Archive for the ‘Simply Mels Musings’ Category
Knowing When You’re Done Having Kids
Monday, November 14th, 2011
How do you know when you’re done having kids?
I’ve been really struggling with this decision here lately. The more I pray about it, the more I have peace. With me being pregnant with our fourth, I know mentally and logically that I couldn’t handle more than four kids with the pace of our life.I’m not even sure how we’re going to do the homeschooling thing next year! My husband works long hours so I’m alone with the kids all day. I pretty much have to take them everywhere with me since Mike is literally not home during the week to watch them for anything. Most nights they go to bed before he gets home. I don’t have any of my family here to offer help and support and my inlaws are getting older so they are at the point where they won’t be able to watch all 4 at once. Especially two babies! So, I should be done.
Emotionally I keep thinking ” What if I want just one more down the road?”. The more I pray about it the more I have peace. And especially on the days when it gets crazy around here. But…..
We’ve decided that while I’m on the table for my c-section we’ll go ahead and get my tubes tied. That seems so final!! At first I was ok with that decision. Then I started getting more and more sad at the thought. I actually cried for a couple of days about it.
Then I figured out it’s not really the fact that I won’t be able to have more kids that bothers me. It’s the fact that this is the end of my child bearing years. The end of a great era. This is the last time I’ll be pregnant and giving birth. The last time I’ll excitedly take a pregnancy test and cry with joy over (finally) seeing the words “pregnant” on them. The last time of great anticipation over the upcoming birth and meeting this new little life.
When I first got married having our first child and subsequent one seemed so far away. It was an exciting, new world to come. Then I had Katelyn. My first child! Joy! But I knew I would be having at least two or three more. Now that I knew what my first child would look like….what would the next one look like? And the next? What would their names be? Would they be a boy or a girl? I was still in my twenties and having more children was a wide open adventure to come.
Now I’m in my thirties and I’ve had three of the four children I’ve always wanted. God has completely and abundantly blessed me with these miracles of life. And with the fourth….he blew us out of the water!! We were so surprised and really not expecting the fourth one so close to the third one.I just never expected the end of my child bearing years to come so soon.
And I feel like I must enjoy every last second of this pregnancy. Since it’s my last. I feel like Jocelyn was just born in March and now she’s almost 8 months old. I know this fourth baby’s first year will fly too.
And that makes me so sad. I’ve always, for the most part, had a baby or toddler around. Or the plans and attempt at having another baby. But now I’ll be slowly getting rid of baby stuff and will one day, no longer have a baby, toddler OR baby stuff in the house any more. And no plans on having any more. Now I get to watch other women announce their first, second and third ( and so on!) pregnancies and remember what it was like for me.
And that makes me really sad some days.
But.
The more I’ve prayed about it the more the Lord is assuring me that this is the right decision. I’m at the end of one era of my life but he’s going to bring me many more fun ones with my kids as they get older. I so enjoyed my girls as babies but I know that’s not the only fun stage.
And the idea of clearing out my attic of baby stuff and all the bins of baby clothes I have up there gives me a little flutter of joy. And thinking of my girls ( and future boy or girl) all playing together also seems fun. One day we’ll be able to go to Disney World and they’ll all be at the age where they can enjoy it. Or, at least, most of them anyway.
So, my quiver is finally full. I’m richly blessed. A little melancholy.
But I know it’s the right decision for us. Our family is complete.
If you’re done having kids, did you struggle with the decision? Or did you absolutely know with certainty?
Unsubscribe:Facebook and Controversy
Thursday, October 27th, 2011
Unsubscribe. That little choice hidden to the right of your Facebook friends’ statuses. One where you have to hover to the right until you see an “x” and then get a few choices of what to do with this Facebook friend.
I have 419 “friends” on Facebook. Are they all really my close friends? Of course not! Can I keep up with all of them? No. There are the family and friends who I comment on and keep in touch with every day. Then there are those who I occasionally comment on. Then there are those who’ve I’ve only ever clicked “accept friend request” and then never heard from them again or them from me.
In the past few weeks I’ve tried to decide what I want to get out of Facebook. Why am I on Facebook? It certainly lends itself to a fake sense of acceptance and popularity. It’s easy to get on Facebook and feel like you have a lot of friends and people who care about you and to get lost in the Facebook world. But then you come back to reality and realize the only time you talk to 3/4 of your “friends” is on Facebook! You never actually see any of these people or develop a real personal relationship with them. Don’t get me wrong; I know that distance is what keeps many people from interpersonal relationships and that’s what makes Facebook such a great tool. I’ve actually been able to get to know some of my friends even better through Facebook. Women I probably would have never made a connection with otherwise. That’s pretty neat! And a great way to use Facebook.
I’m not bashing Facebook. I love it! I LOVE keeping in touch with my family and seeing pictures and finding out what’s going on in their every day lives. I love connecting with old friends from Brazil. I love being able to post pictures and statuses of my kids for everyone to see. I love following blogs I enjoy with great information for me. I’ve whittled away many a half hour throughout the day on Facebook. It can be a fun place. Or it can be a negative, frustrating and shallow place.
I’ve decided I want Facebook to be one of my “happy places”.
Getting back to the unsubscribe button. With 419 “friends” on Facebook, you know that there are tons of different types of people, beliefs and opinions floating around in my news feed. Do I honestly expect to agree with every single one of those 419 people on Facebook? Of course not!
Enter the unsubscribe button.
It brings peace and sanity to my Facebook world. Once you hit “unsubscribe” that person’s statuses no longer show up in your newsfeed. You are still Facebook friends with them, you just don’t see what they put in their status unless you specifically go to their Facebook page. I like this choice better than “un-friending”. Un-friending is very final and it takes a lot for me to un-friend someone!
In the past few years I’ve noticed that my level of irritation has gone up when reading Facebook statuses. It’s not only a place for sharing pictures and what’s for dinner. Now it’s a place to push agendas, politics, and opinions on religion, morality, lifestyles and even parenting! There for a while I wanted to get in there and throw my opinion around. But I’ve tired of that and no longer have the desire to enter the ring. There are days where I get completely outraged at statuses and comments left by my Facebook friends. I love my Facebook friends. I don’t want to feel this way when reading anyone’s statuses or comments!
I want it to be one of my happy places. Not the place I go to to roll my eyes, get angry, insulted, or have my conservative political, religious beliefs, lifestyle or parenting mocked or condescended.
So, I click “unsubscribe”.
If there’s a person who only posts political stuff I don’t agree with?
Click. Unsubscribe.
If all you do is share links that mock my faith?
Click. Unsubscribe.
Statuses that are full of boyfriend/girlfriend drama that is best kept in between yourself and your boyfriend?
Click. Unsubscribe.
Statuses that are full of foul language all the time?
Click. Unsubscribe.
I don’t want these kinds of things cluttering my news feed or my mind. I don’t need it! I don’t have time to go back and forth on Facebook debating politics, religion or why you’re parenting is better than mine.
I’ve decided to stop commenting on any of the things mentioned above if I see them and I also decided I won’t be sharing links to articles or blog posts that might be “inflammatory”. You might see me “like” different people, thoughts and beliefs here and there but I’m not looking to argue about why I “liked” it. To me, that’s not what Facebook is for. Yes, I have strong opinions about a lot of things. No, I will not be touting them on Facebook anymore. Some people enjoy fiery debates, controversy and pushing their opinions all over Facebook. It’s fun for them. And that’s great. I’m just not one of those people.
Everyone has the absolute right to post WHATEVER they want on Facebook. No question there. But I have the absolute right not to have to read it. Just as everyone has the right to not read what I write! The unsubscribe button is right there next to my posts.
I’m the person who does want to know what you’re reading or watching. How your kid is the most perfect, cutest thing ever. (Other than my kids of course. Haha) How your dog is sick and that your baby puked on you this morning. And, yes, even what you’re having for dinner. I want to hear your prayer requests and pray for you. I want to read how you had a fantastic day or how it kinda bummed you out.
I’d much rather read all of that than how you think anyone who supports the presidential candidate I’ve chosen must be selfish and ignorant. Or that you think my religious beliefs are narrow minded and that I’m a terrible mom for not breastfeeding for a year.
This verse sums up my thoughts on Facebook for myself:
Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.
Philippians 4:8-9 (The Message version of the Bible)
Unsubscribe. It’s a beautiful button that brings peace and harmony on Facebook.
How about you? Are you heavy handed with the unsubscribe button? All for fiery debates and opinions? Are you an “un-friender”? Don’t care either way?
I welcome your thoughts and comments on this subject. Please be kind and respectful.
And, as always, anyone is free to unsubscribe from me!
This post is also linked to Things I Love Thursday at The Diaper Diaries.
Celebrating 10 Years:The Story Of Us
Friday, August 5th, 2011
I celebrated 10 years of marriage yesterday to my husband, best friend and soul mate.
Today, I want to share some of my wedding album and our story. How God brought us together.
It all started at Borders Book Store.
Well, no quite. Our story began long before Borders Book Store came into play. Our story started when a college aged guy and girl began earnestly praying for God to send them their soul mates since it felt like they’d be terminally single forever. At the tender ages of 21 and 24, Mike and I were single and thought we’d never find someone! I had never had a boyfriend and Mike had had one girlfriend at the end of high school and beginning of college.
So…where were we?
Borders.
