Lives Not Forgotten

2007-05-28T01:08:00.000-04:00

John Elex Best
1925-1945

Finally. Memorial Day weekend. The unofficial start of summer. The Indy 500. Preparations and celebrations for high school graduations. A day off work. Gatherings with family and friends. Cookouts. Campouts. Decorating graves. Memorial Day was actually decreed to be a day to remember those who died fighting in wars throughout the history of our nation. And as if this weekend wasn’t busy enough, congress sent to President Truman in 1950 a proclamation to make Memorial Day a day to pray for peace. One more thing to do this weekend. This should be a very busy holiday weekend indeed.

For many reasons, this week my attention turned to Ed and Bashia Best. Ed and Bashia were married in 1920 when Ed was 39 years old and Bashia was 36. Five years after their marriage when Ed was 44 and Bashia 41, John Elex Best, their only child was born. John grew up here in Winchester, helping his parents in the Best Grocery store, attended meeting for worship here occasionally, and was an outstanding trumpet player. He graduated from Winchester High School in May of 1943.

In December of 1943, towards the end of World War II, John decided to join the army. I don’t know what his parents thought of this decision, but it had to be an incredibly difficult thing for them to see their only son go off to war. In January of 1944, John left for basic training in Camp Croft in South Carolina, then went on to Camp Shelby in Mississippi and finished his training at Camp Atterbury.

In November of 1944 John left for Europe, and within a month was in the middle of the Battle of the Bulge, the bloodiest battle American forces experienced in WWII. There were almost 20,000 Americans killed in the battle, almost 50,000 wounded, and Johnny Best was one of the 23,000 who were captured or went missing during the battle. The Battle lasted from the middle of December until the 25th of January 1945, 5 weeks. On January 16, 1945, almost exactly a year after their son went off to war, Ed and Bashia were notified Johnny was missing in action. I can’t imagine the grief experienced by this 64 and 61 year old couple. After seven weeks of not knowing what happened to their son, they received a letter from Johnny, written from a prisoner of war camp in Germany.

While Johnny was in that prisoner of war camp, the Yalta Conference took place. Shortly afterwards the fire bombing of Germany began. On March 31, 1945, thirty six British aircraft led by a Major Taylor bombed Halle, Germany from an altitude of 25,000 ft. Flak was meager and inaccurate and all the aircraft returned safely to base with no casualties.

Except that Johnny Best was in a prisoner of war camp in Halle, Germany and unbeknownst to Ed and Bashia, Johnny died that day in the allied bombing. He died one month before Hitler’s death. He died two months before the end of the war. When Johnny did not come home at the end of the war, Ed and Bashia went to post-war Germany and spent 2 months searching for him. They were not able to find his body and Ed and Bashia never really gave up hope that he might still be alive. Five years after the end of the war, the remains of Johnny Best were finally identified and brought back to Winchester. Ed and Bashia buried their only son at Fountain Park Cemetery in September of 1950. Ed and Bashia discovered that only five or six of the group of Americans with Johnny that day in 1945 made it out of Halle alive.

I am sure that when Johnny Best graduated from high school, Ed and Bashia did not anticipate their time with their son would be so short. I am painfully aware that some of our most important relationships in life are shorter than we desire. In remembering the life of Johnny Best, I’ve thought a lot about the stewardship of life and the stewardship of relationships.

Winchester Friends is now a steward of the life of Johnny Best. When Ed died in 1968 and Bashia in 1972, they left a third of their estate to Winchester Friends. For the last 7 years, almost $90,000 of the surplus of the annual distribution has been given away outside of the walls of this church to make a difference in our world. I believe that Ed, Bashia and John would be at peace knowing their legacy, their love for their son, is still active and still touching hundreds, and hundreds of people all around the world.

Here at Winchester Friends, we are again celebrating the graduation from High School of more young adults. Yet again, our nation is at war. We don’t know what the future holds for them, neither do their parents, but we all are too aware of how short our time with them has been, we are all too aware of the shortcomings of the world we are sending them into. I would like to remind you that we are also stewards of their lives.

When the apostle Paul wrote to his friends at Philippi, he reminded them that he thanked God every time he thought of or remembered them. Stewardship requires that we continually give thanks every time we think of these lives and relationships entrusted to Winchester Friends for these short years. We should continually pray for them. And I suggest pray that God will grant wisdom and strength to face the shortcomings in our world, to help them in their short lifetimes to leave our world a better place, and to make a difference in our world for Christ.

This will be a busy weekend. There are a lot of things for all of us to do. I somehow think in light of the life and death of Johnny Best, in light of all men and women throughout the world today who are dying in wars and violence, we would be good stewards of life, good stewards of these young lives before us today, to pray for peace on this Memorial day.

2006-11-16T21:25:00.000-05:00

A Peace Lesson from Susan Ubima

Remarks to begin Worship at the FCNL Annual Board Meeting in Washington DC on Nov. 12, 2006

Twenty some years ago, Ron and I sold everything we owned and flew off to Africa. We landed in Southern Sudan in the middle of a civil war and worked with refugees from another war in Uganda. Motivations for changing our lives at the ripe old age of 30 were many. One was we thought we could help change Africa. Instead, Africa changed us. After nine years in Southern Sudan and Uganda our African friends taught us that our Quaker testimonies of simplicity, peace, integrity, community and equality are not just good things to believe in or just something we do, but our testimonies must define how we live. We must be these testimonies to our world.

A petite Ugandan woman named Susan Ubima taught me about being peace in our world. I met her shortly after Northern Ugandan rebels killed her husband in an ambush. I admired her grace in the face of tragedy. Several years after the death of her husband, Susan was traveling on the same road where he was killed when her bus was attacked by rebels. In the rain of bullets, many on the bus died and Susan was shot in the arm and a bullet grazed her scalp. She and several other survivors managed to crawl out of the bus and were taken hostage by a large group of rebels, most of them barely teenagers.

