Solitude

In the stillness, in the quiet, I am who I want to be.
simple, thoughtful, moved, one, daring, bold, free, fragile, alive, vast, whole
For one moment, a poet
For one moment, an artist
For one moment,
Sheltered

Fasting Friday~ A Fast Of Words To Welcome Weekend Feasts

Have a Happy Weekend!

Little Joys

"In small proportions we just beauties see; and in short measures life may perfect be."
~ Jonson


The Joy Of Cranberries

Boil cranberries with lemon, sugar, and water. Strain and cool. Mix with seltzer water for a refreshing drink


The Joy Of Nature's Playthings

"In all walks of life the human heart yearns for the beautiful; and the beautiful things that God makes are his gift to all alike."

~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

The Joy Of Water In The Creek Again

                                                 The Joy Of Creating

                  The Joy Of Swimming In November

                               And Sister Huddle In Warming Sun

The Joy Of Leaves Under Running Water

                                   And Downy Calf In Autumn Fields

   The Joy of Flight And Of Passing Days That Scatter Winged Memories
                         

The Joy Of Seeing My Grandmother In Her Face

After Emily had "prettied up" Mary Margaret, Mary Margaret said, "I'll have to do this when it's time to go look for a husband!"

The joy of feeling good about yourself and who you are and how you look and knowing it...so you WANT a picture of yourself.
           
 The mother's joy of knowing that it is not vanity, but self-confidence, and she's so glad her daughters  are joy-filled, beautiful, inside and out

      
 The Joy Of A Little Boy's Picture Of Something That Made Him Happy

 

The joy of the way the sunlight strokes the wall...and knowing that when I went to get another picture, the light was gone. I caught the sun today. I caught the last glimmer of light before the blanket of dark fell once more.

"What is time?-the shadow on the dial,-the striking of the clock,-the running of the sand,-day and night,-summer and winter,-months,years,centuries? These are but arbitrary and outward signs,-the measure of time, not time itself. Time is the life of the soul. If not this,-then tell me, what is time? "

~Anon

Sustenance

Have you ever read the funny little children's book, If You Give A Mouse A Cookie? I don't remember the exact chronology of events in the book, but it is basically the comical story of how one thing leads to another. First, you give a mouse a cookie. Then he wants milk to go with it. Giving him the milk will make him want a straw, and on and on it goes until the point of exasperation.

So why am I bringing up this book? Because it is the story of my life!  I feel like I am the mouse, and my house is the cookie (or jar of cookies). It goes something like this:

If you give a Mom a clean sock, she'll go to put it in the sock basket in the Laundry room. When she is in the laundry room, she'll realize that she didn't start the day's laundry.

 
Doing the laundry will remind her that she is missing a library book. She will look under the dryer to see if it was accidentally pushed underneath of it. Then she will discover this:

 
When she goes to fetch the broom to sweep up the dirt and clutter under the dryer, she will see the sink full of dishes she forgot to wash.

 
Mother, at this point, thinks a little help from  kiddos is in order. She goes to get them and sees her inspirational basket sitting untouched on the cabinet. SIIIGGGHHHHH....

 

"I'M DONE!!!!" booms from the bathroom.
"Mom I really want to do my math now. Will you help me?"
"Mommmmmy...you said we were going to the creek now!!!"
 
     And the familiar "GGRRRRRRRRR" starts to rumble up my throat. "Don't blow it, just don't say it...it will be OK."
  Somehow, this time, I manage to keep my cool.

     I catch a worried and somber glance from my husband sitting at his computer. It's serious. I am shocked out of my wallowing stupor for a moment.
"What is it?" I ask, afraid to know.
 
 "Fifty Catholics were killed by terrorists in Baghdad. They told the priest to lie down and then shot him."
 
      My plastered petty worries and frustrations crumble. They are dust. THEY ARE NOTHING.
 
     I am smacked. Smacked silly with my blindess, my self-pity, my inability to be THANKFUL. I am a whining baby. What would so many women across the world give to be able to GO TO HER INDOOR BATHROOM AND CLEAN HER CHILD OR GO TO HER OWN WASHING MACHINE AND LAUNDER HER ABUNDANT CLOTHES. What would a father give to be able to fix the leaky sink that CARRIES FRESH COOL WATER TO HIS HOUSE, TO QUENCH HIS CHILDREN'S THIRST? What do we give to be able to WORSHIP EVERY SUNDAY IN OUR CHURCHES IN PEACE?

WHAT DO WE GIVE?!!

     Maybe I am so used to taking, I am forgetting how to give. Is being a good mother and housewife about becoming so efficient and organized that I never feel frustration? Do I really think that having nine children , homeschooling and feeding them all is going to be easy? What am I thinking?