I was single and hating it. Mike was single and hating it. My sister was working at the coffee cafe in Borders Bookstore. Mike and our friend Adam used to hang out a lot at Borders and in the process met my sister. My sister became friends with Adam and in turn introduced him to me. Through Adam, I met Mike at a young adult Bible study we all ended up at. This was in October of 1999.
My first thought when I met Mike? “WOW. He’s tall.” ( My dear hubby is 6 ‘7) My second thought was ” I’m impressed! He’s so nice, and single AND a Chemical Engineer. Mr. Smarty Pants.” My third thought?
“ I could never date someone so much taller than me! (I’m 5′1) But, I have this friend who he’d be perfect for….”
Mike and I became really good friends. I found him to be super funny, nice, charming, very generous and serious about serving the Lord. He also had a great job, was very smart and had a sweet ride. We’d have these great, long conversations in his truck after he’d drop me off at my parent’s house. One night, he made his feelings known to me. I was so upset because I didn’t feel the same way about him. The next day he wrote me this BEAUTIFUL email telling me exactly how he felt. It made me cry. While writing my response I bemoaned the situation and why it was that I didn’t have feelings for such a wonderful guy. In my response I gave him the usual “let’s be friends” spiel, and how wonderful he was and that God would bring him the perfect woman for him. Oh, and, LOL, I had intended on hooking him up with my friend! How funny was that??…
His response was very nice and he made sure I knew I didn’t have to feel awkward around him because he would never bring up the subject again and we could just remain friends.
Well, after a while I started really noticing all of his wonderful qualities. Then I started getting a little flutter every time he smiled at me. And THEN I noticed I would get jealous any time he offered that cute smile to some other girl. Mike’s wonderful sense of humor, gentle giant soul, quick wit, kind heart and meaningful friendship had stolen my heart!
After a while, I knew I was starting to have feelings for him and started trying to make it REALLY obvious I wanted him to ask me out again. He acted oblivious. I think I went as far as having my sister tell him while we were all at the movies that I REALLY wanted him to hold my hand. He made it obvious that since I turned him down I was going to have to be the one to approach HIM this time. As far as he knew, I didn’t like him “that way” so he was to go on like we were just friends.
I had never, ever, ever been very forward with boys. In high school I was so afraid of rejection that I would DIE if I thought the boy I liked knew I had feelings for him. Boys I liked never liked me back. It was deny deny deny any time anyone joked around that I “liked” certain boys. Coupled with the fact that I’d never had a boyfriend, I was in very unfamiliar waters at this point in my relationship with Mike.
I knew that if I didn’t do something that Mike would continue to just be my friend and this relationship I wanted to have wasn’t going to go anywhere. Mike and I had been emailing each other every day, several times a day for several weeks. Even if we hung out during the week we’d still email every day and not run out of things to say. I always looked forward to coming home from work to one of his sweet/cute/funny/flirty emails. So, one day I sat down to respond and wrote exactly how I felt about him just to see what it felt like,with the intention of deleting it. With my hand over the “delete” button I thought ” What if I just send this? What if I take the plunge and finally put myself out there?” So, I closed my eyes and hit “send”! Then I started freaking out, unable to believe what I had just done. This was sooooo not me!!
I was so freaked out that I ended up making myself sick over it. By that night I had a fever! But, somehow I knew that after sending that e-mail, I’d be seeing Mike that night. Even though he didn’t respond, I knew he’d be coming over to my house. I put make up on, fixed my hair and got “dressed up”. Then I sat on the couch in a feverish daze, waiting. And just like I thought, the door bell rang later that night and there was Mike! He had a big grin on his face and told me he got my email and would I like to go out to dinner? Since I was already prepared for it, off we went. Our first official date was at Chili’s. That’ s where we discussed in depth our feelings for each other. Mike still had feelings for me (thank God!) and wanted to know if I was his “girlfriend” now. We held hands. It felt so weird that this moment I had been waiting for since I started liking boys was finally here. It was all very sweet. He told me how thrilled he had been to get that e-mail from me and when he read it, he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He then looked at his co worker and said ” She likes me for me!!”. (Does anyone remember that song by Third Eye Blind? That song has been our inside joke since this very day). This all happened January 10th, 2000.
On April 16th, 2000 he proposed to me in my parent’s living room. And on August 4th, 2001 we got married!
Now 10 years, one condo,one house, three adorable kids, one miscarriage, several life changes and many pounds later we’re still madly in love. I can’t thank the Lord enough for bringing this wonderful, godly man into my life.
(This was taken on 4th Of July of this year)
(Also taken this July)
God had a perfect plan for us. What were we worried about???
Thank you for reading our story!
Facebook and Marriage. Thoughts?
Wednesday, February 23rd, 2011
I came across this interesting discussion via a link my sister messaged me.
This discussion comes from Courtney at Women Living Well. I admire Courtney and her sweet spirit and heart for the Lord. While I may not agree 100% with everything she writes I agree with 85% at least. I plan on becoming a regular reader.
She wrote this blog post a couple of days ago titled ” Facebook and Inappropriate Relationships”. She wrote about Facebook and how it’s starting to ruin marriages and what her and her husband are doing about it. Check it out and check out the comments. (It’s a hot topic so the comments range from over the top, to spot on to interesting, in my opinion). When you’re done you can read below my feelings on the subject. You know, if you’re so inclined. I know you’re dying to read what I think!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So, maybe I’m naive but I have never considered that Facebook would break up marriages! I guess since I don’t know anyone personally who’s had that problem I have just never thought about it. After reading this blog post and the comments I can definitely see how that might happen.
I don’t feel led to delete my male friends but kudos to those who do. Call me weak but I could NEVER close my Facebook completely! I do feel like Facebook can be used for good. It all depends on what YOU do with it.
Here are some thoughts I have on this subject:
~I use Facebook to keep in touch with my family who live in Texas and other parts of the United States. My mom really enjoys seeing pictures of my girls that I post on Facebook. My grandparents are on Facebook, which I think is cool.
~My male friends include family members, church members, friends from highschool, coworkers of Mike’s and regular friends I’ve met along the way. I have never had one inappropriate comment from them nor have I seen an inappropriate status written by them. Since Mike was my first boyfriend I have no exes to be friends with. That might definitely be a little awkward. I might not friend an ex if I had one.
Do you friend your exes on Facebook? What are your thoughts on that subject?
~ Usually, I’m friends with the wife/ girlfriend/fiance of the male friend (if he’s married etc) as well.
~ I’ve made some wonderful connections through Facebook that I might never have had the chance to do because of busy schedules or distance. It’s actually been a really funny experience. I’ve gotten to know people better because of Facebook!
~ I agree with one of the comments that some of those women acted like their husbands and men in general are like wild animals who can’t control their lust and being tempted! Again, I’m not trying to down play real issues with that, because there certainly are. But I think those types of men are far less common than some of the women commenting made it out to be.
~ There have been way more instances of my women Facebook friends being inappropriate or obnoxious on Facebook than the male friends I have. I’ve never actually un-friended anyone, but I have hidden them from my news feed because I got tired of their crap.
~ Facebook is a tool that will turn out to be however you use it!
Those are my thoughts on that!
What are you thoughts on this subject? I found it so interesting!
Purposeful Parenting
Monday, June 28th, 2010
Before you think that I’m writing a post on how to be a good parent let me assure you that this is NOT that post. This is a post about how imperfect my parenting is.
Are you purposeful in your parenting?
I’ve come to find out that I’m really not! As both my girls get older I’m finding that I can’t just “wing it” anymore. I can’t just send them on their way with a few answers and a snack. They were happy playing with their play-doh, coloring and watching t.v. There for a while they were too young to notice much and easily distracted with pat answers.I could tell them to “do as I say” and hope they didn’t “do as I do”.
I used to spend a good amount of time working on letters and numbers with Katelyn. She knew a lot more at almost three years old than Madelyn does at almost three. Madelyn is my laid back, easily pleased and content child. She will play with literally anything. Rocks, her fingers, bird feathers…..anything. She hardly ever asks for anything so when she does I’m happy to oblige her. She is happiest playing by herself, in her own little world. So, I think “Why disturb her to work on letters, crafts, spelling her name or numbers??” Madelyn is my “easy” child. So easy, in fact, that I can easily be unpurposeful in my parenting with her!
Katelyn constantly needs attention.
Ahhh…Katelyn. My precocious, impatient, stubborn, silly, inquisitive, strong-willed, beautiful almost-five-year-old. Let’s just say she’s my “challenging” child. I don’t know how it happened but we seem to have raised a 4 year old little demanding Diva. I’ve found myself butting heads A LOT with her and also getting very frustrated. I find myself constantly saying “no” to her and getting on to her. I want to say “yes” but her behavior here lately is pushing me to say ” no” all the time. She is really pushing the boundaries of the knowledge I thought I had on parenting. Some days she completely wears me down mentally, emotionally and physically. I’ve found those days to be a complete parenting FAIL. I’ve yelled too much. I’ve not been consistent enough. I’ve taken the easy way out. I’ve been short and irritable with her. I have been a terrible example.
I swear she is hitting puberty already. Her mood swings are unbelievable! She is CONSTANTLY wanting, asking, wishing for or demanding something she can’t have at the moment. Or ever, for that matter. “No” ,”wait” , “later” and”not now” are not acceptable answers in her mind. She pushes,begs and argues with me to my pulling-my-hair-out screaming limit. We’ve really had to put our foot down and discipline her EVERY time she asks for something more than once. Whether we say “yes” or “no”. That’s one thing that drives Mike nuts as well. She repeats herself and argues all the time. (Maybe she’ll be a lawyer???)