Susan knew what she faced: possible death at the hands of men who killed her husband or being forced into being a sex slave to this group of rebels. For six hours Susan and the captives were marched deep into the Ugandan bush where they witnessed the murder of one of the captives who tried to escape. In those hours facing the unknown, Susan felt a leading to pray for the young men guarding her. They were close to the same age as her son. She began to engage them in conversation and to reach out to them as she knew their mothers would want of her. Slowly they began to respond to Susan. They talked a bit about playing soccer, about their homes and their families. She watched as their demeanor changed: they began to look her in the eye and spoke to her in kinder tones. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the rebels released Susan and the other hostages and they walked back to safety.

When Susan told us her story several days after the capture, she spoke about the peace studies she and her husband did under the tutelage of Quaker Peace and Service volunteers years before. The inner work of preparing for peace gave her a foundation to stand on when she found herself face to face with her husband killers. In the moments when she feared for life, she was drawn to look for that of God in her captors instead of seeing them only as rebels and killers. She was in the process of traveling a path towards forgiveness when this incident happened. She knew in those moments that somehow, someway the cycle of violence, revenge, and killing had to stop and she could choose to be a part of that plan through forgiveness and mercy. God made it possible for Susan in those moments to see the rebels as children of a mother just like her and she chose to forgive them.

Susan’s witness prepared me for life back in America. After years in the war zones of Africa, we moved to a safe home in the middle of America where there were no landmines or civil wars. On a spring afternoon three years ago, a prisoner from the county jail a block from our home beat up a guard, escaped, ran down the alley, found our back door, and broke into our home. I was home alone and found myself face to face with an angry, violent and broken young man. I was held hostage for 20 minutes while policemen searched our neighborhood in vain for this escaped prisoner.

In those moments, my commitment to peace made a difference. Because I knew I did not want to harm this young man, I was able to respond calmly to him. My husband and my commitment to peace meant we owned no guns. He searched our home for a weapon to use against me and the policemen outside my home. He found nothing. In the moments alone with this young man in our home, he broke down and cried on my shoulder, he told me about his children for whom he broke out of jail to see, and he told me of the 20 year sentence he’d just received. I was able to give him a cup of cold water and I told him that I was praying for him. In the end, he still tied me up and stole our car. But the few scrapes and bruises I had were incredibly minor to what this encounter could have been. I continue to pray and to write to him in prison.

Face to face with this young man in my home, I did not know how things would turn out. But I discovered I did not fear harm or death. God’s presence was tangible and real and I faced the unknown with peace and confidence that God would help me through whatever was to happen. My relationship with God does not mean I am protected from pain, suffering, or death. Susan’s husband, the Amish school children in Pennsylvania, and the many men, women and children who are the victims of violence and war in our world each day remind few escape violent encounters unscathed. Those who do are visible witnesses of the power of peace. For those who do not survive violence, the peace community can remind our world that it is possible for those who live in peace, to face harm or death in God’s peace.

The peace community - my faith community – works daily on Capital Hill for a world free of war and the threat of war. For over six decades the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL) has brought the spiritual experience of Friends to bear on federal legislative processes and public policy decisions. FCNL is the oldest ecumenical lobby and the largest peace lobby in Washington DC. In mid-November 250 Friends from across the United States met in Washington DC for the annual board meeting of FCNL. For three days, representatives of Yearly Meetings and Monthly Meetings came to consensus on a list of priorities of FCNL’s lobby work with the 110th congress.* Meetings for worship centered on the theme “Building a living peace: Beyond the absence of war.” The encouragement to integrate the inward life of devotion with the outward life of social change sets a foundation for FCNL’s work in lobbying for a society with equity and justice for all, for communities where every person’s potential may be fulfilled, and for an earth restored.

The peace community – my faith community – can be a living witness the cycle of war and violence can end. The peace community – my faith community - is a living witness that peace is possible, as is forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration. The peace community – my faith community – is active in building a just and peaceful society. I can think of no better community for which to be a part.

*Please see the FCNL website for this document and information on how to lobby your congressional representative.

2006-09-13T22:44:00.000-04:00

I believe in the power of fear......

On Saturday morning I sat with a cup of coffee and enjoyed a rare, peaceful morning listening to National Public Radio. I was blindsided by two interviews that forced the anniversary of September 11, 2001 into the peaceful day. Not that I ever forget that day. It is a day that changed everything in our world. But sometimes on a peaceful Saturday morning I am tempted to pretend it never happened.

The first interview was with a 9 year old Iraqi girl, Guffran. Her father was killed in a carjacking in Baghdad. Her anger and fear over this event in her life and the heartbreak over the loss of her father devastated me. The second interview was with a California man whose wife was on the first plane that crashed into the World Trade Center. His life without his soul mate and the mother of his children was equally devastating. In both cases, lives were forever changed in the blink of an eye, at the whim of a stranger.

Fear contaminates our whole world. There is the fear of a 9 year old Iraqi girl who must face a future without the care and love of a father. There is the fear of another attack that could kill her mother. There is the fear of a husband who must raise children without their mother. There is the fear of an unknown and uncertain future without a spouse. There is the fear of flying. But fear did not enter our world on September 11, 2001.

I believe in the power of fear. I fear having my home invaded again. I fear being held hostage and tied up again by an escaped prisoner: a stranger. The young man who created this fear must now face the fear of being attacked and stabbed in prison on his way to lunch. Fear is everywhere. In the life of a friend who fears the loss of his job. In a friend who faces heart failure. In the life of a child who is abused. Fear haunts the life of a young single mother with no job, no future, and another baby on the way. Our world is full of people who face the fear of pain, a hopeless future, or hunger and disease. As we face the 5th anniversary of September 11, 2001, we are reminded of the devastation that can happen at the hands of a few individuals. Fear births anger, pain, loss and revenge.

Fear knows no boundaries, no nationality, no class, no sex, nor no age. The power of fear drives many from community and trust of neighbors. Fear has the power to blind us to that of God in our fellow human beings. Fear has the power to suck our lives dry of peace and contentment. Fear has the power to change our lives forever.

