The skies looked dark to the revolutionary troops the morning of the Battle of the Guilford Courthouse. The 1900 British troops under General Lord Cornwallis were well trained and successful—and they were on the march north. A victorious conclusion to Cornwallis’ campaign, a prelude to an invasion of Virginia, would end the uprising and the colonies in the Americas would remain within the British fold.

The colonists’ troops, regulars and militia, were commanded by Major General Nathaniel Greene, a leader who was held in the highest respect by General George Washington. Greene’s army consisted of 4400 men, a superior number to the British but not nearly as well seasoned or equipped as the enemy.

Cornwallis had been pursuing Greene and his army for some time, and Greene had managed to stay ahead of his adversary, but on March 14, 1781 Greene halted his troops at the Guilford Courthouse, formed them into three lines and waited for dawn. On March 15 Cornwallis saw his chance to rid himself of Greene and went on the attack. His troops, though tired and hungry, marched on in lines, up the road which is today New Garden Road. The first line of American militia did its damage against the British wave, then disappeared into the forest. The same happened with the second line so that when the British faced the strongest and most professional enemy, General Greene’s Continental Infantry, they had already suffered serious losses. But the British were still stronger than the colonists, and while the third encounter deteriorated into such a fierce melee of hand to hand combat that at one point General Cornwallis ordered his canon to fire grapeshot into the mass of humanity, cutting down both American and British alike, in the end Greene’s army retreated.

Cornwallis did not follow, however, as while the battle was technically his victory the cost had been too great. Five hundred and fifty British troops had been killed or wounded, including some of the finest leaders, and the remaining troops were exhausted. Following the battle at Guilford Courthouse, after a short pause, Cornwallis did continue north into Virginia, but now discouraged and with his ranks depleted, instead of victory he marched to Yorktown and his surrender. Some historians would say that Cornwallis’ surrender really was a consequence of what happened at Guilford Courthouse, where an American victory was for the first time in sight.

We now live about one mile from where that important battle took place, a site now preserved as the Guilford Courthouse National Military Park. Every March 15 weekend there is a reenactment of the battle, and on certain other occasions history buffs come to relive and reenact some of the elements of life in that area at the time of the battle. Last weekend was one of those weekends, and Nancy and I took advantage of the opportunity to learn and experience this bit of history.

Living in this part of the country, where the nation was birthed, is fascinating. It shines a new light on the miracle that our country is and on the price that was paid to make it possible for us to have what we now have. Perhaps we all have something to learn from that bit of history, and perhaps we should ask ourselves whether we sometimes take for granted what is ours only because over 200 years ago some people chose to risk their lives. Perhaps we should be more grateful to them, and to those who continue to take the risks and make the sacrifice for us all...

Moving to a new state, in fact to what seems like a whole new part of the world, means leaving behind many loved ones, regular routines, important responsibilities, and familiar places. That is hard to do... But it also means searching for God's call in the new place and with new people--something that can be both hard and rewarding.

For us this has meant a call to spend time with a daughter, son-in-law and grandhild--a gift and a joy that we are making the most of! But there is almost always more than family to God's call, and we continue to seek the other parts. So this past week has been spent on one that we know is part of this new stage in life, the mundane but important task of making a house into a home.

The home we bought is just right for us: small, functional, near the kids, and in an extremely pleasant setting. But it looks like it had been used as a short-term rental and was prepared to sell by a surface treatment. The result is a house with plenty of cretive possibilities--and because it is not a large house those possibilities are not onerous but an achievable challenge. Beides that, we have moved to the furniture capital of the world (near us is Furnitureland South, the world's largest furniture store), so furnishing our home (we brought nothing with us except pieces of furniture that fit well in Emily's house) should be interesting.



Through our real estate agent we made contact with a retired engineer who drives a school bus and does home repair projects. So all last week Roy and Will attacked several small projects and one semi-major one, one of the two bathrooms. When I was a kid my weekend gardening job sometimes expanded into working alongside the homeowner on various tasks. Later as a homeowner myself out of necessity I gradually learned many of the skills necessary for keeping a house going and even improving it. So many of the tasks Roy and I are doing are not new to me, but this time there are two differences: when we left Shoreline I got rid of almost all my tools and I am committed to not collecting them all over again and I have time... Instead of squeezing in the tasks a bit at a time, late at night or on my one day off a week, I can start a task and keep at it until it is finished. That feels like a luxury--and it is.

Now I know that the physical condition of a house does not make it a home in the sense that God defines a home. Sadly, I have known many people whose houses are in excellent condition, outfitted with the newest furnishings and assembled with the finest of taste--but which are more like museums than homes. For these people a house is a fortress, reserved for the pleasure of the owner and, perhaps, a few select others. But to God a house is a tool for ministry, and for most people the most valuable tool they have. Part of that ministry is for the owner--it is a place of security and comfort. But that is not the whole. If a house is a gift from God, then it is given to be used in ministry to others as well as for the one to whom it is given. And I believe that a house truly becomes a home not when the owners feel most satisfied with it, but when God feels most satisfied with the way in which it is being used for him.

What this means to me is that while this time for me is a time to work on the physical aspects of the house God has given us, that work needs to be done with a thought to what the house can be used for in the totality of God's call to Nancy and me. The sophistication and fineness of a house is not the issue, after all a stable once was a house for the most important birth ever to take place. The issue is the availability of the resource called house to the work of God, that is what makes it a home. The work for those blessed enough to own it, and the work through them to others.

In the end, the accountability that God will hold us to includes the use of the gifts he has given us. For most of us one of those gifts is a house, so the question before each of us is the same as that for any gift, how was my house a home? That is, how did I use it not only for myself but for fulfilling the unique call to serve that God gave me?

Today is a rainy day. It was in the 90’s two days ago, and will be again in a couple days. But in the time between it feels a little like Seattle—only there are no mountains to be clouded in the mist. The little lake in our back yard takes on a particular beauty in the rain, and the geese who inhabit the area, often greeting us when we drive in, take to the pond. We are going to have to become somewhat familiar with the birds around this place. Sometimes the red of a cardinal is obvious, but then there is the bright orange beaked little bird and the small brilliant blue one. And there is some beaver-like kind of animal inhabiting the woods behind us. It may be a muskrat or a marmot, both are found in the area and I will have to get a better view or photo to be sure. Or maybe Russ Quackenbush can come visit and take us on a tour…



Most of our time is spent in two activities—getting our new-to-us house inhabitable and spending time with granddaughter and family. The former is a particular challenge as when we left Shoreline we divested ourselves of almost all our furniture, and the things we kept fit well in Emily and Steve’s house. But it is kind of fun to start over…And besides Home Depot and Lowes are only minutes away. The latter, family time, is an absolute joy.

Once again I am reminded of the words of The Preacher, There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: (Ecclesiastes 3:1)