Here’s an example of a typical conversation that goes on 50 times a day.
Katelyn: Mom, can I have juice? (have ice cream, have cookies, can you buy me a toy on t.v, have snack right after lunch, have a sleep over, go to McDonald’s, go to Nana and Papa’s etc etc)
Me: Wait a minute. Let me finish (insert task)
Katelyn: (2 minutes later) Can I have juice? Mama CAN I HAVE JUICE??
Me: When. I’m. done. here.
Katelyn: (another 2 minutes later) Can I have juice now? Mom, can I HAVE some JUICE?
Me: I SAID when I’m done! I will let you know when I’m done.
Katelyn: But, mom! I want juice RIGHT NOW.
Me: What have I already said????????!!!
Katelyn: (pouting) When you’re done…..
Me: Exactly. Go play.
Katelyn: ( 2 minutes later) Mooom, can I have juice now? Are you done now? You’re taking too looong!
Me: I SAID WAIT!!!!! WALK AWAY!
Katelyn: But mom…!!
Me: That’s it! No juice for you. You can have some water when I’m DONE HERE but no juice. I told you that I would GET YOUR JUICE AS SOON AS I WAS DONE HERE BUT YOU KEEP INTERRUPTING ME and you’re not listening. You need to learn to WAIT!!! Go sit on the couch!
Katelyn: (Burst into tears) Mooom!!! That’s not fair. Waaahhhh
(Commence me feeling extremely bad and guilty)
These types of conversations go on all day long. Sometimes they are reasonable requests that just require her to wait a minute. Sometimes they are outrageous requests that she doesn’t understand why she can’t do or have. And usually when I do give her something it’s never what she actually wants. She always wants something different that what she’s getting. She’s never happy the first time around. S the is in an extremely ungrateful stage right now.
I get so frustrated and think ” Oh my word! Why can’t this child just be happy with what I gave her? Why doesn’t she just give up??”
Then it hits me. That’s how I am with God. Constantly asking for stuff. Constantly being ungrateful for what he’s given me. Some days I think that the reason God isn’t giving me another child is that I’m not doing very good with the two that I have!
The Bible says to “train up a child in the way he should go” and that children are ” a gift” from the Lord. I have to start taking this parenting thing more seriously! I can’t parent each day absentmindedly, correcting and punishing haphazardly. I have to remember that these children don’t just know the correct behavior that is expected of them. I have to model and teach it to them. I can’t get angry and frustrated with their behavior if I haven’t taught and modeled the correct ones! If I’m short, irritable and impatient they will learn to be short, irritable and impatient. If I model discontentment they will learn discontentment.
I do need to take some extra time with Madelyn to teach her some basic, pre-school concepts. I need to make sure they are learning Scripture consistently at home. That I’m teaching them Biblical principles myself. Not just depending on Sunday School to teach them what they need to know about the Lord. The Lord has gifted me with these children and I HAVE to start being a better example and truly “training” them in the values, principles and behaviors I want them to have as adults. God has entrusted Mike and me with their minds and hearts and we need to to be more purposeful about how we guide them. We only have a short period of time to lay these important foundations.
I think part of the problem is that I have been angry and discontent for a long time myself. As many of you know part of my problem is that I don’t want to be here in New England. I want to be in Texas. I don’t like New England. Plain and simple! That has been a source of discontentment with me. The other one is my desire and struggle to have another child. There are several other issues I’m working on but those are for my journal. I haven’t liked myself very much for a long while. And I’m not saying I have poor self esteem or hate my looks. What I haven’t liked is my attitude!! I haven’t liked who I’ve become as a person. I feel as if I haven’t been truly living. I’ve been stuck in the if-onlys. I’ve had unrealistic expectation from people in my life. I haven’t accepted the way things are. I want to start living. Accepting how God wants my life right now. I want to start parenting purposefully and focusing on the children I have now.
God and I are having some words but God is truly working on and in me. I’m blessed right now and in the present.
And if you’ve read this far I thank you!! Thank you for letting me share what God is doing in my life right now.
New Year-Changes And Goals
Monday, January 4th, 2010
Happy 2010! I never thought there would be a debate going around on whether you should say “two-thousand-and-ten” or “twenty-ten”. I personally prefer “twenty-ten”.
Anyway…now that we got that business out of the way…..
I’ve obviously been on blogging hiatus for two weeks and it was actually nice! My parents were here for ten days visiting and it was a great visit. Christmas was great! I’ll post a summary of our activities as soon as I post our Christmas pictures. Which will be as soon as I find my camera! Yes, I seem to have lost my camera!! If you know me at all you know I am constantly taking pictures and posting them on my blog. So, I’ll be lost without my camera. And I’m not so sure my hubby will be too keen on buying a new one right after Christmas. Not to mention the pictures I’ve lost that are on my camera! We’re changing our playroom around today and I’m hoping I’ll find it in there somewhere. If you think about it please pray that I find it!!
We do have some goals and changes we would like you to keep in your prayers for us:
1. After two years of prayer and keeping our eyes open we’ve finally decided to move! We have been casually looking at neighboring towns and the housing market for the past two years but the houses have just been way out of our price range. The housing market has come down since then and we have been able to find several houses we like and can afford in the two towns we’re looking at. One of the biggest advantages is location. If we move to either of these towns it will shave off 40 minutes a day off Mike’s commute. He’s usually on the road two hours a day so this will be a nice bonus. One is the town Mike grew up in and the other is a town we like and know pretty well. We’ve started “sprucing up” our house so we can put it on the market and have started packing some stuff away. I’m excited! And a little….sad. Maybe nostalgic? We’ve been in this house for six years.It was our first house. I had both my girls here. We had church cookouts and other social events here. There are a lot of memories in this house. But, after this past Christmas we realized it is waaaayyy too small for us!! The next few months are going to be stressful, but worth it. We’re going to hold a garage sale (in the winter!) to get rid of a lot of stuff. I’m looking at our backyard and wondering how we’re going to get all those toys and backyard climbing toys out from under all that snow!
So if you’ll specifically keep these things in your prayers we’d appreciate it:
a) That we’ll find a house that is perfect for our family size wise and price wise.
b) That selling our house will go smoothly and with no complications
c)That the packing and other details will also go smoothly.
I’m going to cut down on my blogging (gasp! Say it isn’t so!!) while we are in the packing and moving process. I’m going to try to cut down to three times a week unless I post something that’s quick and easy. I’ll keep everyone updated on our moving.
2. My other huge prayer request that you all know about now is us having another baby. Please pray that the Lord will allow us to conceive this year. It’s now been 18 months of TTC ( Trying To Conceive to you fertile folk ;o) ). I’m making an appointment with my doctor in the near future to talk about this matter. I didn’t think I’d have to do that again but here I am. I’m sure there will be blood tests and all the other stuff I went through with trying to conceive Katelyn coming up. Again. Maybe there will be some answers. Maybe there won’t. I know that ultimately it’s a God thing and I have to wait on Him. And I have to be ok with whatever His answers are.
I do have somewhat of a resolutions list but you’ll have to wait for Top Ten Tuesday tomorrow to see what they are! I do have to say, I like my cousin Lydia’s goal of losing 5 pounds a month until June. That’s very do-able!!
Here is my 2010 Bible verse for this new year. It says it all for me right now!
Psalms 71:14-16(NKJV)
But I will hope continually and I will praise you yet more and more. My mouth shall tell of Your righteousness and your salvation all the day. For I do not know their limits. I will go in the strength of the Lord God, I will make mention of Your righteousness of Yours only.
Well, there you have it. My first blog of 2010!
Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and yours this year!
When Queens Ride By
Wednesday, December 9th, 2009
My friend Laurie e-mailed me this story yesterday and mentioned how it touched her. She had found it on another blog that she reads.(Which, of course, she doesn’t like nearly as much as mine. Right Laurie?? *wink*) She wasn’t kidding when she said it was long but worth the read. I too thought it was a touching story so I wanted to share it on my blog. You can read my commentary below after the story.
Don’t let the length keep you from reading this! I promise you’ll enjoy it!
Thank you, Laurie, for sending this to me.
When Queens Ride By
by Agnes Slight Turnbull, 1926
Jennie Musgrave woke at the shrill rasp of the alarm clock as she always woke—with the shuddering start and a heavy realization that the brief respite of the night’s oblivion was over. She had only time to glance through the dull light at the cluttered, dusty room, before John’s voice was saying sleepily as he said every morning, “All right, let’s go. It doesn’t seem as if we’d been in bed at all!”
Jennie dressed quickly in the clothes, none too clean, that, exhausted, she had flung from her the night before. She hurried down the back stairs, her coarse shoes clattering thickly upon the bare boards. She kindled the fire in the range and then made a hasty pretense at washing in the basin in the sink.
John strode through the kitchen and on out to the barn. There were six cows to be milked and the great cans of milk to be taken to the station for the morning train.
Jennie put coffee and bacon on the stove, and then, catching up a pail from the porch, went after John. A golden red disk broke the misty blue of the morning above the cow pasture. A sweet, fragrant breath blew from the orchard. But Jennie neither saw nor felt the beauty about her.