I believe in the power of fear. Fear has the power to change our lives but it does not have the power to define who we are or how we respond to its presence. Fear does not need to define how we live or how we die. Fear can transform our world and our lives for good. We can choose to face fear; to respect, cherish and protect all humanity in spite of our fear. We can choose to see every life we encounter as precious and each relationship a gift. The fear of the loss of those relationships should not blind us to what time we do have together. We can choose to look through fear to cherish each moment we have alive, to cherish each moment with have with those we love and to see each of those moments as sacred. I believe in the power of fear to inspire us to make a difference and to engage and change our world for good.

That seems to be the only way remember September 11, 2001 and those who died, those who suffered great loss and those of us who must now live in a different world.

2006-06-11T22:06:00.000-04:00

25 years -- 25 Million deaths

Since 1981, 25 million people have died of AIDS. The first person I knew to die from AIDS was our Ugandan accountant in Southern Sudan, John Abitia in 1985. And then there was Night Phoebe, Quakers David and Senta Onanga, and our milkman Waswa. Last year, the woman who lived and worked in our home during our six years in Uganda, Betty Sanyu (above), died of a brain tumor caused by AIDS. AIDS is not just a number, but faces and friends.

And faces and friends I do not want to forget. John Abitia taught us about this “Slims” disease among our African friends. He died before any of us really understood how sick he was or how bad this epidemic in Sub-Saharan Africa could be. While the world become aware of AIDS through the image of Rock Hudson, I saw AIDS through the unnoticed, difficult life and death of a Ugandan refugee named John Abitia.

Ron and I met David and Senta Onanga at the Quaker Meetinghouse in Kampala. David was a convinced Quaker. I always appreciated his testimony about discovering Quakers and knowing in his heart that he experienced God and Christ in much the same way as the early Quakers. He knew that Christ was present to teach His people Himself, and he saw that worship at the Quaker meetinghouse reflected that reality. He and his wife, and Betty Sanyu are just a few of the hundreds of thousands of Ugandans who became HIV+ during the years of upheaval and war in Uganda during the 1980's.

Today over 40 million people worldwide are living with HIV and AIDS. The world we leave for the next generation will see even more AIDS deaths before the epidemic turns around. Young people between the ages of 15 and 24 account for half of all new HIV infections worldwide - more than 6,000 become infected with HIV every day. Not all people infected with HIV/AIDS become infected due to poor choices or promiscuity. Many were/are victims of abuse and other types of violence. It calls attention to the fact that we need to view our bodies and our gift of sexuality as sacred.

In days such as these, the Quaker testimonies of simplicity, peace, integrity, community and equality should speak to our sexual morality. The powerful force of sex in our lives can be used for great good or great evil.

Sexuality and all relationships should be defined by simplicity. They should be uncomplicated, not illegal, nor should we put ourselves in situations where we have to lie to cover up inappropriate relationships.

Sex should be a peace issue. We should never use our sexuality to cause harm or do violence to someone we love. HIV and sexually transmitted diseases cause great harm and can even kill.

Is our sexuality moral and our relationships distinguished by integrity? Do we as a worship community protect our children from sexual abuse when they are in our care? Do we encourage our youth to be sexually moral?

Do we as a community honor and protect the sacrament of marriage? Do we as a community offer love and support for those harmed by relationships and inappropriate sexuality?

And do we hold to the equality of all humans and hold men and women to the same high standards of sexual morality?

HIV and AIDS affects real people....not just numbers. Let us not forget their lives........and the lives of so many who face this epidemic in our world.

2006-05-18T23:32:00.000-04:00

A Good Night for Freedom
Book by Barbara Morrow, photo above
Article by Pam Ferguson

One day several months ago, a friend in our meeting (who happens to be a grade school librarian) shared with me her discovery of a wonderful children's book on Levi Coffin and the Underground Railroad. I ordered the book for our meeting's library and was quite taken by the story. Needing ideas for our annual Mother-Daughter banquet that would attract both adults and children, I wondered if the author of this book would be available to speak and read her book to the children of our meeting.

I appreciate our Quaker history and heritage and I hoped having the author of this book available to read it would make the story come alive. I also hoped it would create an interest in the Underground Railroad and Levi Coffin's home and work 25 miles from our community. On a personal level, I wondered about this author's motivation for writing this story about Quakers.

The author, Barbara Morrow, a Presbyterian woman from Auburn, Indiana responded immediately to my letter asking of her availability to speak to the women and children of our meeting. Even though the trip was two hours each way, she graciously agreed to spend the evening at our meeting and share her book. This was her first opportunity to speak to a group of Quakers and she was interested in our local meeting and Quakers in Randolph County. It was fun to share with her our heritage in the city, our connections with freed slaves, and to show her places she knew from her research into this story.

Even more insightful was the understanding of her motivation for writing the story. She was interested in the activism of people along the Underground Railroad and captivated by learning the names of two slave girls, Susan and Margaret, who passed through the Coffin home. Knowing and hearing the names made this historical event more than just a story. That historical fact came alive with the names of two young women who lived because of the intervention of people who saw them as human beings, and in the words of our Quaker ancestors, who saw "that of God" in their lives and the lives of other slaves who sought refuge and freedom along the Underground Railroad.

A Good Night for Freedom brought home some important lessons for me. I hear Friends today talk about our unhealthy obsession with our past and our heritage and how difficult it is to move forward if we "drive with our rearview mirror". I know 170 years ago our yearly meeting split over activism surrounding the issue of slavery. It was a painful separation inspiring Quakers from England to come to Randolph County to try to find a way to reconcile the two groups, to no avail . Anti-slavery Friends were an incredible asset to the Underground Railroad, and made a difference in our country for the abolition of slavery. Eventually, after twenty some years, the two groups softened and mutual yearnings brought them together again as one yearly meeting.

There always have been and always will be differences within our Yearly Meetings. And there may be more splits in the future. I hope not. Sometimes I wonder if we become so obsessed with our differences and the need to resolve them that we don't take the opportunity to wait together to sense the leading of God in the midst of those differences. Is it possible to spend our energy on the difficult and painful process to sit in worship with those who may not agree with us and with whom there is little fellowship? I believe it is necessary to take time and energy (maybe twenty years?) to seek a way forward together. Consensus and clearness may not always happen on our time schedule, but it should always happen through waiting on the spirit of God together. Our unity should be in based in religious experience and not just shared ideals or interests. Time softens us in our fellowship as we worship together and as we experience God’s presence. Again. And again. And again. And just maybe our mutual yearnings, our experience and our passion for a visible life centered in our testimonies will bring us together under the Spirit of God.

