The Fight for the Right to Vote

One hundred years ago on this day, August 18, 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution granted American women the right to vote with three fourths of the states ratifying the amendment. Some say women were given the right to vote, but from all I’ve seen and researched, women’s suffrage was a hard fought battle. Nothing given in that.

Granted … Achieved, maybe … But not given.

And just because a law is written, that does not mean it will be applied. After the Nineteenth Amendment was ratified in 1920 although some Black women voted in elections and held political offices, many States implemented their own methods to keep them from voting. Many were told they had to pay a poll tax, or there was some other new kind of rule that prevented them from voting.

It took over 60 years for the remaining states to ratify the 19th Amendment after it passed in 1920. Mississippi was the last to do so on March 22, 1984, even though the Voting Rights Act which passed on August 6, 1965 granted full suffrage.

In 1848 the movement for women’s rights-not just the right to vote-launched on a national level with the Seneca Falls Convention organized by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott. Following the convention, Susan B. Anthony joined the fight. In the 1900s the list included Harriott Stanton Blatch, Alice Paul, Lucy Burns, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, Carrie Catt, and many many more.

Through the years many brave women sacrificed much to ensure women today can take part in the democratic process and vote. It was a hard-fought win. One, in truth, I am not really sure I could have fought to the degree these Suffragists fought.

I’m not sure I would have the courage to be one of the silent sentinels who protested through all kinds of weather, knowing they faced ridicule, verbal and physical abuse, arrest for peacefully protesting, fines and imprisonment in Occoquan Workhouse, some women for up to seven months.

While in Occoquan, I would not want my arms chained over my head, eat a meal which typically consisted of wormy bread, raw salt pork, and watered down soup which had worms floating in it.

Nor would I want to be force-fed a raw egg concoction through a tube pushed down my throat or nose during hunger strikes.

While there is much to admire, as with most things when you dig deep enough, cracks appear. Women’s Suffrage is no exception.

There was infighting and divisions as is to be expected with any group, but what shook me from my naive impression of a grand movement is the fact concessions were made to advance the cause leaving some behind.

It wasn’t all Mrs. Banks in Mary Poppins singing Sister Suffragrette, that’s for sure.

Black suffragists were sidelined from the mainstream suffrage movement by its leaders who feared alienating white women, and losing support in the South.

During the spectacular 1913 women’s suffrage parade in Washington, D.C, the organizers ordered Black participants to march at the end of the parade, while other participants marched under their state banner.

Refusing to be separated from her sister Illinoisans, and pushed to the back of the parade, Ida B. Wells-Barnett marched under her home state of Illinois’ banner that day. She told the organizers, “Either I go with you or not at all. I am not taking this stand because I personally wish for recognition. I am doing it for the future benefit of my whole race.”

By the summer of 1920, thirty-five states ratified the amendment. However, one more state was still needed for ratification.

The Tennessee legislature gathered to vote. With the vote tied at forty-eight, the outcome rested on twenty-four-year-old Harry Burn, the state’s youngest representative.

Shortly before voting to break the tie began, Mr. Burn received word from his mother. She asked him to be a good boy and vote for suffrage.

Burn who previously voted against, changed his vote and voted for. The final tally that day was 49 to 47.

With that, the Nineteenth Amendment passed and was ratified.

On November 2 of that same year, more than eight million women across the U.S. voted in elections for the first time.

This November 3rd women across the United States of America are among those who have the right, and dare I say obligation, to vote.

As we exercise our right to vote, let’s not take lightly the valiant fight generations of women who went before us fought to make sure our voices are heard.

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Stop imitating the ideals and opinions of the culture around you, but be inwardly transformed by the Holy Spirit through a total reformation of how you think. This will empower you to discern God’s will as you live a beautiful life, satisfying and perfect in his eyes. Romans 12:2 (TPT)

You can find my August Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

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On July 4th Remember Not All the Heroes Come Home

Near the end of America’s involvement in the Viet Nam conflict; (which in my mind, whether named war or not was indeed a war) I was in high school and worked part-time in the Navy Exchange store at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, outside Washington, D.C. You might not think of a hospital as a place full of heroes, but let me tell you, NNMC and other military hospitals like it was.

While I worked at the Exchange during the war, the thump-thump-thump of rotary blades atop approaching military hospital transports was a sound I heard on a regular basis.

Incoming.

By the time the helicopter landed on the heli-pad, several of us waited outside on the pad’s perimeter. Our silent presence welcoming the wounded to the hospital. We watched doctors and nurses hustle gurneys to the helicopter, load the wounded, and rush them inside.

I seriously doubt those wounded warriors knew anyone cared enough to be present when they arrived, praying for them, thanking them, appreciating their sacrifice. To those of us keeping vigil, it matter little if the soldiers knew we were there. For me what mattered was the fact I wanted to show my appreciation for their sacrifice.