She glanced at the sun and thought, It’s going to be a hot day. She glanced at the orchard, and her brows knit. There it hung. All that fruit. Bushels of it going to waste. Maybe she could get time that day to make some more apple butter. But the tomatoes wouldn’t wait. She must pick them and get them to town today, or that would be a dead loss. After all her work, well, it would only be in a piece with everything else if it did happen so. She and John had bad luck, and they might as well make up their minds to it.
She finished her part of the milking and hurried back again to the overcooked bacon and strong coffee. The children were down, clamorous, dirty, always underfoot. Jim, the eldest, was in his first term of school. She glanced at his spotted waist. He should have a clean one. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t get the washing done last week, and when she was to get a day for it this week she didn’t know, with all the picking and the trips to town to make!
Breakfast was hurried and unpalatable, a sort of grudging concession to the demands of the body. Then John left in the milk wagon for the station, and Jennie packed little Jim’s lunch basket with bread and apple butter and pie, left the two little children to their own devices in the backyard, and started toward the barn. There was no time to do anything in the house. The chickens and turkeys had to be attended to, and then she must get to the tomato patch before the sun got too hot. Behind her was the orchard with its rows and rows of laden apple tree. Maybe this afternoon—maybe tomorrow morning. There were the potatoes, too, to be lifted. Too hard work for a woman. But what were you going to do? Starve? John worked till dark in the fields.
She pushed her hair back with a quick, boyish sweep of her arm and went on scattering the grain to the fowls. She remembered their eager plans when they were married, when they took over the old farm—laden with its heavy mortgage—that had been John’s father’s. John had been so straight of back then and so jolly. Only seven years, yet now he was stooped a little, and his brows were always drawn, as though to hide a look of ashamed failure. They had planned to have a model farm someday: blooded stock, a tractor, a new barn. And then such a home they were to make of the old stone house! Jennie’s hopes had flared higher even than John’s. A rug for the parlor, an overstuffed set like the one in the mail—order catalogue, linoleum for the kitchen, electric lights!
They were young and, oh, so strong! There was nothing they could not do if they only worked hard enough.
But that great faith had dwindled as the first year passed. John worked later and later in the evenings. Jennie took more and more of the heavy tasks upon her own shoulders. She often thought with some pride that no woman in the countryside ever helped her husband as she did. Even with the haying and riding the reaper. Hard, coarsening work, but she was glad to do it for John’s sake.
The sad riddle of it all was that at the end of each year they were no further on. The only difference from the year before was another window shutter hanging from one hinge and another crippled wagon in the barnyard which John never had time to mend. They puzzled over it in a vague distress. And meanwhile life degenerated into a straining, hopeless struggle. Sometimes lately John had seemed a little listless, as though nothing mattered. A little bitter when he spoke of Henry Davis.
Henry held the mortgage and had expected a payment on the principle this year. He had come once and looked about with something very like a sneer on his face. If he should decide someday to foreclose—that would be the final blow. They never would get up after that. If John couldn’t hold the old farm, he could never try to buy a new one. It would mean being renters all their lives. Poor renters at that!
She went to the tomato field. It had been her own idea to do some tracking along with the regular farm crops. But, like everything else, it had failed of her expectations. As she put the scarlet tomatoes, just a little overripe, into the basket, she glanced with a hard tightening of her lips toward a break in the trees a half mile away where a dark, listening bit of road caught the sun. Across its polished surface twinkled an endless procession of shining, swift—moving objects. The State Highway.
Jennie hated it. In the first place, it was so tauntingly near and yet so hopelessly far from them. If it only ran by their door, as it did
past Henry Davis’s for instance, it would solve the whole problem of marketing the fruits and vegetables. Then they could set the baskets on the lawn, and people could stop for them. But as it was, nobody all summer long had paid the least attention to the sign John had put up at the end of the lane. And no wonder. Why should travelers drive their cars over the stony country byway, when a little farther along they would find the same fruit spread temptingly for them at the very roadside?
But there was another reason she hated that bit of sleek road showing between the trees. She hated it because it hurt her with its suggestions of all that passed her by in that endless procession twinkling in the sunshine. There they kept going, day after day, those happy, carefree women, riding in handsome limousines or in gay little roadsters. Some in plainer cars, too, but even those were, like the others, women who could have rest, pleasure, comfort for the asking. They were whirled along hour by hour to new pleasures, while she was weighted to the drudgery of the farm like one of the great rocks in the pasture field.
And—most bitter thought of all—they had pretty homes to go back to when the happy journey was over. That seemed to be the strange and cruel law about homes. The finer they were, the easier it was to leave them. Now with her—if she had the rug for the parlor and the stuffed furniture and linoleum for the kitchen, she shouldn’t mind anything so much then; she had nothing, nothing but hard slaving and bad luck. And the highway taunted her with it. Flung its impossible pleasures mockingly in her face as she bent over the vines or dragged the heavy baskets along the rows.
The sun grew hotter. Jennie put more strength into her task. She knew, at last, by the scorching heat overhead that is was nearing noon. She must have a bit of lunch ready for John when he came in. There wasn’t time to prepare much. Just reheat the coffee and set down some bread and pie.
She started towards the house, giving a long yodeling call for the children as she went. They appeared from the orchard, tumbled and torn from experiments with the wire fence. Her heart smothered her at the sight of them. Among the other dreams that the years had crushed out were those of little rosy boys and girls in clean suits and fresh ruffled dresses. As it was, the children had just grown like farm weeds.
This was the part of all the drudgery that hurt most. That she had not time to care for her children, sew for them, teach them things that other children knew. Sometimes it seemed as if she had no real love for them at all. She was too terribly tired as a rule to have any feeling. The only times she used energy to talk to them was when she had to reprove them for some dangerous misdeed. That was all wrong. It seemed wicked; but how could she help it? With the work draining the very life out of her, strong as she was.
John came in heavily, and they ate in silence except for the children’s chatter. John hardly looked up form his plate. He gulped down great drafts of the warmed-over coffee and then pushed his chair back hurriedly.
“I’m goin’ to try to finish the harrowin’ in the south field,” he said.
“I’m at the tomatoes,” Jennie answered. “I’ve got them’ most all picked and ready for takin’.”
That was all. Work was again upon them.
It was two o’clock by the sun, and Jennie had loaded the last heavy basket of tomatoes on the milk wagon in which she must drive to town, when she heard shrill voices sounding along the path. The children were flying in excitement toward her.
“Mum! Mum! Mum!” they called as they came panting up to her with big, surprised eyes.
“Mum, there’s a lady up there. At the kitchen door. All dressed up. A pretty lady. She wants to see you.”
Jennie gazed down at them disbelievingly. A lady, a pretty lady at her kitchen door? All dressed up! What that could mean! Was it possible someone had at last braved the stony lane to buy fruit? Maybe bushels of it!
“Did she come in a car?” Jennie asked quickly.
“No, she just walked in. She’s awful pretty. She smiled at us.”
Jennie’s hopes dropped. Of course. She might have known. Some agent likely, selling books. She followed the children wearily back along the path and in at the rear door of the kitchen. Across from it another door opened into the side yard. Here stood the stranger.
The two women looked at each other across the kitchen, across the table with the remains of two meals upon it, the strewn chairs, the littered stove—across the whole scene of unlovely disorder. They looked at each other in startled surprise, as inhabitants of Earth and Mars might look if they were suddenly brought face-to-face.
Jennie saw a woman in a gray tweed coat that seemed to be part of her straight, slim body. A small gray hat with a rose quill was drawn low over the brownish hair. Her blue eyes were clear and smiling. She was beautiful! And yet she was not young. She was in her forties, surely. But an aura of eager youth clung to her, a clean and exquisite freshness.
The stranger in her turn looked across at a young woman, haggard and weary. Her yellowish hair hung in straggling wisps. Her eyes looked hard and hunted. Her cheeks were thin and sallow. Her calico dress was shapeless and begrimed from her work.
So they looked at each other for one long, appraising second. Then the woman in gray smiled.
“How do you do? ” she began. “We ran our car into the shade of your lane to have our lunch and rest for a while. And I walked on up to buy a few apples, if you have them.”
Jennie stood staring at the stranger. There was an unconscious hostility in her eyes. This was one of the women from the highway. One of those envied ones who passed twinkling through the summer sunshine from pleasure to pleasure while Jennie slaved on.
But the pretty lady’s smile was disarming. Jennie started toward a chair and pulled off the old coat and apron that lay on it.
“Won’t you sit down?” she said politely. “I’ll go and get the apples. I’ll have to pick them off the tree. Would you prefer rambos?”
“I don’t know what they are, but they sound delicious. You must choose them for me. But mayn’t I come with you? I should love to help pick them.”
Jennie considered. She felt baffled by the friendliness of the other woman’s face and utterly unable to meet it. But she did not know how to refuse.
“Why I s’pose so. If you can get through the dirt.”
She led the way over the back porch with its crowded baskets and pails and coal buckets, along the unkept path toward the orchard. She had never been so acutely conscious of the disorder about her. Now a hot shame brought a lump to her throat. In her preoccupied haste before, she had actually not noticed that tub of overturned milk cans and rubbish heap! She saw it all now swiftly through the other woman’s eyes. And then that new perspective was checked by a bitter defiance. Why should she care how things looked to this woman? She would be gone, speeding down the highway in a few minutes as though she had never been there.