Four years ago Ron and I wandered Greece on a vacation and walked around the ruins at Philippi. It was one of those experiences that strengthened my resolve to be a servant of Christ. The apostle Paul was not superhuman. Philippi, the threshold of Christianity in Europe, was not a mega city. Paul was an ordinary man who was lead through a dream to travel to a city smaller in area than Winchester, Indiana. Obedience does not take extraordinary courage or heroism. It is the heart's longing to do something about a concern God has placed on our heart. Paul did not go to Philippi with the notion that his actions would change the world and spread Christianity throughout the planet. He set out on that journey with a heart open to the individuals God placed in his path. He used each and every opportunity to speak and live the Good News; at the river, in the marketplace and in a jail cell. God took the faithful obedience of an ordinary man and used it to further His kingdom here on earth.

Levi Coffin was not a giant among men. He, too, was an ordinary man who longed for justice in our world. He was an ordinary man who saw that of God in every human being who came to his door for help. His obedience was not about being the "President of the Underground Railroad", but about being the hands and feet of Jesus to those in need. To reach out to those who needed to see God and who faced injustice. The results of his simple obedience had heroic consequences that saved the lives of many people.

Many great and important things from our past and from our Quaker heritage have changed our world and changed people's lives. These great and important things arose out of the lives of ordinary people like you and me. We have the opportunity day by day to make a difference in our world. It is important for us to know and cherish our heritage, our history, and to know it deep in our hearts. It gives us vision, hope and motivation to look at our world and to see the good yet to be done to make God's Kingdom visible on earth. It is just a matter of simple obedience.

2005-12-30T13:45:00.000-05:00

Brenda K. Nichols
December 30, 1955 - Sept. 7, 1971

This embroidered LOVE cloth was made by Brenda in 1971. On the back our step-sister in law wrote:

Dear Brenda,

Perhaps you can find a closet to hang this first try at embroidery. When you see it, I hope you can believe that many people love and care for you.

“A bell is not a bell
till you ring it.
A song is not a song
till you sing it.
Love in your heart is not put
there to stay,
For love is not love till you give it away.”
Oscar Hammerstien

“Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Abraham Lincoln

“Happiness is like a butterfly.
The more you chase it and chase it directly.....the more it will always elude you. But if you sit down quietly and turn your attention to other things them it comes and softly sits on your shoulder.” Dr. Murray Banks

Love to you always,

Kathy and Martin
June 1971

Brenda was born one year and 15 days after my birth. I shared her life for 15 years. Today Brenda would turn 50 if she were still alive. I’ve lived 34 years without my younger sister. And yet.....her birth, her life, and her death still shape who I am and how I relate to my family, my husband, my world, and my God. Her life and her death are one of the more significant events in my life. Rarely do I go through a day without thinking about Brenda, without being reminded in some way of her life. I often dream of her and everywhere I look I see her face. I see her in the eyes of young teenage girls who are rebellious and uncertain about who they are and world they live in. I see me and Brenda in the lives of sisters who hate each other with a passion as strong as their love for each other. I see Brenda’s life reflected in the anxious faces of parents who fear their children may be beyond their love and care and reach. I see Brenda in the lives of 50 year old women who are in trouble and never got beyond their disappointments and unhappiness with life.

I see Brenda’s face in the mirror as I look in my own eyes. I‘ve heard people say you always feel responsible when someone close to you commits suicide. It is true. For too much of my life, I wondered what I could have done or should of done to prevent her suicide. As I’ve grown in my life mentally and spiritually, I’m able to put that responsibility and guilt into perspective, but I still wish things were different. I miss Brenda. The loss of her life has in some ways stunted my ability to relate with the rest of my family. It is often like I don’t want to get too close or intimate with anyone in case they should die and I am left again with the burden of loneliness and pain.

A generation has passed since her death. We now have a new generation of sisters in our family, my three nieces. I pray for them often as they mature and enter our world. That the pain and heartache of life will be balanced by the joy and love of their family and the peace and love of God. Life is difficult. But the “measure of our humanity is the distance we must travel in our lives, time and time again, ‘twixt two extremes of passion - joy and grief,’ as Shakespeare put it.” (Barbara Kingsolver Small Wonders pg 19). I hope and pray the grief I’ve known from the losses in my life will result in greater love for those close to me and a greater love and service to our world. In other words, I pray I will be a better human because of the life and death of Brenda.

NAMPA GIRL, 15, PERISHES AS RESULT OF GUN SHOT WOUND
Sept. 7, 1971 Nampa, Idaho Newspaper
Nampa, Idaho - A 15-year-old Nampa girl died at her home this morning of a gunshot wound which Canyon County Corner R. George Wolff said was “probably accidental.” Brenda K. Nichols, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Curtis, 1412 11th Ave. So., was shot in the head at approximately 9:20 AM, Wolff aid. She was alone, although her mother and possibly other family members were in the house, according to Wolff. The coroner said the investigation is continuing and that a final report will not be made “for a day or two.” Services are pending at the Alsip Funeral Home.

2005-11-16T23:08:00.000-05:00

November 16, 1933-May 3, 1969

Photo taken in 1963 or 1964.
Lauren Beale Nichols and Mary Alice Farner Nichols and their children: Brenda, Pam, Lynn and Linda.

For too many years, the only date I associate with my father is the anniversary of his death. This year I am drawn to the anniversary of his birth. Today I've been thinking about his life and the life of our family. There is much to write about, but it won't happen today......so I decided to post the photo before the day ends and begin the process of not forgetting the birth and life of my father, Lauren Nichols.

