Thoughts on "Sand Castles"

The publication of "Sand Castles" prompted some excellent comments. For those who did not recently read this thread, I am posting some of the ladies' thoughts here. I am deliberately including various perspectives from ladies in diverse situations. May it be good food for thought...

Roxi: I am 31 years old now and "never been chosen by a man," especially a very godly one. But in the last year - since I've turned 30 - I have truly accepted the fact that maybe the "solid castle" of God for me is not marriage. So...I am happy with whatever He chooses for me. Until now He has chosen a life of singleness. My heart is ready to dedicate and love a man, like it is already doing that with God and other people. But if He doesn't provide me with a family, I am truly happy! My happiness is Him alone, not circumstances and other relations.

Dear sister, I will pray for you what I pray for me as well: that my heart and all I am is dead (It's not me who lives but Christ in me) and only Him and His plans, and His life, and His character live in me! Then we find true happiness and joy.

Katie: I can completely relate to everything you said here. I'm also in my twenties and have never had a relationship, and I have very much felt the pain of the man I cared for in love with someone else. It is a lonely place sometimes. But I have a beautiful picture in my mind of my godly husband, and I truly trust that someday a real, live man will slowly fit into that picture. And it's a wonderful place to be, to trust God for it all. I have felt so close to God through all of the pain.

Joanna: "For since the beginning of the world men have not heard nor perceived by the ear, nor has the eye seen any God besides You, Who acts for the one who waits for Him" (Isaiah 64:4).

I can appreciate your pain, having married at 30 after a decade of waiting. Let me say one thing though. While marriage is wonderful and dream-fulfilling, it is also dream-shattering too. Our dreams in our little minds are daily shattered as we must learn to die to self and live with another sinful human. Marriage is too glamorized in many ways. The reality of it (even with a wonderful godly man!)can be hard to handle.

Singleness is so so hard--I know--but marriage is so so hard too! The joys are great but so are the sacrifices. God tells us that in His word--that married people will have trouble in the flesh. So don't despair....please....pain is part of living. Whether single or married, we must learn to live with it. No man on earth can know and satisfy the desires and expectations of our hearts, and because God is the only One who won't fail and won't fall.

Anonymous: Also, the writer and any readers might find comfort as I have in Twila Paris's song, "I Will Listen," part of which says:

And I will listen to His voice
Could it be that He is only waiting there to see
If I will learn to love the dreams
that He has dreamed for me

Another Joanna: This post is a tremendous encouragement to me, having seen a broken sandcastle wash fully away recently. Since I've walked through the pain of a broken courtship, the fire of love & loss, I can sympathize with some of the writer's pain--although I'm 7 years younger.

Dear sisters, keep at the front of your mind the fact that Christ is our ultimate Husband (the Church is His Bride), and if He calls us to serve Him without a husband, He is not doing it whimsically to cause us pain, but lovingly for our own better good and His glorious purpose for us. It doesn't seem so glorious, I grant you, but--"I do not consider the sufferings of this present time to be worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed."

For myself, as much as I long for a husband to love & be loved by, and for children to train & delight in, I have been led to lay this in the hands of God fully, and to accept that He may have me to be unmarried for some years, if not my whole life. He has showed me a path of humble service to my family & others that, if followed obediently, I am confident will enrich me and bring me joy, even if the rose has thorns.

It is a daily struggle to keep my eyes on Him and not on my dear dreams, or even on others' fulfilled ones. But I believe that His strength will be made manifest in my weakness, and that in faith I can walk this road--and I have the same confidence for all of you, dear sisters, because is founded in the LORD--the Almighty of Heaven and Earth, and the Rock & Shelter to which you may continually come.

Anonymous: You know, it's not just you single girls who build sandcastles in your minds. We married girls have to resist the temptation to do that as well. It's so easy when you're single to imagine how wonderful it will be to find "the one", but like someone else said, marriage is hard. To all single ladies, ask God now to help you discern the difference between dreams and fantasies. For example:

Godly man = dream

Perfect man who's wildly romantic, yet dependable and always knows what you need without having to be told = uh, fantasy. Ask me how I know this.

Right now God is teaching me to be content with my husband of 13 years and stop trying to change him or dreaming of ways he might improve. He's not perfect (neither am I), and that's okay. I'm learning, finally, what it means to be his helpmeet. It's great to build him up instead of criticize him, and I think I would have learned all of this sooner if my expectations had been reasonable, instead of building such a dreamworld in my mind.

Anonymous: I couldn't help thinking of the parable Jesus told--how the foolish man builds sandcastles while the wise man builds his life on Jesus. I know that's not quite the way He told it, but my mind melded your story and His. "Trust in Yahweh and He will give you the desires of your heart" has been on my mind much in the last year or so--not as a promise that He'll give us whatever we want, but that He will make our desires pleasing to Him! In His presence is fullness of joy!

Mary Beth: This article resonates with me. I am 32 and "never been kissed," never dated, or been in love. I have never "seen myself" with any particular guy. I have been solitary, along with my sisters, in our pursuit of holiness and loveliness that is altogether lost in our society.

Let us all have hope and not be weary in our well doing! My older sister Cori is marrying her sweetheart Brian next Saturday. They have known each other a year now; he is a local boy, born and raised right down the road from us. Their paths crossed vaguely several times over the last 15 years, but they did not recognize one another until they were matched by a modern-day matchmaker. They are so very happy. Cori is 37.

So, don't give up. Keep your life busy in work and ministry to others. This too shall pass, all in God's good time, even though we may not understand or agree with it!

Britain's new procedures--cloning?

There is a brief but interesting article on a new procedure approved in Britain. I encourage you to read it here at First Things.

Thoughts on Caspian and Home

My youngest brother and I traded a night of sleep for the first opportunity to see the new Narnia movie. I don't regret it. Though I went in with no real expectations and the knowledge that no movie could take the book's place in my affections,Prince Caspian surprised me. In a good way.

Perhaps coming into it already knowing about the flirtations and romance, plot changes, and added elements such as the raid on Miraz's castle enabled me to not be distracted by such. Overall, I enjoyed it. No, it is not as good as the book, but that is in part to do with genre and interpretation, not with actual quality.

No, it is definitely not the book, Prince Caspian. Yes, I found the Susan/Caspian romance unbearable. No, they did not include Aslan nearly enough. Yes, they hit the nail on the head with the adjustment the children had to make returning to Narnia and finding it a wholly different world than when they left. No, I disliked the change which made Peter a weaker character and Susan a stronger one.

All criticisms aside, there is much of the real and true Narnia there (for one, the centaurs are fantastic!). You do not want to leave. The parting is made a bit easier by spending the last minutes of the movie saying goodbye with the children and stepping through the doorway from Narnia into the English tube station. Yet we all wanted to stay. None of us could.