She reached the orchard and began to drag a long ladder from the fence to the rambo tree.
The other woman cried out in distress. “Oh, but you can’t do that! You mustn’t. It’s too heavy for you, or even for both of us. Please just let me pick a few from the ground.”
Jennie looked in amazement at the stranger’s concern. It was so long since she had seen anything like it.
“Heavy?” she repeated. “This ladder? I wish I didn’t ever lift anything heavier than this. After hoistin’ bushel baskets of tomatoes onto a wagon, this feels light to me.”
The stranger caught her arm. “But—but do you think it’s right? Why, that’s a man’s work.”
Jennie’s eyes blazed. Something furious and long-pent broke out from within her. “Right! Who are you to be askin’ me whether I’m right or
not?” What would have become of us if I didn’t do a man’s work? It takes us both, slaving away, an’ then we get nowhere. A person like you don’t know what work is! You don’t know—”
Jennie’s voice was the high shrill of hysteria; but the stranger’s low tones somehow broke through. “Listen,” she said soothingly. “Please listen to me. I’m sorry I annoyed you by saying that, but now, since we are talking, why can’t we sit down here and rest a minute? It’s so cool and lovely here under the trees, and if you were to tell me all about it—because I’m only a stranger—perhaps it would help. It does sometimes, you know. A little rest would—”
“Rest! Me sit down to rest, an’ the wagon loaded to go to town? It’ll hurry me now to get back before dark.”
And then something strange happened. The other women put her cool, soft hand on Jennie’s grimy arm. There was a compelling tenderness in her eyes. “Just take the time you would have spent picking apples. I would so much rather. And perhaps somehow I could help you. I wish I could. Won’t you tell me why you have to work so hard?”
Jennie sank down on the smooth green grass. Her hunted, unwilling eyes had yielded to some power in the clear, serene eyes of the stranger. A sort of exhaustion came over her. A trembling reaction from the straining effort of weeks.
“There ain’t much to tell,” she said half sullenly, “only that we ain’t gettin’ ahead. We’re clean discouraged, both off us. Henry Davis is talking about foreclosin’ on us if we don’t pay some principle. The time of the mortgage is out this year, an’ mebbe he won’t renew it. He’s got plenty himself, but them’s the hardest kind.” She paused; then her eyes flared. “An’ it ain’t that I haven’t done my part. Look at me. I’m barely thirty, an’ I might be fifty. I’m so weather-beaten. That’s the way I’ve worked!”
“And you think that has helped your husband?”
“Helped him?” Jennie’s voice was sharp. “Why shouldn’t it help him?”
The stranger was looking away through the green stretches of orchard. She laced her slim hands together about her knees. She spoke slowly. “Men are such queer things, husbands especially. Sometimes we blunder when we are trying hardest to serve them. For instance, they want us to be economical, and yet they want us in pretty clothes. They need our work, and yet they want us to keep our youth and our beauty. And sometimes they don’t know themselves which they really want most. So we have to choose. That’s what makes it so hard”.
She paused. Jennie was watching her with dull curiosity as though she were speaking a foreign tongue.
Then the stranger went on:
I had to choose once, long ago; just after we were married, my husband decided to have his own business, so he started a very tiny one. He couldn’t afford a helper, and he wanted me to stay in the office while he did the outside selling. And I refused, even though it hurt him. Oh, it was hard! But I knew how it would be if I did as he wished. We would both have come back each night. Tired out, to a dark, cheerless house and a picked-up dinner. And a year if that might have taken something away from us—something precious. I couldn’t risk it, so I refused and stuck to it.
“And then how I worked in my house—a flat it was then. I had so little outside of our wedding gifts; but at least I could make it a clean, shining, happy place. I tried to give our little dinners the grace of a feast. And as the months went on, I knew I had done right. My husband would come home dead-tired and discouraged, ready to give up the whole thing. But after he had eaten and sat down in our bright little living room, and I had read to him or told him all the funny things I could invent about my day, I could see him change. By bedtime he had his courage back, and by morning he was at last ready to go out and fight again. And at last he won, and he won his success alone, as a man loves to do.
Still Jennie did not speak. She only regarded her guest with a half-resentful understanding.
The woman in gray looked off again between the trees. Her voice was very sweet. A humorous little smile played about her lips.
“There was a queen once,” she went on, “who reigned in troublous days. And every time the country was on the brink of war and the people ready to fly into a panic, she would put on her showiest dress and take her court with her and go hunting. And when the people would see her riding by, apparently so gay and happy, they were sure all was well with the Government. So she tided over many a danger. And I’ve tried to be like her.
“Whenever a big crisis comes in my husband’s business—and we’ve had several—or when he’s discouraged, I put on my prettiest dress and get the best dinner I know how or give a party! And somehow it seems to work. That’s the woman’s part, you know. To play the queen—”
A faint honk-honk came from the lane. The stranger started to her feet. “That’s my husband. I must go. Please don’t bother about the apples. I’ll just take these from under the tree. We only wanted two or three, really. And give these to the children.” She slipped two coins into Jennie’s hand.
Jennie had risen, too, and was trying from a confusion of startled thoughts to select one for speech. Instead she only answered the other woman’s bright good-bye with a stammering repetition and a broken apology about the apples.
She watched the stranger’s erect, lithe figure hurrying away across the path that led directly to the lane. Then she turned her back to the house, wondering dazedly if she had only dreamed that the other woman had been there. But no, there were emotions rising hotly within her that were new. They had had no place an hour before. They had risen at the words of the stranger and at the sight of her smooth, soft hair, the fresh color in her cheeks, the happy shine of her eyes.
A great wave of longing swept over Jennie, a desire that was lost in choking despair. It was as thought she had heard a strain of music for which she had waited all her life and then felt it swept away into silence before she had grasped its beauty. For a few brief minutes she, Jennie Musgrave, had sat beside one of the women of the highway and caught a breath of her life—that life which forever twinkled in the past in bright procession, like the happenings of a fairy tale. Then she was gone, and Jennie was left as she had been, bound to the soil like one of the rocks of the field.
The bitterness that stormed her heart now was different from the old dull disheartenment. For it was coupled with new knowledge. The words of the stranger seemed more vivid to her than when she had sat listening in the orchard. But they came back to her with the pain of agony.
“All very well for her to talk so smooth to me about man’s work and woman’s work! An’ what she did for her husband’s big success. Easy enough for her to sit talking about queens! What would she do if she was here on this farm like me? What would a woman like her do?”
Jennie had reached the kitchen door and stood there looking at the hopeless melee about her. Her words sounded strange and hollow in the silence of the house. “Easy for her!” she burst out. She never had the work pilin’ up over her like I have. She never felt it at her throat like a wolf, the same as John an’ me does. Talk about choosin’! I haven’t got no choice. I just got to keep goin’—just keep goin’, like I always have—”
She stopped suddenly. There in the middle of the kitchen floor, where the other woman had passed over, lay a tiny square of white. Jennie crossed to it quickly and picked it up. A faint delicious fragrance like the dream of a flower came from it. Jennie inhaled it eagerly. It was not like any odor she had ever known. It made her think of sweet, strange things. Things she had never thought about before. Of gardens in the early summer dusk, of wide fair rooms with the moonlight shining in them. It made her somehow think with vague wistfu
lness of all that.
She looked carefully at the tiny square. The handkerchief was of fine, fairy like smoothness. In the corner a dainty blue butterfly spread his wings. Jennie drew in another long breath. The fragrance filled her senses again. Her first greedy draft had not exhausted it. It would stay for a while, at least.
She laid the bit of white down cautiously on the edge of the table and went to the sink, where she washed her hands carefully. The she returned and picked up the handkerchief again with something like reverence. She sat down, still holding it, staring at it. This bit of linen was to her an articulated voice. She understood its language. It spoke to her of white, freshly washed clothes blowing in the sunshine, of an iron moving smoothly, leisurely, to the accompaniment of a song over snowy folds; it spoke to her of quiet, orderly rooms and ticking clocks and a mending basket under the evening lamp; it spoke to her of all the peaceful routine of a well managed household, the kind she had once dreamed of having.
But more than this, the exquisite daintiness of it, the sweet, alluring perfume spoke to her of something else which her heart understood, even though her speech could have found no words for it. She could feel gropingly the delicacy, the grace, the beauty that made up the other woman’s life in all its relations.
She, Jennie, had none of that. Everything about their lives, hers and John’s, was coarsened, soiled somehow by the dragging, endless labor or the days.
Jennie leaned forward, her arms stretched tautly before her upon her knees, her hands clasped tightly over the fragrant bit of white. Suppose she were to try doing as the stranger had said. Suppose that she spent her time on the house and let the outside work go. What then? What would John say? Would they be much farther behind than they were now? Could they be? And suppose, by some strange chance, the other woman had been right! That a man could be helped more by doing of these other things she had neglected?
She sat very still, distressed, uncertain. Out in the barnyard waited the wagon of tomatoes, overripe now for market. No, she could do nothing today, at least, but go on as usual.
Then her hands opened a little; the perfume within them came up to her, bringing again that thrill of sweet, indescribable things.
She started up, half-terrified at her own resolve. “I’m goin’ to try it now. Mebbe I’m crazy, but I’m goin’ to do it anyhow!”