2005-08-17T13:33:00.000-05:00

WRITTEN IN STONE

At the corner of Washington and South East Street sits the cornerstone of Winchester Friends Meeting house. This cornerstone was laid Oct. 13, 1897 when construction for the new meetinghouse began. The cement block is inscribed with the names of T. Frank Moorman, Dr. Charles E. Milligan, Dr. Charles F. Gray, Joseph Keys and William C. Diggs (all on the Building Committee) and W.S. Kaufman, Architect, and Joseph L. Shetterly, Contractor.

Dr. Charles Milligan was 35 years old at the laying of the cornerstone and was the secretary and treasurer of the building committee. There is a Journal written in Dr. Milligan’s handwriting detailing the tearing down of the 1875 meetinghouse and the building of the 1898 meetinghouse. Dr. Milligan kept minute details of money pledged for the project and what was paid out for the project. He earned his place inscribed on the cornerstone.

Dr. Milligan was a prominent physician in Winchester for 32 years. He was born in Portland, Indiana and started his career life as a school teacher. He then graduated from Nelson’s Business College at Cincinnati, Ohio. He always had a desire to study medicine and in March of 1890, when he was 28 years old, he graduated from the Physio Medical College in Indianapolis. While in Indianapolis, Charles joined a Friends Meeting there and married Idella Hoffner on January 1, 1890. The month following his graduation, he moved to Winchester and began to practice medicine. Idella died seventeen months after her marriage to Charles. During the next few years he transferred his membership from Indianapolis to Winchester Friends and became acquainted with a Quaker young woman from Winchester Friends, Winifred Hinshaw (a half sister to Dick Hinshaw’s grandmother). On Sept.3, 1895 a 33 year old Charles and a 28 year old Winnie were married. They had no children, but both invested their lives in the lives of children. Dr. Milligan was on the School Board of Winchester for 12 years and Evelyn Fields remembers going to the Milligan home as a child for a Sunday School parties. Charles and Winifred left an incredible heritage by their commitment to leadership at Winchester Friends and White River Quarterly Meeting.

One part of the heritage left by Dr. Milligan’s was stated in his obituary in May 1922. It read: “He has always proven himself a consistent member of the church, helpful to others, considerate and thoughtful in his judgment. His strength of purpose, his self-control and steadfastness, his simplicity and directness made the world better because he lived. His love of truth and hatred of sham has inspired other to the realities of life. He did not win applause, but he won that which is more -- affection. His church recognized his merits for he was treasurer of both local and quarterly meeting of Friends for many years. The community saw his worth and for twelve years his splendid judgment was appreciated in his filling the position as a member of the School Board of Winchester…….His broad vision of the needs of the world was shown by his deep interest in not only home mission work but the needs of the foreign field appealed to him. Two bells donated to mission fields in [Kenya] call [Africans] to worship, and he had already arranged to furnish two others to serve a similar purpose at other stations. Truly the good we do rings our in never dying tones of gladness.”

Dr. and Winifred Milligan also left Winchester Friends a great heritage through their care for written records and books. Both had beautiful, clear handwriting and journals and minute books from the 1890’s through the 1920’s reflect their care for history and the Quaker organizations for which they volunteered their time, energy and leadership. In 2003 when we were going through books from Marybelle Hinshaw’s collection, we found many books with Winifred Milligan’s name written in pencil in the front cover. It was there I learned Winnie Thompson was named for Winifred Milligan. I appreciate the composition of the libraries of both Winifred Milligan and Marybelle Hinshaw. Marybelle was proud of her library and I was delighted to discover so many treasures from her and Winifred Milligan to add to the library of Winchester Friends. These books tell the story of these women’s spiritual lives, their journeys and their souls. It tells what they found important enough to read, collect, and pass on to another generation.

We live in a different world than the one Charles and Winifred Milligan lived in. Randolph County is having a very public debate over the preservation of the old historic courthouse, a courthouse that has been the cornerstone of our community and the downtown for well over 100 years. We live in a day and age when churches leave their historic buildings for more modern structures rather than make already standing structures functional. We are challenged today by consuming Christians who move from church fellowship to church fellowship looking for anything but commitment and service. In light of this modern consumer culture and an abandonment of history and heritage, I’ve been thinking much these days about cornerstones.

I believe the real cornerstone of Winchester Friends are people today who sit in the pew each Sunday morning, or those who teach Sunday School year in a year out, those who volunteer for leading Junior Church, or those who paint the walls of the meetinghouse or install hot water heaters, those who sacrificially give week after week to missions here and abroad, and those who take minutes at Monthly meetings or in committees meetings.

But people like Charles and Winifred Milligan are also cornerstones of our fellowship. Even though they are long gone from our midst, the names on our building’s cornerstone is a written reminder of the lives and souls behind those names. Those names remind us of the many who gave sacrificially to build this place of worship. They remind us of those who provided leadership faithfully year after year to this fellowship. The cornerstone at the corner of Washington and South East Street is a visible testimony of lives lived thoughtfully and carefully. The cornerstone is a witness of energy given to support and maintain the ministry of Winchester Friends Meeting. Not because those people on the stone loved the building or the institution, but because they loved God, because they loved the people they worshipped and worked with on a daily basis, and because they had hope and vision for the potential of this church in our community.

I thank God for the cornerstones in our fellowship and in our community today and for the church being built by their faithfulness and love for God. But I also pray we do not ignore, abandon or tear down old cornerstones without respect given to those names written in stone. Their sacrifice should matter to us here today and I pray we live up to their hope and vision.

2005-07-10T22:09:00.000-05:00

Last Friday morning (July 8, 2005) I happened to catch a National Public Radio report about the war in Northern Uganda and its effect on the current generation of children. This civil war started when we lived in Sudan in 1986 and was a large part of our work for peace in Uganda in the 1990’s. Then, as now, a military solution is not working and the only result has been the destruction of the lives of children caught on the front lines between the rebels and government soliders. It is estimated that possibly 20,000 children have been captured by the rebels since 1986. Commentator Leroy Sievers suggests the solution to this crisis lies at the peace table. He points out that “ending the war may not be strategically important, it is morally imperative.” Listen to the NPR report.

Below is the letter I wrote to my mother on Mother’s Day 1997 from Uganda remembering the lives of young women abducted in this civil war. Their lives and the lives of the nuns who are still there working and teaching are not forgotten.

