Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss
March 6, 2008 Newsletter
But there is no use in trying to engraft an opposite nature of one’s own. What I am, that I must be, except as God changes me into His own image. And everything brings me back to that, as my supreme desire. I see more and more than I must be myself what I want my children to be and that I cannot make myself over even for their sakes. This must be His work, and I wonder that it goes on so slowly; that all the disappointments, sorrows, sicknesses I have passed through have left me still selfish, still full of imperfections!
Thoughts from Susan in March 13, 2008 Newsletter
We all have longings and hopes, and some of you have shared that you will not have a chance to see them realized in this life because of your personal circumstances. What do you do that is only for you - for the deep part of your soul? Anne Lindberg wrote after visiting a woman she respected, "She is a hostess to herself, she surrounds herself with what she loves." What are little pleasures you can do during your day that is for yourself? Extra filler in your coffee? Buy a daisy bouquet at the grocery store? Turn off the TV and just stare? Hold your kitten. Hold your son. Call your daughter. Call your friend from college. What can you do for YOU? Feel no guilt calling no one!! (grin!)
August 23 Newsletter - A Secret Garden by Frances Burnett
Martha (Mary's servant - another poor little child) looked reflective again. 'How does tha' like thysel'?' she inquired, really quite as if she were curious to know. Mary hesitated a moment and thought it over. 'Not at all - really,' she answered. 'But I never thought of that before.' Martha grinned a little as if at some homely recollection. 'Mother said that to me once,' she said. 'She was at her wash-tub an' I was in a bad temper an' talkin' ill of folk, an' she turns round on me an' says: "Tha' young vixon, tha'! There tha' stands sayin' tha' doesn't like this one an' tha' doesn't like that one. How does tha' like thysel'? It made me laugh an' it brought me to my senses in a minute....
And from my reading last night - a conversation with Dicken, Martha's brother, who speaks to animals, loves the earth, and is helping Mary in their secret garden that no one else is yet aware that they've found... 'Eh!' he said, and as he crumbled the rich black soil she saw he was sniffing up the scent of it, 'there doesn't seem to be no need for no one to be contrary when there's flowers an' such like, an' such lots o' friendly wild things runnin' about makin' homes for themselves, or building' nests an' singin' an' whislin', does there?' Mary, kneeling by him holding the seeds, looked at him and stopped frowning. 'Dickon,' she said, 'You are as nice as Martha said you were. I like you, and you make the fifth person. I never thought I should like five people.' Dickon sat up on his heels as Martha did when she was polishing the grate. He did look funny and delightful, Mary thought, with his round blue eyes and red cheeks and happy looking turned-up nose. 'Only five folk as tha' likes?' he said. 'Who is th' other four?' 'Your mother and Martha,' Mary checked them off on her fingers, 'and the robin and Ben Weatherstaff (gardener)' Dickon laughed so that he was obliged to stifle the sound by putting his arm over his mouth... Then Mary did a strange thing. She leaned forward and asked him a question she had never dreamed of asking any one before. And she tried to ask it in Yorkshire because that was his language, and in Indai a native was always pleased if you knew his speech. 'Does tha' like me?' she said. 'Eh!' he answered heartily, 'that I does. I likes thee wonderful, and' so does th' robin, I do believe!' 'That's two, then,' said Mary. 'That's two for me.' And then they began to work harder than ever and more joyfully...
July 19, 2007 Newsletter
In church several weeks ago the following line was in our chorus, “Lord, give me the courage to enter my song.” I just stopped singing for I couldn’t believe the line. I haven’t stopped thinking about it for the last few weeks and want to copy for you an e-mail that is probably my favorite to ever send out, that I sent last fall. I just want you all to reread and rethink about this idea of our life being a song. For me to sing the line above (give me the courage to enter my song) was an exclamation point on the end of what already plays in my mind. I hope that you get as much out of this analogy as I have, and that you realize it takes courage for us to play our music. Courage for us to see what the next measure may bring. Courage to see what the next movement may give. Courage. What a word to go with our analogy we’d already all thought through!
June 21, 2007 Newsletter (exerpts from Gift from the Sea by Anne Lindeberg)
...My shell is not like this, I think. How untidy it has become! Blurred with moss, knobby with barnacles, its shape is hardly recognizable any more. Surely, it had a shape once. It has a shape still in my mind. What is the shape of my life?
...But I want first of all - in fact, as an end to these other desires - to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can.
...I find there is a quality to being alone that is incredibly precious.
