about me
The stand beside my bed is an antique crate that was once used to haul apples. Because the label and delivery info were peeling off when I got it, I découpaged them back down to retain its vintage appeal. It is in this stand that I keep a hoard of books that I like to look at frequently. A lamp kindly obliges with its gentle glow, a lamp I've had for as long as I can remember.
Most frequently mobilized around my room are a few books that often return to rest on my stand. These books contain many things dear to my heart.
The second book is a small, close-to-antique copy of the Webster's dictionary. Very handy when reading volumes copious with unfamiliar etymological syllables.
Atop the others are two small journals. The light purple one was empty for some time - I was so fond of its personality I didn't want to ruin it with the silly ramblings of a teenager. So I left it. But one day I ventured to paste in a montage of sorts, highlighting a pair of treasured butterfly wings.
As you can see, I am very enthusiastic about my books. The pages of this journal are occasionally spiced with the leaves or flowers of our property. Oak leaflings, lily-of-the-valley, and violets are scattered about and lend an air of beauty found only in God's creation.
Last but not least is my little black journal. Writing daily in a journal seems to be such a struggle for me, especially now that I have a blog. But as urged by Jill Novak in her Girlhood Home Companion, I try to record the soon forgotten moments in the little black book. Not daily, but from time to time I like to sit with it and stash it with notes.
Many Christmases ago my sister and I received some special presents. A series of twelve books, written in the 1800's. The Elsie Dinsmore series, by Martha Finley. Throughout our homeschooling, Mom has read the first original 12 volumes of the Elsie Dinsmore series out loud to us. We grew to love the Heroine and her descendants, and cherished all the time we could spend together listening to mother while we crocheted, cross stitched, and drew pictures.
When we discovered that the first three books had been recorded on tape, we quickly asked for them. The stories of her trials, yearning to be more like Jesus, but longing for her earthly father's love, comes to a climax in the second volume when Mr. Dinsmore demands her to break the Sabbath day, or be shunned from his love forever. Her constant devotion to the word of God is often times her only companion, strengthening her resolve to serve Christ no matter how it may break her heart.
(Just to reassure you - she is not a rebellious child, nor would she conscientiously break the commands of God or her father. She is a very respectful model of Chistian femininity in all areas of life. I highly recommend this as a Mother-Daughter read-aloud.)
I won't give the story away in case you haven't read them yet. But, these tales continually reflect the necessity and blessings of living a life devoted to Christ. Since we received the tapes and CDs, almost every night I have listened to them - over and over and over. They have been a blessing to me, and an encouragement in my walk with the Lord.
Being a die-hard purist (in some areas;), I prefer the original Elsie Dinsmore to the new Life of Faith version, but they are both resources of excellent reading, and time well-spent.
I hope you are blessed with the opportunity to read these as a family and get to know Elsie Dinsmore, her realtives, friends, and most of all, her King in this uplifting series of a true life of faith.
Recently I have come to the conclusion that if I have in mind to become a well-rounded, well-informed children's book illustrator (and maybe even a writer), that I had better catch up on all those "kiddie books" I had passed up on as a child. I did read plenty of books as a wee girl, and still do. But somehow I did not read all the classics. Don't ask me how it happened in the first place. Maybe I thought I was too good for those immature stories, or they just weren't my type, or I didn't think they were very important in my upbringing. Whatever it was, I have pushed that aside. I am now fully appreciative of all the imaginative, and creative work that has gone into these tales.
I have decided to take you all on this adventure with me! So, every now and then, and maybe more than we expect, I will be posting my reviews on various children's literature and illustration.
And for my first review, I bring you, James and the Giant Peach!
Author: Roald Dahl
Illustrator: Lane Smith
Publisher: The Penguin Group
Copyright: Text, 1961; Illustrations, 1991
The only memories I had of this story was the sticky, gloomy peach filled with creepy-crawly bugs poking fun at a poor little boy. Of course, like any good modern American child, I had only seen the movie, and never read the book.
James' story offically begins when he is seven years old. As a lonely little orphan boy, he must live with his gruesome and detestable aunts, Sponge and Spiker. One day he discovers a peach, grown to the size of a house! Finding a hole in the side, he climbs through, and entering the door at the end, finds a surprise. Several Surprises! And they are all as big as he is! Inside, awaiting his arrival, is Centipede, Earthworm, Green-Old-Grasshopper, Miss Ladybug, Miss Spider, Glow-worm, and Silkworm! It's only a matter of a good night's sleep before the peach rolls away with them all, squashing James' despicable aunts. As they hurtle towards a cliff, they're fateful end is approaching, but the sea is just beow and catches them in its cradling waves.
Throughout the adventure, James' clever resourcefulness continually saves the day. It is full of delightful, whimsical songs and poems, adding a charming touch. A journey across the Atlantic Ocean full of hungry sharks, past the ferocious Cloud-Men, and into New York City, eventually lands them all into happily ever after. I must refrain from giving away the ending for those who haven't read it - yet.
The illustrations by Lane Smith completely capture the feel of the story. Black and white may be boring for some people, but I enjoyed its simplicity and room for my own imagination. If you ever get a chance to take a close look at them, see if you can find anything a little, interesting, kinda cute, in the last illustration. If you look close, you may notice something quite sweet.
For my 13th birthday I received the book Passion and Purity, by Elisabeth Elliot. I quickly began reading through it, looking for the interesting portions dealing with the Elliots' love life. There, I confessed. It's out. I did not read the whole book. It was easier to read it that way, skipping over the "not as interesting" parts. I mean, only less-than-perfect people need that kind of rebuking, right?
Well, I have started reading it over again, this time I'm not going to just skim it. Unfortunately I'm not as steady a reader as I ought to be. I'll pick up a book, keep it on my bedstand, read a chapter or two every night, get half-way through, and then "forget" about it. Back on the shelf. Ta-da! I read it! Oops, wait, no I didn't.
Well, I need to work on that. I had no idea keeping up a blog would yank the confessions right out of me like this. But back to the book.
Since I slept till 12 pm on Monday I knew I would need some good reading material before bed to make me tired and sleepy. So I grabbed Passion and Purity. This time, though, I did not immediately slip into dreamland. I was wide awake. Hanging on her every word of wisdom, I knew I needed to hear the letters of silly women desperately looking for love, how their hearts were broken, wondering if "he" was the one, etc. and Elisabeth's gentle words of chastisement.
Although I wouldn't quite classify myself as a desperate woman, it is good to be reminded of where our hearts ought to be. Its easy to give into temptation and lose our focus on Jesus. So I am not perfect; I am continually reminded. Even if it has nothing to do with the distant future - me getting caught up in my own philosophies and present happiness right now- I am forever learning about God's perfect will for my life:
To give it up completely.
Here are some of my notes from the other night's reading: "Like the manna the Israelites had to learn to accept, we must learn to live on more than earthly bread - these passing passions - and on the every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. Earthly "relationships" will only fill us as much as the leeks, onions, and garlic of Egypt would have filled the Israelites. Like them I must learn, must suffer, to live by the heavenly. He puts us through suffering not to eventually give in and let us have what we want, but put us all the way through and purify us. In the end we will have learned what it is to solely live on His heavenly words and His purpose, and not our flesh.
"The Promise Land is not back in Egypt. It is where God leads us; not forty days in a wilderness campout, but forty years in the wilderness of waiting and suffering. This is the way he often uses to teach us to rely on Him. To completely trust Him."
Yes, I will always be learning these lessons, and I won't always "get it". And even then - hopefully - it won't always be gut-wrenchingly painful. He is always a God of mercy.
"I would have dispaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord." -Psalm 27;13, 14
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