For me, the most powerful moments of the film were unexpected and early: when the four children stepped onto the beach near the ruins of Cair Paravel the haunting strains of music from the first film began to play. The disbelief and joy on the Pevensie's faces as they realized they were back and began running down the beach, laughing and playing...the bittersweet beauty of the music...I actually cried and I am not one to cry over a mere sentimental moment. This was beautiful. Not because of the beach or the literal melody being played. More than that, it spoke deep in my heart and roused the desire implanted in every believer's heart to be Home.

As Lewis writes, "The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing…to find the place where all the beauty came from." Narnia gives us glimpses of the beauty and stirs up our hunger for its source. We all want to be Home. Sometimes the homesickness and loneliness for the place we know we belong can be unbearable. Any success through the arts of keeping that desire burning bright within us deserves recognition. Though I doubt such was the filmmakers intent, for me they got it just right.

- Photo from Narnia Web

Sand Castles

I feel sad. Earlier I felt I could cry. It is so hard sometimes to be satisfied in where God has placed me. To be content. Have you ever been 26 years old and still so very single? Never had a kiss stolen, never held hands with a man in mutual affection. I've never been chosen by a man. I've been waiting a long time.

God has helped me. He's listened to all my cries from my heart, as I weep because--well, I'm not sure why. But I have wanted to marry a specific man. He saw my crestfallen face as I heard that he loved someone else. He's seen how over and over again I love someone in my own funny way and they turn around and choose someone else, often marrying them. Over and over and over again...

I talked to God about the state of my heart today. I was heavy hearted, frustrated, jealous, and not content with where I am. He showed me a picture of a sandcastle: a rather ornate little sandcastle. This is my dreams, my fantasies I create when I choose someone. I think about them, imagine something happening and create a castle of sorts on the sand.

That man has never been the one God has for me. But for some reason it was more fun to have a castle of sand than no castle at all.

But He showed me another picture. This time I saw a real castle: a real solid structure with bricks--solid bricks. This is what He has for me. Notice the future tense. "Has" if I will only wait and hope in Him. Someday He will give this to me. This place and these dreams He has for me.

I can let the ocean come and knock my little castles into the ocean, wash them away...wash away the dreams. The dreams that have been trampled on. The unsolid dreams that never were going to amount to much anyways. The dreams that have brought so much discontentment, pain, and turmoil.

They were only sand. Ornate in the fact of all the time and energy I put into them, but they were my dreams, not the dreams God has for me. They were fantasies not the truth, not the reality God will place in my life in His time. He already has the blueprint. He has the bricks and the mortar. He's building a foundation in my life to build this castle.

Why do I keep building my little sandcastles on shifting sand that the ocean will soon pull into its cold and salty self? I look down the beach and see so many castles. And the rain of my tears can wash them all away as I relinquish my dreams again and wait and let God build the real thing.

- Name withheld by request

An eternal cup of tea

I'm so thankful that we'll have an eternity in Heaven to fellowship with other believers. Our times together with other kindred spirits here on earth are altogether too short. We hadn't even finished our mochas and teas on Saturday before Merritt and I were saying goodbye to Garret and Melinda. (In fact, Melinda's tea was still too hot to drink.)

Grandma's 80th birthday party took us to Melinda's hometown this last weekend. Though we live in neighboring states, it's still almost a 10-hour drive. So even though we knew it would be quick, we had to get together to say hi. Melinda directed us to meet them at this "delightful little coffee shop". Merritt and I followed Google Map's directions implicitly, turning around multiple times to find the Avenues South instead of the Avenues North (reminding us muchly of a trip with Phillip and Lanier where following Google meant many turn-arounds as well), and when we finally found the right 3rd Ave, we parked in front of an empty building with signs saying "thank you for the 8 1/2 years of business." It wasn't the fault of Google Maps. It was the right coffee shop. It was just permanently closed.

I called and left a message on Melinda's cell phone. She called back mournful that her favorite coffee shop was closed, but laughing that it would have been the perfect set-up for an ambush or something. When we finally met up at a (newly-opened) coffee shop a bit later, we ordered our coffee and tea (all of us except Ruth--she is a bit under-age for caffeinated beverages), and sat down for a quick chat.

Melinda and I go way back to days of the "Editor's Circle", when she was editor of Inkblots Literary Magazine and I was still publishing the YLCF Journal. Then years later we really bonded, as only girls can do, over our hair. As fellow "Curly Girls", I was pleased to introduce Melinda to my soon-to-be curly daughter Ruth Ann. (Ruthie's hair shows much promise of curling, but it's a little short to do anything at the moment but stick up straight or lay down flat, unless well-oiled and gelled.)

The menfolk discussed more serious issues: mountain biking and broken legs. Both Merritt and Garret were/are avid mountain bikers. Both have broken a leg in the last two years. Neither accident was due to their biking hobby. Both are thankful to have nearly full use of their legs back. (And their womenfolk are thankful to have them off crutches!)

After years of sharing magazine editing and curly hair tips, I finally got to meet Melinda face-to-face at Merritt's and my wedding. And then her family came to visit our farm when Merritt was hopping around on crutches that first summer of our marriage. But we'd been planning another meeting for quite a while now, to meet her boyfriend Garret--whose leg we'd been praying for, with the experience of those who have been there.

A few cups of coffee and tea later, we're back home, and wishing we'd had a whole day, instead of half a cup of tea, with Garret and Melinda. (I actually thought we might when our car broke down--but a local parts shop was open late Saturday night with just the right radiator in stock, and my amazing husband knew how to put it in--but that's another story...) But we're already looking forward to next time.

If the Lord tarries, it will probably be at another coffee shop or the next wedding. Otherwise, it will be sipping from those eternal cups of tea at the wedding feast of the Lamb.

Pray for the Chapman family

Steven Curtis Chapman’s youngest child died Wednesday evening after being struck by a car driven by her teenage brother in the driveway of the family’s Williamson County home.

He and his wife Mary Beth have long been supporters of international adoption, having brought three girls from China into their family. Maria was the youngest.The couple is so active in the cause that they formed an organization, Shaohannah’s Hope, to aid families wanting to adopt.

Read more details here and here.

Update: You can support the Chapman's work with adoption here.

Embrace the Cross

Our five year old son, Ezra is into making crosses this year. Paper and glue, sticks and twine, scraps of boards and nails; he uses whatever materials are at hand at the moment. I admire his creativity, and sometimes I am even called upon to help him get a nail started in just the right place. The other day, he was wanting Ben to help him pound a couple of nails into my bedroom wall in order to hang one of his crosses there for me.

I knew the question was coming.

"Do you like it, Mama?"

Of course I assured him that I like it very much. Truly, nothing delights my mother-heart more than seeing the little seedlings of faith take root and flourish in my children. Ezra knows that the crosses in our home are here to remind us about Jesus.