It was a long time since Jennie had performed such a meticulous toilet. It was years since she had brushed her hair. A hasty combing had been its best treatment. She put on her one clean dress, the dark voile reserved for trips to town. She even changed from her shapeless, heavy shoes to her best ones. Then, as she looked at herself in the dusty mirror, she saw that she was changed. Something, at least, of the hard haggardness was gone from her face, and her hair framed it with smooth softness. Tomorrow she would wash it. It used to be almost yellow.
She went to the kitchen. With something of the burning zeal of a fanatic, she attacked the confusion before her. By half past four the room was clean: the floor swept, the stove shining, dishes and pans washed and put in their places. From the tumbled depths of a drawer Jennie had extracted a white tablecloth that had been bought in the early days, for company only. With a spirit of daring recklessness she spread it on the table. She polished the chimney of the big oil lamp and then set the fixture, clean and shining, in the center of the white cloth.
Now the supper! And she must hurry. She planned to have it at six o’ clock and ring the big bell for John fifteen minutes before, as she used to just after they were married.
She decided upon fried ham and browned potatoes and applesauce with hot biscuits. She hadn’t made them for so long, but her fingers fell into their old deftness. Why, cooking was just play if you had time to do it right! Then she thought of the tomatoes and gave a little shudder. She thought of the long hours of backbreaking work she had put into them and called herself a little fool to have been swayed by the words of a strange and the scent of a handkerchief, to neglect her rightful work and bring more loss upon John and herself. But she went on, making the biscuits, turning the ham, setting the table.
It was half past five; the first pan of flaky brown mounds had been withdrawn from the oven, the children’s faces and hands had been washed and their excited questions satisfied, when the sound of a car came from the bend. Jennie knew that car. It belonged to Henry Davis. He could be coming for only one thing.
The blow they had dreaded, fending off by blind disbelief in the ultimate disaster, was about to fall. Henry was coming to tell them he was going to foreclose. It would almost kill John. This was his father’s old farm. John had taken it over, mortgage and all, so hopefully, so sure he could succeed where his father had failed. If he had to leave now there would be a double disgrace to bear. And where could they go? Farms weren’t so plentiful.
Henry had driven up to the side gate. He fumbled with some papers in his inner pocket as he started up the walk. A wild terror filled Jennie’s heart. She wanted desperately to avoid meeting Henry Davis’s keen, hard face, to flee somewhere, anywhere before she heard the words that doomed them.
Then as she stood shaken, wondering how she could live through what the next hours would bring, she saw in a flash the beautiful stranger as she had sat in the orchard, looking off between the trees and smiling to herself. “There was once a queen.”
Jennie heard the words again distinctly just as Henry Davis’s steps sounded sharply nearer on the walk outside. There was only a confused picture of a queen wearing the stranger’s lovely, highbred face, riding gaily to the hunt through forests and towns while her kingdom was tottering. Riding gallantly on, in spite of her fears.
Jennie’s heart was pounding and her hands were suddenly cold. But something unreal and yet irresistible was sweeping her with it. “There was once a queen.”
She opened the screen door before Henry Davis had time to knock. She extended her hand cordially. She was smiling. “Well, how d’ you do, Mr. Davis. Come right in. I’m real glad to see you. Been quite a while since you was over.”
Henry looked surprised and very much embarrassed. “Why, no, now, I won’t go in. I just stopped to see John on a little matter of business. I’ll just—”
“You’ll just come right in. John will be in from milkin’ in a few minutes an’ you can talk while you eat, both of you. I’ve supper just ready. Now step right in, Mr. Davis!”
As Jennie moved aside, a warm, fragrant breath of fried ham and biscuits seemed to waft itself to Henry Davis’s nostrils. There was a visible softening of his features. “Why, no, I didn’t reckon on anything like this. I ‘lowed I’d just speak to John and then be gettin’ on.”
“They’ll see you at home when you get there,” Jennie put in quickly. “You never tasted my hot biscuits with butter an’ quince honey, or you wouldn’t take so much coachin’!”
Henry Davis came in and sat in the big, clean, warm kitchen. His eyes took in every detail of the orderly room: the clean cloth, the shining lamp, the neat sink, the glowing stove. Jennie saw him relax comfortably in his chair. Then above the aromas of the food about her, she detected the strange sweetness of the bit of white linen she had tucked away in the bosom of her dress. It rose to her as a haunting sense of her power as a woman.
She smiled at Henry Davis. Smiled as she would never have thought of doing a day ago. Then she would have spoken to him with a drawn face full of subservient fear. Now, though the fear clutched her heart, her lips smiled sweetly, moved by that unreality that seemed to possess her. “There was once a queen.”
“An’ how
are things goin’ with you, Mr. Davis?” she asked with a blithe upward reflection.
Henry Davis was very human. He had never noticed before that Jennie’s hair was so thick and pretty and that she had such pleasant ways. Neither had he dreamed that she was such a good cook as the sight and smell of the supper things would indicate. He was very comfortable there in the big sweet-smelling kitchen.
He smiled back. It was an interesting experiment on Henry’s part, for his smiles were rare. “Oh, so-so. How are they with you?”
Jennie had been taught to speak the truth; but at this moment there dawned in her mind a vague understanding that the high loyalties of life are, after all, relative and not absolute.
She smiled again as she skillfully flipped a great slice of golden brown ham over in the frying pan. “Why, just fine, Mr. Davis. We’re gettin’ on just fine, John an’ me. It’s been hard sleddin’ but I sort of think the worst is over. I think we’re goin’ to come out way ahead now. We’ll just be proud to pay off that mortgage so fast, come another year, that you’ll be surprised!”
It was said. Jennie marveled that the words had not choked her, had not somehow smitten her dead as she spoke them. But their effect on Henry Davis was amazingly good.
“That so?” he asked in surprise. “Well now, that’s fine. I always wanted to see John make a success of the old place, but somehow—well, you know it didn’t look as if—that is, there’s been some talk around that maybe John wasn’t just gettin’ along any too—you know. A man has to sort of watch his investments. Well, now, I’m glad things are pickin’ up a little.”
Jennie felt as though a tight hand at her throat had relaxed. She spoke brightly of the fall weather and the crops as she finished setting the dishes on the table and rang the big bell for John. There was delicate work yet to be done when he came in.
Little Jim had to be sent to hasten him before he finally appeared. He was a big man, John Musgrave, big and slow moving and serious. He had known nothing all his life but hard physical toil. Heaviess had pitted his great body against all the adverse forces of nature. There was a time when he had felt that strength such as his was all any man needed to bring him fortune. Now he was not so sure. The brightness of that faith was dimmed by experience.
John came to the kitchen door with his eyebrows drawn. Little Jim had told Jim that Henry Davis was there. He came into the room as an accused man faces the jury of his peers, faces the men who, though the same flesh and blood as he, are yet somehow curiously in a position to save or to destroy him.
John came in, and then he stopped, staring blankly at the scene before him. At Jennie moving about the bright table, chatting happily with Henry Davis! At Henry himself, his sharp features softened by an air of great satisfaction. At the sixth plate on the white cloth. Henry staying for supper!
But the silent deeps of John’s nature served him well. He made no comment. Merely shook hands with Henry Davis and then washed his face at the sink.
Jennie arranged the savory dishes, and they sat down to supper. It was an entirely new experience to John to sit at the head of his own table and serve a generously heaped plate to Henry Davis. It sent through him a sharp thrill of sufficiency, of equality. He realized that before he had been cringing in his soul at the very sight of this man.
Henry consumed eight biscuits richly covered with quince honey, along with the heavier part of his dinner. Jennie counted them. She recalled hearing that the Davises did not set a very bountiful table; it was common talk that Mrs. Davis was even more “miserly” than her husband. But, however that was, Henry now seemed to grow more and more genial and expansive as he ate. So did John. By the time the pie was set before them, they were laughing over a joke Henry had heard at Grange meeting.
Jennie was bright, watchful, careful. If the talk lagged, she made a quick remark. She moved softly between table and stove, refilling the dishes. She saw to it that a hot biscuit was at Henry Davis’s elbow just when he was ready for it. All the while there was rising within her a strong zest for life that she would have deemed impossible only that morning. This meal, at least, was a perfect success, and achievements of any sort whatever had been few.
Henry Davis left soon after supper. He brought the conversation around awkwardly to his errand as they rose from the table. Jennie was ready.
“I told him, John, that the worst was over now, an’ we’re getting’ on fine!” She laughed.” I told him we’d be swampin’ him pretty soon with our payments. Ain’t that right John?”
John’s mind was not analytical. At that moment he was comfortable. He has been host at a delicious supper with his ancient adversary, whose sharp face marvelously softened. Jennie’s eyes were shining with a new and amazing confidence. It was a natural moment for unreasoning optimism.
“Why that’s right, Mr. Davis. I believe we can start clearin’ this off now pretty soon. If you could just see your way clear to renew the note mebbe. . . .”
It was done. The papers were back in Davis’s pocket. They had bid him a cordial good-bye from the door.
“Next time you come, I will have biscuits for you Mr. Davis.” Jennie had called daringly after him.
“Now you don’t forget that Mrs. Musgrave! They certainly ain’t hard to eat.”
He was gone. Jennie cleared the table and set the shining lamp in the center of the oilcloth covering. She began to wash the dishes. John was fumbling through the papers on a hanging shelf. He finally sat down with and old tablet and pencil. He spoke meditatively. “I believe I’ll do a little figurin’ since I’ve got time tonight. It just struck me that mebbe if I used my head a little more I’d get on faster.”