Among other things available to military personnel and their dependents, of which I was one, thanks to my father’s military service, the Medical Center housed a theater where for twenty-five cents you could watch some really awful movies. What a deal. Definitely not first-run, that’s for sure. Nevertheless, that didn’t keep Sissy, my girlfriends, and me from showing up.

To get to the theater we walked the hospital corridors. I’m sure you’ve walked through a hospital, so you get the idea. These corridors were filled with wounded personnel on stretchers, in wheelchairs, or walking the halls. Bandaged from one part of their body to the next, they made their way to the theater.

These men paid a heavy price for the freedom I enjoyed. That freedom included the privilege of walking down the same corridors they traveled to watch really awful movies for twenty-five cents. It also included the freedom to walk back down those same corridors and out that hospital at the end of the movie while the wounded made their way back to hospital rooms that became their new normal.

In this country we have days set aside to remember the sacrifices our military and their families make so we can enjoy our hamburgers, watermelon, and pool parties. Sometimes we might pause and remember service personnel. We might even say thank you on those set-aside holidays. But what if we made it a habit to remember, honor, pray for, and thank our military every day, fully understanding not all the heroes come home?

On this July 4th, Independence Day here in the States, will you join me in honoring those who give their all so the rest of us don’t have to?

Leave a comment below to share your thoughts on the subject. If you think others would appreciate reading this, please share it through the social media buttons.

When your people go out to fight their enemies along some road on which you send them, your people will pray to you, facing this city which you have chosen and the Temple I have built for you. Then hear in heaven their prayers, and do what is right. 2 Chronicles 6:34-35 (NCV)

You can find my June Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

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Our Declaration of Independence

In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on July 4th in 1776, the Declaration of Independence was read, voted on, and approved. With that declaration, the Continental Congress announced the thirteen American colonies were no longer part of the British Empire.

Although July 4, 1776 was the day of America’s declaration of independence, those all over the world who claim Jesus as Lord of our lives celebrate Resurrection Day as our declaration of independence from the chains of sin.

The Declaration of Independence penned by Thomas Jefferson, and approved by committee, justified the independence of the United States by listing colonial grievances against King George III. It asserted America had certain natural and legal rights.

Among the most famous words of the Declaration are:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. 

My dad was a member of the US Navy when I was born in Morocco on the USAF base near Rabat. Although I was born in Africa, I have a birth certificate issued by the US State Department which proves I am an American citizen born to American parents on a US military base.

While my earthly citizenship is in the United States of America, my eternal citizenship is in Heaven courtesy of Jesus Christ. I am a joint heir with the King. That’s where my first allegiance lies.

America’s freedom from tyranny was purchased at the price of many lives on both sides of the battlefields that spread out across the thirteen colonies.

Freedom from the tyranny of sin was purchased at the price of one life, God’s only Son, on the cross of Calvary.

Jesus Christ is the true Declaration of Independence.

As those of us in the United States of America reflect on the continued sacrifice and cost of our freedom from the chains of tyrannical leaders, let’s not forget what it cost our Savior to purchase our freedom from the chains of sin.

If you live in the States, any special way you celebrate Independence Day?

Leave a comment below to share your thoughts on the subject. If you think others would appreciate reading this, please share it through the social media buttons.

But there’s far more to life for us. We’re citizens of high heaven! We’re waiting the arrival of the Savior, the Master, Jesus Christ, who will transform our earthy bodies into glorious bodies like his own. He’ll make us beautiful and whole with the same powerful skill by which he is putting everything as it should be, under and around him. Philippians 3:20 (MSG)

I wish you well.

Sandy

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God Is Our Solid Rock

by Sandy Kirby Quandt

I didn’t think God would use a church service under a tent flap during a Civil War reenactment to speak to me, but that’s exactly what happened at Fort Richardson in Jacksboro, Texas last weekend.

My main purpose for attending the service was to gather research for a future book to learn how a post-Civil War church service would be conducted. I spoke with the Chaplain reenactor previously, and knew his portrayal would be spot-on. Yet I believe God’s purpose for me being there went beyond gathering information for a book. I believe God wanted to remind me that no matter our circumstances, or where we might find our self, we can rejoice in the God who is our strength and our shield.

When Pilot and I arrived a little before the service began at 10 am, we were offered a folding stool in the shade, which we gladly accepted on that bright sunshiny 80 degree November morning.

The bell rang announcing the service would soon begin. Folks gathered, and Preacher opened with prayer. He led the assembly in three “line-out songs” where he sang a line, and the congregation repeated the song one line at a time.

Preacher’s message was taken from the Old Testament book of Habakkuk. I smiled as he read the familiar verses from chapters 2 and 3.

I’ve written blog posts on these favorite verses here, here, and here.