I haven’t yet tried to explain to Ezra the call to "Take up your cross and follow." Not in so many words. Little boys can get some mighty quirky, albeit amusing, ideas when you try to explain theology to them. But in small ways, we have begun to pave the way for him to understand. We have impressed on our boys the all importance of obedience; both to us, their parents, and to God’s Word. Little things—"Don’t fuss about being uncomfortable;" "Don’t cry if you get shampoo in your eyes;" "Eat the food on your plate without complaint;" "Drop whatever you are doing and come when I call"—are laying the foundation for obedience to that higher call of their King: "If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me." Someday, they will understand.

I can’t tell you how many times, when commanding my little boys to do a thing without complaint, I have been uncomfortably convicted that my attitude was not any better than theirs. I can tell you that, on occasion, when I was fuming about something, one or the other of them has asked me, "Mama, what you’re fussing ‘bout?" And I knew I was guilty as charged. Children don’t let you get away with anything!

When Ezra was wanting to hang his cross on our bedroom wall, I was lying in bed. Although I had sense enough not to say so, my initial reaction to his gift was, "Do I have to have that here, now?" In all honesty, it is not a pretty cross. It is less than rustic. It is rough with splinters and grimy with dirt. But I knew better than to hurt Ezra’s feelings. At the same time, I had to acknowledge to myself that this grudging, "Must I?" was exactly my reaction to the circumstances keeping me abed.

You see, I am one who loves to be working, to always be doing. If I happen to not feel real great, I usually just keep on anyway. I see no sense in taking a nap when I have things to do; no sense in being wimpy if I can keep going. Every few years, to remind me that I am finite, God lets me get sick: really sick. Sick enough that I spend days, weeks, months, in bed, not doing much of anything. This was one of those times.

For one who likes to always be "doing," this is tough. Tasks so simple that I don’t normally consider the amount of energy that I expend in the dong of them: sweeping the floor, brushing my teeth, milking the cow, getting out of bed, reading stories to my children, thinking, keeping meals on the table, keeping food in my stomach, going for a walk, taking a shower: suddenly seem monstrously impossible. All of the things I would like to do—the books I want to write, the horses I want to break, the sewing projects I planned to complete—lie undone, completely out of reach of my non-existent energy. I am tempted to complain about my cross: "Not here, Lord, not now..."

This time, my illness carries enough dread over the outcome to halt an elephant in his tracks. It carries enough potential for sorrow and suffering that it is nearly as difficult for me to contemplate as it is for me to get my body out of bed. It is a daily battle to survive; it is a daily battle to trust.

In the fight for survival, I tell myself each day: "Only one thing." I try to avoid multi-tasking if at all possible. One load of laundry. One batch of cookies. One kettle of soup. I can usually stretch my small bit of strength far enough to get one thing done, but if I let myself start a lot of things, I will probably end up leaving a lot of things unfinished.

In the battle to trust, I have also set myself a single, simple goal. To every day acknowledge to my Father, "O Lord, Thou knowest." It is not so much the fear of pain that weakens me, but the unknown interval of waiting lying between the present; when I do not know what will come; and the future; when what He knows will come to pass; that drags me down. This one small statement is for me an act of placing all my fears, all my rebelliousness, all my impatience, all my weakness, all my hopes, all my plans, all my future, in His hands. In this I find the peace I need to face the unknown. It may not stop my stomach’s churning, but it stills my restlessness and quiets my heart. And, for now, that is enough. This, too, shall pass.

If He gives me the piercing cup of pain, He will also give me grace to drink it to the bitter depths. If He gives instead a cup of joy, I want no aftertaste of useless fretting to spoil the sweetness of His mercy. So I lie in bed, and sometimes I look up at Ezra’s cross. No, it is not what I would have chosen, neither the decor nor being bedridden. But it is where God has put me right now, the circumstances He has placed upon me. Just as it was my duty as a mother to gladly accept my son’s gift, so it is my duty to embrace this cross. Wholeheartedly.

Hold us in stillness through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the winds are shrill.
Can the boat sink, while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?
Amy Carmichael

- by Ruth Weichmann

Job 4-7

Job 4-7: Don't Despise Chastening

Why? Because it's planned, personalized, and limited by my Father, the One who is also ready to heal, bind up, deliver, redeem, rescue, hide, and provide for me. Since I've been chastened, I cannot despise others' chastenings. In fact, rather than taking their questionings so seriously that I argue with them, I can remember the rash things I have thought when I was suffering, and turn their attention to God's compassion and trustworthiness instead.

My brother is graduating from college!

My big little brother is graduating from college today. I may be on the other side of the country, but this proud big sis is there in spirit.

Wasn't it just yesterday we were doing everything together? Skinning our knees on that back sidewalk by the BBQ. Shoveling snow into buckets and wheelbarrows as an "emergency water supply." Playing nurse and doctor in our little "office" upstairs. Writing and performing plays. Burying birds that hit the window in a little graveyard in the corner of the garden. Digging drainage ditches in the field, from "The Big Lake" to "The Ruts." Setting up "The Glaser Museum" in the old chicken house. Flying to Pennsylvania together. Playing Narnia with garbage can lid shields and homemade wooden swords (I was Lucy, he was Peter). Making our own wood stain out of walnut husks. Spending countless hours building and defending the "G&W" fort or "The Secret Tunnel." Playing World War II--first I was a nurse and he was PFC Bill Glaser, then we built an airplane in the apple tree and were pilots. Year after year of hunting together (I always got the easy shots--he had to work hard for his shots and take care of what I got).

We even did our school work together at the kitchen table, until Will's perpetual tongue-clicking noises (if law doesn't work out, it's possible this talent could lead to something, perhaps in the sound effects department?) drove me to a desk in my room. We discovered we could be much better friends if we did our school work separately. Then there was the Faith Summer Drama Troupe--we played boyfriend and girlfriend so convincingly that first year in "There's a Carnival on 8th Street" that some of our friends couldn't believe we were really brother and sister, we got along so well.

Freckle faced, with matching red hair (from the same bottle of dye, as we joked) many people thought we were twins. Two years, two months apart, we were the same height for much of our growing up years (until Will passed me up at about age 11!). From then on, everyone just assumed Will was older than I. And for the record, there was even a time when I could beat him arm wrestling.

But Will quickly passed me up in brains and in brawn. I watched in amazement as my little brother soared past six feet tall and retained more historical facts than I had ever learned. Then we heard about TeenPact. At fifteen, Will was scared stiff to go. But I filled out his application for him, forced him to write his testimony to go with it, and put it in the mail. (Click here for the whole story.) I had no interest in politics, so I had no thought of going with him.

