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Saturday, March 16, 2024

Out of a passenger ship sinking came a beautiful worship song by a dad who lost his family on that fateful day.

Horatio Gates Spafford - The story behind the hymn "It is well with my soul" THE STORY OF THE “IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL”

Horatio Gates Spafford was born in New York, on 20th October 1828, but it was in Chicago that he became well-known for his clear Christian testimony. He and his wife Anna were active in their church, and their home was always open to visitors. They counted the world-famous evangelist, Dwight L. Moody, among their friends. They were blest with five children and considerable wealth. Horatio was a lawyer and owned a great deal of property in his home city.

Not unlike Job in the Old Testament of the Bible, tragedy came in great measure to this happy home. When four years old, their son, Horatio Jnr, died suddenly of scarlet fever. Then only a year later, in October 1871, a massive fire swept through downtown Chicago, devastating the city, including many properties owned by Horatio. That day, almost 300 people lost their lives, and around 100,000 were made homeless. Despite their own substantial financial loss, the Spaffords sought to demonstrate the love of Christ, by assisting those who were grief-stricken and in great need.

Two years later, in 1873, Spafford decided his family should take a holiday in England, knowing that his friend, the evangelist D. L. Moody, would be preaching there in the autumn. Horatio was delayed because of business, so he sent his family ahead: his wife and their four remaining children, all daughters, 11 year old Anna, 9 year old Margaret Lee, 5 year old Elizabeth, and 2 year old Tanetta.

ANOTHER TRAGEDY On 22nd November 1873, while crossing the Atlantic on the steamship, Ville du Havre, their vessel was struck by an iron sailing ship. Two hundred and twenty-six people lost their lives, as the Ville du Havre sank within only twelve minutes.

All four of Horatio Spafford’s daughters perished, but remarkably Anna Spafford survived the tragedy. Those rescued, including Anna, who was found unconscious, floating on a plank of wood, subsequently arrived in Cardiff, South Wales. Upon arrival there, Anna immediately sent a telegram to her husband, which included the words “Saved alone….”

Receiving Anna’s message, he set off at once to be reunited with his wife. One particular day, during the voyage, the captain summoned him to the bridge of the vessel. Pointing to his charts, he explained that they were then passing over the very spot where the Ville du Havre had sunk, and where his daughters had died. It is said that Spafford returned to his cabin and wrote the hymn “It is well with my soul” there and then, the first line of which is, “When peace like a river, attendeth my way..”

There are other accounts that say that it was written at a later date, but obviously, the voyage was one of deep suffering and is the clear inspiration of the moving and well-loved hymn. Horatio’s faith in God never faltered. He later wrote to Anna’s half-sister, “On Thursday last, we passed over the spot where she went down, in mid-ocean, the waters three miles deep. But I do not think of our dear ones there. They are safe….. dear lambs”.

After Anna was rescued, Pastor Nathaniel Weiss, one of the ministers traveling with the surviving group, remembered hearing Anna say, “God gave me four daughters. Now they have been taken from me. Someday I will understand why.”

Naturally, Anna was utterly devastated, but she testified that in her grief and despair, she had been conscious of a soft voice speaking to her, “You were saved for a purpose!” She remembered something a friend had once said, “It’s easy to be grateful and good when you have so much, but take care that you are not a fair-weather friend to God.”

Following this deep tragedy, Anna gave birth to three more children, but she and Horatio were not spared even more sadness, as on February 11th, 1880, their only son, Horatio (named after the brother who had died, and also after his father), he also died at the age of four.

FURTHER SERVICE In August 1881 the Spaffords left America with a number of other like-minded Christians and settled in Jerusalem. There they served the needy, helped the poor, and cared for the sick, and took in homeless children. Their desire was to show those living about them, the love of Jesus.

The original manuscript of Spafford’s hymn has only four verses, but later another verse was added. The music, which was written by Philip Bliss, was named after the ship on which Horatio and Anna’s daughters had died – Ville du Havre.

