However, the path of God is unknown and deep are the waters. Often do we see what is pleasing, take a sudden turn of providence, that deprives even the most Godly of their happiness. We should not fear theses changes and trust that all things work for the greater good.
Nancy B. BrewerHer blue eyes are full of tears, but she is smiling. Her expression is as bright as a newborn Christian.} one my favorite lines from Beyond Sandy Ridge.
Nancy B. BrewerWith time, grief has a way of slipping down in the crevices of your heart. It never really leaves; it just makes room for more.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-romance southern-women hictorical-fiction
Do not try to understand love, control it or hold it.
Although love is humble, it is strong and suffers all, And if it be true, it will always find its way.
(The golden goose has died, my prince turned into a frog, the Kingdom is lost, everyone has turned into stone and I am locked in the tower)
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction civil-war romance-novel
{Summertime she speaks of winter, she eats ham, but speaks of beef, got a good man but, flirts with another. She might as well go to hell, cause she ain't gonna be happy in heaven either!}
Nancy B. BrewerTags: humor history romance historical-fiction southern southern-writers southern-women
We Southerners are a strong lot. Like our ancestors before us, we will survive. I will never lose faith. I am standing on the promise that tomorrow will be a better day.
Nancy B. BrewerMy darling,
My day’s sweetest moments are at dawn, for I awake with dreams of you still in my head. As the light touches my lips, I can almost feel yours upon mine. I imagine your footsteps coming up the walk, but today is the same as the day before. It is only fanciful thinking.
As the first beams of morning sunlight dance across my weary shoulders I cry out, “How can you be so cheery and bright with so much sorrow across our land?”
I know I must be strong and face another day, but tears fill my eyes. Suddenly, a white dove lands upon my window sill. Surely this be the omen that peace is near at hand. Just like the breath of the coming Spring, this little dove now brings me new hope. God has heard our prayers and our Southland will flower again.
Tags: www-nancybbrewer-com
The sun flickers through the trees and shines upon the faces of the men lined up on the porches. Soldiers no more, just ordinary men who, by the grace of God, were spared to tell their stories
Nancy B. BrewerHave you forgotten me?
by Nancy B. Brewer
The bricks I laid or the stitches I sewed.
I was the one that made the quilt; a drop of blood still shows from my needle prick.
Your wedding day in lace and satin, in a dress once worn by me.
I loaned your newborn baby my christening gown, a hint of lavender still preserved.
Do you know our cause, the battles we won and the battles we lost?
When our soldiers marched home did you shout hooray!
Or shed a tear for the fallen sons.
What of the fields we plowed, the cotton, the tobacco and the okra, too.
There was always room at my table for one more,
Fried chicken, apple pie, biscuits and sweet ice tea.
A time or two you may have heard our stories politely told.
Some of us are famous, recorded on the pages of history.
Still, most of us left this world without glory or acknowledgment.
We were the first to walk the streets you now call home,
Perhaps you have visited my grave and flowers left,
but did you hear me cry out to you?
Listen, my child, to the voices of your ancestors.
Take pride in our accomplishments; find your strength in our suffering.
For WE are not just voices in the wind, WE are a living part of YOU!
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