Little did I know how much our paths would thus diverge. I proudly came to each of his TeenPact graduations. I cooked for his TeenPact friends. There wasn't an Oregon TeenPact class I missed visiting while I lived at home. But his TeenPact travels took him all across the country. Other girls were part of his daily life. He had inside jokes with other people. They were always kind enough to make me feel included as an "honorary TeenPacter" and give me reports on my little brother. But it just wasn't the same. My little brother was growing up. And I couldn't have been more proud.

I was his "press secretary" who wrote to the local newspapers when he placed second in the nation with the American Legion Oratorical Contest in 2003, and ninth nationally in the Veterans of Foreign Wars "Voice of Democracy" Audio Essay Contest in 2004. I even entered his political world a bit when he introduced me to a state legislator whom I ended up working for two legislative sessions. I proudly sat there on the side of the Oregon House of Representatives as Rep. Jeff Kropf introduced his aide, my brother, saying, "I'm very proud of this young man. You keep your eye on him because he will be back."

I gladly helped on Will's very first campaign, when he ran for TeenPact President in 2003. I got to be there for the '04 TeenPact National Convention, as he shook hands with the next TeenPact Vice President, that short, sweet Southern girl with beautiful long hair (who he's now courting).

We took our SAT's together. We took college writing classes together. We worked at the Capitol together. Then once again, he was off--and the college campus and capitol hallways were lonely without my brother. On a trip back east I got to see my brother in his new world, during his first year at Patrick Henry College. I watched the videos of his school dramas, longing for the old days of being in drama troupe together. I told him I was going to quit praying for the tests he was so worried about when he always got an A. And I wasn't surprised when he was first elected Student Body Vice President, then Student Body President, and placed second in a national Moot Court tournament. And of course, head of the campus security force ("the guy with three cell phones") was a natural--at six-foot-five, he'd been my body guard for years.

He was one of the first I called when I was engaged (my very bright little brother took a long time to figure out a phone call from his sister, on Valentine's Day, stating she was out to eat with her fiance). He was one of the first I called when I found out I was expecting (he was quicker to catch on to the words "niece or nephew"). Now he's graduating from college. And headed to law school. I guess we're growing up.

Congratulations, little brother. I love you lots and I am so very proud of you.

Favorite Books of YLCF Readers

Note: As always, use discernment in your reading. This is a list of books enjoyed by YLCF readers and the YLCF does not necessarily endorse every title or content therein.

Gifted Hands - Ben Carson
Girl Talk - Carolyn Mahaney & Nicole Whitacre
Quest for the High Places - Natalie Nyquist
Rx for Addiction: A Doctors Story of His Battle With Drugs - Robert Gehring
Sex Is Not the Problem - Lust Is - Joshua Harris
- Debbie F.

My favorite book is Hidden Rainbow by Ccarrhristmas Carol Kauffman. I've read it countless times and each time with pleasure. Who Gets the Drumstick? by Helen Beardsley and God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew are two others. Another favorite book of mine is Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham. Even though it is written at a child's level, adults enjoy it as well. It is one of the favorite read aloud books in my family. I enjoyed nearly all of Jane Austin's six major novels but Pride and Prejudice and Emma rise above the others.
- Katy

I love 18th century literature, and my recent top favorite read was Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell. It was such a charming and beautiful story. While I was reading it, I was so into it that I was dreaming scenes from the book! It's a very long book though, took me several months of reading while I nursed.
The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins: I just recently watched the movie of this and it reminded me of how much I enjoyed the book. It was the very first detective novel, I believe.
Another old classic that I recently read: The Cutters by Bess Streeter Aldrich. A sweet family story that reminded me of the value and worth of being a mother at home.
- Jessica

The Magic of Ordinary Days - Ann Howard Creel: A beautiful tender and unlikely love story set during World War 2 on the homefront. One passage best skipped over (I have it whited out of my personal copy) but otherwise beautiful reading.
Thorn in my Heart
Fair is the Rose
Whence came a Prince
Grace in Thine Eyes
by Liz Curtis Higgs
A tender and emotional re-telling of the story of Jacob, Rachel, Leah, and Dinah set in Scotland during the 1700's . I have cried with pain and joy with Leana, her unrequited love for Jamie touches my heart with it's familiar pain but it is her courage in surrendering that love to her Heavenly Father throughout the circumstances of her life that have inspired me as well. Ultimately Leana comes to find that only her Savior can fill her completely. I highly recommend these books for young women older than eighteen, no younger, just because of the twists and turns of the story (it follows the Biblical account rather faithfully)and it does have it's mature parts. I promise you will cry like you've never cried for a book when you read Fair is the Rose.
I also greatly enjoyed and was challenged by The Legends of the Guardian King series by Karen Hancock.
Black, Red and White by Ted Dekker are also fascinating, encouraging, eye-opening allegories that will literally make you look at the love of God in a totally new way.
- Anna T.

Emma - Jane Austen
Redeeming Love - Francine Rivers
The Last Sin Eater - Francine Rivers
Courting Trouble - Deanna Gist.
- Anna F.

Eight Cousins - Louisa May Alcott
Hope Was Here or Rules of the Road (It's a tie!) - Joan Bauer
Authentic Beauty - Leslie Ludy
-Rebekah

First favorite is the Bible. The others aren't really in any order.
Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea - by L.M. Montgomery
Walk Across America - Peter Jenkins
Grandma's Attic series - Arleta Richardson
Little House on the Prairie books - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Mr. Popper's Penguins - Richard and Florence Atwater
- Elizabeth

Emma - Jane Austen
The Scottish Chiefs - Jane Porter
The Shadow of the Bear and Black as Night - Regina Doman
- April

Evening Star - Sigmund Brouwer
The Fallacy Detective - Nathaniel and Hans Bluedorn
Safely Homthe - Randy Alcorn
Little House on the Prairie books - Laura Ingalls Wilder
(These are well known, but our family recently finished reading the series, and I was amazed at how good they really are, especially The Long Winter.)
Death of a Guru - Rabi Maharaj
The Wide, Wide World - Susan Warner
Ester Ried - Isabella Alden
Home-Alone America - Mary Eberstadt
Mama's Bank Account - K.A. McLean
- Abigail K.

My favorite book, far and away, is How They Kept the Faith by Grace Raymond (who also writes under the name Annie Raymond Stiller, a married name). It's set in one of the richest periods of Protestant history, the French Inquisition, and is undoubtedly the most well-crafted novel I've read. It follows, principally, a young protestant girl and her fiance through their personal quest to love of God and one another. The book has deep characters, impeccable writing style, and conclusions that often defy expectations, both in satisfying and dissatisfying ways. I recommend it heartily. (You can purchase the book inexpensively directly through the publisher by visiting www.heritagebooks.org.)
On Message by Mark Crutcher is an important book addressing abortion in a systematic, while simultaneously fascinating, manner. The writing style is reverent (for such a difficult topic) and Crutcher handles it with a great deal of agility.
To Kill A Mockingbird is probably an over-recommended book, but it really is one of my favorites. It has such unforgettable characters and the whimsical writing style is irresistible.
- Nicole H.

The Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
In His Steps - Charles Sheldon
- Naomi

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
Christy - Catherine Marshall
A Circle of Quiet - Madeleine L'Engle
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen
The Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Till We Have Faces - C. S. Lewis
The Blue Castle - L. M. Montgomery
The Betsy-Tacy books - M. H. Lovelace
A Room with a View - E. M. Forster.
- Sarah R.

Gilead - Marilynne Robinson
The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien
- Melody

My brother is getting married!

Taylor and his sweetheart Jenny will be married Saturday. Needless to say, we have been anticipating and counting down to this day ever since their engagement last November. Tomorrow (which also happens to be my parent's 27th wedding anniversary! They will never have difficulty remembering Taylor and Jenny's.) we head south to Arkansas and we will not return until late next week. Though Blogger's wonderful new scheduling feature will make sure that the YLCF stays active, comments may not be moderated, etc., as I will be offline. No doubt I will be sharing at least a few pictures on our return.

It will be wonderful to finally have a real life sister.

Spring on the Homestead

I was the first child to celebrate their birthday on the homestead. I remember feeling extra special and distinctly privileged that day, though the celebration was not memorable in itself. We had been there just over 2 weeks when my 13th birthday came, and we were still in the survival mode. I know that each meal was still a herculean task for my mother to accomplish in our primitive living conditions, and everyone in the family was too consumed with adjusting to our new life to be able to give proper attention to a birthday. There was no special meal that I can remember, much less a birthday cake. Yet I retain the memory of the day feeling very special indeed, for two main reasons...

First, my soul gift from my parents: my very own, leather-bound, Thompson Chain Reference, King James Version Bible - just like my mother's, except a tad smaller in size. This replaced the cover-less, worn out, Sunday School graduation version I'd been using since I was 8, and I felt very grown up indeed to have that heavy, adult-style volume as my very own.

The second gift that set the day apart was the amount of mail I received - 8 pieces! We started out with a P.O. Box in town at the beginning, and Dad only picked up the mail a few times a week. It was simply coincidence that most of them got to me on my birthday, for only two or three we official birthday greetings, most of them being letters from the girlfriends I left behind - Cynthia, Rebecca, Lindsay. But receiving the whole stack actually on the 17th really made the day special!

When Dad got back from town that day and handed out the mail, I hugged my pile to my chest and ran out of the tipi quickly to find the perfect spot to open my treasures. I headed down the 'lane' of our newly surveyed and staked out play town (hereafter referred to as "Roxaboxan" - see Barbara Cooney's children's book by the same name) and settled under a friendly tree in the corner of my 'house'. The ground was damp, and I would have been uncomfortable, but for a handy piece of bark placed just so at the base of the tree as a seat cushion. I don't recall the contents of those letters, but I do remember being thankful for the mild weather so I didn't have to try to enjoy my letters in the noisy, crowded tipi!

Spring in New York caught us off guard - constantly! One minute bleak skies were spitting ice at you, the next, a warm breeze was puffing by, and you realized that suddenly the trees had got leaves overnight. We learned to never go anywhere without a jacket, for even if it felt lovely when you went out, a spring thundershower or even just a cloud passing in front of the sun would require that extra layer. We marveled at how quickly the weather patterns changed, but wondered if we noticed this phenomenon just because we were more exposed to the weather. Within weeks we had learned basic weather-predicting skills - but more on that later...

The property we had bought, on recommendation from the neighbor, and having only seen it once, was nearly 200 acres on top of a hill in a rural county in Upstate New York, about an 1 1/2 hours North of the Pennsylvania border. It was about 2/3's meadows, and 1/3 woods, with a small creek crossing one corner. We had chose our campsite at the highest point of our land, where a corner of woods jutted out into a large meadow. The tipi was tucked in a small clearing right inside the tree line, with the flap open to the west - and the prevailing winds.

The view was primarily of the next hill with a peak at the hill beyond it, and a third, grayer and distant, beyond that. All were heavily wooded, with an occasionally field cleared as farm land. The nearest building in the view was a large barn about 5 miles away on the second ridge.

Our whole family loved the outdoors and looked forward to having a whole huge chunk of property to explore and make our own. The house we had moved from in the suburbs had sat in the middle of 1.7 acres - which was a large lot, buy typical subdivision standards! Us children had made memories in each corner and under every tree of our yard. But it was nothing compared to the unchartered forests and fields of Our Land.

Despite the anticipation of exploring acres and acres we could call our own, it was a few weeks before we ventured outside of the tipi site and the few acres of woods where we gathered firewood for the campsite. There was something unfamiliar and even frightening about all that space! But when we did, we were delighted at the discoveries we made...

- by Trina Holden
Photo by Bethany Wissman

Our Mother's Day lunch

Mom requested our favorite summer dessert for Mother's Day, so I whipped up an Angel Lush cake and garnished it with some of the largest, most delectable strawberries I've ever seen. It is a fast, easy, low-fat recipe and tastes amazing. During a walk right after church I found the most luscious wildflowers blooming along our road: white irises tinged with lavender and little purple and yellow clusters which I don't know the name of but made into a nice bouquet for the dinner table.

Now a small vase of the flowers graces my desk. Every night as I am falling asleep I can smell the irises and, if I wanted to be dramatic and romantic like Anne, I would imagine I was sleeping in a garden, or a tree graced with cherry blossoms.

Contentment

I have to confess, I didn't like being a child. It was boring and there were so many important things I needed to do in life that I couldn't do until I reached an older age...

I have to confess that I hated being engaged, why did it take sooo long to get married to the man of my dreams? There were so many important things I needed to do in life with him...

I have to confess that I haven't cared for Michael being in school, while all my friends own their own homes and have full income coming in, I've felt left behind. Why can't I be normal. I can't do all these "important" things I need to do in life until I have a house...

As I have pondered contentment over the last couple days, I've realized that I am terrible at it. I have failed royally nearly every day of my life. I've always wanted to push on to something better and rarely stopped to enjoy the moments that slip by. This, as in today, what I am doing right now is what I was created to do. Simply to live for the glory of Christ and to find joy in it. I have had the option every day of my life to find contentment in Christ. To enjoy what he has called me to do, and do it well.

I hope that you can take to heart what I have just shared, because it comes from mine. Thankfully, I probably have quite a few years left to practice this starting today.

The Bible reminds us, "Now godliness with contentment is great gain." So we can know that it is not merely the godliness, nor the contentment but both, together! Let us have great gain in our lives, not disregarding the doing part or the peace in God's sovereignty and care.