     I am thinking weary. Ineffective and careless thoughts come into my mind. But I know that Jesus has called us to SERVE, not to be served. And I know that with his grace, I am able to pick up the frazzled little fragments and make something whole.

      Richard Carlson in his book, Don't Sweat The Small Stuff For Families,describes the Golden Gate Bridge and how it requires maintenance EVERY DAY, 365 days a year. It is ALWAYS a work in progress. He tells us to view our homes in the same manner: always a work in progress. So it is with our spiritual selves, and with our parenting, and everything else that requires constant care and attention. We must be content to always strive and never be "done."

     We must take time to be refreshed by God, by beauty, by music, soft candles, bursting leaves, blowing bubbles, reading a good book, an encouraging blog....These are MOMENTS of retreat on the battlefield. The moments are NOT THE END GOAL, but SUSTENANCE ALONG THE WAY. Just as we do not live to eat (hopefully), we should not make the relief of our "suffering" the objective.As long as there are children, there are going to be needs! As long as there are husbands and wives there are going to be needs! As long as we are in these human bodies there are going to be needs! That being said, we cannot LIVE without food. We cannot plod on day after day in our lives without encouragement and spiritual nourishment. We must drink from the living well and be filled so that we can refill the cups of the thirsty souls God places in our lives.

God's World ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay               


O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!

World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,

But never knew I this;

Here such a passion is

As stretcheth me apart, -- Lord, I do fear             

Thou's made the world too beautiful this year;

My soul is all but out of me, -- let fall                             
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Hidden

How silently you sheathe the flower of fruited mirth.

                                           
                     "To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour." ~William Blake

 Reading aloud has fringe benefits: I get new ideas and learn right along with the children. We also like listening to stories together on CD. Mary Margaret has requested the Felicity (storybook two) the last several nights. What a charming story. Here is what I am pondering this week:

(Felicity and her mother had been making apple butter together, and Felicity is questioning why they should go to so much trouble for a little apple butter.)

     "Yes," said Mrs Merriman. "A notable housewife runs her house smoothly, so that everyone in it is happy and healthy. Her life is private and quiet. She is content doing things for her family."
    
     "Things nobody ever sees," said Felicity.

     "Aye," agreed her mother, "But many lovely things are private and hidden."

     She picked up one of the apples. "Look," she said. She sliced the apple across its fat middle, instead of top to bottom. She held the halves up to Felicity. "Have you ever seen the flower that is hidden inside every apple?" she asked. "It's there for those who know how to find it. See?"

     Felicity grinned at her mother. There was indeed a flower inside the apple.

     "My mother showed that to me when I was a little girl and we made apple butter together," said Mother. "She taught me to sew and cook and plant a garden and run a household. Now I am teaching you. Someday you will teach your daughter..."
(Felicity Learns A Lesson, p.8-9)

I am almost forty (I can say almost for four more days!) and I have never noticed the flower inside an apple. I am so glad  to know this!

I am reading an enjoyable book on homemaking called, No Ordinary Home by Carol Brazo. Brazo began her parenting career flustered and discouraged. She had once been an English professor, and her new life as a parent seemed monotonous and unchallenging in comparison.In her book, she describes how she made it her mission to make her home into a sanctuary. She quotes Ranier Maria Rilke:

"If your everyday life seems poor, don't blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is no poverty and no indifferent place.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke

Brazo actuallly found Rilkes writings discouraging at first. She felt like the failure who couldn't bring the beauty in her home. Haven't we all felt that way at times?
Nevertheless, we must keep trying! I have always wanted to be an amazing artist like my sister, Maureen. I never could get the pencil to do what I saw in my mind. But drawing is Maureen's gift!

Now that I'm getting older, I realize that I can be an "artist," too. Maybe I'll never draw like my sister, or write poetry like Milton, or sew, or knit, or a hundred other things I would like to do, but can't...but I can SEE BEAUTY.

God gave us all the gift of his beautiful creation, but we must open the eyes of our heart to see it. Helen Keller, blind  and deaf as she was, knew beauty. She describes in The Story Of My Life (her autobiography):

     I felt my way to the end of the garden, knowing that the Mimosa tree was near the fence, at the turn of the path. Yes, there it was, all quivering in the warm sunshine, its blossom -laden branches almost touching the long grass. Was there ever anything so exquisitely beautiful in the world before? Its delicate blossoms shrank from the slightest earthly touch.; it seemed as if a tree of paradise had been transplanted to earth. (p 19)

If someone who is blind and deaf is able to find the hidden beauty of creation, surely I should be able to do the same!