Dear Mother:

Some things in my life I will never forget. I will never forget the way you wept on the day I left for six years in Africa. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of how much a mother could love a daughter.

Last week, I met two Ugandan women I will never forget. In October last year, Ugandan rebels broke into St. Mary's Women's College in northern Uganda and abducted 149 young women, intending to march them to Sudan. The headmistress, an Italian nun, gathered as much money as she could and followed the rebels into the bush. She pleaded with them to release the girls in exchange for money. The rebels were not interested. She offered herself in exchange for the girls. They refused. The rebels then decided to sort through the abducted girls, keeping the "tall, light-skinned, beautiful ones" and releasing the other 119 to the nun.

The two Ugandan women I met last week had their first-born daughters among the 30 girls who were not released. They were marched to Sudan and have since become "wives" of the rebels. The Catholic community now holds a day of prayer on the first Saturday of each month with the parents of those young women. They also remember the many other young girls and boys abducted over the past 10 years. These children were forced to become rebels' "wives" or sold as slaves. We've heard estimates of 3,000 Ugandan children abducted in this way in northern Uganda.

There is much in this world I will never understand. I will never understand man's inhumanity to man. I will never understand fully a mother's love for her child. I will never understand what it is like to lose a child to death or to crazed rebels.
I am thankful for this one thing this Mother's day: that you will never know what it is like to have your 14-year-old abducted by rebels--to wonder if she is alive or dead, to wonder if she has been raped, to wonder if she has been forced to kill in order to stay alive, to wonder if she will be caught in a cross-fire between rebels and government soldiers. I am blessed knowing that no matter how I die at this point in my life, even if I die a violent death, you have seen your first-born daughter live, laugh and love. You have been her friend, advisor and confidant. You have celebrated her marriage, and you've watched her walk with God on this earth.

I will never give birth to a daughter, but maybe I can learn how to love my nieces and other "daughters" as those nuns love. Maybe I can give my life to pray, fast and work so that all daughters in this world will only see peace and goodness.

Sincerely,
Pam

This article was distributed by Mennonite Central Committee in April, 1997. Pam Ferguson and her husband, Ron, directed MCC's Uganda programs from 1991-1997.

2005-07-06T22:39:00.000-05:00

Uncle Abram Brown, Mississippi 1863

When Elkanah Beard was 24 years old he began a journal. Not because he thought he would be famous one day and that his writings would be published, but because he felt that he wanted a future reference to the working of the Holy Spirit in his life. At that time he was involved in the mercantile business and found that he had little time or energy to read, pray and meditate like he felt he should. He wrote “ I often feel deep remorse of conscience for having neglected that for which I was created”.

The first entries of his journal told about his life, his family, his marriage to Irena Johnson in 1852, and his vocations of teaching and business. Over the next 5 or 6 years, Elkanah began to work himself out of his business. At the first of June 1863, Elkanah wrote in his journal: “I have been under a religious engagement of mind for several months, to spend some time as a missionary among the colored people encamped on or near the Mississippi River who have been lately liberated from Slavery.......I feel very much cast down under the weight of this concern....it being so momentous and my abilities the poorest of the poor....but believing that my present and future happiness depends on my faithfulness to [God].” A few weeks later Elkanah found himself ready to join a trip planned by New Garden Quarterly Meeting to travel south to help the large number of slaves liberated by the Union Army. On June 17, 1863 Elkanah departed for a 6 week tour of refugees camps along the Mississippi River. On June 29, 1863 in Helena, Arkansas Elkanah met and talked to a freed gray-headed slave named Uncle Abram Brown. Elkanah wrote this man’s story in his journal to preserve a record a remarkable piety and prayerfullness under very adverse circumstances. This is the story.

Abe was 73 years old and had just been freed as a slave. Born a slave in 1790, his first Master was very kind to him. This master became involved in debt and had to put some of his slaves on the auction block to sell to the highest bidder. Abe was 24 years old at that time, strong and robust and in good health. Consequently he was bought by a man whose business it was to buy slaves and he chained Abram to a gang of slaves and marched them to Tennessee. Up on another auction block, Abram was sold to a cotton planter named Brown. Mr. Brown was a member of the Methodist church and a owner of an extensive plantation and 100 Negroes. Mr. Brown also made great pretensions of religion, contributed largely to the support of the church and was regular in his devotional exercises at home or abroad.

Abe had a difficult time in his new home and did not find it agreeable. He was allowed fellowship with all the other slaves because he obeyed all the orders given to him without muttering or complaining and he always made sure his tasks were done in time. Abe began to imagine in his mind ways to make his life better and more comfortable. He was encouraged to use the female slaves for his own pleasure by his master with the hopes of breeding more slaves. Abram said that he soon decided that he wanted to keep himself entirely free from that sin. He said “not that I had a regard for the laws of God or the welfare of my soul, but secretly felt that I wanted no children to trouble my head about who would without doubt be sold at the age of 10 or 12 and shipped south. I hated the religion of the Slaveholder and was disgusted at Maters prayers which I often heard cause he told us was had no souls and that the prayers of a black man never went higher than the brayen of a mule.”

When Abe was 30 he had the opportunity to go to a camp meeting in the neighborhood with the Brown family. At that meeting his soul was awakened and he became convinced that there was a religion for the black man as well as the white man. This brought a change to Abe and sobered him about his own life and his eternal life. Mr. Brown observed that Abe looked thoughtful and sad and feared that Abe caught a spark of light from the ministry. In Mr. Brown’s eyes, that would render Abe useless as a slave. So Mr. Brown resolved that Abe would not be able to attend any more campmeetings. In addition, this good Methodist plantation owner told all of his slaves that it was preposterous for them to assume to be religious or even attempt to call upon the high and holy name of the God who made heaven and earth. That was a privilege of white men only. A Negro’s highest attainment was to obey his master’s orders and revere him.