“Well now, you might,” said Jennie. It would not be John’s way to comment just yet on their sudden deliverance. She polished two big Rambo apples and placed them on a saucer beside him.
He looked pleased. “Now that’s what I like.” He grinned. Then making a clumsy clutch at her arm, he added, “Say, you look sort of pretty tonight.”
Jennie made a brisk coquettish business of freeing herself. “Go along with you!” she returned, smiling and started in again upon the dishes. But a hot wave of color had swept up in her shallow cheeks.
John had looked more grateful over her setting those two apples beside him now, than he had the day last fall when she lifted all the potatoes herself! Men were strange, as the woman in gray had said. Maybe even John had been needing something else more than he needed the hard, backbreaking work she had been doing.
She tidied up the kitchen and put the children to bed. It seemed strange to be through now, ready to sit down. All summer they had worked outdoors till bedtime. Last night she had been slaving over apple butter until she stopped, exhausted, and John had been working in the barn with the lantern. Tonight seemed so peaceful, so quiet. John still sat at the table, figuring while he munched his apples. His brows were not drawn now. There was a new, purposeful light upon his face.
Jennie walked to the doorway and stood looking off through the darkness and through the break in the trees at the end of the lane. Bright and golden lights kept glittering across it, breaking dimly through the woods, flashing out strongly for a moment, then disappearing behind the hill. Those were the lights of the happy cars that never stopped in their swift search for far and magic places. Those were the lights of the highway which she had hated. But she did not hate it now. For today it had come to her at last and left with her some of its mysterious pleasure.
Jennie wished, as she stood there, that she could somehow tell the beautiful stranger in the gray coat that her words had been true, that she, Je
nnie, insofar as she was able, was to be like her and fulfill her woman’s part.
For while she was not figuring as John was doing, yet her mind had been planning, sketching in details, strengthening itself against the chains of old habits, resolving on new ones; seeing with sudden clearness where they had been blundered, where they had made mistakes that farsighted, orderly management could have avoided. But how could John have sat down to figure in comfort before, in the kind of kitchen she had been keeping?
Jennie bit her lip. Even if some of the tomatoes spoiled, if all of them spoiled, there would be a snowy washing on her line tomorrow; there would be ironing the next day in her clean kitchen. She could sing as she worked. She used to when she was a girl. Even if the apples rotted on the trees, there were certain things she knew now that she must do, regardless of what John might say. It would pay better in the end, for she had read the real needs of his soul from his eyes that evening. Yes, wives had to choose for their husbands sometimes.
A thin haunting breath of sweetness rose from the bosom of her dress where the scrap of white linen lay. Jennie smiled into the dark. And tomorrow she would take time to wash her hair. It used to be yellow—and she wished she could see the stranger once more, just long enough to tell her she understood.
As matter of fact, at that very moment, many miles along the sleek highway, a woman in a gray coat, with a soft gray hat and a rose quill, leaned suddenly close to her husband as he shot the high-powered car through the night. Suddenly he glanced down at her and slackened the speed.
“Tired?” he asked. “You haven’t spoken for miles. Shall we stop at this next town?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m all right, and I love to drive at night. It’s only—you know—that poor woman at the farm. I can’t get over her wretched face and house and everything. It—it was hopeless!”
The man smiled down at her tenderly. “Well, I’m sorry, too, if it was all as bad as your description; but you mustn’t worry. Good gracious, darling, you’re not weeping over it, I hope!”
“No, truly, just a few little tears. I know it’s silly, but I did so want to help her, and I know now that what I said must have sounded perfectly insane. She wouldn’t know what I was talking about. She just looked up with that blank, tired face. And it all seemed so impossible. No, I’m not going to cry. Of course I’m not—but—lend me your handkerchief, will you dear? I’ve lost mine somehow!”
Blessedly, we don’t have to work like Jennie anymore in this modern day and age. But as moms, wives and homemakers we still have a lot of responsibility! I think sometimes we got bogged down by all our jobs, house work, caring for children, paying bills, grocery shopping, cooking, and other tasks we do in our homes and families. If you’re a mom who works outside of the home you have responsibilities there and at home.
As a stay at home mom I know I struggle sometimes with guilt about being a stay at home mom! I think many SAHM feel pressure to prove that what they do is worthwhile and meaningful. That they don’t sit around all day eating, napping and watching soap operas. I know that sometimes I feel guilty if my house doesn’t look super neat and organized when my husband gets home for fear that he’ll think “What has she been doing all day? Obviously not cleaning!” I’m not going to get into a the SAHM mom vs work -outside -of- the- home mom debate at this time. I think they both deserve respect and admiration.
I think Agnes Turnbulls’ point is a good one. I’m going to take liberties with this story’s message and share with you how I think it applies to our life today.
Don’t let responsibilities and work take over your life, marriage and family. Don’t let those things suck the life out of you. Don’t let mothering, housekeeping, or your outside job steal your joy. Take some time every day to be the “Queen”. I know a lot of SAHM’s struggle with their appearance during they day. They get so busy with caring for their children they don’t take time to shower, brush their hair or put pretty clothes on. I think that subconsciously we feel as if looking bedraggled, worn and unkempt at the end of the day is a sign of how hard we’ve worked that day.It’s our SAHM uniform of sorts. Our badge of good mothering. If we were to look nice and smell good at the end of the day then we haven’t done our jobs correctly. Not to sound 1950ish or anything, but take time for a little daily primp! For yourself! For your husband! Many women might say ” You don’t know how hard it is to care for my children” or “Why should I “dress up” when I’m home all day?” “My husband shouldn’t care what I look like. He loves me however I look. He should understand what my days are like”. I’m not saying to put on a skirt and pearls. But I am saying sometimes those little things we think are frivolous and unimportant do matter. They do make a difference. I’m suggesting that we put a little extra time into our appearance each day and try to make our home a cheery and calming haven for our husbands when they return home. Don’t greet him at the door with a scowl and ” You don’t know how terrible the kids were today!! “. I know I personally struggle with making sure my husband understands how much I do do for our family and all the work I put in each day. I may not bring home the money but by golly I’ve earned it!!!I want to make sure he appreciates me. But that kind of attitude can definitely put a cloud over my marriage when I hang on to it and make a daily habit of flaunting it.
Be the “queen” more often. You might notice a big difference in your marriage and household after awhile.
Or at the least, if you meet your prince at the door with a little perfume, a smile and a smooch he may be too dazzled to notice the naked toddler peeing on the floor in the corner or the fact that he doesn’t have clean underwear for tomorrow. Yet.
Just sayin’.
Nooks, Corners, Chairs and Memories
Friday, December 4th, 2009
I’ve been working on this idea for a post in my mind for awhile and trying to organize it and make it into something intelligible and fun to read. I’ve enjoyed working on it and I hope you enjoy reading it!
Do you have special chairs or corners you use for different activities? A small space that is yours? Your little haven? Do have a piece of furniture that has sentimental value and memories for you?
I do.
This rocking chair was the first piece of nursery furniture I received after I found out I was pregnant for the first time. It was a used rocker but it was given to me excitedly by a friend who got it from someone who needed to get rid of it. This friend was so proud of himself and so excited to give us this free rocker. It’s not the most beautiful rocker and it certainly didn’t go with my nursery decor. But it was special to me.
I rocked both my girls in it while listening to beautiful lullabies. I sat here for midnight feedings. We read bed time stories in it until the girls were too big to fit in my lap in it at the same time. Now it’s sitting in our spare bedroom waiting to rock another baby (or two) when the time comes.
I’ve had many tender and loving moments with my girls here
This is my quiet time chair and corner. This is where I sit in the quiet of the early mornings to read my Bible, pray and drink that first, delicious cup of coffee. I have my special floor lamp behind this chair that we bought just for this corner. I’ve got my little side table that contains two baskets. The one on the bottom is for my Bible, notebook and devotional books. The basket on top holds pens, highlighters and other miscellaneous things.
‘
I’ve praised, cried, complained and drawn closer to God in this chair. I’ve been humbled, awed and and totally blown away by the words I’ve read in my Bible here. I’ve prayed over many prayer requests here. I’ve journaled here.
I love my little quiet corner. My special place.
This is where I make my blog magic happen. My computer corner.
I Twitter, Facebook, read e-mails and do all my crazy blogging here. I stay in touch with family and friends via cyberspace in this corner. I was thrilled to finally find a little space for my laptop so it wasn’t on the dining room table or sitting on the couch. We also were happy to finally find a good way to use this odd corner in our living room.
This is a happy little corner of mine.
This corner is part of our dining room table. I do many different things here. I eat. I read while I’m eating. I fold laundry. I pay bills. I write cards.
This is kind of a working corner for me. But I can also see the T.V perfectly from here. So, I have can have fun while I’m working. It doesn’t hurt that these dining room chairs are pretty comfortable.
We just turned this area into the dining room and I love it. It’s always bright and sunny. I can see a ton of family pictures from this chair. Oh, and did I mention my coffee maker is in here? It’s my sunny spot.
No matter how gloomy the weather is outside it always seems to be bright in here.