One take-away I received from Preacher’s sermon last Sunday was that despite troubling circumstances, we are to live by faith in Yahweh God alone.

During Habakkuk’s time, and ours, the world was full of evil. Enough evil to rock even the strongest Believer’s faith. Habakkuk questioned why God allowed such evil to continue.

Like the prophet, we might ask God the same thing. “Why do the wicked prosper and the righteous suffer?”

We want Yahweh Jehovah God to intervene. To punish the wicked. To remove evil from the world.

God reminded Habakkuk of several things when he went before God with his questions. God gives us the same answers he gave the prophet. God is aware of what goes on in the world. Nothing happens he didn’t plan or permit. God will punish evil his way, in his timing, and by his methods.

As Preacher reminded those of us under that tent flap, God still exists regardless of the circumstances we face. God sees. God knows. God’s still in control. We should not allow our circumstances to dictate our actions; or our faith.

Our faith remains in God whether the fig tree blossoms or there are grapes on the vines. We place ourselves under his protection. He is our Shalom. Our Rock. Our Anchor and Deliverer.

So take heart dear friends. Trust in Christ alone, the Solid Rock on which we stand.

How do you choose to live by faith and not by the circumstances that surround you?

One of the songs we sang during the service is the familiar “Solid Rock”.

I’ve included a song by Tasha Cobbs and Jamie Grace that’s updated from the original, but has the same message … Christ is the Solid Rock on which we stand. All other ground is sinking sand.

Amen?

You are my Solid, my Solid Rock. Sing it like no one’s watching you!

Leave a comment below to share your thoughts on the subject.

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The Lord God is my strength: he will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. Habakkuk 3:19 (GNV)

I wish you well.

Sandy

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Shortly after this church service at Fort Richardson ended, a gunman opened fire in a church in Sutherland Springs, Texas killing twenty-six people and wounding many more. Christ is our Solid Rock in a world of chaos and evil. Our faith remains in Yahweh God and him alone.

[bctt tweet=”Learning to Listen to God” username=””]

If you wish to use any of my blog posts, please contact me through the comments section for permission first. All written material is copyrighted.

Remember, Not All the Heroes Come Home

by Sandy Kirby Quandt

Towards the end of the Viet Nam war, I was in high school and worked part-time in the Navy Exchange store at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, outside Washington, D.C. You might not think of a hospital as a place full of heroes, but let me tell you, NNMC was.

Throughout the time I worked during the war, the thump-thump-thump of rotary blades atop approaching military hospital transports was a sound I heard on a regular basis. Incoming.

 

By the time the helicopter landed on the heli-pad, several of us had run outside to stand on the pad’s perimeter; our silent presence welcoming the wounded to the hospital.

We watched doctors and nurses hustle gurneys to the helicopter, load the wounded, and rush them inside.

I seriously doubt those wounded warriors knew anyone cared enough to be present when they arrived, praying for them, thanking them, appreciating their sacrifice.

To those of us keeping vigil, it didn’t matter if the soldiers knew we were there, or not. For me what mattered was the fact I made the effort to show my appreciation for their sacrifice.

Among other things available to military personnel and their dependents, of which I was one thanks to my father’s military service, the Medical Center housed a theater where for twenty-five cents you could watch some really awful movies. What a deal. Definitely not first-run, that’s for sure. Nevertheless, that didn’t keep Sissy, my girlfriends, and me from showing up.

To get to the theater we walked the hospital corridors. I’m sure you’ve walked through a hospital, so you get the idea, but these corridors were filled with wounded personnel on stretchers, in wheelchairs, or walking the halls; bandaged from one part of their body to the next, making their way to the theater.

These men paid a heavy price for the freedom I enjoyed.

That included the freedom to walk down the same corridors they walked to watch really awful movies for twenty-five cents.

It also included the freedom to walk back down those same corridors and out that hospital at the end of the movie while they made their way back to hospital rooms that became their new normal.

In this country we have days set aside to remember the sacrifices our military and their families made so we can enjoy our hamburgers, watermelon, and pool parties.

Sometimes we might pause and remember those service personnel, or maybe even say, “thank you” on those set-aside holidays. But what if we made it a habit to remember, honor, pray for, and thank our military every day, realizing not all the heroes come home?

 

On this July 4th, Independence Day here in the States, will you join me in honoring those who give their all, so the rest of us don’t have to?

Leave a comment below to share your thoughts on the subject. If you think others would appreciate reading this, please share it through the social media buttons.

When your people go out to fight their enemies along some road on which you send them, your people will pray to you, facing this city which you have chosen and the Temple I have built for you. Then hear in heaven their prayers, and do what is right. 2 Chronicles 6:34-35 (NCV)

I wish you well.

Sandy

Please enter your email address on the form located on the right sidebar to sign up to receive posts every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Thanks!