In spite of that warning, the spark of God in Abe’s soul was kindled to a flame that night and at midnight, Abe met God in a powerful way alone in his cot. His soul was filled with a Godly fire and he rose from his cot and began to vocally magnify the name of Jesus. He thanked God for giving him evidence that his sins were forgiven. Abe said “before I got up off my knees I prayed to the good Lord that he might bless the colored people everywhere and free them from all their sins and from their yoke of bondage.”

God heard Abe’s prayers, as did Mr. Brown. The next morning Mr. Brown gathered all his slaves together to hear a lecture about what a wonderful and good master he thought he was and how happy they would all be if only they would take his advice. Mr. Brown then addressed Abe and said “Abe, you rascal you. I was awaken last night by all your loud noise and I will make an example of your prayers.” He then ordered Abe stripped of all his clothing and tied him down to receive 250 lashes for trying to pray and for asking the Lord to set them free from their bondage. All the time the overseer and master were applying the whip to Abe’s back, Abe never opened his mouth and bore the pain with courage. Not a groan or a murmur escaped his lips.

This event stopped Abe from vocalizing his prayers, but he prayed in his heart and day by day he drew near to God in the secret of his soul. He occasionally slipped away into deserted places in the woods where he cried out and told Jesus all of his longings. Abe said “I always went mighty hungry out there, but the blessed Jesus filled my soul brim full before I came away.”

Not too many years after this flogging, Abe decided to marry a wife. He hoped and prayed that the woman he chose would be modest and moral. It was not very long after their marriage that she proved not to be and took up with another man and left Abe. He remained single until the end of his days.

Life for Abe seemed mostly peaceful until Mr. Brown and all his slaves moved to Mississippi in 1859. Abe had just reached his 69th year, he was silver haired, and his vision was dim, yet he was permitted to stay in a small cabin to himself and was put to basket weaving, a trade he learned at night when he was a boy, and had become quite proficient in. Mr. Brown ordered a basket made for his wife. Abe worked hard on the basket and expected that maybe his master would offer him praise for his work as all the other slaves had done when they saw the basket that Abe made for the Misses. On the morning that the basket was complete, Mr. Brown came to Abe’s door and took the basket, turned it over and over in his hand looking for a defect. Finally he found a little split on the bottom of the basket that stuck out 1/2 inch and Mr. Brown took his faithful servant to account for this mistake.

Abe pleaded “ Master, I’ve gotten old and my eyes are failing so, I didn’t see the mistake!”. Mr. Brown replied, “Abe, I’ve been watching for a chance to give you a whipping for a long time, now strip your clothes.”

When Abe was nude, he was tied over a log and the master used a cowhide whip to lash him 40 times. At the end, Abe exclaimed “O Lord, have mercy on me a sinner.” At this the wrath of the master was raised and he called for assistance. The lash was given to Abe with even greater determination and at every stroke the blood gushed forth from the deep gashes until Abe had been given over 300 lashes in total. (Elkanah Beard testified that the gashes weren’t even healed at the time he met Abe, 3 years later.) When the lashing stopped, Abe cried out again, “Lord, pity me and have mercy on Master though he have none on me.”

Anger belched forth from Mr. Brown soul and he said “You damned, infernal fool, I tell you to pray to me and not think or say a word about God.” In the midst of unbelievable pain, Abe was full of confidence and hope and replied: “Oh, the blessed God hears me and know I love him and that I tried to serve you as well as I could.”

The other slaves began to encourage Abe to pray to the master to forgive him for calling upon the name of the Lord, saying “He’ll kill you if you don’t!” But Abe’s faith was not shaken. He received too many blessings at the hand of the Lord in answer to prayer to withdraw his trust or allegiance to God.

Mr. Brown ordered another 100 lashes to be given to Abe and then sat down nearby to keep tally. Once the number was completed, and before the thongs could be untied that held Abe to the log, a weak, yet firm voice from Abe said, “Now master, I prayed to God all the time you had me beaten to forgive you all your sins and I expect to keep praying and praising the blessed Jesus long as I lives.”

Abe was too weak to walk or stand and was carried to the house, washed in salt and water, greased and rolled up in a blanket where he lay several weeks almost helpless.

This story was witnessed to by several who were present at the telling of this tale by Uncle Abe to Elkanah Beard. After the telling of this story, Elkanah asked Abe several questions:
“How do you think that we should worship God?” Abe replied: “The good book says God is a Spirit and all that worship Him does it in the spirit and in the truth too.”
“Is it right then for us in our own will to set a time to preach or pray?” Abe replied: “ I guess not, though it is mighty fashionable now days for people to be praying long and very loud, makes me think of them Pharisees that Christ said only pretended.”
“Are they not past redemption who buy and sell human beings and would, if it were in their power, to forever crush down the colored man? Abe replied: “I expect some of them is, but God has a mighty big store of mercy and lets a heap of folks repent just before they die,”
“Well, are we to pray for them who treat us so cruelly?” Abe replied: “Christ say so, so I believe he knowed, and that what makes me think so. I never felt no happier than when I could in truth pray for my baddest enemy.”

Elkanah and Irena Beard spent the next 6 years traveling from Indiana to Vicksburg helping with freed slaves in refugee camps and establishing schools, orphan asylums, and settlements. Irena worked alongside Elkanah teaching, sewing, and helping with medical needs. Both spent much time preaching and ministering to all whom they came in contact, freed slaves, other church workers and military personnel. They returned to Randolph County in 1869 and shortly after offered themselves to the London Missionary Society for service in India where they spent time teaching and preaching from 1870-1873. In May of 1873 they moved to Winchester, IN at the request of Thomas Moorman, Thomas Ward and other Winchester Quakers to preach the gospel and organize a new Friends Meeting within the city limits.

2005-07-04T14:24:00.000-05:00

MIKE CAREINS MAY 2005

Mike was 48 years old, a simple man who struggled to read and write. We met him in the local jail in 2002 where he came faithfully each week to worship. The first thing we received in the mail from Mike shortly after we met him was a magazine photo of a clay pot being made by potter. He used it to thank Ron for coming to the jail each week to teach him about being shaped into God’s image like a potter shapes clay. Mike had not completed high school and his letters were very simple, but he was slowly working to get his graduate equivalent diploma. Even through the simple letters, his grasp of God’s redemption and his joy of God’s work in his life were always evident.