- by Stephanie Garvey

Building Blocks for Happy Moms, Happy Babies

I’m new at this amazing thing called motherhood. Every day I realize anew how much I have to learn. What I share here is not original with me. Neither is it everything you need to know to be a mom.

It is a summary of what I’ve learned from the other moms in my life. It is a compilation of the things my husband reminded me of when our newborn was crying and I was close to tears. It outlines a few of the things that we feel have helped make our baby the happy, content little girl everyone comments on. It’s just a few of the “building blocks” we’ve used in making our home a happy one. (And I hope you already know this, but nothing you read on the internet should replace your mother’s instinct or the advice of your doctor, pediatrician, or midwife.)

The First Weeks: Getting Milk, Gaining Weight, Getting Sleep
The top priorities for the first few weeks of your baby’s life all hinge one upon another: Mom getting her milk supply, Baby regaining its birth weight, and both of you getting some sleep. This is the time to drink lots and lots of water, feed your baby when he’s hungry, take hot showers and baths (especially before nursing), and sleep when your baby sleeps. If your baby wants to sleep much of the night and there is no medical concern about his nutrition, enjoy your rest. But be sure to wake your baby for meals at least every three hours during the day so he learns day from night.

The Clock on My Wall
It seems that no matter what time I eat breakfast, I only have to glance at the clock and see the hour hand approaching noon to think about eating again. Sometimes I eat lunch well before noon, if I’m really hungry or will be gone at lunchtime. Other days, I wait until well past noon for lunch because I ate breakfast at 10 o’clock and know I don’t need another meal already. The clock does not set my meal times, but it does help remind me whether or not I’m hungry yet.

I view the clock and my daughter’s mealtimes the same way. As a tired new mom, the clock was there to remind me that even though it felt like I’d just laid down for a nap, my daughter hadn’t eaten for 3 hours and I needed to feed her.

When my daughter and I were first getting the hang of nursing, it helped me to keep an eye on the clock to know how long she’d been eating. If she was crying after just two minutes, she probably had a burp, but she definitely wasn’t done. I thought she’d never learn to have a meal in less than an hour. But in just a few months, she was done eating in less than five minutes per side. And because I watched the clock, I learned her mealtime patterns, and could reassure myself that she’d gotten a full meal.

As a scatter-brained mom trying to get lots done while my daughter was playing, it really helped me to pay attention to what time she got up. It would seem only a few minutes since I left her with her toys when those tired cries would greet my ears. But a glance at the clock showed me sure enough, she’d been playing for an hour, and was definitely ready for a nap.

And when it came to naptime, the clock was an equally helpful tool. Based on what time it was and listening to how she cried I could tell if my little one was awakened by a burp or a noise, and needed more rest, or if she was wide awake and hungry. (The older she gets, the easier it is to tell—if she awakens crying, she usually needs more sleep, but when she wakes up happy and cooing, she’s well-rested and thinking about her next meal.)

Feeding a Hungry Baby
Every human being born on this earth is different from every other baby. Not every baby will conform to the same eating patterns. Smaller babies with smaller tummies will probably have to eat more often than bigger babies. Little ones who aren’t gaining enough weight may need to be reminded that they are hungry. Others who seem to want to nurse twenty-four hours a day may have to learn that mommy has other things to do (and mommy may learn the benefits of a pacifier, even when her child was “never” going to use one!).

Rule number one is to always feed a hungry baby. Suggestion number one is to help guide your baby’s hunger cycles so that you are feeding a hungry baby. It can be a challenge when your baby is still tiny, but if you can keep your baby awake enough at meal time so that they will get a good meal, they will go longer before they are hungry again. And when they are hungry again, they will be hungry enough for another good feeding. Constant nursing day and night will only wear mom out, reducing her milk supply. Both the baby and the milk quickly learn whether the rule of the day is continual snacking or a good meal every few hours.

As your baby grows, the times between meals can naturally be stretched longer. If you have to wake your baby up from every nap for a meal, it might be a sign that he can go longer between meals.

Our little girl ate every two and a half hours—from her first week of life, until she was over four months old. She started sleeping through the night at almost three months old, but she still ate every two and a half hours during the day. I could have set my clock by her hunger. Try as I might to stretch it to three, she wasn’t ready. Then, all of a sudden, she was hungry every three hours. And sometimes we stretch it to four.

You will learn your baby’s own unique needs. Just be sure that as you respond to their needs you’re also helping guide them towards a routine that is good for your baby, your health, and your family.

Eat, Play, Sleep, Eat, Play, Sleep
No matter how often you feed your baby, a little routine will go a long ways toward keeping mom and baby happy.

The traditional baby routine seems to have always been to nurse your baby to sleep. Then you tip-toe to the crib, lay them down, sneak out of the room, and hope they don’t wake up five minutes later with a burp.

Try rearranging the routine. When your baby wakes up from his nap, feed him. Then play with him for a while before he goes down for a nap. Naptime will help stretch the time until his next feeding. When he wakes up, he should be well-rested and ready to give his full attention to eating a good meal. After all those burps are taken care of, and the diaper’s changed, it’s playtime. When he’s little, Mommy might have to play with him to keep him awake until he gets adjusted to the order of the routine. As he gets older, he’ll have fun playing on his own for much of playtime—in fact, you’ll probably see that he wants and needs this “alone” play time away from mom and other siblings. (If he has trouble with spitting up, a partial reclining position in a swing or bouncy seat is a good way to start playtime.)

With all those wiggles and burps out, naptime will soon be drawing near. Your little one may fuss and rub his eyes to let you know he’s ready for a nap. Other days, he might be convinced he doesn’t need a nap. But Mommy knows that without a good nap now he will be fussy later. So Mommy makes sure he has a dry diaper, swaddles him up tight, and puts him down for a nap.

It’s a simple routine arrangement of which you’ll quickly see the benefits!

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P.S. Just a note from Natalie...at this point in time I do virtually all of the scheduling for publishing posts, moderating comments, reading and replying to emails, etc. Thus when anonymous commenters leave rude or derogatory remarks geared toward a post's author, they truly are wasting their time as no one but me will ever see them--and I am being completely honest when I say that virtually nothing ruffles my feathers. We at the YLCF look out for each other, including doing what we can to protect each other from things which are antagonistic to YLCF's vision and purpose.

How a Soul Grows Through Loss

All people suffer loss. Being alive means suffering loss. Sometimes the loss is natural, predictable, and even reversible. It occurs at regular intervals, like the seasons. We experience the loss, but after days or months of discomfort we recover and resume life as usual, the life that we wanted and expected...But there is another kind of loss...this kind of loss has more devastating results and is irreversible.

Such loss includes terminal illness, disability, divorce, rape, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental illness...if normal, natural, reversible loss is like a broken limb, then catastrophic loss is like an amputation. The results are permanent, the impact incalculable, the consequences cumulative. Each new day forces one to face some new and devastating dimension of the loss. It creates a whole new context for one's life...

