Date Nears

I just finished the last read-throughs for When Winter Is Past. I think the release day is near, and I'm very excited. In fact, I think the ebook will release within the next week. This is my stand-alone novel set in Pennsylvania in 1739. I lived in Pennsylvania for three summers, besides visiting there several more times. I like to use places I know for the settings of my books.

Here is an excerpt from the beginning of the book that introduces one of the main characters and gives some background:

Stanton Klein sat on the ground beside the grave and leaned his back against a tree. The dampness from the recent rain seeped into him, but he paid it little mind. His eyes were fixed on the grave; yet they saw the past year through the dense fog that surrounded the farm.

It had been a hard year since his Molly had died in childbirth. He had wanted a child more than anything. He needed a son to help him on the farm, carry on his name, and inherit his holdings. The infant girl had died with his wife. It hadn’t even been a boy for all the trouble it’d brought. He’d buried them both in the same grave.

He had waited almost a year, the longest year of his life, but he wanted to show his respect for his deceased wife. Time had frozen that winter, and he hoped he never had to live through another like it. As soon as Molly had been buried and the visitors left, things got as difficult as steerage passage across the Atlantic. After all the initial upheaval, everyone else’s lives went back to normal, but his remained upturned, and, in the quiet, it hit him full force.

He brushed his eyes and blinked. Even at the start of the day, he felt tired. Sleep didn’t visit for long anymore. It remained elusive, something he hunted but could no longer track down. Regardless of how long and hard he worked, he stayed awake at night more often than not.

At twenty-eight years of age, he needed to marry again. A man needed a wife—and a farmer needed one more than most. He needed a son. If he started looking now, maybe he would be able to marry before the busy harvest time arrived. He’d have two or three months until the fields demanded his full attention. If things were delayed, he’d just have to wait until after the harvest, but he was determined to be married before the cold weather set in again. He refused to spend another dismal winter shivering alone.

He’d met Molly in Philadelphia. She’d never fit into farm life as much as he would have liked. She hated all the outdoor chores, but she’d kept a clean house, cooked their meals, sewed their clothes, and did the laundry and other household tasks. They’d gotten along well enough.

       He knew he’d never loved her, but he’d cared for her and grieved at her passing. He had vowed long ago to never love a woman. His father had given his heart away to Stanton’s mother, and when she died in childbirth, his father had withered away and followed her to the grave by his own hand. Stanton never forgave his father for deserting him like that. Why hadn’t his son been enough to live for? No, Stanton never wanted to love like that. He had been ten at the time, and he’d had his grandparents, but that wasn’t the same as having parents.
      He rubbed his itching eyes, and the grave came into clear view again, bringing him back to the present.... 

(All profits from the book will go to a scholarship fund for missionary children)

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National Come in from the Cold Day

With winter storms forecast for many areas of the United States, today is National Come in from the Cold Day. How weird is that? But maybe it's also appropriate. I imagine many people will be rushing to get in out of the cold today.

The most snow to fall in the United States in a 24 hour period came at Silver Lake, Colorado, where 75.8 inches fell in April 1921. Ultimately the blizzard left 95 inches in continuous snowfall. Georgetown, Colorado, came in second with 63 inches, and Thompson Pass, Alaska, holds third place with 62 inches.

The lowest temperature came from Prospect Creek, Alaska, where a -99.8 F degrees was recorded in January 1971. The lowest temperature in the lower forty-eight came at Rogers Pass, Montana, in January of 1954, where the thermometer dipped to -69.7 F degrees. 

Maybe with these statistics, your temperatures today won't feel so bad. But, if you live in an area where the storms will hit or you have a blast of frigid air, I suggest you celebrate National Come in from the Cold Day.

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Stonewall Jackson

Thomas Jonathan Jackson was born on January 21, 1824. His great-grandparents had met on a prison ship bringing them to America as bond servants after a judge found them guilty of theft. Their ship landed in Maryland where they served out their indenture at different locations and married in 1755. In 1758, the family moved across the Blue Ridge Mountains to Moorefield, Virginia, in what is now West Virginia. They finally settled even farther west in the state, where they began to accumulate land. The couple had eight children. The two older sons and father fought in the American Revolution.

Thomas's grandfather was Edward, the second son; and his father was Jonathan, Edward's third son. Jonathan Jackson died of typhoid fever, leaving a 28-year-old widow and three young children. Julia Jackson refused charity, moved to a small cabin, taught school, and took in sewing. Because of Julia's remarriage and declining health, Thomas and his sister were sent to live with their half-uncle. After his mother died, Thomas went to live with another relative but ran away after continued verbal abuse.

Thomas was mainly self-taught. In 1842, he was accepted into West Point. Because of his sketchy education, he poured determination and hard work into the academy and graduated well. He met Robert E. Lee in the Mexican-American War. Three years after his first wife died giving birth to a still-born daughter, Thomas married Mary Anna Morrison, the daughter of the president of Davidson College in North Carolina.

As the Civil War drew near, the issues divided him and his sister, who he'd always been close to. She'd become a staunch abolitionist, and Thomas was a Confederate general. In fact, many historians consider him to be the most gifted tactical commander in American history and think the war would have ended differently had he lived. As it was, Confederate pickets accidentally shot him during the Battle of Chancellorsville in 1863. His arm was amputated, but he died of complications and pneumonia eight days later.

He had received the nickname, "Stonewall," at the First Battle of Bull Run. There he rushed his troops to fill a gap in the Confederate line.  One of his fellow generals is reported to have remarked, "Look, men, there is Jackson standing like a stone wall." They began calling him "Stonewall," and it's how he's still remembered.

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