Free The Tender Flame by Al Lacy Page B

Since the early days of man’s history on earth—I mean, for ages immemorial—men have gone off to war, and their women have stayed behind to keep the home fires burning. Those brave women kept a vigilant lookout for their loved ones to return.
    “You must realize that you’re not alone in your vigil. Thousands of American women are doing the same thing. Most of them are not Christians, but you are. You have something they don’t. You have the Lord to lean on, and you have His Word to lean on.”
    Tears were trickling down Lydia’s cheeks. “I’ve been sort of self-centered in this, haven’t I, Mrs. Britton? Yes, I do have the Lord and His Word to lean on. I’ve been trying to do that, but I’ve also been wallowing in some self-pity.”
    “That’s only natural,” Delia said. “Now, let me suggest two things for you to do. First, it will help you immensely if you will memorize Psalm 91. Hide it in your heart so you can quote it, or parts of it, when your faith shows signs of weakening.”
    “All right. That sounds like a good thing to do.”
    “Also, you’re busying yourself with your job at the store and your volunteer work at the clinic. This is good, and I commend you for it. But you still have some extra time left over each week, don’t you?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “How about teaching a Sunday school class? My husband was saying just a couple of days ago that he needs to split a class of six- to nine-year-old girls, and he’s praying about a teacher to take the six- and seven-year-olds. You’ve substituted a few times when you were needed. How about a permanent class?”
    A smile worked its way across Lydia’s mouth. “I’d like that.”
    “Good! I’ll tell my husband, and he’ll put you to work in a hurry.”
    One week later, Lydia kissed her family good night and went to her room. She took out pencil and paper and began composing the day’s letter to Grant:
    June 7, 1846
    Darling—
    I can hardly see to write for the tears that fill my eyes. You understand my tears, I’m sure. This was to be the biggest day ofmy life, except for the day I opened my heart to Jesus. By this time tonight, I would have been Mrs. Grant Smith, if the war had not come along
.
    Please understand that I wish things could have happened as we planned, but I am not bitter. Our dear God in heaven could have prevented the war if He had pleased, but He has let it take place. Thus, we are hundreds of miles apart on what was to be our wedding night, and I don’t know where you are or what you are facing
.
    As I told you in a previous letter, I am memorizing the Ninety-first Psalm, and it is helping me tremendously. I am victoriously dwelling in the secret place of the Most High, and sweetly abiding under the shadow of the Almighty. Between working, volunteering, and teaching, I am very busy, but I love each task
.
    I had to get over my self-pity, and with God’s help, I believe I have. My faith is growing stronger and my precious walk with the Lord is even closer. Family and friends tell me I have my sunny disposition back
.
    Mrs. Britton has been a great help, as I wrote you before. She was so right when she said I am no different than thousands of other women who have gone before me, and thousands who at this time have their husbands or sweethearts in the war
.
    The Lord is helping me to bravely face each new day with renewed hope, and His matchless grace is alive and glowing in my heart. When I speak of your return, I never say
if
Grant comes home, but
when
Grant comes home. This seems to have helped women who come into the store, as well as those at the clinic and at church. I want to be an inspiration to everyone around me
.
    I love you, my darling Grant, with an endless, tender flame
.
    Yours forever
,
Lydia

I N THE DRY, RUGGED COUNTRY OF M EXICO , General Winfield Scott had positioned his battalion some five miles east of the towering Sierra Madre Oriental Range, on a wide stream that was not named on his map. They