I saw a vast darkness closing in on me. I was terrified by that darkness. I wanted to keep running after the sun, though I knew that it was futile. So I lost all hope, collapsed on the ground, and fell into despair. I thought at that moment that I would live in darkness forever. I felt absolute terror in my soul.

Later my sister told me that the quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.

I discovered in that moment that I had the power to choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at least initially, was either to run from the loss or face it as best I could. Since I knew that darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point on to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey where ever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it. I chose to turn toward the pain, however falteringly, and to yield to the loss, though I had no idea at the time what that would mean.

- Excerpted from A Grace Disguised by Jim Sittser

Quest Updated Edition coming in June

The plan is to complete my revision of Quest for the High Places in time for a late June release. For those who have pre-ordered, you will receive an email with a confirmed shipping date once it is official. If you are curious as to what this new edition looks like, you can download sample chapters and portions of the included study guide at the HeartThoughts website.

It is a great help to us logistically if those who are planning on purchasing a copy can pre-order by June 1. We are wanting to make sure we request enough to be able to quickly fill orders and not have customers waiting on back ordered titles. So thank you in advance to those who are helping us out with this!

Foundations for a Happy Family

With Mother's Day coming on Sunday, we decided to share two pieces by Gretchen. Watch for the second coming this Friday...

I will never forget what it felt like to hold my little girl in my arms for the very first time. It’s impossible to know a mother’s love until you become a mother yourself. Everyone tells you it will change your life completely. And you think you understand. But you don’t really understand until that little bundle is placed in your arms and your life changes—completely and forever.

I’ve wanted to be a wife and mommy as long as I can remember. I played with dolls. I babysat my cousins. I volunteered in the church nursery. And then my baby sister was born. I was twelve. My brother was ten. We couldn’t have been more thrilled. The baby brother who arrived three years later only doubled the fun. We hovered over them constantly, changing their diapers and playing with them, and doing plenty of bossing around when they became older. I was grateful for the hands-on baby-care experience. And even more important, my brother and I got to watch my dad and mom as they raised our younger siblings.

I’m sure my parents didn’t do everything right in raising the four of us. But the more families I observe, the more I realize how rare our upbringing was. You see, Dad and Mom taught us that delayed obedience was disobedience. We didn’t get to wait until they counted to ten. “To delay is to disobey.” We were not allowed to talk back—in word or in look. And talking back to Mom was talking back to Daddy’s wife, which was double trouble. Our parents expected us to obey. They told people we were well-behaved, and they trusted us to live up to it.

It helped to have this clarified before we hit the teen years. My parents, in their God-given wisdom, knew that preventing teenage rebellion didn’t start at age twelve. In fact, it started even before those “terrible twos.” They began laying the foundations for obedience before we could even choose to disobey.

From the beginning they set the standard that Daddy and Mommy were in charge. Maybe we didn’t always like the fact that we were not the center of the universe. But my brother and I learned it worked better that way. And we knew that when we became parents, we wanted to raise our kids with this common-sense, biblical principle.

One of the many things that made me fall in love with my husband was watching him with our younger siblings, as well as his niece and nephews. It was easy to picture him as a firm but doting daddy to some red-haired, curly-headed little ones. And when, after a year and a half of marriage to my best friend, our beautiful baby daughter arrived, we were thrilled to become parents—but I didn’t want the honeymoon to end.

Becoming a mommy fulfilled so many dreams and desires. But I wanted my husband to know he was still number one in my life. And as his helpmeet, I needed to be able to cook his dinners, keep his house clean, and be available to help him on the farm when he needed me—in addition to taking care of his daughter. I knew that because of our family business I’d need to be able to leave our baby girl with her aunt or grandma. As well as train her to be a well-behaved mommy’s helper at home and in the family-run store in future years.

So there I sat, with a brand-new baby in my arms, an overwhelming love growing in my heart, as a tremendous responsibility settled on my shoulders. But thankfully, my husband and I were surrounded by godly examples. We didn’t have to figure it out on our own.

And so we started out raising our little girl as our parents and grandparents did before us: with a whole lot of prayer, quite a few tears, bushels of love, and a good dose of common sense. There were nights where we looked at each other in exhausted consternation, wondering what in the world was wrong with our crying little one who didn’t want to eat, sleep, or anything else. And there were many times when we tip-toed over to the crib together, just to stare at the sleeping child who was such a blend of the two of us.

As she grew, we learned—we could soon distinguish the hungry cries from the tired cries, the tears that needed attention from the tears that just needed to be cried. And as she grew, we began to teach her—with that helpful, happy toddler in mind. We told her over and over that we loved her. But we also explained to her, as we swaddled her up tight and laid her in the crib, that it was because we loved her that we knew she needed a nap.

We followed the example of our parents, who had raised nine children between them. We listened to the wisdom of our grandparents, who had lived through many crying babies and sleepless nights. They had experience, and common sense.

It was my desire for a way to share some of that generations-old common-sense with my pregnant friends that sent me to the library...

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My Cook Book Shelf

"Food prepared with a light heart and in a happy frame of mind is often the best food. Preparing the special foods that are favorites of those you love...making just a little effort to garnish the salad with a sprig of parsley, a bit of grated cheese, or a wild strawberry from the nearby meadow. This says 'you cared enough to do the little extra things.' This makes cooking pleasant and satisfying."

-"Meal Planning," Betty Crocker's Picture Cook Book, 1956

My cook book shelf is filled to the overflowing. A yellow plastic shelf that began its useful life in my mother's college dorm room, it then became my toy shelf, and now more than 20 years later holds a place of honor in my kitchen as the home of my cookbooks. There are glossy magazines from MaryJane's Farm and Taste of Home, antique hardbacks, three-ring binders, spiral-bound collections of friends and church family, and a stack of copied recipe pages that should be organized into that Mary Engelbreit notebook sometime when I'm not cooking. There's an authentic Mexican cook book and a Chinese cooking school cook book right next to Jan Karon's Mitford Cookbook and a menu for Afternoon Tea.

But if I was stranded in a kitchen with only one cook book, I would want the expertise of Betty Crocker or Fannie Merritt Farmer at my fingertips.

Everyone knows that Betty Crocker is the ever-young, ever-fashionable, most versatile cook in the U.S.A. I, however, prefer the vintage 1950's Betty Crocker, who had just discovered the value of photographs in cook books. Not only does Betty Crocker teach the beginning cook how to do everything from scramble an egg to making a meringue (complete with pictures), as well as set a table and plan a menu, she has so many versatile recipes that even the pro will always be turning back to her pages.