And this spot? This is where I relax in the evenings. I watch my favorite t.v shows. I read. Sometimes I blog here. I play Bejeweled Blitz. I cuddle, whether it be with the girls or Mike. Sometimes the three of us girls will try to lay on this couch together and I have one girl squeezed in front of me and one laying on top of me! This is where friends sit when they come to visit. I’ve watched many great movies from this spot.
This is my end of the couch. The summer that I was pregnant with Katelyn I would come home from work so tired and I would have the most wonderful pregnant naps on this couch. Once I had Katelyn and was pregnant with Madelyn those naps weren’t as plentiful but I still managed every now and then.
We bought this set of couches when we first moved into this house. Our first house. The end you see here is Mike’s. This is where he plops down when he gets home from a long, tiring day at work. He plays his video games from this spot and falls asleep here frequently.
We love this couch.
It’s amazing how a piece of furniture or a corner in my home can mean so much to me.
How about you? Do you have a special corner or piece of furniture in your home?
Giving To Others This Holiday Season
Monday, November 23rd, 2009
a) Stress. Cooking. Baking. Stress. Christmas rush. Shopping. More shopping. Bills. Spending money. Stress. Parties. Commitments. Christmas decorating. Long lines. Christmas cards. Christmas pictures. Holiday parties. STRESS! RUSH!
OR
b) Jesus. Christmas caroling. Friends. Family. Smiling. Laughing. Church family. Christmas eve service. Giving to a family in need. Tears of joy over being blessed by someone’s generosity. Unto us a Child is born! Messiah. Oh Holy night. Jesus is the reason for the season. Baking cookies with your children. Snuggles. Homemade gifts. Celebrating Jesus. Worshiping the Savior. Happy Birthday Jesus. Hugs. Joy. Peace
A or B? Which one of these word groupings sounds better to you? If I did my job well then you will feel stress just reading A and feel a lot calmer and happier in reading B. Has A ever applied to you during the holiday season?
The Lord has been dealing with my heart recently about the holiday season. I have really been thinking of ways to keep Christmas a lot simpler this year and more Christ centered. ( Remember my “Life Words” post? ) I was also being convicted of ways to give to others this Christmas in a bigger way than I have in the past and making it a family affair. Our servicemen and women have really been on my heart and I’ve been researching some ways to bless some of our troops this holiday season.
So, after all this thinking I’ve been doing these past couple of weeks, it all came together in our church service today! The youth minister of the church we’ve been attending spoke about Advent (it starts next Sunday), a little bit about it’s history, and practical ways to make this Advent season more about Christ and family than about giving and receiving gifts.
I’ll be honest with you, I had not really heard the term “Advent” until I moved to New England and my family never used that word. Of course, I’ve seen it on calendars but never knew what it really meant. Me being raised a Baptist, I always thought Advent was a tradition practiced by other religious faiths. But now I’ve come to know what the season of Advent means. Here is what About.com says about Advent:
“In Western Christianity, Advent begins on the fourth Sunday prior to Christmas Day, or the Sunday which falls closest to November 30, and lasts through Christmas Eve, or December 24. When Christmas Eve falls on a Sunday, it is the last, or fourth Sunday of Advent.
Advent is a period of spiritual preparation in which many Christians make themselves ready for the coming, or birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. During this time, Christians observe a season of prayer, fasting and repentance, followed by anticipation, hope and joy.
Many Christians celebrate advent not only by thanking God for Christ’s first coming to Earth as a baby, but also for his presence among us today through the Holy Spirit, and in preparation and anticipation of his final coming at the end of time.”
I think this is such a good definition of what the Christmas season should be about! Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE CHRISTMAS. I love the sights, the hustle and bustle, the parties, the excitement, the gifts (yes, I said it! I love getting gifts!), the Christmas baking, the decorations, the music and even the shopping in crowded malls. I love it all. But, in the past, all of this has caused me great stress. I remember one Christmas a couple of years ago that was so stressful and busy for Mike and I that all we did was fight! We breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and Mike was actually looking forward to going back to work after his Christmas you- know-from-where vacation week. We said to each other that we never wanted to have a Christmas like that again. I’m sure we’re not the only ones who have had stressful Christmases in the past. Which brings me back to the point of this post.
The youth minister today spoke of the Advent Conspiracy . Ever heard of it? Here is a great video clip that describes what it’s all about. Check out their website for more wonderful information on this movement.
Isn’t this awesome? I was totally convicted by this.
Worship Fully
Spend Less
Give More
Love all
Wow. Should be simple to us Christians shouldn’t it? But it’s not. So, here are some practical ideas and ways to give more to others this season.
1) It was suggested in the sermon today to take 1/4 of the money you would usually spend at Christmas, pray over it as a family and ask God to show you where to use that money to serve others this Christmas. I really like this idea and think it’s a great tradition to start as a family. I know Katelyn is old enough to start learning about giving to others who have less than she does. And even if you can’t take 1/4 of the money you usually spend, try buying one less gift and using that money to help someone in need.
2) Give more of yourself this Christmas. Meaning, more of your time to your family and friends. Meet your neighbors. Invite people you don’t know very well over for coffee. Invite your friends who don’t know Jesus to church or to a Christmas church function.
3) Make more homemade gifts. I’m not crafty. At all. But I can bake and I can use my computer to make picture gifts for families and friends. I know homemade gifts are the ones I remember the most. Use whatever talents you have and your imagination to make something special instead of spending a lot of money on something your loved ones may not need.
4) Do more things together as a family and start some fun traditions. We started making a birthday cake for Jesus, which I know many families do. Start a Jesse Tree.
And if you’re looking for some ideas on how/where to give this Christmas consider these options:
1)Give to our troops.
Go to military.com for a list of ways to show love and thanks for our troops this Christmas. Don’t forget these men and women who are overseas putting their lives on the line for our freedom while we sit in our cozy living rooms on Christmas day. Another great way is to sponsor a care package through the USO for a soldier in need. The cost is $25 for a $75 care package. You can also donate at Give2TheTroops. 90% of donations goes to care packages for the troops and postage (which can be up to $10,000.00 a month!)
2) Give to World Vision Or Compassion International ( my cousin Phoebe works for them!) which are both wonderful Christian organizations that help families and children in third world countries.
3) Participate in Operation Christmas Child by Samaritans Purse.
4) Give anonymously to a family in need that you know personally. Leave gifts on their front door. Mail them a card with gift certificates. Have them over for Christmas dinner.
These are just a few of the many ways you can give of yourself and make Christmas more about Christ this year. I hope you’ll join me in participating in the Advent Conspiracy this year. Mike and I had already decided we were not going to buy the girls as many presents this year as we usually do and we’ve asked the grandparents to do the same. Let’s slow things down this Christmas. Let’s cherish the things that need to be cherished. Lets have a wonderful, Spirit filled Advent season. I think God will bless us, our hearts and our families more than we could ever imagine.
Life Words
Thursday, October 29th, 2009
Phillipians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.
simple. authentic. content. humble. giving. open. approachable. compassionate. uncluttered. peaceful. joyful.
These are my Life Words. Life Words are my motto of sorts. They are words I try to focus on for whatever I’m doing whether it be chores, parenting, housekeeping, or relationships. They help remind me what my goals are in regards to these areas of my life.
I’m starting to see the whole attraction to this living simple thing I keep seeing in the blogosphere.
Living simply. Not simply living.
See the difference? Simply living connotes just getting by. Barely living. Just making do. That’s not how Christians should live.
I want to live simply so I can live abundantly. Visual clutter equals mental clutter. When I’m overwhelmed by all my possessions and things and the work that goes into keeping those things in order I get stressed and it steals my joy. Which is the opposite of peaceful and content.
Am I being authentic and open in my relationships? I don’t like to show my flaws. I hate making mistakes. But, who am I kidding? Everyone else knows I’m not perfect! So why do I keep trying to act as if I am? Admitting ones flaws helps keep you open and humble.( Wow, it hurt my fingers to write that!!)
And guess what? If you decide to spontaneously stop by my house one day you’ll find out I’M NOT THE WORLD’S BEST HOUSEKEEPER! There, it’s out there! My house overwhelms me at times. I lose control of it. If you tell me a date ahead of time that you’ll be visiting I”ll rush around, stressed and in a craze trying to make everything perfect for your visit. But, as hard as I try, a few days after our visit is over we’re back to the real house I live in. I don’t really enjoy making everything from scratch. Although I really wanted to be able to do that. It’ s just not me. I tried it for awhile. And you know what? It caused me stress. I’m not crafty. I can’t whip up my girls costumes, thereby saving us a lot of money. I wish I could say that I sit down every day with my girls and spend a lot of hands on time with them doing all sorts of educational things. I don’t. I would like to but I’ve been too busy trying to manage my house. Sometimes I feel like I’m running in one of those hamster wheels and I’m going in circles, doing the same stuff but nothing is really getting done. Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result each time.
Enter living simply. When my life is not cluttered with unnecessary stuff (excessive amount of things, worry, constant rush, stress etc) I can now be more approachable, joyful and open. When I’m stressed and busy, busy I’m less compassionate and less giving of myself.
When I get to Heaven God is not going to accept this from me- ” Lord, I know I didn’t put myself out there as much as I should have. I’m sorry for all the opportunities that passed me by while I was dusting. But hey, I finally found the perfect cleaner for my hard-to-clean tub and it looked fantastic right before You called me home.”
So, I’m changing things around here.
What are your Life Words? Do you have a “motto” that you live by?