When the escaped prisoner from the jail broke into our home in the spring of 2003, Mike was devastated. He feared we would not return to the jail, and when we did, he apologized for what this young man did to me, to our home and the damage this incident did to our trust for those we worked with in the jail. For some reason, Mike’s apology meant much to me in the first days of trauma after the break-in. Mike’s sincerity and concern helped me deal with that incident in my life.

Several months later, Mike wrote a letter to our meeting. These are his words from this letter, written in block letters with grammar and spelling errors:

To Winchester Friends Church Members
Hi. My name is Mike Careins. I want to thank you and bless you for letting your pastor Ron Ferguson and his wife Pam to come to the Randolph County Jail. To talk to me and other men in Jail. Pam talking to the women in Jail. I look forward on Wednesday to 10:00 AM to 11:00 AM talking to Ron. Seeing Pam and telling her hi in the hallway in the Jail. Ron talk to us about Renovare (to renew). Ron tell us about potter and the clay. (Jeremiah 18:2-6) to put life in the hand of God. Let him renew our life. I let God do that on January 24, 2002. I ask God to renew my life. Let Jesus Christ in to my heart. That I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sin on the cross and raised from the dead. So I could be saved and have everlasting life. I made promise to God and myself to not ever walk away from him ever again. I see God in way that I have never seen before. I put God first in every thing I do. I pray for all kinds of things too. I pray for all kinds of people I know and do not know. I pray for you the church and Ron and Pam. I have talk to other men in Jail about God, Jesus, church and the bible. I invite him to go to church and talk to Ron. I would like to invite you to the jail and go with Ron to church in jail or Pam too. There are a lot of good men in Jail. They make wrong choices in life. They need your prayer to make good choices in their future life. I tell them not to go back to their old friends and do the old thing they did before. I tell them to get involved in a good church and make new friends that will help them. I tell them to say NO to the devil and YES to God. That is what I do. So I invite you to get to know someone in Jail and pray and help that person make the right choices in their new life. I would like to come to your church on Sunday but I cannot do that tell I get out of jail. Tell them the empty seat in first or second row up front in your church is saved for me. Some day I’m going to be in that seat. I’m going to standup and praise God for what he has done for me. I would like to go to your church every Sunday when I get out of jail. I will be living two hours or more away. I have a church where I will be living to go to. I will come visit your church and stay in touch with Ron and Pam. I want to visit a lot of churches, hospitals, nursing homes, shut in and jails to talk and pray for them. I want to tell you that God is in the Randolph County Jail. The Sheriff Jay Harris is a Christian a lot of his jail staff are Christians too. The Gideon come on Monday to the Jail and pray for us. They talk about the bible, God and Jesus. Some of the inmates in jail are Christians too. So God is in this jail. I’m looking forward to come to your church someday and meeting all of you.

May God be with you. God bless you. Thank you. Mike Careins.

Over a year ago Mike was taken into the prison system and sent to Plainfield Correctional Facility. His first letter was filled with excitement about being able to go to church everyday and about starting bible studies and prayer meetings. I was really moved when he wrote that “every night we have a prayer circle. Sometimes there are 6-8 men in the bible study and prayer circle. We do this in the day room of our dorm. When all of the other men are doing their own thing. We block out all the noise and everything they are doing and we let God take control of our prayer circle.” Mike appreciated getting our church newsletters and he esp. liked the story of the pipe organ last summer. He wrote “one day I will come see and hear your church pipe organ.” Mike’s last letter to us was just before Easter. He told us that he would be out of prison a year from this week. He said he was still telling new and old inmates about Jesus and the Bible. My last letter to Mike was returned just after Easter with “deceased” written on the envelope. Mike was helping the prison chaplain prepare for Easter services when he fell over and died in the chapel.

Two weeks ago we got 4 letters in the mail from inmates at Plainfield. They found our address in Mike’s bible and wanted to send letters of testimony about Mike’s life to someone who could get letters to Mike’s family. I understand how they felt, because I felt the same way. When I learned of Mike’s death, my first response was to find his family or his children to tell them about my relationship with Mike. Mike had such a profound affect on me and was such an encouragement in my walk with Christ; I wanted to share that with someone. I wanted people to know that Mike was actively involved in redemption at the moment of his death. I wanted them to know that Mike would not be forgotten and that much good came out of the shambles of his life.

In one of the letters from these inmates, we were told about a man coming to Mike during mealtime and complaining that Mike did not speak to him when he walked by earlier that day. Mike replied: “I was probably in a hurry to tell somebody about Jesus”. Another inmate wrote: “Mike helped me tremendously and was always there for me. (He was there for everybody). Not matter what. To lend a hand, to laugh with or to study with, you could count on Mike. I was becoming close to Mike and I longed to be like him. He was always happy, never troubled, and trustworthy.”

I personally will miss having Mike join us for worship. Mike was in prison for horrible crime. His crime damaged people and relationships. Mike was not able to actively work for the restitution of his crime to the victims or the community. He was not able to repair the relationships he damaged. Yet in spite of his sin, Mike did know and experience God’s forgiveness and God’s love. He didn’t wait until he was out of prison to make things right or to change his life. He made God visible where he was on a moment by moment basis. God was in jail and in prison because God lived through Mike’s life. Mike made a difference in our world and he encouraged others to allow God to make them new creatures. Mike found the reason for which he was created. I pray I can do the same. And I will not let Mike’s life and testimony be forgotten.

In 1862, 29 year old Elkanah Beard, who later became the first pastor of our meeting, wrote in his diary that he had decided to quit the mercantile business because it did not admit to give as much time for reading, meditation and secret prayer as would be best, and because his conscience bothered him for neglecting that for which he was created. One purpose for our creation is to praise and worship our creator. Each week our community gathers for worship, to do that for which we are created. It is a gift to be in worship with the community of Winchester Friends. I know Mike longed to worship with this community of believers. Let us not neglect that for which we are created and let us leave worship each week changed people because of our worship and because of being in the presence of God’s spirit. There is much work to be done to make God’s kingdom visible in Winchester.