The antique versions of this famous cookbook are best, because back then they knew how to cook from scratch--not from cans and boxes. (See "Recipe for a Good Cook Book.") And what I love about the older versions of Betty Crocker (in addition to the wonderful way it is organized!) are all the key recipes--they tell you how to make a basic recipe, then give you several variations. And once you master the key recipe, of course, you can experiment to your heart's content. At the moment, I have only two copies: a spiral-bound Betty Crocker's New Picture Cook Book (first edition, third printing, copyright 1961), and my favorite, a hardbound copy of Betty Crocker's Picture Cook Book (second edition, second printing, copyright 1956). But being a collector of antiques as well as cook books, I pick up a Betty Crocker whenever I find a good deal, and sometimes I even let one go as a gift to someone I know will appreciate it as much as I did.

I'll admit the reason I first picked up Fannie Merritt Farmer's Boston Cooking School Cookbook was because Merritt is the name of the man whose heart I wanted to win (and we all know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach). But when I finally got my own copy it became an invaluable tool in my kitchen. I like to compare Betty Crocker's recipes to Fannie Merritt Farmer's, often ending up with a combination of the two. I'm guessing Fannie Merritt Farmer was the more gourmet of the two back in their day, but either is gourmet compared to today's home-cooking standards. Fannie Merritt Farmer was apparently the first to bring "level measurements" into popularity--her original cookbook was published in 1896 (mine is the tenth edition, revised by her niece, from 1959). You won't find photographs in her cook books, but the black and white facts of every culinary art will be a great asset to your cooking.

As you can see, though I have two especial favorites, there are more cookbooks on my shelf...

Back in 1995 my grandparents gave me a Reader's Digest cookbook called Like Grandma Used to Make. Often as I flip through it, I find the little sheets of menu plans my cousin Melissa and I made up for one of our fancy dinners for the family (which usually turned out to be semi-disasters, with Gretchen making the messes and Melissa following her around with a dish rag). This book is filled with delicious, down-home recipes you'll always have the ingredients for. It may not have every recipe you'll ever want to make, but it has a lot you'll want to try. Whenever I'm lacking creativity, I turn to the pages of Like Grandma Used to Make.

If you're a working mom or have little time and lots of freezer space, Once a Month Cooking by Wilson and Lagerborg is for you. I used this method for my family when I still lived at my parents', cooking 30+ meals in one day, and filling the freezer with a variety of menu items that lasted over a month. Now that I'm just cooking for two, I've modified the method--I cook lots each meal, and freeze the leftovers for hurried days when I don't have time to cook. For more, read my blog post "Dinner's in the Freezer."

Make-a-Mix Cookery (by Eliason, Harward, and Westover) is an amazing book I've only skimmed the surface of. My mom always made the best pie crusts--straight from this book. The best part was, she made enough dough for 10 pie crusts at a time. Then, when we were ready for a blackberry pie (with berries fresh from the field!), she would take the dough out of the freezer, thaw it, and roll it out. And that's just the beginning of the mixes you'll find in the pages of this book!

It took me one look to fall in love with The Farmer's Wife Cook Book. My grandma gave it to me my first birthday after becoming a farmer's wife. The redhead waving to the man on the John Deere tractor looked just like us... One of these days, I would love to find an original copy of that issue of The Farmer's Wife: a magazine for farm women (published from 1893 to 1939). Meanwhile, I enjoy the recipes from the magazine, compiled into a new cookbook by Martha Engstrom. With old advertisements and photos, and original articles from The Farmer's Wife (such as "Use Butter Generously" and "Why Not Hominy?"), it's a trip into the history of the farm kitchen. My farmer and I especially enjoyed the article on "Choosing a Refrigerator", from a 1930 issue of the magazine. It stated that there were really only two or three months out of the year when a refrigerator was necessary, and at least 5 cubic feet of storage space would be a good idea for a family of 4 or 5 (these newlyweds started out with 14.3 cubic feet of refrigerator space, 12 months out of the year!). If you can't find a vintage Betty Crocker that will fit your budget, The Farmer's Wife Cook Book will at least give you a flavor of good old-fashioned cooking methods (you might discover some new favorites--like baked custard or rice pudding). (And if you see a copy of the magazine with that tractor cover picture, I want it!)

Church Suppers, coupled with a casserole dish and insulated carrier, was one of the most creative and practical wedding gifts we received. A huge notebook of recipes for church potluck and home alike (by Barbara Greenman). The best thing about it is the selection from across the country--from down-home Southern cooking to a variety of New York cheesecakes.

Better Homes and Garden's Vegetable Recipes and Fodale Press' The Green Thumb Cook Book are thrift store finds with recipes organized alphabetically by vegetable--great for fresh ideas for that veggie that's practically coming out of your ears!

For this winter squash fanatic, Reader's Digest's Pumpkins and Squashes by Caroline Boisset was a delightful discovery. There just aren't enough recipes using squash--but this is a book full of them, as well as pictures and descriptions of all varieties of summer and winter squash.

Williams-Sonoma's Best of the Kitchen Library is a bit more on the gourmet side, but any of the cookbooks in this collection are enough to inspire you to new heights. And then there's Gourmet magazine. It's a very inexpensive subscription (especially for us because we borrow my sister-in-law's!), and the magazine is full of mouth-watering recipes. Or, look for Gourmet's "best of..." recipe book collections on sale. Your cooking will wow your friends. And even if you don't have all the ingredients each recipe calls for, you can usually figure out a substitute.

Lorenz Books has an amazing line of cook books, too. I only own the Potato book, but it's true to its name: "the definitive guide to potatoes and potato cooking." The recipes are gourmet and down-home at the same time. I'm sure I'll have to pick up another at a garage sale one of these days.

And then there's the next cook book I'll buy... Every cook knows she can never have enough cook books. There's always one more, with yet more recipes to stir your creativity. Like the library's copy of Ed Wood's Classic Sourdoughs that is making me want to find its twin for my own.

But enough about cook books. I need to get cooking! I'm making curried carrot soup from Church Suppers to go with the "Lowell Inn Crescent Rolls" from Betty Crocker. And my man will be home for dinner in just a few hours...

"The momentous question of 'What shall we eat,' which comes to the housekeeper three times every day and which must be met with a well-supplied table--whether everything else in the house goes undone--becomes monotonous and wearying. We hail suggestions as a ship-wrecked mariner does the distant sail."

-"Table Talk," The Farmer's Wife, May 1912

Meditations on Job - an ongoing series

Job 1-3: Serve God for Nothing

If I serve God for nothing more than love, I can show it by praising Him for taking, just as much as I praise Him for giving. How? Through knowing that my most precious things are safest with Him. Like Habakkuk, I can -- if He asks -- relinquish my entire livelihood with the words "yet I will rejoice," because He is my "Shield and exceeding great Reward," the All-Sufficient One who never leaves me.