Saturday, March 9, 2024

How great is our God~the story of Laminin , the molecular structure that shaped like the cross of Christ that holds our bodies together

It says in the word that we are uniquily and wonderfully made. When he made us our bodies were made of a molecular structure with the shape of the cross of Christ.How cool is that?

Thursday, March 7, 2024

We must give our kids permission to cry after we lose someone very dear to us

Once upon a time, in a small town nestled among rolling hills, lived a young girl named Evelyn. She was just eight years old when her world shattered. Her beloved father, a firefighter, lost his life while saving others from a raging inferno. The flames consumed not only the building but also a piece of Evelyn’s heart.

The funeral was a blur of tear-streaked faces, somber hymns, and the scent of lilies. Evelyn clung to her mother’s hand, her small fingers trembling. But amidst the grief-stricken crowd, she felt lost.

Her father’s absence echoed in every corner of their home—the empty chair at the dinner table, the unworn coat hanging by the door, and the silence that enveloped their once lively living room. Evelyn yearned for stories, memories, anything to keep her father alive in her heart. But the house remained silent, and the photo frames collected dust.

Days turned into weeks, and Evelyn’s grief festered. She watched her classmates laugh, play, and share stories about their families. But she had no stories left to tell. Her father’s voice faded from her memory, replaced by an ache that settled deep within her chest.

She wondered if she was allowed to grieve, or if her mother’s silence meant she should forget.

In school, Evelyn’s grades plummeted. She couldn’t concentrate on math problems or history lessons. Instead, she doodled fire trucks and imagined her father riding one, his smile wide and proud.

The other children whispered behind her back, wondering why she was different. They didn’t understand that grief had wrapped its icy fingers around her heart, freezing her emotions.

One day, during recess, Evelyn sat alone on the swing. The wind tugged at her hair, and tears blurred her vision. A girl named Lily approached, her eyes filled with curiosity. “Why don’t you play with us?” Lily asked.

Evelyn hesitated. “I don’t know how.” Lily tilted her head. “How can you not know? Everyone plays.”

Evelyn’s voice trembled. “My dad died. I miss him.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry.” She sat beside Evelyn. “My grandma died last year. It hurt a lot.”

Evelyn blinked. “Did you cry?” Lily nodded. “Yeah. But my mom said it’s okay to cry. It helps.”

Evelyn thought about her mother, who never shed a tear. She wondered if her grief was wrong somehow. “What if you can’t cry?”

Lily shrugged. “Maybe you need someone to help you.” And so, Evelyn and Lily became unlikely friends. Lily listened as Evelyn whispered stories about her father—the way he laughed, the bedtime tales he spun, and the warmth of his hugs.

Lily encouraged her to draw pictures, to write letters to her dad, and to visit his grave.

Slowly, Evelyn began to thaw. One rainy afternoon, Evelyn stood before her father’s tombstone. The raindrops mingled with her tears. “I miss you,” she whispered. “I wish you were here.”

And then, for the first time since the funeral, Evelyn felt a release. Her grief poured out, cleansing her soul.

She realized that grieving wasn’t a sign of weakness; it was a tribute to love. Margaret watched from a distance, her own tears hidden behind dark sunglasses. She saw her daughter finally grieve, and in that moment, she understood.

Evelyn needed permission—to cry, to remember, and to heal.

From then on, Margaret and Evelyn visited the cemetery together. They shared stories, laughter, and tears. And as the seasons changed, so did their hearts.

Evelyn learned that grief wasn’t a burden to bear alone—it was a bridge connecting her to her father’s memory.

And so, in that small town, amidst rolling hills and rain-kissed tombstones, Evelyn discovered that healing began with tears, and love endured even after loss.

🌿🌸 I crafted this story to explore the impact of traumatic losses on children who struggle to grieve. The characters and their journey represent the complexities of grief and the importance of allowing oneself to mourn.